Monday, June 29, 2015

Eastern Colorado

It's been a while since I've made a post. I successfully made it out of the Rockies! I had two challenging mountain days before making it to Pueblo. Going from Gunnison to Salida, I climbed around 3500 ft crossing Monarch Pass. On the ride from Salida to Pueblo, I did another ~3000 ft of climbing to make it over the final set of mountains. Both were hard, but ultimately good days. I liked hanging out in Salida in the afternoon. It's a beautiful town situated on the Arkansas river, in sight of some huge snow capped mountains. During the weekend they close off some of the streets in downtown for festivals. While I was there, they were putting all the local galleries on display. While not quite as upscale as towns like Crested Butte or Telluride, Salida definitely has its fair share of expensive niche shops. I camped at a free state campground, Salida East, about 2 miles east of town. While it was kind of a shitty campground, it had a great view -- to the East the Arkansas River valley, and the West the snow capped Rockies.

I think I bit off a little bit more than I could chew biking to Pueblo. For some reason I got it in my head that once I got over the last pass, it would all be downhill into Pueblo. While that may technically be true, I was only really descending for 10 of the 40 miles into town. The rest I battled a relatively strong headwind. Ugh. Headwinds suck. That night, I slept in the backyard of someone from warmshowers. I was surprised to find one my fellow bike tourists who I had last seen in Ely, Nevada. Apparently she had taken a bus across Colorado, and decided to start riding again in Pueblo. It was good to catch up with her and to talk about some of our experiences.

The day after century rides always sucks. The 50 miles from Pueblo to Ordway was not fun for me. I left Pueblo at 11:30 or so, and it was steaming hot out. I had a meager headwind, but it was enough to just wreck me. My ass was killing me. I had no patience for the ride. I screamed. I yelled. I cursed. Once I got to Ordway, I decided to try my luck with one of the "cyclist only" lodging sites recommended by my maps. As indicated, I asked for a woman named Gillian, and was eventually directed to a farm on the outskirts of town. Gillian put me and three other cyclists up for the night, offering us showers, a bed, and the use of the kitchen, all for 15 minutes of yard work! I wasn't expecting to take a shower that evening, so I was giddy with excitement as I was undressing to get wet. Sometimes a shower is just great.

Today I'm riding from Ordway to some town 90 miles down the line. Right now, I'm in the library in a little town called Eads. I'll probably sit in the park, make a cup of coffee, and eat a peanut butter sandwich.

The last few days have been filled with emotional ups and downs. Yesterday, for example, I was angry and disappointed in myself that I couldn't just enjoy the ride. After 25 days or so of riding, I should be able to crush a 50 mile ride, right? When I got to Gillian's, I was happy to be able to share stories with people, and to do some garden work. I went to bed feeling content. This morning, as with many mornings, I was despairing over the prospect of riding 90 miles. What I've been realizing, however, is that I can't sit back and just tour like some people can. I can spend the first 15 miles of the ride just spinning and not putting in a lot of effort, but after that I get antsy. The scenery is not enough to keep me going. I have to work at it. I have to own the ride. While this is not a race, and I don't really have anywhere to be, I can't just sit there and pedal along at 11 mph for 90 miles. I go crazy.

Posts should be a little more regular over the next couple of days, as I'll have regular library access as I get into Kansas.




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