Day 18 Lawrence, KS to Warsaw, MO 156.1 miles

Each day this week I get up is hard, I feel very sluggish. I took a second shower and readied for the day. 2 danishes and a bowl of Cheerios were had at the Quality Inn. I was off headed south at 8am on US-59 over more of the famous Kansas hills, it was later than I had wanted to leave the hotel. I was hoping to get a long day in to up the average miles and get closer to home. The Kansas wind sensed I was headed south so I was met with headwinds again. When I turned east on US-56 the winds came from the east. I felt like Kansas is the Hotel California line where I can check out but never leave.
A previous comment from Phillipsburg piqued my interest about Kansas, I felt Kansas was holding out on me in terms of seeing some of the back country. Last year’s Ride the Rockies in Colorado went over Cottonwood Pass which half of it was gravel road. I was told the gravel was to keep traffic down and prevent Aspen-like commercial activity in Crested Butte. So, I took off down some gravel roads south of Lawrence to see what I could find, it appeared they were a shortcut to Gardner too so it was a bigger bonus. The countryside was incredible, and a single picture couldn’t frame the entire scene. I wasn’t excited to have to do some mudbogging through parts of the road with skinny tires but I made it through ok. When I made it back on asphalt I made a note to never take the blacktop for granted.
I passed signs for the various historical trails such as the Sante Fe and the Oregon. I would have stopped for the historical markers but the urge to get to the Missouri line was stronger. There were some closed roads near the border which upped the mileage but it gave me an opportunity to see the suburbs of Kansas City. It looks the same as Charlotte where they’ve converted farmland into the million dollar houses built 8 feet from each other. A little further out there were the graded plots of land with overgrown weeds indicating the waning real estate market had hit KC’s farmlands. I rode the same farm roads with no shoulder to the dismay of the locals. I got one wave today, it came at 11am. I gave up on the waving gig. I got buzzed on US-71 in Missouri, it was the closest and most needless of the entire trip. And it was a pickup truck. I’m not in Kansas anymore.
It didn’t seem as hot today as it was yesterday, so I didn’t utilize the ice cycling AC method. Maybe tomorrow, or maybe I’m just getting used to the heat. At 4:30 it was 98, I saw another sign saying 109 but I doubt it. It was in Tightwad, Missouri, which I felt a privilege to pass through on my way through the Ozarks.
Missouri’s animals need education on crossing roads, or Missouri’s drivers have much better accuracy with their tires than other drivers. There are turtle shells and raccoons everywhere. I saw my first armadillo, but it was roadkill too.
I did not stop for lunch, I did not want to jinx the tailwind that started five miles into Missouri. That’s right, the Kansas wind blew from the east until I got into Missouri. Kansas did not want me to leave. Missouri’s wind followed me as I wound through US-71 and MO-7.
US-71 and highway 7 are fantastic strips of pavement, and with a tailwind 22 mph was the norm. I think I overexerted myself though. I arrived in Warsaw with some knee pains on both sides, dizzy, and the back-of-the-head tingling thing. I felt a little wild and unbalanced. The rashes on my knees grew larger through the day, and the tops of my hands still swell by the end of the day. I drank another 2 gallons of Gatorade and will probably walk down to the gas station in a bit for more.
I had another first. I have never been to a Sonic restaurant because I don’t go through drive-throughs, something that grew out of getting the wrong orders repeatedly from various restaurants and trying to eat everything in the car so it wouldn’t get cold. Eating in my car seems silly when a restaurant should provide tables. I’ll provide a little background: by the end of the day I look like someone took a bat to me, microwaved me, and then shook me up real good like a cat. I look a little crazy with bloodshot eyes and hair all muffed from 4 weeks of unchecked growth. So I walk into the area where the Sonic people do their work because I don’t know what the process is to order. I ask one of the employees and she points to the sign menu boards outside and says, “you push the button and say what you want”. That process seems a little silly when everyone is inside and I could just wait for my order. So I go outside to the menu board and examine it, decide what I want, and push the picture of the cheeseburger. Nothing happens. I push a little harder. Nothing. There’s a little green digital screen to the lower left with some analog buttons and a card reader so I try that, it talks about a Sonic card. I don’t know what that is and it is all the green screen wants. I look at the menu board to see if there are directions. There are none. I kind of stare at the menu board just a little while and wonder if I should just go up the street to the Subway. I kind of wanted the burger though, and I made it this far with Sonic, I thought I’d see it through. I walk back into the Sonic command station.
There was a lot of bustling from the 4 or 5 employees, it seemed busy. It’s quite an operation, they have something attached to their wrist that they swipe across something on the wall and it prints out a receipt. They have metal change machines attached around their waste and it hangs across their groin area like a chastity belt. I could not figure out how it worked. I asked again how to order, and this time it was a different employee who gave me mercy and allowed me to order on the spot. I observed more of the operations and was particularly curious about the metal change machine. I became self conscious staring at the young woman’s change machine and decided to go back outside. The food soon followed. I called Stephanie to check in and the day’s heat was starting to catch up to me. It was then I realized I was getting close to the South, one fly came to inspect my food, then two, then a dozen. Seeing that they weren’t going to get any of the food they commenced biting me instead. I left quickly. It was $9 for the meal with a milkshake, seems like a lot for fast food. It was good though.
Someone had asked if the wind/heat affects the speed of my riding. The wind does more so than the heat. In Kansas with the wind against me, I was going 10-13 mph on the flats. In Missouri I was going 22-25 mph on the flats with the wind behind me. Multiply my ride day by 10 hours and I did 156 miles instead of 123 like yesterday. I was also putzing around in Kansas today checking out the backcountry so I expect I could have cleared another 20 miles if I wasn’t so curious about what Kansas was hiding!
Today’s calories were the breakfast, 2 packs of M&Ms (my craving during the day now – they have a peanut butter strawberry flavor now but I prefer the dark chocolate which is hard to find), Sonic’s double cheeseburger, tater tots, a coke, and a pineapple shake.
I’m looking forward to sitting and doing nothing. I thought I would have more opportunity to do that, I should have planned better!
I have a craving for salty beach air…

Day 17 –Clay Center, KS to Lawrence, KS 123.0 miles

Watching Jon Stewart this evening is making me crave popcorn…
I did 123 miles today, the minimum required to make the 13 day journey home according to my route and Google. I was chased down by a tremendous storm and I was having such a great day I didn’t want to be a mile hog and get greedy. It’s a question my conscience answers for me during the latter part of the day, “Should I go? Am I getting greedy?” If the answer is yes, like trying to push to Manhattan yesterday, then I stop pedaling. If I’m feeling lucky like Google, I go for it. There has been very few times I’ve felt lucky, and in Wyoming it ended badly when I decided to go 150 miles without any way of repairing a flat tire. The innkeeper in Clay Center told me I was lucky to not attempt Manhattan because there was a rodeo/stampede going on and all the rooms would be booked. So it all works out again.
Supposedly there’s a 3% chance of getting hit from behind on a bicycle. I don’t use a rearview mirror because I don’t want to see death approach, and I expect some people might be encouraged to cut it close if they see I’m watching their driving skills. I met someone in Idaho who said he uses a rearview mirror so he can avoid a near hit. I would be preoccupied with everything behind me when I should be focused on what’s ahead of me. What really keeps drivers from killing cyclists when most deaths by vehicle aren’t pursued by the law? I ponder that during the day, especially on US-24 east of Topeka on a 70 mph stretch with a gravel soft shoulder. If I’m not too busy counting I’m usually thanking each of the passing drivers who let me live that day.
I headed out of town via Broughton Road, yet another beautiful stretch of Kansas unfolded before me with waving locals. I was curious to know when the locals would stop waving. It was Manhattan and Kansas State University. I was greeted by heckler #9 in a truck who wished I would not be on his road, from across the median. While I have counted the number of hecklers and buzzes since I started, I expect I may have missed a few due to the earbuds. All the better. So ends all the nice folks from the west/central Kansas area. Remember how everyone treated each other during the days following 9/11? That’s west/central Kansas all the time. Take a ride in one of the combines along the road, all you have to do is stop and ask.
In Manhattan there are trees everywhere, and the roads flattened out as I headed east. The corn stalks are at least 3 feet higher than their brothers in west Kansas. I assume it is due to the cold weather and rainfall differences. Everything in the fields are lush and green, the trees fill in the areas between the fields and along the knolls along the horizon. It reminds me of home. It’s something in the mind when I think “home” that sends a jolt of energy through the legs. I wore the jolts out pretty quickly.
I met a group of college students at a Subway/gas station from Baltimore who were on their way across the states in the name of cancer research, a perfect opportunity for me to tell them about 24 Hours of Booty and the Columbia MD event in September. I told them about the group 3 days ahead of them and I learned they were the “Illini” who copied the Baltimore students’ own cross country event and were also responsible for the student’s frequent denials for requests for food donations since they already gave food to the Illini. I have a feeling I’ll see some of them again.
By 10:30am it was 90 degrees. By 11:30 it was 93. I was miserable and wearing the skin off under my eyes from wiping them too much. I had to reapply the sunscreen several times because I wiped it off to clear the sweat from my eyes. I stopped a second time for the Gatorade fix, and I put one in my back jersey pocket. The cold against my spine was wonderful. An idea popped in my head and I would use it at the next Gator-fix. Along the way I stopped in the shade of a small town and a local asked where I came from. I couldn’t remember. I knew I started in Seattle and I was definitely still in Kansas. I was confused and a little concerned I couldn’t remember where I came from… We didn’t have a lively conversation… The patchiness of my skin was getting worse, and I noticed my hands were getting swollen.
By 1:30 it was 101. I stopped for the Gator-fix and this time bought a bag of ice. I dumped the ice into an empty Gatorade bottle and another water bottle. I put one in the back jersey pocket and one behind the zipper in the front of the jersey.
Pure joy.
I haven’t read this approach in other cyclist’s blogs and maybe everyone except me knew about it, but it’s more than psychological. I didn’t sweat as much and I actually felt good. The rest of the ride was easy. I discovered cycling AC.
As I type this out I notice my skin above my knees appears to form some kind of rash. I assume it is the heat. I don’t think there’s much I can do about it.
For folks wondering how my knees are holding up: I learned a little tidbit from the nurses at Ride the Rockies: 800 mg of Ibuprofen is an arthritis dose, so take 3 doses a day. I take just one in the morning and one at night and everything is great.
Life is good!
Today’s calories included 2.5 gallons of Gatorade, 2 bowls of Frosted flakes, a muffin, a bagel and cream cheese, a glass of orange juice, a foot long Subway meatball sub and a Coke to wash it down (in Kansas, where there’s a Pizza Hut there’s a Subway), 2 packs of M&Ms, 2 BBQ brisket and pork dinners with slaw and beans at a local BBQ hut in Lawrence with 3 Budweisers… I love watching Kansas storms. The one that rolled through this evening was orange, green, and blue along with the normal colors of a storm.
I’m staying at the Quality Inn for about $62. I’m washing my clothes and hanging out a bit since I made good time today. Reportedly there are coupons at the travel centers because another guest checked in for $40 when I was trying to get quarters from the front desk.
Tomorrow I’m headed deep into Missouri. I hope to end up in the Harry Truman State Park for some evening camping. The Baltimore students said Missouri was worse than Kansas in terms of heat and humidity. I’m going to try my AC method again to see if it really works or if it was just a fluke.

Day 16 –Phillipsburg, KS to Clay Center, KS 137.86 miles

I had intended to get to Manhattan, KS, but I think this was the toughest day of the 16 I’ve done. Temps were over 100, wind was varying from 10 to 20 mph out of the southeast, and the gnats were ever present. The weather channel hasn’t predicted the winds correctly in Kansas yet. The first few hours of the day were phenomenal, I was on highway 9 and saw the best of Kansas. It was a beautiful area that had rolling hills outlined with low leafy trees and pines. The road was fortunately flat though, so I had a good pace going. A sweet smell of grass permeated the area and everything seemed soft. Until about 11am when the winds came followed by searing heat. Then the rollers. And then *ping*! I blew a spoke. But I didn’t recognize it at first. I had heard spokes go before, but never on my own bike. I came to a quick stop forced by what I thought were the rear brakes jammed on the wheel. They were, as well as the wheel pressed against the lower chain stay (or whatever it’s called). The wheel had also popped out of the drop outs which gave me quite a scare out in the middle of Kansas nowhere. I thought to myself I had finally done it, I blew the rear axle or cracked the quick release for the rack. 2,300 miles and here I was with a bum rack and wheel. There wasn’t much hope for me now. Now for most folks who know my mechanical ability, you should be laughing by now. An accountant with little mechanical ability on the side of a deserted road littered with his belongings. Man versus bike… well, scared little tights wearing dude against a gnarly piece of unresponsive machinery. I talked to the wheel for a bit, but it didn’t say anything. I tried reseating the wheel when I noticed the floppy spoke. Hopefully that was it – and it was. I was back on the road with a slight wobble on the back… No attempt at truing for me, I already had my set of firsts – a blown spoke and installing a new one. Besides, I figure Manhattan would have an able mechanic when they opened the next morning. I think the spoke was blown due to the weight on the rack distributed unevenly and attempting to blast through the Kansas rollers by standing. So the prescription is: redistribution of weight to center, and no more standing. Let’s hope for the best…
The day wore on as well as the rollers. I spotted a Kansas rock slide and took a picture, it appeared dangerous. There should be a retaining wall.
The heat pressed through my skin, boiling the moisture underneath. I noticed my skin was getting patchy so I stopped in Downs for a bite to eat and a break from the heat. A foot long sub and 96 oz of Gatorade later, I was back on the road. That’s 3 quarts in one sitting people. I don’t know where it went. My usual rule of Gatorade purchase before was to buy what I needed plus one, so usually 96 oz of Gatorade (3 32 oz bottles). This time it was 192 oz purchased (1.5 gallons). Thanks for the 2 for $3 promotion!
I made it to Beloit before I had to stop again, this time 64 oz of Gatorade fell victim to my appetite. I also noticed a curious thing happening to my body. As I was sitting at the table in the gas station, I felt my eyes were rolling into the back of my head. I was losing control of the muscles in my eyes. I decided to stay a little longer and chat with the locals. It was 92 miles to Manhattan, and it was 3:30. It would be night riding again for me. One of the locals told me about a group of cyclists going cross country from the east, I didn’t see them though.
It was another hard 60 miles of rollers to Clay Center, I arrived at 7:30. If I were to push to Manhattan I would be in the dark at least until 10pm. I decided it would be safer to cut it short for the evening. I stayed at the Cedar Court Motel for another $40 or so. These small mom and pop places are starting to grow on me, they provide the same breakfast, towels, etc. And since they own the place, they take pride in it and protect it. This particular motel had a Mexican restaurant attached to it and I took advantage of their enchiladas and ice cream.
Y’all may wonder what I do during the day to keep me occupied, since cycling probably is more of the background of my waking hours. Today I watched the sweat pool in my sunglass lenses and I would see just how much I could gather up before dumping it out on to the top bar of the bike. Then I would ponder just how much salt had accumulated underneath. Sometimes I would count the minutes between cars. For less travelled roads like highway 7 there were as many as 6 minutes between cars I would see. Bored of counting minutes I would then thank my nose for its curvature and its ability to drain away the sweat, I would inevitably count the seconds between drips. I cheated sometimes by dipping my head… I would count the miles before the next town and figure my time of arrival. When I was in the northwest I would not do so much counting because I had a lot to see around me. In Kansas there were the same fields of grain all around me, but as I went further east the trees became more numerous. A welcome sign of a nearing east coast.
You know how your lower back sweats when you’re sitting in the sun and you’re wearing too much clothing? When the sun is over my back in the afternoon it makes the entire front of my body sweat. It is a tremendous wash of salt and keeps me occupied from getting it in my eyes.
So that’s how I spend my day in Kansas.
I was extremely tired again, and quickly went to sleep. I managed a little more than 2 gallons worth of Gatorade plus about 64 oz of water. Tomorrow I will head as far as I can get without worrying much about the average speed. I’m a little beat down so I’m not going to set a goal.

Day 15 –St Francis, KS to Phillipsburg, KS 137.91miles

Ow… this day reminded me of 100k charity rides in the Carolinas during August. The wind was no relief, and it blew directly from the east. It would just blow the hot asphalt air and all the gnats against me. I could tell the direction of the wind by where my skin was darkest from the gnats. I seemed to collect a lot of different species of insects, maybe I discovered a new one or two. The gnats were worse when the wind was weak, they would collect in a gnat cloud and then spray my body kamikaze style. In Kansas though, unlike the Carolinas, they don’t go for open areas of the body like the eyes, mouth, nose, etc. They keep to the arms, legs, and chest, which is nice. I’ll take the gnats over the 20 mph wind in the face. Unfortunately, Kansas will bless you with both several times over the course of the day.
I left the motel at 7:30 and didn’t have any wind until a couple hours later. I rode to Atwood and stopped at a local cafe with a painted mural of the late Dale Earnhardt on the window. Works for me! I had 2 helpings of mashed potatoes, roast beef, a roll, salad, corn, chicken sandwich, a couple glasses of water and coke… all for $15… Nice folks at “My Place”, although the waitstaff all wanted to be somewhere else more populated. They liked the principles of Kansas, but wanted everything else more urban areas provided. It was at this point I realized I was in Central time by the clock on the wall. Time didn’t matter much to the staff, as one didn’t know what I was talking about, “Central time”.

Everyone in Kansas waves at you. It's strange, the pickup trucks are friendlier than any other type of vehicle. Try waving at a truck in Carolina while on your bicycle and see what they'll fire back. I started experimenting with the traffic and it's true. The dirtier and truckier the vehicle, the friendlier. I gave a big wave to a passing Mercedez and I got nothing back

In Kansas, distance is measured by towns. If you’re going to Z town and you’re in W town, well then you have 2 towns to go through before you get to your destination. I had a few towns to pass in order to get to Phillipsburg. I looked up lodging in the town and found the Mark V motel had a good review so I headed there as directly as I could, over the continued rolling hills of Kansas. These rollers aren’t like the hiccups of Carolina where I can spin through it with the inertia from the prior downhill, they were 1 or 2 miles of 8%+ to throw me to my lowest gear. I grudged up and down them, my energy waning under the sun. I took a picture of a town sign with elevation of 3k, “No way” I thought, it feels like I’ve been going uphill for days.
Gatorade became a regular occurrence, I downed 192 oz over the day with about a gallon of water to chase. Subway received my business with a footlong club sub late in the day and I hit the bed with one bounce before I was asleep again. The heat sucks the life out of me. I am tired of hills. Kansas is not flat. I’ll say it again, Kansas is not flat.

Day 14 – Thornton, CO to St Francis, KS 194.13 miles

Phase II Denver to Charlotte
So it’s June 21st and I need to be home by July 3rd, a very tall order but doable. I’ll have 13 days to cover around 1600 miles, or at least 123 miles per day. I jettisoned all my heavy clothing, my sleeping pad, and other items to lighten the load. Since I don’t have a scale, I suspect I relieved my bike of around 10 lbs of extra gear.
Ever since Wyoming I’ve had shifting problems, each time it rains it gets worse. The shimano folks from the RTR tour recommended changing the cassette. I bought a new cassette and put on the new chain given to me by the good shimano folks. Brian and I messed with the gearing but it still didn’t work out, I guess I’ll have to limp 1,600 miles back home! Brian thinks it may be the shifter, it seems to have acquired an 11th click. I also bought some Continental touring tires at the RTR Continental booth ($50 each is a good deal) for the road home instead of the racing tires. Brian and I went up Lookout Mountain on Saturday and they seemed to ride through anything, a nice change from the jarring 4000s ($45 at RTR).
I said my goodbyes to the new McManus family and I got a little teary as I left, there were a lot of memories crammed into a short amount of time for them and me as well. Big thanks to them for letting me be the third wheel, I’m sure they’ll be glad for some normalcy soon.
The terrible storms that have pounded the Midwest have since passed, I’ll face very high temperatures all the way to the Appalachians. I had feared getting caught in an infamous Kansas storm, I think I have lucked out this time. I want to be in Kansas by the end of the day, which would be about 187 miles according to Google. Somehow I acquired another 7 miles to make 194. I took 120th out beyond DIA and then down to 88th for a while and then south again to US-36. The wind came from the south so there were some slow miles each time I turned into the wind. When I arrived on US-36 it was a welcome change, and the road was fantastic with wide shoulders and smooth pavement. I saw Porsches pass me intermittently on the highway which puzzled me but I finally found the source out in the middle of nowhere: there was a race (road) track where they were running the course as fast as they could. I think they were time trialing, there weren’t any clear winners.
After the track the road started to crumble and the rollers became steeper and steeper, where were the flatlands? From the air Kansas and East Colorado looks flat…
I happened across another cyclist named Noah who was on his way back home. He had an old RTR jersey on but he did not participate in the ride this year. It was his first attempt to do something like this, I explained to him the importance of chamois butt’r on long rides instead of using Gold Bond powder and how Endurox is quite helpful for recovery. I guess just a short 13 days to Denver had made me somewhat a veteran already. I’m sure I still have a lot to learn though!
It was hot, but at least it wasn’t raining. The wind was coming out of the south so it wasn’t completely at my back however it gave me a little boost. The rollers just wouldn’t stop, I thought I would average 20 mph on the flats but they never came. Instead it was the same 15 mph and I knew I would be ending the day in the dark.
I stopped in Anton at a grocery store just before it closed and bought some Gatorade, M&Ms, Pringles, and a prepackaged ham and cheese sandwich. Gone in no time. I was sitting at a picnic table by the store and shared my space with a local farming family (Horas). They told me about how the government pays them to not work the fields on a rotating basis. They also explained to me why all the towns I passed through seemed to be modern ghost towns with all the motels and restaurant/cafes boarded up. Since there were less fields to work, there were no transient workers around to keep the businesses busy. It was sad to see the towns like Cope Colorado where a once vibrant town now looked like a dilapidated post war East German town.
I caught a flat as the sun went down near Idalia. The front tire masked the flat I think for a few miles before I realized it. A staple had worked its way through the tire but it was a quick fix and a needed rest off the saddle. For all the folks who want to lose weight fast, try James’ workout model: Bike 13 hours in 90+ degree heat and have 2 bowls of cereal in the morning with the above lunch…
In eastern Colorado the sun goes down on the summer solstice at 8:30ish. By then the roads were terrible and I wasn’t excited to dodge potholes in the dark. I pushed through to Kansas in the dark and the roads immediately changed to perfect flat asphalt. It was a smooth ride to St Francis but the twinkling city lights in the distance never seemed to come fast enough. When it’s the only thing I had to look at, and the hills came and went, I was admittedly frustrated.
I arrived at the Dusty Farmer hotel, learned from some of the other guests to ring the doorbell for service, paid my $40, got in the room, and almost immediately fell asleep. The Asian innkeeper kept saying “You’re checking in so late!” It was only 10:30… so I thought. I wouldn’t learn until the next day that I was in Central time. Losing a precious hour again hurts!
In addition to the calories above I had a clif bar, banana, 96 oz of Gatorade, and about 260 oz of water…
Tomorrow I head east again to Phillipsburg, about 150 miles and hopefully with the wind at my back. It’ll be even hotter than today, but at least no rain!

RTR days placeholder

Hey folks - just a placeholder for the missing RTR days I'll edit when I have a chance, on to the trip home for now.

RTR Day 2 –Hotchkiss CO to Gunnison CO, 81.3 miles

I left around 7:30 am after cooking up some pancakes at the tent. I thought it was a good idea, but we had a half gallon of milk to finish so I probably drank too much of it. Out on the road I realized why I don’t drink a lot of milk since it is an inflammatory and would not do wonders for my knee. Here is a recent article on anti-inflammatory diets: http://www.velonews.com/article/92129/sports-nutritionist-monique-ryan-takes-a-look-at

There was a very long line for the luggage trucks this morning, I put my bag on the middle truck and guessed it would take about 5 hours to get me to Gunnison in 80 miles. While there weren’t any passes ahead, it was just mostly uphill.
The weather for the past two day’s riding has been perfect, chilly in the morning with mid 70s during the day. Put a cherry on top to make it a sun-day…
7:30 I assume is considered late in the RTR world, there were more warring cycling factions on the hillsides and it seemed the prior day’s battles had blasted more injuries through the ranks. The SAG wagons were full of bikes. For those who survived, there were spectacular views of Black Canyon and the river responsible for its creation below us. There were times I would ride in the middle of the road to ease my fear of going airborne. The mind plays funny tricks, I imagined myself getting launched on the descents when the front tire blew out. Rather fatalistic for such a beautiful day.
The day was much easier for me, I talked to some other folks and they claimed today was harder. I expect the elevation profile didn’t do all the climbing we did any justice.
I arrived in Gunnison just short of 12:30 as expected. I had a little help on the pulls with Mike, a gentleman aspiring to complete the Kentucky Iron Man in August. He also wants to qualify for Kona. He was modest and pulled his share of the load, people I like. Meanwhile behind us we had a wheelsucker for about 25 miles. I call them ghosts, they don’t talk during the ride but they make just enough noise to let you know they’re there, and never pull up front. To be fair, he did come by later at the campsite to chat about the various rides in the Colorado area.
So, 12:30 in Gunnison, and no luggage truck. It broke down on the road and wouldn’t arrive until 2:30. For folks unfamiliar with large supported tours like RTR, the positives of getting into town early are the lack of lines to the things you need, like a shower, clean toilets, food, etc. Without a bag, there would be no shower, which was the other dream I had along the way besides falling off the side of the mountain. Speaking of falling off mountains, I met someone later who had flipped over a guardrail along the way but fortunately there wasn’t a lot of open space between the rail and consequential ground.
Just as predicted, the bags arrived at 2:30 and I was peached. When the rest of the party arrived we bee-lined to the local brewery and had great hospitality. Sticking to my diet guns, I had a salad. It was paltry so I gave in a little to some of Jennifer’s nachos.
Uneventful night – I was to awake early and head to Salida to secure a very good camping spot in the courtyard of the school, a building with many shades. I woke at 1am to discover my travel pillow sprung a leak so my head was flat on the floor. 1am was a little early to head to Salida though…

RTR Day 1 – Glenwood Springs to Hotchkiss CO via McClure Pass, 98.7 miles

We skipped the Saturday Road Race on 6/13 and watched the Stanley Cup the night before. The RR was part of an omnium, Lance Armstrong and Levi Leipheimer participated in the time trial on Friday. He has been vacationing/training in Aspen for what seems like a couple weeks now. Before we left Glenwood he and Levi went over Independence Pass (our day 6 from Leadville to Aspen) and reported wind/hail/snow/ice/sleet, etc… so we have a lot to look forward to in a few days.
Brian and I started Ride the Rockies with the criterium in Glenwood Springs. It was a field of about 55 or 60. In Colorado there are only 4 categories of racers so there it looked like a lot of new folks in the race. One had put his number upside down, others on the wrong side. On the last 10 laps the officials hadn't cleared lapped riders who were getting in the way and who also tried to race the peloton to prevent another lapping (if that's the correct term). I stayed mostly in the back except for one lap which prompted one of the participants to ask if I had been lapped. I kind of expected this since I had a Ride the Rockies kit on and nothing denoting I was on a team. I said a flat "no" and continued. I finished with the pack of about 20, there wasn’t a lot motivating me since it didn’t count for anything anyhow, it was good to be in a race to see how the legs would hold up after 2 weeks of endurance cycling… Everything seemed fine.
We turned our attention to Hotchkiss around 9:45am, 80 miles away. We knew we would have a bad headwind based on the habit of the winds these past few weeks coming from the south. 20 miles in we were met with the wind furies but fortunately we picked up another strong person by the name of Evan in our streamline to make our ordeal a little less painful. The first rest stop was already picked clean of any food so we continued to the base of the mountain for McClure Pass. The climb was the first time in a while I hadn’t had 50 lbs to lug up with me, the ascent was double the normal loaded speed. It was a cycling relief of sorts since I was considering putting the rack on to carry cameras and other items. There were many folks on the route who elected the rack and I’m sure they have great pictures along the way.
The short 18 racing miles at 24.5 mph average earlier had taken its toll. My left hamstring seized up halfway up the mountain and I learned rather painfully through trial and error how to climb without using my hamstrings (point your toes down). I’ve never cramped like that before nor did I realize how much I used my hamstrings.
Leaving late gave me the opportunity to see more folks on the road, last year I typically left early so I’m on my own most of the way. On my way up McClure it looked like the aftermath of two warring cyclist colonies: bodies littered the roadways tending to their wounds and others were walking their machines up the roadside… the two pistons to drive them had obviously overheated… Hopefully there wasn’t anything too serious.
Personal SAG vehicles were also retrieving their wounded, which was a little obnoxious because it made getting around the rest stop at the top difficult. Oh well – it looked like people were having fun for the most part while killing themselves :)
The ride into Hotchkiss was uneventful, there was a roadside barrel wine tasting but it was too close to town so I didn’t stop. I think whenever I’m within 10 miles of “home” there’s not going to be a lot to keep me from getting there. My hamstrings, quads, and other muscles I couldn’t name continued to seize along the way, which probably made some of the other cyclists curious as to why I would pass them and then stop pedaling for a while until I could work out the kinks… they would pass me and a minute later I would pass them again. I was/am one of “those guys” that race to the next town in Ride the Rockies. Calories included the obligatory clif bar, a roadside peanut butter and jelly sandwich with cookie, a tentside paella with sausage and chicken, peanuts, and some Ben & Jerry’s ice crea

Spoke too soon on the body...

I wasn't able to get on the bike today - the tornadoes kept me at bay. I dropped my wife off at the airport at 3pm and I headed to REI for last minute items for RTR. We all went to the Gordon Biersch for dinner and I had the grilled ahi tuna and salad with a couple slices of Jennifer's pizza. Washed it down with a couple beers.

I woke up at 3 this morning with sharp stomach pains similar to what I had last week, uh oh... here we go again. Except the result was vomiting a couple times. WebMD wasn't much help, although I think my self diagnosis is obvious: Overeating, overexercise, NSAIDs, drinking alcohol, and the occasional raw fish = disaster.

Now I'm sitting here with an empty burning stomach waiting for the Walgreens to open...

Intermission June 5th - June 12th 2009

Sorry for the delay in the last few posts, it took a bit of time to collect myself and settle in to Denver. Just so folks know, I'm on a break until we head out to Glenwood Springs this Friday evening to prepare for a road race on Saturday morning. Then, Sunday morning we'll have a criterium and then hit the road for 80 miles on the first leg of Ride the Rockies 2009 (http://www.ridetherockies.com/). Let's hope for no wrecks in the races as I don't think I can patch my frame like I've done for my tubes.

I attended the wedding of McManus-Jennings on June 6th and the weather was beautiful. The next day there was hail and Stephanie and I watched a tornado pass near the newlywed's house. Afternoon tornadoes seem to be the norm in Colorado right now, I will be glad to get to the mountains soon on a supported ride without the rain.

I have not been on a bike since a 30 mile recovery ride on Friday to get accustomed to an unloaded bike. The chain and cassette is fine, they just needed readjustment. On the body check: I suffered a couple of days before purchasing some Immodium and it cleared me right up. My left knee was sore to the touch for a couple days and it wasn't until today that I could walk down a set of stairs without feeling it. My legs also burned after climbing the same set of stairs for a couple days as well. All in all, it took me about 5 days to get to "normal", tomorrow I plan to get on the bike for the first time since Friday tomorrow for some fine tuning and some practice in the corners since all I've done is time trial for 80% of the 1,500 miles.

Well, I drop my lovely wife off at the airport tomorrow, pack up and restock for RTR on Thursday, then off to the tour on Friday. Look for posts by the latest on Sunday to recap the races and first leg of RTR 2009.

Day 13 –Mile 228 Rest Area I-80, WY to Loveland, CO, 173.5 miles

Fog. I awoke late, around 6:30am. I had wanted to be on the road by 6 to guarantee my arrival in Colorado on time. I spoke with Brian the night before and he had class until 9pm so I had plenty of time to make my way deep into CO country. I collected my things and noticed I had a flat on the front. By now I was thankful that it wasn’t on the back since I wouldn’t have to take everything off the back to access the rear wheel. I rolled the bike over to the main building to change it in a warm room and noted that there was a lot of wire sticking through the tire. I surmised that the bits of tire shredded across the interstate highway were responsible. So, for all the interstate cyclists out there, the tire treads should be avoided at all cost.
Since I slept in my kit and was quick to change the tire, I was on the road by 7am. One of the visitors by car at the rest area was complaining to me about the visibility and how he didn’t feel safe on the road. He wanted the fog to clear before heading west. I was just prepared for more rain so I headed towards the interstate.
I was out of the fog by the first hill and into the sunshine and it was just 7 miles to the exit for US-287. The traffic on I-80 was unusually skewed to truck traffic, which is fine, they gave me a lot of room even though it was unnecessary. For every 1 car there must have been 5 trucks. The ratio also set the environment ripe for trucker bombs. They seemed to populate the tops of hills, I guess the trucker could concentrate more on personal matters when going slowly up a hill rather than cruising in other sections of the highway. I even saw a variant of the species in a zip lock bag. A methhead’s form of liquid gold I presume. Google “Trucker Bomb Meth” if you’re curious.
I exited for US-287 and headed towards Medicine Bow, my original stopping “happy point” yesterday evening. I made it about 500 feet down the road before an electronic sign indicated the road was closed due to flooding. What kind of flooding was it? Couldn’t I just walk my bike across? Knowing what I’ve encountered before, flooding in the west is a deluge compared to what I encounter in North Carolina and the road probably doesn’t exist anymore. Reluctantly I turned and headed back out on I-80 for another 80 or so miles to Laramie.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought. The roads were lovely except for the tire wire landmines. Traffic was light and no one seemed to mind my presence. I probably represent someone’s day on the interstate on another blog somewhere: “Check out this crazy cyclist on the interstate, is this legal?” I also wondered how long I would go before an inquisitive trooper would make a stop to ask why all the other roads in Wyoming weren’t of use to me. Fortunately, some road workers allayed my fears and also told me around 9pm last night the river flooded US-287 and took out the bridge. I’m glad I wasn’t on the road then despite my best desires to beat the rain last night!
The road to Laramie was uneventful and the weather was splendid. I did catch another flat on the rear due to the tire wire but I needed a rest anyways. I-80, when looking at a topography map, has a curious layout, the road is draped over the foothills of the Medicine Bow Mountains. I was constantly going up and down over the mountains where if the engineers placed the interstate just another couple miles north the road would have been mostly flat. It was as if Wyoming wanted to make it difficult for the truckers. Fortunately, the wind was at my back and I was in Laramie by 1pm. My arrival in Denver on time was looking very good. I stopped at McDonald’s to feed my illusions of cheeseburgers (something that develops at around the 100 mile mark) and also to check the weather since the typical storm clouds were brewing to the south.
US-287 rejoins I-80 at Laramie so I was back on the original track and ahead of schedule. It is 10 miles less on I-80 than US-287. I headed south knowing storms were strafing the area. The wind was a lovely 15-20 mph on my back and it was an effortless cruise at 20 mph. I was chasing the tail end of a storm so I wasn't pushing too hard. It was 23 miles to the CO border, a psychological barrier in my mind I think because for the next hour I was reminiscing of the past 2 week’s memories and events. Mt. Ranier, Yakima valley, US-12, Montana, Yellowstone, Teton, flat tires, etc… There was a nice little hill to crest before heading into Colorado, and the resulting downhill and wind into the lovely state of mind hurdled me at 45 mph for several miles. A lovely day!
Finally, in Colorful Colorado! But, as all good things come to an end, the wind changed direction and blew into my face. I could manage 15 mph downhill, which it seemed most of the road was downhill. I noticed a change in the scenery: trees… and smog. I could barely see the horizon. I was kind of sad, I had taken for granted the clear air of the previous states. It seemed the wind was blowing the dirt straight towards me. I felt like I had when I looked out of the window of an airplane, you can tell when you’re close to a major city when you start to enter the brown blanket that surrounds it 30 miles out.

Sage brush gave way to pink granite and sandstones while misty mountains resembling an Irish countryside bordered the western horizon.
Soapbox: US-287 around the Laporte area is awful – the wide shoulder is mauled by perpendicular rumblestrips that straddle the entire shoulder and sometimes even into the travel lane, forcing me out into a understandably very angry 70-80 mph traffic. It was a hairy ride after 120 miles on the legs.
I arrived in Fort Collins around 6pm, it was a sort of paradise with all the cycling lanes and the many people who were using them for commuting home or exercise. I headed down Shields Street soaking in the sun and thinking about a warm place to lounge… The Denver area has a curious layout, the houses seemed to crowd small areas penned in by fences like the tumbleweeds did in Wyoming while all around were wide open spaces. There weren’t a lot of trees to block the wind which came very strong from the south. The few trees that did exist bent easily against the force of the wind. Just like my will to pedal against it after 150 miles!
I made it to Loveland and I got the call from Brian, he would pick me up at exit 225 off of I-25. I didn’t really know where I was going once I got to the Denver area so I now had a destination. It was around 8:00, I had been on the bike for around 12 hours... I was picked up like a rag doll on the roadside, sitting in a car was surreal and all the pains of the road became noticeable. It seemed the wind dulled the pain while I was riding. We went to a bar with friends and it became difficult for me to be social. A couple weeks of riding and poor diet had finally ripped through my intestines and liquefied everything. The next few days would truly be recovery. Brian’s wedding is Saturday though so I would have to pull myself together.

Special thanks to all the truckers on the road who shared their interstate with me and didn't attempt to hit me with their infamous bombs.

Day 12 –Lander, WY, to Mile 228 Rest Area I-80, WY 143.1 miles

Ah… dry clothes, but cloud covered skies again. I was much more at ease knowing I had two options on filling tubes in the event of a flat.
Adam and I set out at 7am hard and fast. I needed to get my blood moving and the wind was blowing from the northwest. We made short work of the first 80 miles after crossing the continental divide a couple more times. We saw the sun for the first time in a few days, and the wind grew stronger the closer we made to Rawlins. It was a fantastic day and a boost to the morale. It was good to have someone talk to and we related on many topics on the road. I finally saw more than 500 ft around me and saw Wyoming’s interior: sage brush. There were signs overrun by the Wyoming weed describing how they were trying to thin the sage brush. Personally I love the smell of sage, but could understand why too much of a good thing would be a nuisance.
About 80 miles in we crossed with 2 ladies headed west to Portland. They were knowledgeable and hearty, it was good to see a couple females on the road besides stinky men. Unfortunately, pedaling after stopping for the chat became very difficult and the knees responded poorly. Adam tried to lead but the BOB trailer he used had a habit of kicking up all the rocks on the road.
We tried to stop at Grandma’s Café in Lamont but the employee there said it was closed because the owner had an orthodontist appointment. We had not stopped since Lander and my legs were tired. We kept going less by choice and more of necessity, storm clouds were approaching.
We arrived at Rawlins around 3pm riding some good storm winds. We stopped at a diner and Adam had a 1lb’er burger. The burger met its demise in a few short minutes. He said he would not go any further for the day. Seeing I had another 5 hours of light and good storm winds to pull me to Laramie, I set my sights high and maybe was a little greedy. I reviewed his adventure cycling maps and it showed I-80 as the route, a little concerning to me. My route didn’t include I-80. Plus, it was 10 miles shorter if I took the interstate all the way to Laramie instead of US-287. I had my angels and demons battle it out on my shoulders as I set out onto I-80 getting pushed along from the storms at 25 mph. Not bad after 120 miles of pedaling. I stopped in Sinclair under an underpass to wait out one of the passing storm cells. I decided to call in back up – my wife. Since my blackberry couldn’t do motion on the weather I had her navigate for me, she said a half hour wait would put me on the road again. She was excited that I would be so close to Denver by nightfall.
On the pedals again I hauled back on to the interstate and made for the exit at US-287, deciding I did not want to take I-80 all the way to Laramie. I made it about 4 miles before the storms enveloped me and sent me to yet another rest stop at mile marker 228. Since I was a little seasoned this time, I went straight for the picnic shelter that afforded the most protection from the wind. I bagged myself and sat on my sleeping pad, it was 7:30pm. I decided if I could make Medicine Bow about 40 miles away by nightfall I would be satisfied. The rain fell harder and the air was thick with fog. Sleep came heavy on my eyes and after sending out tweets and various other things to keep me entertained and awake, I saw a state trooper circle the parking lot… and then again… 5 minutes later he passed again, and this time with some kind of government truck. Ugh, what was I going to do? I waited for them to arrive at my two walled house for eviction. They never came. I talked with my wife again about the weather and it seemed I was going to stay at the rest area for the night. She was very disappointed. I think I slept the best that night in a long time… 80 miles to Laramie, then see how far I can get to home base by night fall. It looked to be about 200 miles tomorrow.

Day 11 –Wyoming rest area to Lander, WY, 35.74 miles

The night was tough sleeping next to a highway. It rained the whole night. I finally went to sleep and awoke to the same scene, dreary gray with rain. When I finally got enough warmth to carry me out of my tarp burrito I discovered a lot of rather healthy looking worms had also bedded under the tarp for warmth. I nervously looked at the tires to see if they had maintained the air overnight and they had, life’s simple pleasures…
I said my goodbyes to the other weather s(tr)ickened travelers and was off for the hopefully uneventful 30 miles to Lander. It rained the whole way. I was even more miserable than the other day, and the rain and wind devastated my knees.
I arrived around 10:15am to the bike shop and was happy to purchase a pump, 4 tubes, and CO2 cartridges. I asked about camping or lodging along the way to Rawlins and the employee said there was none. It was hard to believe 150 miles had nothing in between the two towns and when I put my wet and cold coat back on, the weight of the pending 150 miles crushed my shoulders. I decided to find someplace warm, and was suggested the Oxbow restaurant in town would be a good place to search out this warmth. I milked every minute at the restaurant with a 30 minute phone call to my mother, 4 cups of coffee, a sandwich, and then French toast. Noon passed and I decided to pack it in for the day, given the 150 miles of rain ahead of me. Next to the restaurant was an inviting lodge beckoning my poor wet soul. Check in wasn’t until 1pm, I was happy to wait inside.
When I finally settled in I took my clothes over to their washer and dryer and made use of them. My bike probably took on 5 lbs of road dirt so I took it to the carwash and sprayed it down. The memories of the past two days seemed to wash away with the grime. I was happy to see the clean Cannondale again. Concerned that the 27 gear wasn’t working I took it back to the bike shop for them to look at it and to clean the rear hub since it seemed to stick a little while I was walking to the rest stop. As I walk in I see a familiar face, Adam from Teton had decided to head east instead of south due to distance. I offered up my room and he happily accepted.
The bike shop said my cassette was shot and my chain was stretched. Preposterous. The SRAM chain had about 500 miles on it and the Ultegra cassette was only used for Ride the Rockies 2008 last year, so it had about 1,200 miles on it. They had adjusted my gears to a funny setting and the 27 still didn’t work. Whatever, there weren’t that many hills until Denver.
Adam and I shared pictures and I had the opportunity to upload several to facebook and blogger. Finally, dry and warm clothes too for the next day. Plus, the weather looked favorable and the winds would be at our backs. We decided the next day we would try for Rawlins and see if we could make it any further beyond it. Adam was headed to Cheyenne so we would part at Laramie, about 235 miles away using the transcontinental route.

Day 10 – Colter Bay to a Wyoming rest area, 108.75 miles appx

I awoke early knowing I had a long day ahead of me to get to Lander about 150 miles away, the mystical city of bicycle pumps. I had only one flat and it was due to going off on a sidewalk leading into a hotel, so I was a little pensive but thought to myself, “what’s the worst that could happen?” I left east out of Teton after saying my goodbyes to Adam, the college student who returned my bibs. I had a big climb ahead of me and looked forward to it.
Along the climb on US-287 there was yet more road construction but nothing I felt completely destructive to the bike, and it looked like I was about 200 feet from the tree line this time. Once at the top some tourists were out of their RV taking pictures of the snow covered vistas and congratulated me as I came over Togwotee Pass. Mountain passes are much easier now after Mt Ranier, I keep thinking about that day and how hard it was, maybe my legs are stronger…
The descent was effortless, no roadwork made the encroaching storm clouds a little less painful to watch roll in from the south. They did make a short spit at me which sent me to the first gas station for some coffee and trail mix. I met a couple guys there who explained to me the sounds of when the snow bowls break and it’s usually out of towners who cause them. One was from eastern Colorado said I would miss hail season when riding across Kansas in late June. I wasn’t aware of such a season and would be glad I missed it. He also said the rain in Wyoming was similar to what had just passed and any rain would last just a few minutes.
I came across some more roadwork in the valley about 10 miles west of Dubois, WY. They were tarring some asphalt which I avoided, or thought I did. I flatted and instantly was aware of my surroundings, no working pump to fix the flat. In the distance there was a very worn looking building with a yellow and black lettered sign saying “Store Gas”, with evidence of neither.

I walked the mile to get there and fortunately there was an open sign. It was around lunch time so I was conveniently hungry. I walked in and their wares were haphazardly arranged on old metal shelving and behind glass cases, no one was around. I was interested to see where this would go so I hunted for someone with my most unaccented voice. I found a middle aged woman doing something in the back but couldn’t quite tell what was of import. She was quite helpful, they had a freezer full of microwave food which I had the lasagna and a root beer for about $5. There was a workshop out back with someone trying to change a transmission in a truck. I went through the motions of trying to fix the flat and this time the compressed air could only manage about 60 lbs of pressure. Another employee came in and was a mountain biker, he called his girlfriend in town 10 miles away to let her know I was coming to use his adapter for the presta valve. I set off and about a mile and a half down the road I heard the awful hiss again. I walked back to the store while a rain started to set in on the area. Nothing is more frustrating than to have to walk the ground covered you had just rode over so quickly. I fixed the flat again and was off, this time it was about 3pm and I knew it was going to be a hard ride into Lander if I were to make it by 9ish. I made it to Dubois and stopped where the mountain biker said his girlfriend lived, there were several bikes strewn about the area so I felt good… but no answer. It was starting to rain harder so I decided to head out of town thinking that the rain would last a few minutes like the fellow earlier up the mountain had said. The rain only came harder, and then the wind followed, making the rain bite and sting at my lips. I saw folks drive by with road bikes attached to the roof and imagined asking if I could buy their pump from them, I didn’t care what it would cost me. I lost my 27 gear which made hills a little more challenging than they should have been, and my speedometer went out for a few miles. I don’t have a lot of pictures of the area because it rained so hard and the clouds hung so low as if they wanted to scoop me up, there was nothing to see but grey.
I was feeling really for sorry for myself and then the anger started to set in so I had some good miles in the rain. I was very bitter, wet, cold, and pondering if there was such a thing as a tropical rain desert. The sun started to go down after hours in the rain and I saw a rest area sign ahead in 2 miles coming up, I needed water so I thought I’d stop. Then I started to fishtail – I was in instant denial. I kept pedaling, but curiosity drew my head down to watch my top tube move off axis from my headset. I started screaming, 3 flats in one day, soaking wet, and I was 30 miles from the closest town.
The rest area would be a somber refuge, I thought I would just call a cab to pick me up even though there probably wasn’t one in Lander 30 miles away. As I walked along the highway unable to see anything because of the clouds and rain, I felt very alone, stupid, defeated, ridiculous, but mostly stupid. It was about 8:30 by the time I stumbled into the rest area. There were signs saying “No open flames” and “No overnight camping”, I thought it would be nice to have some fire and a tent but mostly something just dry. And then I started to laugh, there were bicycles under the roofs of the picnic areas with a couple tents in the grassy areas. My search for a full 100 psi was in a rest area miles from any civilization. I had been looking for a pump for a long time… Victory!
I met the three individuals. One European gentleman had been on the road for a month and planned to make the grand tour of Yellowstone before heading west. The other 2 at the stop were on their way to Vancouver from Lubbock. They had graduated from school and decided to make the best of it. We were all tired and wet.
Seeing the tent as useless, I bundled up in the sleeping bag with my wet clothes and wrapped myself in the tarp like a burrito… Tomorrow I would hopefully get to Lander, land of pumps. Since it was 30 miles I considered it walking distance, I felt a little easier going to sleep. Plus, it wouldn’t be raining in the morning as it usually just rains in the afternoon.

Day 9 – Rest day – Flagg Ranch to Colter Bay Campground 20.63 miles

A little bit of a scare...
Much needed rest day today. I woke up late and lazed around with the intention of having lunch at the lodge. I packed everything up and being the third day since I filled up the tires I went about the motions of pumping up the tires. I noticed the Topeak Road Morph pump looked a little different but I paid it no mind, pushed down on the valve and *thpft*, the innards of the valve spit against the rim, instantly flattening the tire. Hum. The end cap holding everything together on the pump had disappeared. I put everything together sans end cap and tried again on the other tire: a little more controlled deflating this time. Damn.

I had no other way of inflating the tires. I packed everything else up and was sure there was someone around who had a pump. I went to the lodge and made my inquiries, several were mountain bikers but none had presta valve pumps. There was an auto compressor next to the gas pumps so I took it over there and left to go to the campground near the area to see if someone there had a pump. One guy had an emergency pump for his car but it wasn’t helping his dead battery. No one else had a pump either. I walked back to the lodge and went into the convenience store, more conversation led nowhere but I saw out of the corner of my eye some duct tape in the store and it gave me an idea. I went into my bag and had some athletic tape which I wrapped around the valve and used the air compressor at the gas pump. Presto – the presta valve became Schrader at 80 lbs of pressure. Meanwhile one of the employees came out to mock me asking me rhetorically if guys like me were prepared for anything. I didn’t tell him I was never a boy scout. Another maintenance person stopped to ask how things were and proceeded to tell a story about how he pulled someone on a mountain bike in his truck by a rope through the park until the inevitable rope snap from braking sent the biker over the guy’s truck. Meanwhile over the guy’s radio attached to his uniform began telling a story about a guy in the campground with a dead battery. The maintenance guy responded saying he’d have to wait. The person with the dead battery had jumper cables, all he needed was a live battery. I decided to skip lunch at the lodge and won’t be back to Flagg Ranch.

Off to Colter Bay campground for a much needed rest day 20 miles away, the knees agreed. It was uphill and on bad pavement and in some places where no pavement existed. So, 20 miles was actually a long way. Finally, the first sight of the Tetons was so rewarding. Storm clouds looked to crowd the western slopes with blue skies to the east made very dramatic pictures, and this was to last for both days.

I made camp at Colter Bay for $7 and it seemed like they cordoned off the “Hiker/Biker” section the furthest away from everyone else and everything. If I was a hiker, I’d be a little aggravated. If I were a biker with a bad knee on a rest day, I’d be a little aggravated. And don’t get me started about the bear boxes. According to instructions everything including the obvious food plus water bottles, toiletries, utensils, stoves, etc, regardless of whether they were clean or dirty, were to go in the bear box, a giant brown steel rectangular box on the ground with two chains and clasps like a dog leash to close it. All of it about 40 feet away. Brushing teeth, water, and food all became careful planning.

I walked down to the more commercialized area of the campground and bought some odds and ends at the grocery store which I thought to be well stocked for a campground. I headed down to the marina where I spent a couple hours just sitting around watching the storm beat against the mountains unsuccessfully. Just an FYI – if you want to use the canoes you have to get there before 3pm. Several people did not know this and was a source of several heated conversations when the initial person learning the policy from the marina employee relayed the information to the rest of the canoeing hopeful party.

I met another unassuming cross country cyclist who agreed to take a picture of me in front of the mountains. He seemed to be one of the less social cyclists who wouldn’t mind riding on roads devoid of any human life. He said he wouldn’t think twice about sleeping on the side of the road and seemed upset that I would suggest that in Yellowstone he would pay money for one of the campgrounds. He warned me of terrible and pavementless roads ahead. We said our goodbyes and he disappeared as quickly as he came.

I could spend days just sitting and staring at the Tetons, they are captivating. Pictures won't do them justice because there's movement along the range.

One thing I didn’t mention about Day 7 when the storm was chasing me down the mountain was the jug of Endurox flew off and I had to turn around to chase it. What I didn’t know at the time was my 24 Hours of Booty bibs in “dry mode” on top of my stuff had also flown off the back. When I arrived in Ennis I had realized my loss… Well, after settling in and returning from the bathroom another cyclist arrived in the campground wearing the bibs I had lost. Wearing my 24HOB T-shirt the first words were “I think I have your shorts.” We shared many stories that evening including his hospitality from prison workers and some other strange characters he had met along the way. He was headed south to Jackson to meet friends.

My plan in the morning was to get to Lander, WY, where reportedly there was a bike shop – 150 miles away.

Calories were 2 sleeves of Ritz crackers, the bottle of wine, couple Fat Tire beers, 4 oz of pepper cheese, 2 clif bars, noodles in a box, Bumblebee chicken salad in a can.

Day 8 – Ennis, MT to Flagg Ranch Grand Teton Nat’l Park 149.65 miles

Longest day of the expedition by far. I think I did everything that could be done today. I got rained on, went over a Continental Divide 3x, went nearly 150 miles, and saw a whole lotta animals. I could technically split the day in two days, before and after Yellowstone. I awoke at 6am and was out on the road by 6:45 in the hopes of beating the winds the weather channel was forecasting for the day. Ennis seemed to be a big fly fisherman’s paradise, a sort of hardy subculture I was never aware of…
As soon as I got out of town I was hit head on with 15 – 20 mph winds that kept me at a steady 10 mph pace for about 40 miles up the valley of Montana. As a reference I was going 10 mph up the mountain pass the day before (with the help of the menacing storm). Along the way I saw some curious small land developments of a handful of expensive looking houses which in Montana seems kind of silly when all around are miles and miles of open land, why live right next to someone? The winds also kept the antelope close to the ground. I spotted some every now and again and tried to take pictures, they would not allow it, they are very fast animals.
The winds broke once I went into the valley of Earthquake Lake where the mosquitoes were waiting for me, and they were huge. I had stopped to take a picture of an historical marker and was immediately swarmed by the monsters. I left without the picture. They pelted me like rain drops through the valley and seemed to die on contact so I kept my pace higher than I would have liked. Resting wasn’t an option for about 30 miles. I took my helmet off for 20 miles around Hebgen Lake to keep the mosquitoes clear of my head, I didn’t want them nibbling at my brain. For folks (like me) who don’t know about Earthquake Lake, the gentleman at the visitor center way back near Hamilton told me that in the 50’s an earthquake ripped the side of a mountain off and basically buried alive many folks in a campground below. There was a visitor center at the quake site but I did not stop for fear of getting sucked dry of my blood. When I came over the dam I didn’t see what the big deal was until I was about a mile down the road and looked back – there was half a mountain staring back. Time has stood still in the valley, nothing grows on the face of the mountain. The lake that was formed when it dammed the river killed the remaining trees in the valley and they stand as lifeless white spires today.
I made it to West Yellowstone (71 miles from Ennis) in record slow time of about 6 hours, had lunch at a small café, and then visited a bike shop. Both establishments already seemed to suffer from tourist fatigue early in the season, I’m sure they get the same questions day in and day out. They went through the motions and that was about it. I didn’t spend much time there though I should have when looking back now 150 miles into the day… I headed into Yellowstone around 3pm thinking I would catch the campsites 30 miles in on the south side. The folks at the bike shop told me about the numerous campgrounds on the south side. I decided I would head at least the 30 miles into the park despite the two looming passes I had to cross to get to the site. The closest campground was 14 miles in and I thought it too close for a following rest day.
Within a few miles of entering the park I was met face to face with the enormous bison. Remembering as a kid the ranger’s horror stories of kids getting mauled after getting too close to the bison I made sure to put a truck between me and the giants. Their horns were the size of my head, and I’m sure I looked inviting.
The next turnoff was littered with more bison and some photographers were walking around them, so this time I was a little braver and rolled through the turnoff and rode next to the bison. They were just slowly making their way in one direction and would raise their heads just slightly to recognize my existence. I still consider my fear a healthy one. I’ll let the photogs do their job and I’ll just get a postcard.
After passing the Madison campground it was 16 miles to Old Faithful, something I hadn’t seen in almost 20 years. 20 years ago when I visited as a kid in the early 90s there wasn’t much there except the lodge originally built a while ago (don’t quiz me, Wiki will know the exact date, I’m saying early 1900s). Now it’s an expanse of a compound with cafeteria, clinic, additional lodging, cabins, employee recreation, more gift shops, and so on. I think there were 3 separate parking lots. The entrance to the geyser even had an overpass off the main road for easier vehicle access. The ranger would make an announcement over PA when the next eruption would be. When I went years ago there was just a clock hanging on a tree. As luck would have it, I arrived just in time for the geyser’s show. There were some ominous clouds in the background so it made for bad pictures. I later found that the clouds weren’t rain clouds but winter snow clouds… I bought some small stuff after another lunch and asked about the camping in the miles ahead. The ranger said they were all closed due to snow cover. The southern boy in me was incredulous that the sites were completely snow covered. There wasn’t any snow around Old Faithful! I checked the mileage, I would have another 45 miles and 3 passes to go over, and it was 7pm. Based on history it would put me into Teton around 10pm and at least 12 hours on the bike. I went over to the lodge and asked about what they had available - $500 for a suite. I think the kid behind the counter was also suffering from tourist fatigue and probably was wondering why this guy in tights didn’t make reservations earlier like everyone else (who was a boy scout).
I decided to head to Teton 45 miles away. As I reflect now, if you bike into Yellowstone, make sure it’s later in the summer when all the campgrounds are open. And no, I was not a boy scout in the early ages so preparing for something takes the fun out of the surprise, good or bad. Biking Yellowstone should be a separate trip, one could spend at least a week exploring the area.
As I crested the second pass and continental divide, the view of the mountains were starkly different than in Montana. Montana’s mountains had that romantic picturesque snow topped peaks above the tree line. In the southern part of Yellowstone, it was as if I stepped right into a very cold winter I had never seen as a southern boy from North Carolina. There was more snow on the ground than bare ground. Snow, in this case ranged between 1 and 5 feet with the immediate trees next to the road swallowed by the snow pushed to the side by plows. The snow clouds above which blocked out the sun I was accustomed to also set the mood. I’m not a winter fan so please understand I equate winter with death and seeing a 360 degree view of death was a little unnerving. All I had going for me was a little strip of asphalt that was wet which could potentially turn to ice like its brethren snow piled up all around me. My lifeline was going to freeze and I had to get off the mountain!
The 3 passes I needed to go over were a cinch, I’m not sure what the elevation gain was but it didn’t feel like much. At the time I didn’t know they were each continental divides so I was a little aggravated that I kept crossing it. Divides are inherently divisive, they indicate a difference between one side from another and would seem linear. They should not meander around like some kind of bumbling river. If I cross a divide, I should not have to cross it again until I get to North Carolina. It’s kind of like when I briefly went back into Idaho from Montana to get to Jackson, Montana, I was done with Idaho and did not want to move backwards. Only forward!
By the third pass the sun was starting to go down, I don’t think it was much of a pass at all. It was some sign stuck aimlessly along the road with little elevation change. Passes, like divides, should be divisive as well. This is the whole reason why people want to go over them. Southern Yellowstone reminded me more of the rolling hills in the Carolinas, which was fine with me as I rolled through them in the twilight hours.
I was also quickly reminded that animals feed at sundown. I saw the bison earlier, but then came the elk… and lots of meeses (moose for the grammatically unchallenged)! At long last, I saw the enigmatic moose. Now see, if I planned out everything like a boy scout, I wouldn’t have seen my moose because I would have already found a place to stay like a good boy by the evening’s animal show. Later on I saw a coyote walking along the road too, which made me wonder if I was going to be a target for wolves like the bartender from Jackson had warned. I told the coyote it could not eat me and it lowered its neck as if it were admitting the guilt of thinking it.
The southern part of Yellowstone is basically stuck in winter, and it’s a couple days from June. I was very surprised by the difference between the lazy creeks slurping through green grass and lumbering bison in the western part of the park. By 9pm the sun set over the very frozen (yes, patchy, but very frozen) Lewis Lake and the roads were wet from runoff which worried me if it were to freeze on my descent into Teton. Imagine the tension in my mind wondering if wolves were after me going 30 mph in the dark down broken pavement. My demons haunt me in so many forms. Cold and very wet, I was glad to arrive at my destination by 10pm. It was definitely a long day, and too dark to pitch a tent so I coughed up the dough for another cabin. But the day was rewarding, I wish I could have gotten better pictures of the sunset over Lewis Lake and the snow covered canyons, but you’ll just have to see them for yourself… or Flickr.
Calories today were a healthy bleu cheese burger with some kind of cheesy potato soup, a clif bar, a ham and cheese Panini, 20 oz of root beer, 20 oz of coke, 2 servings of Endurox, and a whole lotta water.
I can’t decide what I’m going to do tomorrow, maybe head further south about 30 miles to the next and more favorable campground in Teton or stay here in the northern part of the park. I imagine I’ll head south since I have to pack everything to leave this cabin anyways at a completely sensible $189 a night without a TV and internet. Last night had direct TV, fridge, and wifi for $54… Better than a $500 suite I suppose.
Yellowstone is in a transition and is at conflict with its own space and how people define it. I bought a bottle of wine at the Old Faithful grocery store. I suppose I could have capped it off with a night in a “suite”. People who come here want rugged yet the roads in Yellowstone seem to be the heaviest traveled I’ve experienced so far, especially by RV. People I observed won’t get so far as 30 feet from their car for a photo opportunity of a bird’s nest or bison. Then off to the next sight, and dammit there’s that biker again we just passed, let's buzz'em. Add to the image of trucks with campers attached to its bed. I felt like it was a redneck safari not far off from Disney’s animal kingdom concept… I bet there are plans for a wild sushi restaurant and massage for those laborious hours in the car. Either way, it’s indispensible education if people would stop and read the notes on the roadside about the history of the park. I think for most it’s just part of the bucket list.
BODY CHECK
After a week into the ride I thought I’d share some observances about my body. When I applied for life insurance they gave me a physical, I weighed 170 lbs which is heavy for me in May. I look as though I’ve lost around 10 lbs given the fat on the inside legs, lower abdomen, and around the creases of the arms have thinned. I look like a Klingon with my 3 striped helmet tan forehead. The tan lines on the arms and legs are incredible. My knees are benefitting from my experiment in OTC anti-inflammatory medication, I’ve settled on Aleve, which I credit for my day’s ride and ability to put in 150 miles. Everything else is fine. The undercarriage has healed and hardened from 950 miles on the bike. I fully expected to have trap pain, lower back pain, tricep pain, etc. All of these pains are eliminated because when I’m riding 30 miles in a straight line on a clean road, I just put my head down and go. In NC, there are too many potholes, broken pavement, rocks, parked cars (inside joke), and other obstacles to prevent a time trial style ride. The legs were a little tired today and threatened to cramp in the quads, a first for the ride.