Walden, CO to Rawlins, WY

ready to leave

I woke up around 6:30 AM to Shane and his friend Josh working on the four-wheelers.  I started packing up, and after 30 minutes, Shane jokingly said, “Jeez, I thought Ryan was going to make us breakfast.”  Weird.  Was that a hint for me to fire up his grill and cook food?  I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just sat there and laughed nervously.  It wasn’t funny.

Shane had a bossy streak in him.  “Get that.  Do this.”  I first saw it when he was telling EC to let me use his laptop.  It continued, and it eventually came to me.  I had dug a deep fire pit to protect the fire against the wind, and he questioned the design.  “I think that’s too deep.  You should make it wider.”  He took the shovel from me and adjusted it.  It really turned me off and put a damper on my mood.  I was ready to leave the previous evening when that happened.

I cooked up sausage and egg beaters.  I should have just eaten my bagels and bananas.  I could feel my stomach getting pissed at me for eating crap.  A few minutes later, EC woke up and once again began squabbling with Shane.  Shane and Josh were planning on riding some trails, and EC felt left out.  Ugh.  Stupid squabbling.  I felt awkward just watching them argue.  So did Josh.

I wasn’t able to push my bike out of the forest due to all the loose sand, so Shane drove me back out to the highway.  During the short ride, I enjoyed a conversation about his present relationship with his girlfriend.  Those were the conversations I wanted to have with him…not ones about a $5,000 sound system.

I said goodbye to Shane and let him know how touching it was that he pulled over to ask me if I needed help.  It wasn’t a lie.  It really was touching.  I was grateful that this trip brought me such an experience, however unique it was.

onward to wyoming

The day’s ride would take me to the town of Saratoga, WY.  I’d stay on a stretch of highway for about 60 miles.  After cresting one of large hills, I saw a landscape that I had in my head of Wyoming.  Sage grass covered the terrain, and the sun broke through the rain clouds into the high desert.  It was beautiful, but I wasn’t looking forward to riding through the rain.

The storm seemed to be blowing nothward, and I was following a hole in the clouds just above me.  Very lucky.  Most of the ride was rolling hills, which was very different from Colorado.  The highway I was cycling seemed remote.  A car would pass by every 20 minutes.

60 miles later, I rolled into the town of Saratoga.  I noticed a National Forest building off to my right, and I slowed down to pull into the parking lot.  I wanted to figure out where public land was located so I could primitive camp.  Suddenly, a woman in a truck truck yells at me.  The truck had passed me a couple hundred feet back and did a U-turn in the parking lot.  She wanted a picture of my sign that read “I miss my shower.”

lucky me

Her name was Noelle.  She worked for the Bureau of Land Management up in Rawlins, WY, the next big town on my route.  I started talking to her about places to camp in town and asked if she had any maps.  We spoke for about 5 minutes, and I asked her where she was headed.  “Rawlins,” she said.  “Want a ride?”  OK…I’ll go with it.  She said I could camp in her yard.  I was pumped because I had a sure-fire place to camp.

After getting to her house, she offered me a shower.  Damn…awesome!!!  After being in the sand dunes for two days, I was caked with dirt.  It was in my ears, nostrils, and fingernails.  I felt disgusting.  And then she offered for me to do a load of laundry.  And then she offered to drive me to the grocery store.  I was blown away.  Noelle was awesome.  I would have never expected this to happen.  At best, I was hoping for a public shower at the hot springs in Saratoga, WY.

Her husband Andy got home from work.  He worked as an officer for Animal Control.  Shit.  I hope he’s cool with me camping at their place.  And he was.

We went to the grocery store, and Noelle told me that she was grilling that night.  “Don’t worry about food,” she said.  What?  Are you serious?  When does it end?  When I got back, Andy offered me a bed to sleep on downstairs in the basement.  These guys were great.

I tried to contribute and show my gratitude by washing dishes in the kitchen.  I also baked up a batch of brownies.  Yo Andy and Noelle, you got browned!

Here’s Andy feeding a baby bird that he didn’t have the heart to kill on the job.

day in rawlins

The next morning, I got up early to prepare for a long ride.  It was going to be a 90 mile day in the wind and rain, something I was not looking forward to.  After Andy left for work, Noelle told me that they were going to Casper the next day, and they’d be happy to drop me off at Muddy Gap.  I looked outside.  OK.  That would be awesome.

I spent most of the day helping Noelle clean the house.  She was preparing to have family over for the next weekend.  I also cut the grass.  Although it was 3-4 hours of chores, I really enjoyed helping out.  I wanted to work off some of my karma debt and pay it forward to show my gratitude.

Grand Lake, CO to Walden, CO

pancakes and birdwatching

Marilynn and Dave cooked up a fantastic breakfast, complete with strawberries and pancakes.  During breakfast, a ton of different birds would fly by and chirp in nearby trees.  Marilynn and Dave are bird fanatics, and they loved identifying rare birds.  The clock in the kitchen even chirped bird sounds when it turned every hour.

They started talking to me about some of the birds I’d see in the Walden area.  I don’t know crap about birds and don’t really find them appealing, but I listened thinking there might be some cool carniverous, man-eating bird.  Nope.  Just boring birds that look like turkeys.  That’s probably how people feel when I talk about vegetable gardening or being on a bicycle.

sad, lonely ride to walden

I said goodbye to Marilynn and Dave.  I didn’t want to leave.  They were really good to me, and this would be my next-to-last day in Colorado.  Cycling here had been incredible, and most of the people I hung out with were phenomenal.

I started my ride feeling like a really fat guy loaded down with pancakes.  Stupid, always hungry Ryan stuffed himself with pancakes.

The ride out of Grand Lake, CO was a pretty easy one.  Most of it was downhill and went along the lake.  Really pretty.

20 miles later, I began my ascent to Willow Creek Pass.  This was going to be my last pass in Colorado.  It was a 25 mile gradual ascent to the top of the pass, and it ran along Willow Creek.  I was hoping to see a lot of moose because they love eating willows.  Unfortunately, I never saw one.

It was a lonely, sad route.  The willows looked depressed.  Stuck in the mud and water.  No moose eating them.  It was also raining, which amplified the melancholic mood.  And I was leaving Colorado.  Colorado was breaking up with me, and I felt heartbroken.

third day of losing something

I pulled off the side of the road to eat a few cheap Kroger cookies and looked down at my wrist.  The magnetic therapy bracelet I had bought in Montrose was gone.  Two days ago I had lost the necklace Emilie gave me.  Yesterday I had lost the Apocalypse Briggs shirt.  I was pissed.

I turned around to cycle back to the spot where I had put on my rain jacket.  3 miles back.  I thought for sure it popped off there.  Nothing.  Ugh…this killed my mood.  That bracelet represented my time in Montrose and Black Canyon.  Now it was gone.  I was furious at myself, and I wasted 6 miles of cycling to find it.  I want to go sit in Willow Creek and cry.

The next 10 miles was spent thinking about the three consecutive days that I had lost something.  Stupid, stupid boy.  I wanted to punish myself.  “Ryan, you will now primitive camp for 5 days.  You stupid, stupid boy.  Nothing but peanut butter for you, stupid.”

letting go of things

I had pedaled hard to the top of the pass and decided to stop and eat a boring bagel topped with peanut butter.  The mood was somber.  I was sitting on alphalt in the cold with dead trees surrounding me.

In the background of this picture, you can see red trees that have been attacked by the pine beetle.  All dead.  I understand your pain, dead trees.

I began an inner dialogue.  I had to let go of these ‘things’.  They weren’t important.  However, relationships and experiences were, and I couldn’t let something this superficial ruin my day.  I decided to wave and smile at passing drivers while I ate my bagel.  It worked.  They waved back, and my mood went to the positive.

And just like that, my day went from shitty to fantastic.  A black truck that I had waved at came back up the hill.  The driver asked if I was OK and needed any help.  I told him I was eating a peanut butter bagel, and as I did, he read my sign.  He laughed and that opened more dialogue.  I told him where I was from and what I was doing.

He was impressed and hopped out of his truck to offer me a few gatorades.  Shit yea!  I introduced myself to him and his passenger.  Their names were Shane (driver) and EC.  They said they were going to a national forest just north of Walden to ride four-wheelers and grill out for Memorial Day weekend.  Having spoken to them for a few minutes, they asked me if I wanted to join them for some camping.  They’d give me a ride to the spot.  Holy shit.  I was blown away.  The day had changed in an instant.  I had changed my negative energy to a positive one, and that change resulted in a positive outcome.  I had let go of my desires, that being the necklace, and lived in the present to avoid living in the past.

redneck riviera in the colorado dunes

Having gotten to the top of the pass, the ride to Walden was only 15 miles and downhill.  I didn’t feel bad about cheating.

I was a little antsy about getting there.  Shane said that there were going to be thousands of people there with crazy dune buggies, four-wheelers, and dirtbikes.  Having ridden dirtbikes as a kid, I knew what a lot of the off-road riders were like:  cocky and showboats.  Thousands of them in one place was no good.  I would probably be the only one there with transportation that didn’t require gas, along with stupid bicycle clothing.  Whatever.  This will be a unique experience.  That’s what this trip was about.

We rode up to the forest.  It was littered with huge, gaudy RVs and off-road vehicles.  I felt sad for the park rangers working there.  They had to deal with thousands of drunk assholes the entire weekend, most of which had no respect for the land.  I saw a lot of riders going over the vegetation off the trails and thrashing it up.  They didn’t give a shit.

People were setting up huge, big-top tents, complete with generators, TVs, grills, and stereos.  This was a redneck party spanning a couple hundred acres, and it would certainly not qualify as camping.  Shane told me a lot of these vehicles ran into the hundreds of thousands of dollars.  He and EC would get a hard-on when some cool, unique, gaudy vehicle drove by.  They’d automatically spout off the model number.  I wasn’t impressed or interested, and I felt really out of place.  I guess all these people get their kicks from this stuff.  They probably feel the same way about my bicycle adventure.

We set up camp and rode out to the dunes.  I have to admit that the dunes were gorgeous.  To the west were the snow-capped mountains of the Rockies, and just beneath my feet lay a terrain much like the Sahara.  And then I’d look around and see all these assholes drive within 5 feet of me, spitting dirt into the air. Ugh.

In an effort to relate to Shane and EC, I told them that I had ridden dirtbikes a lot as a kid.  They offered up the four-wheelers to drive around.  OK.  Gladly.  While I rode around on the trails, Shane pulled EC on a sled.

EC kept saying he wanted to show everyone his skills.  Unfortunately I think that’s the only reason he wanted to do it.  I felt like everyone there had something to prove.

After a few minutes of riding, EC bit it hard and broke the sled.  And that concluded my riding for the evening.

wind, sand, and expensive sound systems

That night the weather was terrible.  40 mph wind gusts.  This combined with the sand left me with an inability to have functional eyes.  We all piled into the truck to watch a movie.  Shane drove a pretty big truck equipped with GPS, power everything, DVD player, and other stuff I don’t know shit about.  Again, cars don’t impress me.  I don’t really care.

Shane then went on to tell me about his $5,000 sound system.  Why did he have to tell me the price?  He continued to tell me all about the specifications of the stereo system.  I said “cool” and “awesome” over and over, feigning interest.  I didn’t give a shit.  Shane’s bragging was the mentality of most of the people there.  They had something to prove.  Anyone who drove by us on a dirtbike did a wheelie.  They knew we were watching.  I was really tired of it.

It was too bad.  Shane had done a really great thing for me, and I was really touched by the fact that he did such a selfless act.  But the things he was doing (along with the thousands of others there) went against this.  Conversation always revolved around a thing and its price tag.  Fate, it seemed, had a sense of irony.  My inner dialogue earlier that day had told me to let go of such things.  Here I was smack dab in the middle of thousands of people obsessed with objects.  Did Shane’s selfless act have purpose in that it showed me the result of a selfish lifestyle?

It made me really uncomfortable.  One of the other things that I’d like to bring up was that everyone ran their cars idle to power all their gadgets and gizmos.  In Shane’s case, he was charging his phone and running his sound system.  I didn’t understand how people could be so wasteful.

That night, I slept in the back of Shane’s truck because my tent was full of sand.  I was very grateful to have a place out of the wind.

Rocky Mountain National Park

riding unloaded

Lloyd and I woke up to the sun around 6 AM.  Early start.  After getting coffee, Lloyd went to the Alpine Visitor’s Center, located at the top of the mountain, to prepare the building for Memorial Day weekend opening.  He also took my panniers with him =).  Alyssa swung by and drove me just past the entrance gate.  She used her ranger pass to get me in without a fee.  I’m getting really lucky with the park fees…I’m 3 for 3.

I was really excited to do this ride unloaded.  I could spend more time taking in the beauty of the park instead of struggling with the steep 25 mile incline at 5 mph.

50th b-day for mother dearest

My mom’s birthday fell on Memorial Day, so I wanted to write something on the board for her while going through the park.  The views gradually got more and more spectacular.  Older drivers passing me enjoyed the message and thought I was a really sweet guy.  Really sweet, ugly guy.

Longs Peak.

I was coasting up the mountain and had no problems with the climb.  The past few days had really prepared me for this ride.  I took my time and took some pretty cool shots of the landscape.

I climbed down to get this shot.

On the way back up after taking the above photo, a guy on a motorcycle came over and started talking to me.  He mentioned that he was from Ohio and started bragging about how hard his ride has been.  I just sat there listening to him complain about the wind.  Whatever.  I didn’t feel like showboating.  He probably thought I was on a day ride since I only had one pannier attached to my bike.

This pictures gives you an idea of how much snow had been piling up on the side of the mountain.  Cold and high.  And I wasn’t the one who etched that image of a penis into the snow.  I didn’t know it was there until I looked closer at the picture.

Jim

I was getting annoyed by the cloud cover on the mountain because I really wanted to get some pictures above 12,000 ft.  The visibility was pretty bad, and at times, I could only see 10 feet in front of me.

I turned a corner and there was a pretty fantastic break in the clouds, revealing the landscape of the southwestern portion of the park.  I was having a really hard time getting some side shots because I had to set up the tripod in the middle of the road.

A van pulled up behind me full of some old folks, and out pops a cyclist named Jim.  He came up to me and stuck out his hand with a few dollars in it.  I couldn’t accept it.  It just felt weird taking money from this nice guy.  I refused to take the money and just said I’d rather shake his hand.  He was pretty happy with that, and we spoke for a while.  I asked him if he could take a few profile pictures of me riding along the road.

Failure after failure.  He couldn’t operate the camera and had trouble placing me in the frame.  15 minutes went by, and I just told him it was OK.  I could tell his friends in the van were getting impatient.

top of mountain

I finally got some pretty good pictures.

This one was at the highest point on Trail Ridge Road…about 12.3k feet.

And of course I had to get a some shirtless pic with my ugly tan line.

I finally got to the Alpine Visitor’s Center where I met Lloyd and picked up my bags.  He was eagerly waiting in the Visitor’s Center, lonely and really happy to see me.  What a friendly guy.

I actually just asked him to stand there and wave.  Friendly and lonely.

The ride down was quick and cold.  I went from tundra to forest in a matter of a few miles, and when I did, I got to see a ton of wildlife.

Elk.

Moose.

And a lot of other animals I couldn’t get on camera.  The fox once again eluded me.

marilynn and dave

Marilynn and Dave were two touring cyclists that were letting me crash at their place that night.  Upon my arrival, Marilynn was eager to show me the shower and bedroom.  I had a long day and hadn’t eaten anything, so I cooked up some grilled cheese.  Bread caked with butter.  Yum.

During dinner, Dave spoke a lot about his touring experiences.  I tried not to zone out, but it was so much information.  My brain couldn’t process it at that elevation.  I felt like I was going to collapse with fatigue.  Sorry Dave =(

bye apocalypse briggs shirt

I went through my clothes later that night and realized I had lost my Apocalypse Briggs shirt.  Shit.  That shirt allowed me to not wear my damn bicycle jerseys around all the time.  Now I would always look like some retarded guy in synthetic shirts.

I could hear passers-by in cool, hip towns questioning my style and wardrobe selection.  “Why is that guy so ugly?  Why is he wearing a synthetic bicycle jersey to a dance club?  He’s not on a bicycle.  He’s a liar.”  Oh well.  This only solidified the fact that I’m ugly.

Nederland, CO to Estes Park, CO

morning freak-out

I woke up around 7:30 AM and packed up pretty quickly.  Bonnie was fixing some omelets and wanted to know if I wanted any coffee.  Absolutely.  After loading up my bike, I went inside and fixed the pot of coffee.

Shit.  Max and Bonnie don’t drink coffee.  There I was with a full pot and no one to share it with.  This was a dilemma.  I didn’t want to drink the whole pot, and I didn’t want to waste half a pot.  I decided to drink the whole pot.

Four cups of coffee and an omelet later I realize I lost the necklace Emilie (from Gunnison) gave me.  Shit.  I really liked it too.  It must have fallen off when I was asleep.  Meanwhile, I’m really messed up from all this caffeine.  Hundreds of thoughts are running through my head, but I can’t seem to string any of them together.  I’m just pulling things out of my bags to find the necklace and not even looking through them.  Pretty soon, I go from having a loaded bike to an unloaded bike.

i’m fat and heavy

While I’m internally freaking out, Bonnie brings out a scale because she’s curious how much my bike weighs.  All I can think about is finding the necklace.  I don’t know why I’m so fixated on finding it.  I just am.  The caffeine amplified my fixation exponentially.

Max guesses my loaded bike weighs about 70-80 pounds.  I agree.  I step on the scale with my bike.  277 lbs.  I weigh 170.  Shit…that’s 107 lbs of shit I’m carrying around.  Terrible.  The good thing is that I’m stronger than I thought.  The bad thing is that’s all I’ll think about when climbing a hill.  “I could be lighter.”

I said goodbye to Max and Bonnie.  I feel bad about the goodbye because my mind was preoccupied with that damn necklace AND the weight.  When I got a few miles from their home, I re-emptied my bags and searched again.  Stupid.  I wasn’t going to find it.  I had to let it go.

rocky mtn national park appetizer

I could see parts of Rocky Mountain National Park during my ride to Estes Park.  It was really pumping me up.  By this time, the caffeine had run its course.  Unfortunately, my iPod had run out of juice.  I was stuck with the silence of my tires on the road.  Ugh.  It made me want to have a cycling partner that I could talk to.

Trish Lal gave me the message “This is Ryan.  Be nice to him” to ride with.  I appended to it my weight.  I thought it was funny since I was such a heavy piece of slow-moving crap.  And people seemed to be nice to me.  Drivers often laughed and waved.  Kewl.

Lloyd

I lucked out with my couchsurfing host that night.  Lloyd worked for the park as an EMT and interpreter.  He often dealt with old people that couldn’t handle the altitude.  He was an encyclopedia of knowledge about the park and told me great stories about really annoying people that visit the park.

He later said he would bring my bags to the top of the park for me because he had to prep the visitor’s center for the opening on Memorial Day weekend.  That pumped me up big time because I was dreading the ride up with my heavy load…277 lbs.  I would be able to enjoy the park without having an alien burst out of my chest.  Lloyd…come give me CPR.  I’m dying because my bike is heavy.

Lloyd, his girlfriend Alyssa, and I went to a BBQ place in town.  I was pumped to get some sweet tea and pulled-pork sandwich.  Lloyd picked up the tab.  I tried getting it back from him.  Really awkward…similar to what happened with Shawn in Liberty, TX.  The awkward check dance.  He insisted that he pay it forward.  He had couchsurfed in Europe and got taken care of a lot.  I wanted to give Lloyd a big fat kiss on the cheek.  First he told me he’d take my heavy panniers up, and now this.  <3

To show my gratitude, I purchased some icecream and made brownies.  Brownies and ice cream.  Yum.

YO LLOYD AND ALYSSA…YOU GOT BROWNED!

I kept saying that to them.  Over and over.  I was probably on some annoying sugar high.

Eoin, I am totally ripping that line off.  It’s really good.

Blackhawk, CO to Nederland, CO

morning paranoia

6:30 AM: I heard a huge metallic noise. ! I thought it was the campground gate opening. Maybe the US Forest Service is coming into the campground to prepare it for its opening on Memorial Day weekend. Maybe it’s the cops. Maybe it’s a giant metal monster. I was freaking out.

I got my ass out of the tent and packed up in under 5 minutes. It was the quickest I’ve packed up on tour. I was constantly looking around. I didn’t want to get a USFS fine for $50 or something.

I was packed up pretty quickly. I walked my bike down to a picnic table and enjoy a peanut butter bagel. Bland breakfast.

nederland library

I got to Nederland really early, so I headed to the library. It didn’t open for another hour, so I just sat and ate my plain bread. Bland brunch. There were three other sad people sitting around waiting for the library to open.  One of the people was a guy that came to CO to hike for 5 months. He was using the payphone, so I listened to his conversation. He didn’t have a sleeping bag, and he had somehow just spent $67 at Walmart. What? Where is all this stuff?

The other guy was just standing by the door staring in. When the library opened, he charged in, nearly running over the librarian. I heard the librarian yell out “JEEZ!”  What an ass.

I sat down at a computer next to a lady with a terrible shade of hot pink lipstick. She was also wearing ugly sweatpants. I looked over at her computer screen, and she was reading about parasites. Worms. Gross. I think she was the town prostitute.

indian and nepali buffet

The last time I had gorged on a lunch buffet was with Eoin in Abbeville, LA. It was glorious Chinese food. I had asked several people in town where a good place to eat was. They all recommended the same place: Katmandu’s. Indian and Nepali food. And they had a lunch buffet. My eyes lit up, so I headed there.

I had about five plates of food. I gorged myself till I was sick.  I just sat there, head in my hands, staring at the table waiting for my food to digest.

scammer kid at grocery store

I cycled to the grocery store to pick up some fruit and cookies.  I was about to go into the store when a 12 year-old kid comes up to me asking for money.  This is how the conversation went:

Kid:  Excuse me sir.  My mom gave me $10 for dinner but it fell out of my pocket.  Do you have like a dollar or something I can have?

Me:  Well, I have some food.  I can make you a peanut butter sandwich.

Kid:  I get really sick when I eat bread.  That’s OK.

Me:  I got bagels too.

Kid:  No, no.  That’s OK.

By now I know this kid is full of shit.  What hungry kid is going to say he gets sick from bread?  Liar.  I continued the conversation to see how full of shit he was and if he was capable of holding up a good lie.

Me:  So why are you here alone?  Where is your mom?

Kid:  She drops me off here and picks me up at 11 PM.

Me:  Huh?  That is really late.  Where do you live?

Kid:  Near Boulder.  I go to school up here.  I am like a math genius, so I go to a special school.

Me:  Oh?  What is your address?  What is your mom’s number?  I can call her to ask her to pick you up.

Kid:  No, that’s OK.  I don’t remember my address, and my mom has one of those limited minutes phones.

Me:  What kind of math are you learning about?

Kid:  12th grade advanced algebra.

12th grade algebra.  That was hilarious.  This kid sucks, and his lie was really starting to piss me off.  He clearly wanted to go, but I was keeping him in conversation.  I enjoyed watching him sweat nervously while he spouted the biggest bullshit story I’ve ever heard.

Me:  What kind of algebra?

Kid:  Equations and stuff.  OK, I have to go.  Cya.

I watched him walk up to other people giving them the same story. Before I left, I asked him if he was trying to swindle people.  He vehemently denied it.  I wanted to punch him in the mouth.

max and bonnie

So I managed to pin someone down that would let me camp in their yard.  Max and Bonnie.  They were clearly flower children of the 60s who loved hearing my stories about my bike trip.  They had been together for 38 years and had not been formally married.  Pretty cool.

They owned a pretty amazing cabin on the north side of town.  A very eccentric couple.  Their bathroom was littered with their toothbrush collection.  It’s a cool thing to look at when you’re peeing.  Max was cooking up dinner, so I was fed salmon, avocado, and rice.  Perfect timing

the wild okapis

And then 8 people showed up.  What’s going on here?  Is this a huge hippie orgy?  No.  They’re all in a band…a marimba band.  The best way for me to describe a marimba is it’s a huge xylophone with its sound amplified by pipes.

The band, called The Wild Okapis, had been playing together for three years.  I sat in the living room and watched/listened to them perform.  They were very good and could play the hell out of the marimbas.  The weird part was when they started dancing and singing next to the drums, while I sat idly by on a swing watching.  Is this weird?  Lonely guy just watching people dance, sing, and play instruments.

After their practice, they all went into the kitchen to talk.  I sat down next to them, and they were really interested in me…my trip.  They asked me what the ‘wildest’ thing was that happened to me.  Wildest.  Should I tell them about all the nights I’ve been drunk at all the crazy dance parties?  I told them the Liberty, TX story along with the tripod story.  Here I was, entertaining 10 people with my tales.  I stopped at two.  I didn’t want to be that guy that talked about his cool travels all the time.  I transferred conversation to someone else.

They all left, and I went to bed in my lonely campsite.

Dillon, CO to Black Hawk, CO

nitemares about loveland pass

I woke up with dread in my heart and sadness in my eyes.  No.  I was just really tired.  I didn’t get consistent sleep because I had a ton of nitemares.  Now I can’t recall them, but I didn’t want to do the ride.  I wanted to stay and party with Marta forever.  Scrabble game after Scrabble game.

I told her about my lack of sleep.  She probably thought I was some big pansy.  Marta kayaks, snowboards, runs, and now cycles.  “Bitch, go cycle Loveland,” I imagined her saying.

Marta went to buy me coffee (she’s pretty awesome), and I loaded up my bike.  I wanted Marta to follow me in her car cheering me on the entire way…to Canada.  Her positive energy would definitely help.

honk if you are rich and single

That was the message I decided to ride with as I tackled Loveland Pass, courtesy of Pat Devine.  I didn’t know how people would take it.  As I started off on the bike path out of Dillon, a few pedestrians laughed out loud.  OK.  Cool.  Maybe it will be a good thing.

The highway leading up to Loveland Pass is mostly comprised of Arapahoe basin skiers and truckers not allowed through the nearby interstate tunnel.  Lots of trucks carrying chemicals.  Great.  The worst part of Loveland Pass is that you can always see the top of the pass.  Just sitting there.  Never getting any closer.

So the rule for this board is that if you’re rich and single, you honk.  People didn’t give a about my rule.  People honked, and by people, I mean young snowboard bums.  They were liars.  They might have been single, but they were not rich.  Damn them.

Arapahoe Basin was the only slope open in Colorado…mainly because of its high altitude.  As I passed, snowboarders cheered me on.  “Yo, I saw you way down the hill.  Keep going,” one of them said.  He didn’t honk.  He was poor and possibly married.  Good guy.

The ride up was tough but much easier than Monarch.  I say this because I’ve learned to control my heartrate/breathing and pace myself.  The entire way, I could see the top of the pass teasing me.  Laughing at me.  Meanwhile, snowboarders were honking at me.  Liars.

cocky guy taking pictures

I came to a cliff with a pretty good view.  Great opportunity for a one-armed handstand shot.  I lined up the tripod perfectly.  I’d done this before with pretty steep cliffs at Black Canyon.  I was an expert.  After all, I could’ve placed in the men’s gymnastics events for the Olympics.

Bam.  Perfect timing.  I knew it as soon as I heard the beep on the camera during that split second I was on one hand on the cliff.  And then I started falling toward the cliff.  .  My body tensed up preparing for some huge tumble down a couple hundred feet.  My hands clenched on to some rocks.  I imagined all the snowboarders, just previously cheering me on, watch me fall to my .  Stupid y cyclist with his stupid sign.

I was able to pull myself back off.  The dirt was pretty loose so my feet dug in.  It scared the out of me.  Lessong learned:  I’ll just have to face the other direction when doing these handstands.

loveland pass, conquered with hundreds of old people

I started to hit a few switchbacks, closing in on 8 miles of incline.  I was almost there.  Snow surrounded me, but it was hot.  As I climbed closer, a bunch of people came into view.  Oh cool. “Snowboarders dropping in at the top,” I thought.  Maybe they’ll prop me up on their shoulders when I reach the top.

I was wrong.  The top of the pass was swarmed by old people and families.  My achievement was to be shared with about 50 drivers.  They were taking pictures in front of the sign stating the pass’s elevation.  I don’t understand why they were taking pictures.  It was a 15 minute drive up the pass.  And all they did was push on the pedal.  The best thing about it was that I was looked at like a freak show.  “Why did you do this?  Why are you here?  Why didn’t you just drive?  Why? Why?!?”  These people were perplexed, and I loved it.

I pushed my bike up one of the snow-covered hills away from all these people.  As I did, a few of the people climbing the 50 feet of stairs were huffing, puffing, and complaining.  There was one wife that did not want to be out of her car.  She asked me if I was cycling with all that “shit” on my bike.  Ugh.  What an annoying person to be married to.  I hope I made all these people feel like crap.  They were crying because they had to get out of a car and climb a few stairs for a family picture.

Another wife told me how great it must be to be young.  Right.  I’m young.  That’s the only pre-requisite for doing this trip.  That’s why all the babies of America are crawling across the country.  That’s all it takes.  Youth.  That really ed me off, especially since I had just cycled Black Canyon with two phenomenal cyclists that are 62 and 69.  Luckily a woman voiced her opinion and said it took much more than youth.  It took ambition.  Thank you, anonymous lady.  <3

And then it was picture time.  I hiked a little ways to get these pictures, but they were well worth it.

And then I took off the shirt to even up my hideous tan.

YAYYYYYY!!!

onward and downward to idaho springs

I was really looking forward to this descent, which would last for about 20 miles.  The ride down Loveland Pass was awesome.  Keeping up with cars.  And I got honked at by some ladies.  Slow down ladies…slow down!  A family in a car honked at me.  I still don’t understand that.

I went through a few towns within the thin canyons of I-70.  I am not sure I could live in a town like that.  I felt a little claustrophobic looking around.

The worst part of the descent was that it took me on dirt frontage roads.  I also had a headwind, so I was only averaging 15 mph.  That’s the worst…a headwind on the uphill AND the downhill.

I got to the small town of Georgetown and decided to suck down a 44 oz fountain drink.  I sat in the gas station eating my bagels topped with peanut butter.  Not very exciting.  As I sat, I had this gas station worker giving me the evil eye the whole time.  I tried being nice to her and spoke to her about something she was familiar with:  gas prices.  Terrible, uninteresting subject matter.  But I was just sitting there and wanted to talk to someone.  “Oh boy, those high gas prices sure are bad!”  That was probably stated several times in the conversation.  It went on and on for 15 minutes.  Suddenly, the conversation just ended.  Awkward silence.  She walked to the back, and I just sat there guzzling down my 44 oz fountain drink.

About 30 minutes later, I was regretting that fountain drink.  I had to pee every 5 minutes, and riding on a bumpy frontage road was shaking up the soda in my stomach.  I felt disgusting.  I rode through Idaho Springs and began my trek northward to my end-of-week destination:  Rocky Mountain National Park.

stupid gambling city road

As I turned north, I got onto this road called ‘Central City Parkway’.

What is up with this sign?  Am I going into a town full of clowns?  Terrible font for a sign, unless it really is a city full of dancing, juggling clowns.  That would be cool, but I didn’t see anything about that on my map.

And then I hit the 9% grades.  It was like the road suddenly turned vertical.  Just 10 feet in front of me was a big, long wall of asphalt.  And it kept going and going.  I was still getting honks, but I wasn’t in the mood.  I was standing up off my seat the entire way.  The elevation profile on this part of the highway went straight up.  The grade was worse than Loveland and Monarch.  I later found out buses refused to travel on this highway because of the grade.

Crap.  This made me laugh though.

80% of the people that drove by me going the opposite direction just stared at me.  “Why is he doing this?  Why?!?!”  These weren’t the typical looks I had been getting cycling through Colorado.  Most people knew what I was doing, but the drivers coming from Central City didn’t have a clue.

Later I found out why.  When I got to Central City, it was a gambling town full of tourists.  This little town was stuck in the middle of a canyon and littered with hundreds of casinos.  I tried to hunt down a gas station because I was out of water, but every building was a damn casino.

I had about 8 miles to go until the campsite, but my legs were not cooperating.  Central City Parkway destroyed what little strength I had left in my legs.  I had to stop at a house to fill up my water bottles.  I was bone dry, and I needed water badly.  Who knew if the campsite was closed or if the water was undrinkable…

CAMPGROUND CLOSED

I knew it.  Damnit.  I knew it. It was due to open on Memorial Day.

Screw it.  I went into the campsite anyways.  I went to the spigot next to the outhouse and cleaned up.  The sun was setting, and it was getting cold real fast.  The spigot was next to the highway, but I didn’t care at that point.

When US Forest Service campgrounds are closed, you have to camp .5 miles away from them.  I’m on a bike, and it was almost dark.  No time for that.  I quickly set up camp and ate a peanutbutter sandwich.  Really bland dinner.

Breckenridge, CO to Dillon, CO

solitude in breck

Annette and Warren kindly offered me to spend another night in Breckenridge, and I quickly obliged.  The previous day’s ride was brutal, and I was trying to slow my ride so I could time it to the opening of Rocky Mountain National Park’s Trail Ridge Road.  I spent most of the day updating the blog and riding through Breckenridge, which is a very tourist-y mountain town.  Annette and Warren did their own thing most of the day, so I hardly saw them. 

When I got back, I was expecting to hang out with the two of them that evening.  I wanted to hear more of their touring experiences.  Suddenly, I heard them yell out my name.  I went downstairs, and they told me they were going to a play and dinner. 

Damn.  Their stories were really entertaining.  This meant a night alone.  I cooked up some of my camping food stash and stood alone in the kitchen eating.  It was kind of sad.  They had left NPR running on the stereo, and I had no clue how to turn it off.  There I was, alone eating mac and cheese listening to NPR.  Standing.  And crying.

bears and buffalo

I woke up early that morning so that I could say goodbye to Annette.  She was taking off to go to a convention deal in Denver.  I was moving around downstairs and talking to them both off and on.  I went upstairs for a minute and suddenly I hear Annette leave the house.  Shit.  I didn’t even say goodbye.  Maybe she’s bad with goodbyes.  Maybe she liked me so much she couldn’t bare the thought of me leaving.  Probably not.  She didn’t give a shit. 

That left me and Warren downstairs.  I fixed a bowl of oatmeal, and I got him back to telling me stories.  Hell yes.  I got him talking about his tours in Alaska and the Yukon.  His stories were incredible. 

He had cycled 900 miles of Alaskan highway, and on the way, there were only two turn-offs.  At one point in his tour, it was pouring down rain.  A car would pass by once every 30 minutes.  Warren had been cycling 100 miles in the pouring rain, and he had only 8 more to go until getting to a primitive campsite.  He was cycling up a hill looking straight down at the ground.  Then, he looked up and 20 feet away stood a grizzly.  He was downwind and had enough time to whip his bike around.  The bear started after him, and suddenly a car passed by Warren’s left side.  Warren probably got saved by the one car that passed by every 30 minutes.  He cycled down a hill and circled until the bear walked away.  Another car passed by minutes later and the driver let him know that there was a group of bears hanging out by the road to the south.  Warren waited a while and then continued up the hill.  He heard a metal click sound.  His crank shaft had broken off.  Shit.  Bears were just up ahead, and he had no way to pedal.  He stuck out his thumb and managed to get picked up by a Canadian trapper.  This trapper had captured mountain lions and other wild predators to re-release them into other areas.  A bad experience had turned into an amazing one.    

Another one of his stories involved him sitting at his campsite when a buffalo came walking through.  He ran to get his camera, and when he turned around, he saw more buffalo popping out of the woods.  Seconds later, there were hundreds.  He was trapped behind a small pile of wood.  The smallest disturbance would have caused a huge stampede, leaving Warren to be a pancake on the ground.  He huddled next to this pile of wood, waiting for this herd to pass him by.

His stories continued.  I was like a child on Christmas morning.  Wide-eyed.  I wanted these types of stories…these types of adventures.  I was hungry for it.  Incredible.

ride to dillon

I said goodbye to Warren and headed northeast to Dillon.  On the way, I saw a fox that had just killed a small rodent.  I tried getting my camera out, but I was too late.  Damn.  He was only 5 feet away from me. 

The bike path took me past dozens of Breckenridge citizens cleaning up trash.  Pretty awesome community.  Soon I was cycling around Lake Dillon to get to Marta’s house.  That’s who I was going to be hanging out with for the next day or two.

I stopped by the grocery store, and she happened to be there.   Marta was high energy, all of which was positive.  I liked her instantly.  We rode out with her Australian neighbor Melissa to the tiki bar on Lake Dillon to hang with a few of Marta’s friends.  Dancing, lots of hot dudes, and fast cars.  Not really.  But we were invited over to her friend Heather’s house to make homemade pizza.  Hell yes.

pizza and scrabble, stupid style

Heather has a pretty amazing home up towards Blue River, a town near Hoosier pass.  Driving up there, we did a day’s worth of cycling in 40 minutes.  I was looking at all the stuff I just cycled by from a car window.  I realized how much you miss when you’re in a car.  The people picking up trash.  The fox.  The numerous subtleties along the route. 

We all downed beers, wine, and homemade pizza.  Then it was Scrabble time.  Heather had not been drinking because she was on-call (she’s a nurse).  Three drunk people against a sober nurse.  No good.  The game started well.  7 letter words.  30 minutes later, words like ’to’, ‘yo’, and ‘at’ littered the board.  I wish I could have taken a picture of the board.  It was sad.  Really sad.  Melissa and Marta were even using words like ‘do, ra, me, fa, so, la, ti, do’.  What?  Can you do that?  Yes…you can.  Scrabble became Stupid Scrabble, and it was really sad…and funny.  By the time the game ended, Heather’s score equaled all of our scores combined. 

I spent the next day in a baking frenzy.  Pancakes, pancakes, and more pancakes. 

And then it was brownies.  Krista and Marta loved them.  And then later it was sweet tea. 

Salida, CO to Breckenridge, CO

slow start to a long day

I woke up late and packed all my stuff up.  Menessah came by to give Kyle some juice, and she gave me some trail mix.  Damn…Menessah was awesome.  Small things like that are the ones that cling to my memory.  And I’ve encountered a lot of that.

Kyle and I shared a cup of coffee together that morning.  I really enjoyed my conversation with him.  He had hitchhiked the country at the age of 19 and shared some of his stories with me.  Time went by pretty quickly, and by the time I left his place, it was almost 11 AM.  No good…I had an 80+ mile day that day, and nearly all of it would be a climb to a 11.6k ft mountain pass.

Ralphie didn’t care that I was leaving.  Bye Ralphie.

I said goodbye to Kyle and rode off.  Again, I missed everyone as I cycled off.  I have this emotion when saying goodbye to everyone I’ve met on this trip.  It’s a daily catharsis.  I really felt like I connected with everyone in Salida and had a memorable time.  Who knows if they felt the same way.  It might be just another day for them.  I guess it’s different when you’re on the road.  Hopefully Menessah doesn’t remember me as an asshole from Georgia that teased her about her dating life. 

terrible ride

Leaving Salida, I thought I had a tailwind.  I was wrong.  The valley of Salida and Buena Vista seemed to be a swirling vortex of wind.  One minute you’d have a decent tailwind but seconds later you’d have a nasty headwind.  I didn’t understand.  I cursed the wind and demanded consisteny.  That’s what I got.  It gave me a terrible crosswind/headwind for the rest of the day.  Shit.  Lesson:  Don’t challenge nature.

For about 50 miles, I was on this small but well-traveled highway with a lot of traffic.  Campers, RVs, and trucks.  I would be as close to the white line as possible, and people would just lay on their horn.  This wasn’t the Colorado I had been cycling.  This was another Bermuda Triangle.  Everyone automatically turned into an asshole.  I was crawling at an average speed of 7 mph with people yelling obscenities out their window.  I would get the occasional thumbs-up, but those were few and far between.  I was riding with a message from Kyle that day:  Cherish the View.  Maybe people thought I was being an ass, insisting they stare at my backside while I crawled up the passes. 

I pulled over to get a good photograph of the area.  It was all protected wildlife area with huge snow-capped mountains on the horizon.  And the wind was blowing so hard I had to cling on to a clump of grass. 

Unfortunately, just to my left, the scenery was ruined by an RV/camper town in the middle of nowhere.  These was home to some of the assholes that were furiously honking at me.  Get your asses on a bike to see the country instead of being cooped up in your $100k RVs, decked out with TVs and video games. 

The rest of the ride took me from fatigue to anger.  The crosswind would blow me off the shoulder at times, and when trucks passed me, I would nearly get sucked under the tires into their draft.  These assholes couldn’t get over into the other lane as they passed me.  I challenged a few vehicles by getting well into the road, but this usually didn’t turn out well.  It would often result in honks.  I was bitter.  The closer I got to the town of Fairplay, the stronger the wind got.  My average speed fluctuated like crazy.  5 mph. 4 mph. 5 mph. 

racing the sun

It was getting late in the day.  I got to Fairplay around 5 PM.  I still had 20 miles to go, and that consisted of a mountain pass.  Hoosier Pass.  I felt sick.  I sat down at a closed coffee shop and just sat there, sulking and dreading the remaining 20 miles.  I stared at the elevation profile on my map.  A huge elevation spike laughed at me.  I wanted to tear up the map.  I felt defeated.  I had been on the bike for 6 hours, and I was looking at another 2 hours easily. 

I hopped back on my bike and went through downtown Fairplay.  This was the inspiration of South Park.  I could see why.  It was this weird little bubble of a town in the middle of nowhere. 

The town was proud that it was the inspiration of the cartoon and displayed character cut-outs everywhere.

A few miles later I was in the town of Alma.  It was like  sudden shift in the ride.  Everyone there was interested in where I was going, and some of the locals said that they loved the bike board.  I liked the small town.  Their local store was one that challenged the retail giant WAL-MART.  AL-MART.  I loved it.

And then it began.  A steep climb to Hoosier Pass. I felt like my legs didn’t work.  I was sucking the air for oxygen.  My bike computer quit working.  I was happy.  I didn’t want to see how slow I was moving.  After an hour, I get to the top of the pass.  I was above tree line, and the sun was setting on the crest of the mountains.  I figured this was a good time to stop and get a bike board message done for Matt. 

My sweat was turning frigid, and my water was gone.  I could feel my fingers turning numb.  It was cold as hell at 11.6k ft.  After taking a few pictures, I quickly took off to complete the pass.  At the top of the pass was this sign.  Shit.  No good.  Why did I do this?

The descent was awesome.  Winding switchbacks and near-frozen creeks running along the road.  The closer I got to Breckenridge, the colder it got.  It had snowed there just a few days ago.  My face was feeling the sting of cold air.  I was racing the sun to get to Annette’s house in Breck.

warm welcome

I arrived in Breckenridge just as it got dark.  I had been on the bike for nearly 9 hours that day.  The longest day of my tour.  Annette and Warren owned a beautiful house in the small ski town.  She came out to greet me, and all I could do was give her a hug.  I was incredibly grateful that they offered me a bed for the night.  As I walked in, they started asking me questions about my trip.  I couldn’t process any of the questions.  I was fatigued and hungry.  They told me to just sit down and catch my breath.  I was out of it. 

I eventually came back to some sort of stable mental state.  They offered me some sausage, salad, and beer.  It was devoured in a few minutes.  Annette and Warren discussed their hundreds of bike tours.  They’ve toured everywhere but India.  Their stories were phenomenal.  I couldn’t stop asking them questions.  I felt like a little weeny compared to them.

Then Annette mentioned the hot tub.  I was floored.  She threw in some epsom salts to help my aching muscles, and I was very, very appreciative.  I couldn’t stop thanking her.  She probably got annoyed by how much I thanked her.

The hot tub put me into a trance.  When I got out, I couldn’t think clearly.  I crashed.

Gunnison, CO to Salida, CO

morning anxiety

Emilie woke up and made a great breakfast.  Pancakes and eggs.  Before leaving her place, I gave her some fruit, oatmeal, and a roll of my toilet paper.  I didn’t want her to die from malnutrition, and I wanted her to be able to take a crap at her own place…at least for a few days.

I met Amir and Dor at the coffee shop.  We were all pretty anxious about the day’s ride.  It was going to be a 65+ mile day to Salida, with the biggest climb of both our tours.  Monarch Pass, an 11.3k ft mountain pass.  It was going to be uphill all the way to Sargents, and then the climb would suddenly spike all the way to the pass. 

The early part of the ride was easy.  We had a pretty good tailwind that carried us all the way to Sargents.  The ride consisted of rolling hills in between larger mountains. 

The bike message of the day was Melissa Hazen’s ‘Save Diesel’.  As I was going down the highway to Sargents, a few truckers yelled at me as they passed by.  Damn Melissa.  You are going to get me hit.  All these truckers must be communicating on their CBs.  “We got three gay cyclists on the shoulder.  One has a stupid, go green sign that says ‘Save Diesel’.  Run his ass over!”

monarch pass

We stopped at a gas station in Sargents before beginning our climb.  We needed to get something in our stomachs before we headed up.  After eating a few bagels, we got in a huddle and did a battle cry.  A rebel yell.  We were three ugly cyclists yelling in a small gas station parking lot. 

The climb hit us hard and fast.  It was going to be 10 miles of huge ascent.  My heart was pounding, and I was sucking wind for oxygen.  Dor and Amir were suffering as well.  I had to stop for a minute to let my heartrate slow down. 

Drivers passed us by giving us honks and thumbs-up.  It helped a lot.  I looked back to Dor and Amir and pounded my fist in the air.  They were probably cursing at me in Hebrew.  “What is this stupid guy smiling at!?”  My heartrate had slowed down, and I was sitting comfortably in my saddle with a consistent cadence.  I was a machine going up and felt fantastic.  I find that after the first two miles of a climb, the rest are a lot easier.  You can’t stop.  Otherwise, your legs get cold and it is hell getting back into a decent cadence.

high-fives, hugs, and celebration

Getting to the top of Monarch Pass was a huge accomplishment.  I was super pumped and felt like I accomplished something great.  It was phenomenal to share the experience with Amir and Dor.  Embracing, smiling, and high-fives.  Three gay guys in tight bike clothing celebrating our accomplishment.  We knew the rest of the day would be a descent into Salida, so we were ecstatic to basically be done with the hard part.

Pictures and more pictures.

The descent to Salida was fast and furious.  We were all averaging around 40 mph the entire way to Salida.  All that work ascending all day to Monarch gone within 30 minutes. 

goodbye my israeli friends

We all spent an hour just sitting at a coffee shop in downtown Salida.  We talked about the previous two days, and Amir told me he was not the same person he was six months ago.  He had been transformed in a positive way.  It was great to share that same sort of thing with him.  I really enjoyed my time with them, and I insisted that they let me know if they were ever going to pass through Georgia. 

They were going to relax at a hostel that night, and I had a couchsurfing host lined up for the night.  I have been really lucky for the past week with couchsurfing.  People were in the perfect stopping places. 

I knew saying goodbye to Dor and Amir was going to be tough.  I couldn’t believe our journeys had come together for what would be two difficult days of cycling.  There was purpose behind our meeting, and I was very grateful and honored to be in their company.  We walked to the back of the coffee shop and said goodbye.  Hugs and embraces.  As soon as they took off, I missed them.  I had grown close to them over two days.  Sharing hardship really brings people together. 

I headed over to Kyle’s place.  He had just moved into a new place with two other guys, Tres and Eric.  Tres did social work with a nifty therapy dog named Ralphie.  Eric worked for the parks system and was pretty knowledgable about places to camp.  Kyle worked with Boys & Girls Club and really enjoyed working with kids.  Their friend Menessah came over for the evening.  She was a social worker and used art therapy to heal the minds of people in Salida.  Damn.  All four of them had a solid head on their shoulders.  Very different from the previous night. 

Kyle was a very giving host and cooked up an incredible meal.  Conversation never went dull.  After some wine and a few beers, Tres and Kyle started picking on Menessah about her dating history.  I started chiming in, and it was a lot of fun…all at Menessah’s expense.  After growing up with three younger sisters, I had become pretty good at picking on girls.  It was all in good fun.  Menessah was laughing…I think.   She probably thought, “Who the hell does this guy think he is?  This cyclist sucks.”

day in salida

Everyone in the house headed to work pretty early.  There I was, no job and sleeping in.  Kyle had hurt his leg the previous day kayaking.  He was unable to walk without looking like a 90-year-old man.  There was no way in hell he was going to work.  His leg was destroyed.  Menessah brought him lunch, and she offered to let me use one of her computers at her office for Internet.  Super nice.  She even gave me her left-over Chinese food.  Super nice.

I needed to do a lot of planning.  My route would bring me to Rocky Mountain National Park too early.  The main road would be snowed-in and inacessible.  I hung out in her office, spending hours on the Internet trying to pin down places to camp and a decent route.  We spoke a lot about her pending move to Austin, my trip, and Colorado. 

She noticed how stressed I was.  I started freaking out.  Her bulldog Max insisted I lie down on her sofa so she could give me some art therapy.  I obliged.

pizza and hurricane

Later that evening, all of us went out to have some of Salida’s famous pizza.  Between the five of us, we got a large and medium.  The entire time, I was trying to pace my eating with everyone else.  I take a slice.  They take a slice.  I was hungry as hell.  The problem with this trip is that I’m always hungry and hardly ever satisfied.  Thus, it’s expensive feeding myself.  Kyle had noted earlier that morning when eating breakfast that I never stopped eating.  Oatmeal after fruit after bagel after bagel.  I didn’t want this dinner to be the same way because we were all sharing the pizza.

There were a few slices left.  I didn’t know whether everyone was done.  I didn’t want to be the guy that said, “Are you guys still hungry? Do you want this?”  If they were, they wouldn’t say so.  They’d just let me have it.  The server came and offered to box it up.  Aghhhh.  No!  I wanted to eat more but didn’t want to hog it.  I meekly said, “Did you guys want another slice?”  Menessah noted that I was nice for waiting to see if everyone was done.  Kyle noted my non-stop hunger.  Damn!  I tried to be discrete, and I failed.  

We headed up to S-mountain.  The mountain overlooked Salida and had a huge ‘S’ on it.  The wind was incredibly strong and at times I felt like we were going to be blown off the side.  I could see the headline.  “Four successful people and ugly cyclist killed in car wreck on S-mountain.” 

We took a few pictures in a structure at the top of the mountain.  Tres insisted that the wind was at least 70 mph.  It sure as hell felt like it.  Hurricane force winds. 

I was convinced that one of the pictures captured energy orbs/ghosts.  They orbs weren’t there in the shot seconds later, and it was from the exact same angle.  Menessah said that the structure used to be an old house.  I still don’t know if she was messing with me.

Cimarron, CO to Gunnison, CO

taking our time

Amir and Dor took it slow getting up in the morning.  That was refreshing to see.  They weren’t getting up at 5AM to cover 100 miles.  This tour was treated like a relaxing vacation.  They were on the same route I was for the next two days.  I got along very well with them, so we decided to hang together until we got to Salida, CO.

After packing up, we headed out around 10:30 AM.  Today’s ride was going to take us to Gunnison, a small college town 45 miles to the east.  It should be a quick and easy day, with a pretty decent summit in the early morning.  Blue Mesa Summit.  We also had a fantastic tailwind that day too.

blue mesa summit

Riding with Dor and Amir was great.  They didn’t feel the need to ride together and often split up to ride individually.  They were touring together but gave each other space.  That was how they preferred it. 

I was worried I’d be another tortoise keeping them back.  Each of their bikes were probably half the load I was carrying.  All they had were rear panniers.  After taking off, I was able to sail away with the tailwind.  That’s a good sign.  Then we began the climb.  My legs were sore as hell from the ride through Black Canyon.  Dor was easily able to catch me, and Amir was close behind.  I know it’s not a race, but I’d like to be able to ride close to them.  It’s not as mentally defeating when you’re within eyesight.  Being half a mile behind someone sucks.

The ride up was slow.  I hit 2k miles at the top, so we decided to do a handstand celebration.  Dor also found a 10k gold necklace charm, which he was able to later pawn in Gunnison for $40.  What a summit.

The bike board was dedicated to John May that day.  I don’t think they understood the messaging.  Hopefully they weren’t turned off from it.  People that drove by didn’t understand either.  As they passed me, I could see their confused faces looking at each other.  I enjoyed it.

Blue Mesa was gorgeous.  In the middle of the mesa was a crystal-clear, blue reservoir being guarded by high rocks on all sides.  We cycled around it to the town of Sapinero.  Again, I was expecting a decent sized town.  Sapinero was an abandoned ghost town.  There was a cliff above it with a ton of campers and RVs, but the town was lifeless.  We sat down at an abandoned school etablished in 1910 to have lunch.

I changed up John May’s bike board message to something even more flambouyant.  Amir and Dor didn’t know what the hell to think.  I exlained what bath-houses were.  I could see the ‘what the hell’ look in their faces.  I laughed to myself and enjoyed it.  The looks on drivers passing by was nothing but confusion.  Why is this guy touring the US going to bath-houses!?!

gunnison…hanging with the college kids

When we got to Gunnison, we pulled up to the local coffee shop.  I had called Emilie, my couchsurfing host, to see if she could nail down a place for Amir and Dor to crash.  I didn’t want to sleep on a sofa at Emilie’s place while Amir and Dor were camping.  That would have been shitty.  If that was the case, I would have just camped with them.  Emilie was able to get Chelsea, a good friend of hers, to let them crash at her place.  Amir and Dor were pumped.

Emilie met us at the coffee shop and proceeded to show us around the town.  Gunnison reminded me of a small Texas town.  Ranches and farms surrounded the town, and I saw a lot of trucks.  However, there were a lot of cyclists and most of the people were college-aged.  An odd mix. 

Emilie took us to a BBQ place where we loaded up on carbs.  Good, cheap food.  I loaded up on sweet tea and had to pee about 10 times within the hour.  We stopped to pick up some beer and headed to Chelsea’s.  There, Amir, Dor, and I hung out with four students.  This was the first time in the trip where I felt old.  They were all 19 to 20.  Here I was, 26, and drinking Tecate beer with a bunch of underage students.  Damn.  Am I pathetic?

The conversation was usually about their college experience.  It wasn’t the conversation that Amir, Dor, and I had been sharing.  I have found that people who have traveled share incredible stories about being on the road, and they’re always entertaining and teach you something.  I feel like it has more substance…about the human condition and life, like Doug’s shared wisdom in Pagosa Springs.  This conversation was more superficial.  Not to say that this conversation was any less important.  It was just different.

They were all at that age where they are trying to establish their identity.  They all had white people dreadlocks.  Emilie walked around everywhere bare-foot.  Later on, Amir told me that he thought they were very interesting kids but very naive.  Middle-class kids who enjoyed the appearance of being edgy and grungy, but they were attending an expensive college.  Amir and Dor said they enjoyed hanging out with them, as they liked meeting new and unique people.  I agreed.  That night was enjoyable for me.

roomate wars…the battle continues

Emilie and I got back to her place.  The dishes were piled high in the sink.  The first sign of a roomate war.  She then told me she had no toilet paper.  Huh?  Where the hell do you go to the bathroom?  The first thing that popped into my head was that she just washed off in the shower if she took a crap.  She walked around bare-foot, after all. 

No.  She told me her roomate Audry kept a stash of toilet paper in her room.  They were having a toilet paper standoff.  Emilie refused to buy tp, and she ganked it from the school when she could.  Otherwise, she would go to Chelsea’s to take a crap.  Ugh…what a petty and childish thing to fight over.  Tp is like $.30-$.50 a roll.  Just buy the shit.  I was very annoyed by this.

She also told me she had been eating nothing but Ramen the past two weeks.  That stuff is just sodium and salt.  She was probably dying on the inside.  However, she was able to buy cigarettes and beer.  Her monthly parental stipend was going to rent, cigarettes, and beer.  Stupid.  I liked Emilie, but this was petty.  I wanted to say something, but it wasn’t my place.  I was happy to have a sofa that night.

Black Canyon National Park to Cimarron, CO

ride to black canyon

Rob and I went to grab coffee around 7:30 AM to meet Judy and Frank, two other cyclists that were going to do a day-ride to Black Canyon.  I wasn’t sure how I was going to do with three other cyclists with 5 lb bikes.  Was I going to be an annoying, slow tortoise miles behind them?  Judy was 62 and Frank was 69.  OK…I should be OK, right? 

Wrong.  Judy was in phenomenal shape.  As soon as I saw her calf muscles, I thought, “Shit. ”  They were the size of my head.  Frank was also in great shape.  Not to mention that Rob’s leg muscles were the size of a sequioa tree.  I was screwed. 

The ride from Montrose to the Black Canyon turn-off was a slight incline the entire way.  I thought I’d be OK until I saw the huge ascent to the top of the Black Canyon mesa.  6 miles of tough climbing.  The sun was beating down on me, and I felt like a kid on the first day of school.  Nothing but nerves.

Off we went.  I was in front and tried to keep the same pace as Judy, who was just behind me.  I was standing off my saddle for the first few miles digging hard with my toes.  I looked at Judy’s cadence.  Slow and methodical.  She was hardly breathing.  My heart was pounding.  I felt like an alien was about to pop out of my chest.  Sweat was pouring from my brow and getting all over my sunglasses and in my eyes.  I couldn’t see crap.  This continued for the next 5 miles.  Hell.

We got to the park entrance finally.  Judy sweet-talked the park employee, and we all got in without paying.  Hoorah.  Another national park without paying an entrance fee.  They were just going for a day-ride anyways.  I wasn’t sure whether I’d camp up top or not.  I wanted to make it to Gunnison the next day.  A 65 mile ride with a lot of summits in between.  Judy suggested I ride on to Cimarron after riding through Black Canyon with them.  Agh.  I could’ve left my bags at the bottom.

Black Canyon

The ride through Black Canyon was gorgeous.  Over two million years, the Gunnison River carved a sudden and deep canyon into the mesa.  The sides of the canyon were like crystals.  It reminded me of the rocks that formed the city in the Never-ending Story. 

Frank rode back down to Montrose, leaving me, Rob, and Judy to cycle to High Point.  More ascending.  My legs were still pumping, and I was just ready to sit down for an hour.  No dice.  Rob and Judy were ready to roll.  I cried.  After 8 miles, we stopped for a snack at High Point.

My bike board that day featured the message ‘I <3 my mom’.  While riding through the park, a bunch of moms would laugh and give me thumbs-up.  That was enjoyable for me, but it made me miss my mother dearest.  It was good to bring smiles to other moms.  Holler if you hear me all you moms out there. 

We enjoyed a few more of the highlight views of the Black Canyon before returning to the visitor’s center, which would be departure/separation point.

Before saying goodbye to Judy and Rob at the visitor’s center, Judy hooked me up with a nifty little headlight for my bike.  Throughout the trip, I’ve acquired a bunch of nifty little bike gadgets.  I guess people are very giving to ugly and tired touring cyclists.  Maybe it’s my boyish charm.  No.  It’s probably because they just pity me…ugly and tired.

my legs are going to fall off

The descent down Black Canyon was great, but all I was thinking about was the climb I had to do in about 10 miles.  I enjoyed the descent while I could. 

I got back to the main highway connecting Montrose with Gunnison.  I looked to the east.  Up and up.  I was tired and felt like crying.  Could I do this?  Judy and Rob whooped my ass in the Black Canyon ride.  Could my legs really handle another big climb?

I got to the base of Cerro Summit and just sat down for 20 minutes.  I devoured 3 plain bagels with peanutbutter.  My trail mix was gone in a few minutes.  I just sat there, complaining and crying internally.  A lady in a big white truck passed me and turned back around.  She thought I was in trouble.  Nope.  I’m just being a big baby. 

She offered me a ride in her truck over the pass.  I remembered the story Max told me in Telluride about an Italian cyclist and French cyclist.  They were doing a tour side-by-side and the French cyclist complained about the fans behind them not blowing hard enough.  The Italian cyclist looked over to him and said, “Shutup and suffer.”  I told the lady that I must suffer and trudge onward.  She saw my bike board message and said that my mom mom must be proud.  She even offered to take a picture of me and the board.  What a fantastic lady.

After crying some more, I finally got back on my bike.  I was standing off my saddle the entire way up.  It really did feel like my legs were going to simply fall off.  At the top of the summit, I lay down on the highway.  I only had a few more miles to go, but I didn’t want to get up.  

two israelis in cimarron

The descent brought me to 50 mph.  Woo.  A new max speed.  I got to the ”town” of Cimarron very quickly.  Shit.  I was expecting something bigger.  It was a junkyard and a small general store.  Yay.  I pulled into the run-down campground.  $6.  No one was there to pay and their facilities were closed.  There was a bathroom at the visitor’s center but their water was a dark brown. 

I rode around the park to see if anyone was there.  I saw a big RV in the corner.  Maybe it will be old people that will treat me like a grandson and feed me!  No one was in the RV.  I turned the corner. 

Two touring cyclists!!!!!  Sweet.  Their names were Amir and Dor.  They had just finished their obligatory service in the Israeli military and were traveling the world.  They flew to San Francisco and bought all their gear at REI.  They did little planning.  I say this because they got to California expecting it to be flat.  They rolled up to the Sierra Nevadas and didn’t know why there were mountains in California.  It was a funny story as they told it from their perspective.

They offered to share the campground with me that night.  Over dinner, we spoke about their time in the army and their views of other countries in the Middle East.  The media often portrays Israel as a war-hungry nation, and I wanted to see if these guys fell in line with that mode of thought. 

These guys weren’t like that at all.  Very intelligent and desired peace throughout the area.  Open-minded, caring, and giving.  They spoke English very well because they are taught the language from the 4th grade on.  Their views of America were very positive.  They told me a story of a Mexican Mormon picking them up in Utah when they were having bike troubles.  He paid for their dinner and bought them beers.  These guys were experiencing the same things I was.  They had found that people are good, and their interactions with people were what comprised the journey…not necessarily the places.

I went to bed pretty early that night.  Dor and Amir shared a small tent.  I could hear them speaking in Hebrew, telling stories and laughing for about an hour.  It was refreshing to hear.  It reminded me of that first month with Eoin.  I missed that.

Telluride, CO to Montrose, CO

really late start and a river pirate

I woke up late and was slow to get ready.  I only had a 40 mile day, as I was planning on camping at Ridgway State Park, so I could afford to waste a little time.  After eating breakfast, Max and I headed over to the bakery I dumpstered the previous night for some coffee.

Max bought me a cup of coffee and a donut.  Damn.  Nice guy.  Max also gave me a sweet jersey with a bull on it.  Super flashy but it fit well.  It was made by a small but very popular jersey company in Denver.  Damn.  Really nice guy.

We were met by a local adrenaline junkee at the bakery.  Long, thinning hair and crazy eyes.  They seemed to vibrate in his eye sockets.  Really wirey.  His top teeth were pulled togethered at the roots by a cable/wire of some sort.  Really odd braces.  It looked like he rigged them up himself.  He never introduced himself but sat with us for a while, talking about being a river pirate.  He wouldn’t stop saying “yarrrrrr”.  He lived in a camper by the river and was mystified by my bike setup.  He also had a bike with rear panniers on them. 

I couldn’t compete with him.  My dry humor was overwhelmed by his wirey behavior, and I just faked laughter the entire time he spoke.  I don’t even remember half the things he said.  I could tell Max was playing along too.

Despite having a broken leg, Max was determined to ride out with me to the end of the bike path.  Being an artist, he drew up a picture on the back of the bike board.  Skull rabbits and a heart with the message ‘Luv Safety’.  I rolled with it.

dallas divide

After a short descent, my route took me into a 10 mile ascent to the Dallas Divide, a ~9k ft pass.  I had a little bit of a tailwind on portions of the ride up, and I ascended without any problems.

On the way down, I hit speeds in the mid-40s and was able to keep up with cars.  Badass ride.  I got to the town of Ridgway at 3PM, making great time.  I did about 40 miles in roughly 2-2.5 hours, so I cycled around the town and scoped out the grocery stores.

After burning a few hours, I went to the library to look up some information on the state park.  I found out it was going to be $20 just to pitch a tent in the park.  What????  Are you serious?  A state park!  I’m not some RV that is rolling in with a plasma TV and Xbox 360.  All I needed was a patch of land.  Unbelievable.  I looked up the location of the nearest National Forest land.  Ugh.  20 miles off the route.  I’d be able to pitch a tent anywhere in a National Forest and not worry about getting kicked off.

I called up Rob in Montrose.  He was going to be expecting me the next day, but I could make it that evening.  I still had 3 hours of daylight left, and it was only 26 miles to Montrose.  Rob was cool with it, so I took off. 

s-s-s-s-s-snaaaake and montrose

Most of the ride to Montrose was slightly downhill.  The terrain was different from that of Telluride.  The mountains were void of trees and looked like sand dunes. 

Happy with my time and focused on the road, I approached a long, thin reptile.  Shit…a snake.  It moved as I went over it and scared the shit out of me.  In Santa Fe, Bryon had told me that while riding a snake had struck at his leg and missed, biting into his front fork.  “First a dog bite, then a bee sting, and then a snake bite,” I thought.  Luckily it just sat there.

I rolled into Montrose with plenty of time to spare.  Montrose reminded me of the suburban sprawl in Texas.  Everyone had a truck, and strip malls and chains stores were everywhere.  This wasn’t Chama, NM where the town was dominated by mom-and-pop shops.  Walmart was king here.

reception with rob

Rob’s house was situated in your typical suburban neighborhood, but he was far from the typical suburbanite.  Rob had bicycle and ‘namaste’ bumper stickers plastered all over the back of his ‘89 Jeep.  He came out to greet me and wanted a picture right there.  Sweet.

He mentioned he used to work in Telluride and loved it.  I gave him a ‘Baked in Telluride’ loaf of bread.  It was only a day old and very soft.  Very good bread.  He was appreciative, but little did he know that the bread was dumpstered.  Rob was very generous upon my arrival and eager to show me the bedroom, shower, kitchen, and washing machine.  Very nice guy.

We headed to a Mexican restaurant for dinner.  Because of all his liberal bumper stickers, I figured he’d be cool with the dumpster idea.  I brought it up, carefully choosing my words.  He was cool with it.  Then I unleashed on him, asking him where all the local donut shops and bakeries.  He pointed them out as we passed them in the car.  Wow…tonight was going to be a fun night. 

The food was great.  It had been since Liberty, TX that I had Mexican food.  I picked up the bill.  I was very grateful for him taking me in a day ahead of schedule.

montrose diving

Failure.  That’s how I can describe it.  All the bakeries and coffee shops, save one, kept their trash indoors.  I rode around the spread-out town for nearly an hour hitting all the stores, and I failed every time.

The El Dorado bakery is worth mentioning.  Their dumpster was located in the front of their parking lot and situated within a fenced-in area.  Great…I’d have some cover.  As I cycled up, out pop four huge dogs in the adjacent gated lot.  They were viciously protecting what was in the lot.  Ahhhh…they’re going to blow my cover.  I quickly got into the dumpster and started going through it.  I found a lot of loaves of bread.  I threw some over the gate to the dogs.  That shut all four of them up.  It reminded me of something out of Tom and Jerry.  I kept digging.  I didn’t want anymore bread.  Where were the damn donuts!?

I came back to the house empty-handed.  However, the full moon was out, and it was a beautiful night to cycle around the town.  I was happy.

Dolores, CO to Telluride, CO

68 mile day.  55 mile climb

I was a little anxious about cycling to Telluride.  Lizard Head Pass was the first big mountain pass I’d climb, reaching about 10.2K feet.  Mollie brewed me up some coffee and gave me one of her collar charms for my older dog Chance.  I had passed along a cycling cap and a CD of one of the Texan musicians I had met.  I also passed on half of my vanilla soymilk find to her.  Ssshhhh.

On my way out of Dolores, a few of the locals passed me in their vehicles.  I saw one lady laughing and clapping her hands after reading the sign, which read ‘Heavy, Tired, Slow, Smelly, Sorry’.  I fed off of her positive energy and had become instantaneously happy.  Today was going to be a good ride. 

The early part of the day was spent going up a gradual climb to the town of Rico.  I was cycling along the Dolores River, which was gorgeous.  The sound of rushing water just below me was different and refreshing. 

bee in my mouth

In the middle of my ride to Rico, a bee flew into my mouth.  Weird.  I thought about this exact thing earlier in the morning.  I flicked my tongue around trying to get it out.  Failure.  Again and again I was trying to get it out.  Failure.  I was wobbling all over the road, freaking out that the bee was going to sting me. 

And it finally happened.  It stung me right on the tip of my tongue.  I had been trying to rescue it from the depths of my mouth without killing it, but this had to stop.  I bit down with my front teeth, swished it the front of my mouth, and hawked it out to the side of my road.  For the rest of the hour, the tip of my tongue had a bump on the bottom it.  That was a first.

rico

I stopped in the town of Rico before my big ascent to Lizard Head.  I went into City Hall to use the restroom.  One lady was in the two-story building.  I popped my head in and asked her if they had a restroom.  She nodded her head and just stared at me.  OK…how about a reply?  Where is it?  Would I be able to use it?  A few seconds go by and I was just looking at her, expecting a response. 

“May I use the restroom?” I said.  She nodded.  I figured this would entice her to tell me where it was located.  Nothing.  More awkward stares.  Finally, I asked her where it was located.  She looked annoyed.  She told me it’s down the hall.  All attitude.

I went outside on the steps to enjoy the rest of last night’s brownies.  Out of nowhere, a dog came around the steps and up to my face.  All I could think about was the day before and my dog bite.  I hoped this dog wouldn’t chomp on my throat.

It turned out he was the neighborhood dog.  People that passed him by knew his name and spent some time petting him.  I was freaking out over the most harmless dog in the state.

lizard head

The next two hours were spent climbing up Lizard Head Pass.  It was OK the first few miles after Rico, but then my legs really started burning.  I had a crosswind at the strongest point of incline.  I stopped for a few minutes to rest my legs.  I was anxious about the next few miles but incredibly tired.  All morning had been spent going up.

I finally reached the top of Lizard Head and saw how it got it’s name.  On top of the nearest peak, there is a huge rock that resembles a lizard head.  I was told by the locals that a bunch of drunk miners climbed up the rock and blew a huge chunk of the tip off with dynamite, so it used to resemble a lizard head that much more.  Legend of course. 

Lizard head is in between my feet.

I cycled a few more miles and the pass flattened out.  Beauty surrounded me.  Snow-covered fields and snow-capped mountains.  The terrain was gorgeous.  Percy Shelley conveyed the emotion of ’sublime’ in Mont Blanc.  I had read his work many times but never really experienced the raw emotion.  Well, at that moment, I believe I felt the sublime.  I was hit with a sudden emotion that sent chills all over my body.  Tears in the eyes.  An electric charge pulsating throughout the body.  All because of nature’s beauty.  I hoped that was one among many that I will experience on my journey.

ride to telluride

After Lizard Head, I descended for a few miles until I hit another ascent.  Not too bad.  But after going 35 mph down a pass and then coming to a crawl of 7 mph can be a little disheartening.  The feeling of descent is incredible.  Muscles tense.  Eyes fixated on the road looking for potholes.  Bugs bouncing off your sunglasses.  You knock out a few miles in a matter of minutes.  It’s a high.

I finally cycle into Telluride.  It’s nicely tucked into a corner of the valley, surrounded by mountains on three sides.  Everyone in town seemed to be on a bicycle.  Bike paths weaved in and out of the streets.  I didn’t feel too unique on a loaded bike, but people definitely appreciated the fact that I was touring through Telluride.  Dialogue was easy with the local cyclists.

I called up Hillary to let her know I was in town.  She led me to her house on bike and introduced me to her boyfriend Max.  Max had just finished a cross-country trip across the top half of the country.  He showed me some pictures.  Insane.  He stealth camped most of the way.  Definitely a crazy guy.  I liked him and Hillary instantly.  Easy to talk to and fun to hang out with.  I imagine that’s how most of the people in Telluride are.  Hillary cooked up an awesome dinner and whipped up a jug of home-made rootbeer. 

baked in telluride

I had scoped out a bakery, Baked in Telluride, earlier that day for diving.  I waited until 11 PM to bike down to it.  As I pulled up to it, I noticed Mexican music being blasted from inside.  Shit.  They’re still baking away.  This was going to be tough.  I rode by a few times to check out dumpster locations.  Suddenly, an employee came out with a big bag of trash.  There it was.  The jackpot.  She squeezed a handle on a trash compactor and it noisily opened.  Ugh.

She went back inside.  I decided that I would cycle by, open it, and take off quickly.  I’d then circle back around and wait for the spot to cool down in case the employees inside heard the ruckus.  The lid would then be open, and I’d be able to dive silently after I circled back.

I opened the compactor.  Bags and bags of bread that were only a day old.  Oh man.  A door slammed open.  AHHHH!  Get out of there…quick!  I gave it about 20 minutes before I came back.  The compactor was still open.  I dove in and grabbed a few of the loaves and took off. 

I went to bed pumped about my success.  MSRP – $12.  I could’ve gotten more, but I didn’t want to take more than what I could reasonably use. 

Saving money is fun, but the hunt is the best part.  I’m hooked.

Mesa Verde to Dolores, CO

short day

Today was going to be a short day.  I slept in.  10 hours of sleep.  I couldn’t believe it.  My body needed it.  I ate the remaining dumpstered donuts and a piece of bread.  I missed Denny’s breakfast.  Hmm.  How fitting.

20 miles.  That was it.  I wanted a short ride and a chance to catch up on the blog before I started my huge day to Telluride.  Telluride was going to be a 60 mile nonstop incline.  I wanted to give myself a little break.

The ride was spent going west along Mesa Verde national park.  To the north were snow-capped mountains.  It was incredible how different the landscapes were. 

After a 10 mile incline to Dolores, I come to the top of a hill.  Down below lay Dolores, a small Colorado town situated in a valley.  To the south was the Dolores river.  It was gorgeous.  Snow-capped mountains were visible on the horizon.

the hitcher and the smelly guy

I looked behind me, and a hitcher crosses the street on foot.  He didn’t want to walk by me for some reason.  He walked by me on the opposite side of the street trying to avoid eye contact.  I force conversation.  “Hey, how are you?”  Obnoxiously nice.  He says, “Telluride.”  Weird reply.  I didn’t know what to make of it.  He continues on foot, and I pass him doing 30 mph.  Poor guy.

I got to the library and spent my time updating the blog.  About an hour of it was spent sitting next to this short, chubby man who had no hesitation to just fart.  He smelled terrible.  Dirty diapers and farts.  I’m supposed to be the guy that smells bad here.  He was also watching High School Musical 3 videos online.  What is going on over there?  He was so fixated on HSM 3 videos that I was able to take a picture without him noticing.  Gotcha!

another dog attack

I cycled up to Mollie’s place after finishing blog work at the library.  As soon as I am within sight of the house, here comes a rottweiler.  Shit…deja vu.  Mollie is in the front yard yelling at him to come back in the house.  He slows his pace, and I figure he’ll take back off into the house.  I unhook my shoe, ready to hop on the left side of the bike. 

Too late.  He bites the shit out of my right leg, and it hurt.  I didn’t have the heart to tell Mollie that the dog bite was pretty rough, and I shook it off as I walked into her house.  She runs a dog grooming business out of her house.  Pretty cool. 

Mollie decided to fix up a little pasta for me.  I ran to the local grocery store to pick up a few things.  Afterwards, I scoped out the dumpster in the back.  Empty.  Maybe I could come back that night. 

After dinner, Mollie and I made some brownies from scratch.  They were fantastic…far better than the brownie mix you buy at the store.  She made fun of me because I didn’t know anything about cooking.  That’s OK.  I don’t.

dumpster dive…sssshhhhh

I told Mollie that I was going to cycle around town because I figured it would be pretty at night.  Blatant lie.  I wanted to dumpster dive the organic grocery store.  I threw on my headlight and a single pannier and headed silently to the store.

The owners of the store lived in a house attached to the grocery store.  The store dumpster is also exposed to the main highway running through the town.  This one was going to be tough.  I drove up and dug through a couple bags.  Nothing.  I took off for a few minutes to let the spot ‘cool down’. 

I cycle back and look at the very bottom of the dumpster.  JACKPOT.  7 vanilla soymilk drinks that had an expiration date of 5/9.  They weren’t there earlier that day, and it had been cold enough that evening to keep them cold.  I quickly loaded up and took off.  $20 MSRP dumpster dive.  Not bad.  Sure as hell beats water.

I went to bed pumped that I had been successful at my first solo dumpster dive.

Day in Mesa Verde National Park

morning at camp

I got up expecting a 52 mile ride that day.  I was worried I wouldn’t have enough time to see the sites.  Pat, the park employee, had mentioned I should bum a ride off someone on the way up.  That way, I wouldn’t have to pay to enter, and I could see the park.  Pat was cool.  Good advice.

As soon as I got out of my tent, Denny told me, “You know Ryan.  I was thinking I can pay for an extra night for you to camp here and just take you up in the van with your bike.”  Whoah.  How generous!  But I felt awkward accepting a $24 night of camping on him.  If it was me, I would just roll a sleeping bag out in the woods. 

Denny fixed up a solid breakfast, and I was very happy to have something in my stomach.  During breakfast, Denny said, “You know.  I thought you were roughing it more than I originally thought.”  Damn.  I thought we had established a friendship, and he’s back to bashing me.  I think it stemmed from him seeing my pack pillow earlier.  I really couldn’t combat him on it.  After all, he fixed breakfast.  I just rolled with the punches.   

In the front office, I decided I couldn’t let Denny pay for me.  He had done enough.  We left the RV park and headed up to Mesa Verde.  It took 40 minutes to get to the top.  Damn.  I would have had no time to see anything.  Thank God Denny and Bertha pulled over.  Again, I’m definitely not a believer in coincidence after this trip.

During the ride up, Denny and Bertha were speaking to me.  Since Denny lives out of his van, he has clothes hanging up everywhere.  I couldn’t see Denny and Bertha sitting up front.  It was really awkward not to be able to see them, and all I heard were muffled voices.  “What?  What did you say?” I kept asking.  It was like speaking on the telephone without a telephone.  Bluetooth maybe.   

bye bye

I got out the bike and said goodbye.  Denny gave me a hat, headlight, and granola.  He was so up and down with me.  I still don’t know what to think of his personality.  Giving one instant.  The next he’s bashing me.  Maybe it was just me taking his advice the wrong way.  But I think that aspect of his personality was what made him interesting to me.  He’s definitely a unique guy, and I like him.

He was also going to ride shirtless in the four corners region, the place in the US that had one of the highest UV concentrations.  I insisted he wear a shirt.  I was defied, but I liked it.  I had a great time with Denny and Bertha.

I walked around the museum and got my learn on.  After an hour of reading and seeing a movie, I thought I had a good enough foundation to know what the hell I was looking at in the park.  Off I went.

quick history lesson

The people of Mesa Verde (also Puebloans) began building cliff dwellings to avoid the winter winds and the intense summer heat.  The cliff dwellings were called pueblos, Spanish for village.  Tons of people lived in these cliff apartments. 

The Puebloans actually began building these cliff dwellings around 1200 AD.  Before this, they were people who lived on the mesa tops in houses made of mortar, clay, and rock.  They farmed the top of their mesa with corn and beans.  Before this, they were simple hunters and gatherers.  Nomads following animals.  They were very skilled at making baskets, clothing, pottery, and other crafts from plants and materials found in the region.

youngest guy at mesa verde

I hiked down to the Spruce Tree House and took it all in with a bunch of elderly people.  I felt bad because most of them were huffing and puffing.  Here I was passing them with ease.  I wanted to carry all of them with my huge, strong cyclist legs.  No upper body.  Ugly tan.

I checked out some of the sites.  Typical tourist with a torn bike jersey.

I wish I had a fanny pack to fit in.

I went down inside one of the kivas to get a typical jumping picture.  Kivas are underground rooms where cermonies were held.  The problem was, I was never alone to take a picture.  One couple climbed down.  I could tell they wanted a picture alone.  It was a kiva stand-off.  I pretended to read my trail map in the dark.  They just sat there, staring at the walls and ladder.  For minutes, this went on.  Silence.  They weren’t even speaking to each other.  Darkness and silence.  Three people standing in an ancient kiva.  Finally, they climbed up, and I had a few seconds to get a picture.

On my way back up, I spent some time speaking with an older couple touring Mesa Verde in a camper.  They liked me and my boyish ways.  I guess I reminded me of their kids and nephews, so they decided to invite me back to their camper for lunch.  Linda and Bill.  They had just married four years ago and were trying to see as much of the US while they still could.  I liked the fact that their camper was old and not a huge RV decked out with plasma TVs, video games, and air conditions.  I can’t stand those.  What’s the point of a big trip if you can’t even leave your RV?  You’re still connected to the shit you’re supposed to be escaping.

Three ham sandwiches and a few cookies later, I said goodbye to Linda and Bill.  They told me to stop by down at the RV park.  I happened to be staying at the same place they were.  I hopped on my bike and started my Mesa Verde tour with a full stomach.

the universe brought it to me

At the first overlook I came to, I tried taking a picture with my makeshift tripod.  My helmet stacked on two of my bags.  A small wind would blow and topple over my camera and bags.  I was getting very frustrated.  An asian guy with a ponytail walked up and asked me if I was touring.  He could tell I was frustrated by my bag tripod, and I asked him where I could get one near here. 

“You know what.  I have a tripod I haven’t used this whole trip.  It’s 15 years old and solid metal.  Would it be too heavy?” he said.  I was floored.  How could this be?  Just yesterday, Eric told me to just let the universe bring me a tripod.  Don’t go to Walmart until you give the universe ample time.  I was ecstatic.  Didi didn’t know what the hell I was ecstatic about.  To him, it was just an old metal tripod.  How could it make someone this happy?  I told him the story, and he became more energetic.  His mood changed, and he was super pumped.  He was feeding off my positive energy, and I was feeding off the event. 

He told me he was couchsurfing on this trip.  Damn!  More positive energy.  I couldn’t stop smiling.  A few minutes of conversation went by, and he had to go.  He gave me a huge hug and said, “Man.  Dude, this made my day!”  It made mine too.  Lunch with Bill and Linda and now this.  Things were in perfect alignment.  Let go of your desires and just be.

With the tripod, I was able to get bigger height and better angles.  Hell yes.  This day was fantastic.  I visited all of the sites on the loop.  People were interested in my story because of the sign that was on the back of my bike – “1 Less Car”.  Thanks Dave.  A few of the older people didn’t really understand, but most of them were very interested.  A few said they were inspired. 

The shots kept getting better by the end of the day.  I could have taken more because the views were incredible.  Nothing like this in the southeast.  Nothing. 

I started to head down close to 5 PM.  It was a 20+ mile ride out.  I was counting on a lot of it being downhill.  Unfortunately it wasn’t.  Steep climbs mixed in with steeper declines.  I would often get up to 40 mph but have to slow down due to the sharp turns.  It’s pretty scary without a guard rail.  There were a ton of beautiful views on the ride down.

Lots of cars passed me on the way down.  Most of them honked and gave me a thumbs up.  Must be the sign.  People in Colorado are cyclists too.  They ate up the message that was on the bike.  It was cool to get support when I’m going 7 mph up an incline.  I stopped at a trail called Knife Edge Pass.  The view when you hike into it is awesome.  It gave me chills.  It looks northward over the 4-corners region of Colorado.

I was overcome with happiness.  Sublime.

I got down to the bottom just in time to see Pat heading out.  That’s what I was shooting for.  I wanted to thank him for all the info and help he had given me.  And the Diet Coke.  He was happy to hear that everything went smoothly for me.

lunch redux

I biked back into the park and happened to see Bill and Linda again.  Linda insisted that I sit down and have cookies.  She then asked me if I wanted some more ham sandwiches.  I smiled.  She took off into the camper and made me three sandwiches.  This day was going to end on a huge high for me.  I couldn’t be happier.

Durango, CO to Mesa Verde National Park

durango dinner

Eric and I went over to visit one of his friends, Nate.  Nate lives in a yurt in his parents’ backyard.  The yurt is a mongolian hut structure that is very mobile because it can be taken apart easily.  Pretty unique.  After playing a game of horseshoes, Nate’s parents invited us all in for dinner.  Nate was going to France the next day, and Eric and Doty were headed on a trans-america tour on bicycle.  Everyone was on a journey.

departing durango

The next morning, Eric decided to go 20 miles into the ride with me.  Cool.  I’d have a temporary touring partner for 30% of the day.  Eric’s dad Steven, a former rocket scientist now turned periodontal consultant, was very supportive of idea of bicycle touring.  He was a wealth of knowledge, and speaking to him over breakfast was refreshing. 

You have to get out of the box.  You have to design and customize your life, your work, to fit your needs…not the other way around.  Escape the box.  Escape routine.

He was very excited for having me stay at his mountain home, and I was quite appreciative. 

The early leg of the trip went well.  Eric was maintaining a solid pace, and I was “drafting” him.  A bix box of bags following a naked bicycle.  The people in Durango loved the “I’ll Race You” message on the back of my board.  Thumbs up and laughter from many people.  A lot of people slowed down from a 50 mph speed to read what was on the board.  Some turned around after they passed.

At the top of a long incline, Eric decide to make his trip back to Durango.  I told him I really needed a tripod for the camera if I was going to take decent pictures.  He told me to wait it out, and “let the universe bring me one.”  I agreed, remembering what Doug told me.  Doug would have said, “Let go of your desire and just let it be.”  I had a great time with Eric in Durango.  We embraced on the mountain-top. 

getting made fun of by a total stranger

I had spent a lot of the day on pretty big inclines with a strong headwind in my face.  It was only going to be a 50-55 mile day, but I was already pretty tired.  Suddenly, a van passes me and pulls over about 70 yards ahead.  Out pop a tall guy and a black-haired woman.  I wave, turn off my iPod, and pull up to the back of the van.  They immediately walk up to the bike and check it out.  No introduction.  Nothing.  I’m not interesting, but the bike is.  They start talking to one another, and I’m stuck in this awkward moment where I am just being looked at.

Finally, I stick out my hand and introduce myself.  Their names were Denny and Bertha.  Bertha was visiting Denny from Toronto and was asking him about bike touring minutes earlier in his van.  I removed the iPod from my arm and said that my iPod was a great thing to have.  This was where it started.  This was where I got grilled by a total stranger.

Denny laughs.  “No helmet, no padded shorts, no earphones, no gps.  No problem.”  He nods and looks at Bertha.  What?  Are you serious?  That is the worst advice I’ve ever heard.  For anything.  Why would I want to finish a bike tour with brains on the side of the road, bloody sores on my ass, a trip with nothing but the sound of the wind, and no convenience of modern-day electronics to plan the trip?  Denny offers me a banana and pulls out his book from his tour.  Grateful for the banana, I take a seat and look through his tour picture book.  There it is.  His mantra on each page.  I felt partially obliged to flip through the book because I was grateful they stopped.  It’s nice to speak to other cyclists.  On the other hand, I didn’t want to get grilled anymore.

After looking through the book, I walk back to my bike.  I let them know I wanted to get a picture with both of them.  Suddenly, he points to my bike saddle.  “You know how I was talking about a broken-in saddle.  That’s not broken-in.”  He opens the back doors of his van and points to his saddle.  “Now that’s a broken-in saddle.”  Damn.  Am I getting bashed?  What’s going on?  I kind of liked Denny’s brash personality.  It was unique, and I’ve met quite a few unique people on the road.  Bertha was very polite and warm.  I instantly liked her too.

They asked me where I was going.  “Mesa Verde,” I said.  I expected to hear something like, “Oh, that’s an easy day.”  They let me know they were camping there too, and I should come by for some good dinner.  Good dinner.  Hell yes I’ll be there.

They took off.  I was left with a banana and a bashing.  I laughed about it.  I wasn’t sure if Denny was showing off in front of Bertha, who was very cordial and nice.  Or maybe that’s how Denny always was?  Who knows.  I thought it was a funny story anyways.

Mesa Verde Park – CAMPGROUNDS CLOSED

I was very happy to roll up to Mesa Verde park with a few hours of daylight left.  That would give me enough time to cycle up the huge mesa and find a decent spot to camp. 

Then I saw it.  CAMPGROUNDS CLOSED.  Shit.  This sucks.  Mesa Verde is out in the middle of nowhere, and I’m on a bicycle.  I pulled up the entrance station, and the park employee hands me a note. 

Ryan.  We’ll be at the A&A RV Park across the street - Denny and Bertha

Cool.  I’ll have a place to camp, and I won’t have to spend the $24 all RV parks seem to charge just to pitch a tent.  They’re a HUGE rip-off.  Scammers.  I pedal down to the park, but they’re nowhere to be found.  Maybe they moved on.  Maybe they’re at the RV park 8 miles back.  I sat down, not really sure what to do.  I cycled around trying to find a decent spot next to the highway just to lay my sleeping bag down.  Nothing.  It’s all wide-open. 

I pedal back up to the park entrance an hour later.  I befriend Pat, the only remaining park employee at the entrance.  I talked to him a little while about the bike trip and the park, and then I struck.  “Pat, do you know anywhere that I’d be able to primitive camp in the park?”  Pat covered his badge and said, “You didn’t hear this from me, but no one should give you a problem if you just put your sleeping bag on the ground in a grove of trees out of sight.”  Hell yea. 

Then I asked him where I could get some water.  He didn’t have water, but he gave me three Diet Cokes.  Whoah!  Awesome.  Pat also mentioned that people usually stay in the park for 4 hours, so they might still be up there.  I said goodbye to Pat and started scoping out spots in the woods.  Paw prints.  Predatory paw prints.  Pat had told me there are bears and mountain lions.  I’d have to deal with it.  I wasn’t paying some RV park $24 to pitch a tent.  Scammers.

let go of your desires and just be

I had finished eating a few of the dumpstered donuts and bread when I was ready to wheel my bike into the woods.  I let go of the desire to camp at the RV park with Denny and Bertha, and I just let it be. 

At that moment, I heard a car.  “I’ll wait a few seconds.  If it’s not them, no big deal,” I thought.  Sure enough, it was Denny and Bertha.  Shit.  It really works.  Incredible.

Denny and Bertha told me to follow them back to the RV park.  They fixed up an awesome dinner, and Denny spoke about his touring experience.  He knew Colorado and Wyoming like the back of his hand.  Evidently, he lives out of his van and bike tours everywhere.  A true vagabond.  The thing was, the details he gave went on and on.  I would have had to take notes just to remember anything.  I felt like I didn’t speak at all.  I just sat there.  Sat and sat.  I would start speaking to Bertha, and we’d be back to bike touring conversation.  Not my experiences either.  All about Denny.  I felt like they didn’t know anything about me.  I wanted to stop talking about cycling and discuss their lives, families, etc. 

But Denny fixed up a pretty awesome meal, and I had a safe place to sleep.

I went down to the bathroom with Denny.  The facilities there had showers, so I was excited to hop in the shower.  Denny started talking about touring again while entering the bathroom.  I stood by the shower entrance for about 15 minutes.  I didn’t know how to end the conversation.  I thought about the European at Abiquiu who just said, “So.”  I did it.  It worked, and I took a shower.

Sleep was good.  I didn’t even wake up to pee.

Pagosa Springs, CO to Durango, CO

breakfast and naked men

I woke up to the smell of Doug cooking a southwestern breakfast consisting of tortillas, avocado, squash, and salsa.  Doug is an awesome cook.  Damn good.

Afterwards, he decided to take me to the Pagosa Springs natural hot springs.  He gave me a heads-up that naked men would be walking around freely.  Oh great…I don’t know if I’m that comfortable being nude around lots of men.  I started to become anxious, not knowing what to expect.  Doug could see that I was a little anxious, and he jokingly said, “I’m not ashamed of what I have.  I love to show the world my beautiful body.”

We walked into the men’s bathhouse where older men were walking around showing their stuff.  My eyes were glued to the floor.  I would talk to someone and not blink, making sure my eyes stayed focused on their eyes.  Doug gave me a bathing suit that I could wear.  I hung out inside for a while, knowing full well that uncovered penises were floating all around me.  No one really cared but me. 

I went outside and hung out in the pool for a while.  You had to be clothed outside.  After 1.5 hours of soaking, I could see why the hot springs draw such crowds.  They’re incredibly relaxing.

durango

Doug was headed to Durango that morning.  He offered me a ride, so I thought what the hell.  I took it.  Most of it was down-hill anyways, so I wasn’t missing much of a challenge.  I worked hard enough in the yard the day before, so I deserved it.  I’ll just go with the flow. 

I met Eric, my couchsurfing host in Durango, at the grocery store.  I gave Doug a big hug, thanking him for the amazing time.  I actually had a tough time saying goodbye because I felt a connection to him.  Eric and I hung out for a while at his house in the mountains before we decided to hit the town.

dumpster diving durango

I got really excited when Eric started talking to me about dumpster diving.  Dumpster diving is when you dig through a dumpster (or dive into it) and try to find useful items.  I expressed my interest in ‘dumpstering’, and he was pumped to take me out for my first time.

We hit thrift stores and some bike shops.  Eric grabbed a pretty good sleeping bag, but I wanted to get some bread and food for the road.  He decided to take me to the local bakery and a donut shop.  I was pumped and my adrenaline was flowing.  We were diving into dumpsters in full daylight.  We had people walking by staring at us.  It was a pretty incredible feeling.

At the bakery, we found a bag full of pretty fresh bread.  It was clean and smelled good.  It felt like Christmas morning.  Eric said bread is a pretty normal thing to find, and he insisted we go to the donut shop.  Hell yes.  I’m down.

We parked a building away from the donut shop and sneak to the back.  There’s an employee’s car parked in the back, so we tried to be quiet.  As soon as we got to the dumpster, I saw a huge bag of mixed donuts sitting on the top of the pile.  Jackpot.  Eric grabbed it, and we walked away.  He said that if things are on the top, they’re usually pretty fresh.  We threw the bag in the back of the car and walked back to the dumpster.  It’s a good idea to stash any treasure you find before you get caught.  We didn’t find anything else, but I was ecstatic to have a huge bag of donuts.  We celebrated by a dumpster.  Our hands smelled like garbage, but our mouths smelled like fresh donuts.

Afterwards, we hit the local college campus.  All the kids had just left home for the summer, so Eric was pumped to go through the dumpsters at the dorms.  He said it was the ‘perfect time’ to go.  We found futons, TVs, steel mugs, and a birthday cake, but we didn’t haul any of it back.  Whatever.  We had about 40-50 donuts.

dry-erase donate plan

I had bought a dry-erase board earlier that day.  I wanted to attach it to the back of the bike and display messages on it for the day’s ride.  I decided it would be a great way to get people involved on the blog and raise a little money for the ride.  You can read specifics here.  Eric helped me rig up a system that would attach the dry-erase board to the back of the bicycle.

We rode around and took a few pictures that I would use as samples.  Some were framed poorly.  Oh well.

Chama, NM to Pagosa Springs, CO

cold morning 

It was hard to get up.  One thing I’ve learned from camping in the cold is to pitch your tent in a spot where it catches the sunlight at sunrise.  That way, you’re not packing up a tent full of moisture.  Plus it wakes you up.  It’s a good feeling to not wake up from an alarm clock.  The surrounding birds also do a good job of that.

My water bottles were still frozen.  Damn.  It was cold.  I packed up quickly and headed down through the town.  It was a lovely mountain town.  All the locals were really nice, and I felt comfortable leaving my bike unlocked while inside the library.

I headed down to the tourist info building and grabbed some free coffee.  I spoke to the employees and visitors for a while to get an idea of what to expect on the road.  It was unanimous.  I would encounter a lot of hills on my ride.  That’s OK.  It was another 50 mile day.  50 miles in this kind of terrain is a solid goal.  It gives me plenty of time to explore while still giving me a challenging ride. 

I wanted a picture with the tourist info lady since I had spent so much time talking to her.  “No.  no.  I’m not very good with pictures,” she said.  I laughed and said, “Come on.”

“No, that’s OK,” she said.  She was serious.  Weird thing not to be good with.  Pictures.  You just stand there.  Stand there and just be. 

ride to the colorado

I was excited to get to Pagosa Springs.  It meant I would enter another state.  With three cups of coffee hitting my head, I had plenty of energy.

The ride towards Colorado was full of strong winds and winding inclines.  I finally hit the Colorado state line.  You know what that means…

Yayayayay!

The drivers of New Mexico had been phenomenal to me.  A lot of drivers waved and many gave me the supportive double-honk.  10 miles into Colorado, drivers were even more supportive.  I got cyclists who passed me giving me thumbs-up through their windows and sunroofs, and I even got the rare triple-honk a few times.   This pumped me up for my arrival to Pagosa Springs. 

doug, the hippie in pagosa springs

I was excited about my stay in Pagosa Springs.  Doug, my couchsurfing host, was a retired Vietnam vet with a rock-solid education.  His hobbies included construction and gardening.  When he said goodbye on the phone earlier that day, he said, “Peace and love.”  This guy was going to be cool.

Getting into town was exciting for me.  My first day in Colorado had been a blast.  Great camping the previous night and great cycling that day.  I headed to the public library to check email.  It had been a few days since my last shower.  I still wiped myself off with a rag every night, but it doesn’t match a warm shower.  I smelled bad, and I knew it.  The person next to me at the library knew it too, and he moved computers.  Oh well.

   

After stinking up the library, I headed over to Doug’s.  He answered the door in his robe.  Definitely a free spirit.  After I cleaned up, we headed to dinner at a local brewery.  Doug was cooler than me.  He wored things like vests and Union Jack suspenders.  I couldn’t pull that off.

At dinner, we spoke about a lot of things.  Deep conversation.  I wish I had a pen and paper to write down everything Doug said.  I had a few high-alcohol beers and was having difficulty following him.  I told him about some of the ‘coincidences’ that had occured during my journey.  The stay with the Vickers in Liberty, TX.  The stories of Abbeville and Brooksville. 

Doug doesn’t believe in coincidence.  Every event has a higher purpose.  When you focus your energy on an idea, it will come to pass.  He spoke of a reality formed by the energies and thoughts of the individual.  He gave me some of his french fries.  Weird.  I was just thinking that I wanted more french fries.  Maybe it does work.    

Doug also spoke of the coming collapse of our economy and society’s evolution to being more community-driven.  He said the individualistic spirit of America will begin to die and a community-driven spirit would rise out of the coming economic collapse.  Doug was a lone wolf, and he enjoyed his time in solitude.  He recognized this and still insisted this was the next step for our society. 

What really drew me to Doug was his awareness that so many people in our culture were attached to things and not to life experience.  People connect money with happiness and possessions.  He didn’t understand why people slaved away for 30-40 years just to live comfortably for 10 years as they await their death in retirement.  Why not live in the present?  Doug spends 4 months every year in Vietnam just ‘being’ and living like a king.  And he’s always done this.  The exchange rate there is phenomenal and allows for that sort of thing.  Doug was also able to do this because he did not live in debt.  No mortgage.  No car loan.  No credit card debt.  And he was very happy.

day off in pagosa springs

Doug was driving to Durango on Saturday, so he offered me a ride there.  He was cool with me staying an extra day.  Cool.  I’ll go with it.  The opportunity presented itself.  It must be that ‘no coincidence’ thing Doug spoke about.

I offered to give Doug a hand outside with his projects:  re-leveling the brick patio with sand, digging post holes and pouring cement, and running electrical through the marble statues.  His backyard was complete with a mountain-fed creek, garden, greenhouse, and many white marble statues from Vietnam.  They were extraordinarily heavy and a pain in the ass to move.  Doug told me if one piece broke, it would ruin the set.  No pressure though. 

Doug imparted a lot of wisdom during the 5-6 hours we spent working:

‘If you ever see Buddha in the road, run him over.’  If you think you have an idea of what the Buddha is, it is probably wrong. 

The question I often get from young people is, ‘What am I going to do?’ That is the question society has conditioned upon us, and it is entirely baseless.  Why can’t you just be happy with ‘being’?

Last week, I’m in a men’s group with a doctor that’s real upset.  You know.  A doctor.  That’s the pinnacle of our society’s concept of success.  This doctor was very unhappy and was having mood swings all the time.  He hated his life because he did what was expected of him.  I told him to just follow his heart, and he’d find true happiness.  Once you shut down your heart and stop listening to it, you become a machine.  Less human.  Look at Bush and Hitler.  After Shock and Awe…after killing thousands of civilians, he hopped on that ship and declared victory.  I’ve seen war.  There’s nothing victorious about it.  Bush shut his heart down, and that’s why he’s able to be successful in politics.

The only reason people think our money is worth something is because they believe it is a store for human energy.  Once that belief is destroyed, you’ll quit being a slave.

Heavy stuff.  And entertaining.  He had a lot of jokes.  5-6 hours later, we were done.  It felt good to pay it forward.

Later that day, we went on a hike up Reservoir Hill, a small mountain that overlooks Pagosa Springs.  Good talks on the way up and down.  Doug does this hike daily.  Damn…it was quite a hike.  Doug definitely has a youthful and free spirit.  We chilled out and enjoyed the beautiful view.  I jumped.

We then went out to dinner, his treat.  A very good end to a very good day.