Golden Brown, texture like Colorado

Well let's start this post by just saying steamboat springs is an awesome little town. I would love to go back there for the ski season. While we were in town Jeff (he who cycles in flip flops) and Colin (another divide rider who pulled into our mad max campsite after dark) both showed up and took rest days there as well. This made for a cool time swapping trail war stories, with a visit to the hot springs for sore legs (and numerous failed attempts at their climbing wall), and huge portions of Mexican food with equally sized huge glasses of margherita. Although as Jeff pointed out the huge martini glasses made it look like the best girls night out ever.

While in town I also took my bike for a new rear tyre and a check up. Well the drive chain was so worn I ended up with a new cassette, New chain, New middle chain ring, New rear wheel bearings, and a new tyre. The labour was super cheap though and the guys super helpful. But I spent a couple of hundred dollars on parts. Damn Wyoming desert sand!

However eventually we managed to leave the delights of steamboat behind. And boy is Colorado pretty this time of year. The colours as the trees change just keep getting better and better.

The first day out of town was a pretty easy day as well, gaining 2000 ft of elevation with virtually no effort somehow. Which brought us up lynx pass, where fortunately the forest service campsite we had been told was closed had reopened. And pretty nice it was too. However I have never camped as high as 9000(ish) ft before. It does mean staying in your tent till it warms up a bit in the morning for sure.

Well if you set off from a pass you expect the next day to start with some nice downhill right? Not really. In fact the whole next morning had a flat profile, which just disguised some viciously steep but short rolls up and down in the country. However a river fording provided a fun distraction. But if the weather hadn't been so sunny I think I may have been cursing. The Ford had, with some beaver help I think, got pretty deep. All the same I took off my shoes and socks, bundled them on the bike and waded through the icy water. I got some soggy shorts for my efforts but it was pretty cool. Of course on the other side, the one time I was bare foot, that's when a snake decided to come slithering towards me. Luckily he was just heading for the bush behind me.

At last we did reach a descent, which was a real enjoyable technical descent with some sharp bends ready to throw you off the mountain. Most stunning of all though was the view. A whole valley of trails below us, and the mighty Colorado river winding is way through. And as we descended the pine trees suddenly disappeared and the smell of sage and warm earth at once filled the air. A real striking change between elevations.

Later that night we pulled into kremmling, and met up with Colin. What I will remember most about that place was going for breakfast at the moose cafe and ordering moose cakes. These are pancakes but so damn big that only a moose (or Colin who is tiny and like some kind of unbelievable magic trick when it comes to making food disappear) could eat a serving.

Straight out of kremmling we road up the Colorado river, and again without too much effort reached the top of Ute Pass. The descent down will stay with me for ever. Just stunning mountain views, with gold, green, Orange and Amber all going by in a blur at 35/40mph. All the time I was whooping and hollering with the joy of it all. Simply awesome.

And now I'm in Silverthorne, which appears to be little more than a shopping outlet of a town. But I found a hostel, and its a little odd, but hey for twenty bucks I got a bed and a free meal, and watched college football. Notre Dame hammered Michigan state if you're wondering.

And now it's time to get on the bike again. Today I should pass through the up market and super expensive ski town of Breckenridge, and also to the top of Boreas pass. Eleven and a half thousand feet. New territory for me on a bike. Here goes!

Photos: for my mum (a ski jump fan for some reason) a picture of the ski jump in steamboat. The sheep with the two horses was hilarious, he clearly had no idea he wasn't some kind of thoroughbred stallion either. And you can see how dry a summer they have had here, with the boat launch on the reservoir completely out of the water.

Steaming to Steamboat

So Rawlins is now a 130 miles behind me and three days ride. Well sort of 3 days ride. After leaving Rawlins (I have since heard it called the armpit of Wyoming, honestly it ain't that bad) and getting back into the desert, myself and Maarten found ourselves battling some true Wyoming headwinds. We thought we had come across this infamous obstacle in the basin already. Hell no! These gale force beauties were just pushing us backwards up hills. After a desultory fifteen miles myself and Maarten just looked at each other and said 'f#+$ it'. We ended up camping at a place called Teton reservoir sitting out the afternoon.

We did bump into an Aussie along the way though. Cam is hiking the continental divide trail. I was a little astonished to find he is hiking some long old days of 40 miles. I was even more amazed to hear that he is going to be walking 15,000 miles within eighteen months, and he has already done 11,000. No wonder he looked so skinny. When he finishes in October he is straight off to do the Appalachian trail. Good luck to him.

The campsite we stayed at will I think forever be in my mind the Mad Max campsite. It sat overlooking the reservoir and nothing but desolate desert. The wind just howled through all day, to the point where it was a kind of torture to the ears and the soul. Although our pitch did come with free ammunition for some mad max style adventures. You can see in the pictures that not only did I find more empty impressive 12 gauge shotgun shells (ironically down by the no shooting sign on the lake) but live .22 rounds under our campsite table.

I also went for a swim in the reservoir. Probably my last lake swim as the temperatures are starting to drop. It was nothing like swimming in the balmy waters of loon lake in Canada, and with the wind, more like swimming in the sea with waves being slapped in your face. Still better than going to Butlins I reckon though.

Eventually in the evening the wind did die down, and myself and Maarten hatched a cunning plan Baldrick would have been proud of. The idea was to get up at six before the wind, which usually picks up some time before lunch, got going. Especially as it was forecast to be even stronger. Well I crawled out of my tent and all was going well. For five minutes. Then the wind showed up. I swear I could hear laughter in its howling.

Well holy cow man, what a slog that day was.  I at least fared a little better than Maarten who had had virtually no sleep with his tent flapping in the wind most of the night. Anyway we kept going, including one six mile exposed climb and several short nasty ones with the winds constant heckling. But eventually the landscape began to change. It sounds like a daft thing to say but I can't tell you how happy I was to see trees. The cover they give you from the wind is so precious, and to see stands of beautiful aspen coming into view is just so uplifting.

And it also meant we were nearing Colorado. We passed through the sublime aspen alley, a road lined with 30 foot aspens on either side, and found a place to camp. The wonderful thing about the aspens currently is their change of hue to coats of vibrant oranges and golds. It's also a stark reminder though that the snow will be coming and I have to keep moving.

So we had planned to reach Steamboat Springs in 3 days. Well we thought that had been scuppered by our non-existent fifteen mile day. Not so. Yesterday we absolutely stormed 72 miles to get here. That included twenty miles plus of on off climbing, and some absolute downpours requiring full waterproofs for the first time. But we were men on a mission. With the reward of a beer and a rest day on offer (my first day off since Whitefish maybe a thousand miles ago), we pulled into town by five. Result!

And I would like to give a special thanks to Nettie. This good old gal was running the mercantile at the top of the climb into Columbine. Well this place sold ice cream and soda but was really more of a gift shop than a grocery store. But Nettie managed to fish out a couple of tins of chili for us and warm them up in a microwave. Awesome lunch.

This powered us down the hill to Clark's store about twenty miles from steamboat. I popped in there to grab a quick Gatorade, and who did I bump into, Cam. Jeez can that boy walk! I also met Jeff, another divide rider. I instantly noticed that Jeff is choosing to ride this route wearing flip flops. I feel like such a wimp now with my proper cleated bike shoes. I swear there are nutters all over the place out here. Anyway we had dinner with Jeff last night, great guy, and some of his stories about where he has decided to sleep after riding on until midnight had me howling with laughter, if feeling a bit soft for having the temerity to use proper campsites.

So now I find myself in a cosy room (thanks Nordic lodge, I recommend you, your friendly staff, your pool, your hot tub, and your non ski town rates) in Steamboat which seems an awesome little town. And joy of joy a day off to go do things like maybe have a dip at the hot springs. But also a few revelations have hit me. Without getting too deep though, I realised I am now over halfway with more than 1500 miles done on route. Wow! How did that happen. Some people are still asking me what it is I'm doing. Well there is as film out there I didn't know about before I started called ride the divide, which is a documentary of the race. Check out the trailer. So to those who are asking for more info, it's this...just a lot slower with more beer.

Right I think I hear the hot springs calling!

Photos: check out the the pic of three forks ranch we went past. The place was Damn huge. We rode four miles just past one entrance to another. #iwanttolivethere

220 Hot miles of Sage and Sand

Leaving Pinedale I had a fairly daunting journey ahead. 220 miles of desert to cross to the next patch of civilization, Rawlins, with only one small town in between, and potentially very few water sources. Especially given the summer long drought and heatwave they have had out here.

Day one and fifty miles to little sandy creek was on the whole just a preparation for what was to come. While the landscape did begin to look more and more arid, signs of human life were present for a lot of the day. But the name of the dirt road
I took was 'big sandy'. A definite clue.

I made camp at sandy creek anyway, and it was a lovely little spot. Nestled around a river you can see it from miles away as the only patch of trees on the landscape. I have included a picture of my pitch among the trees, and my outdoor Ray Mears style fridge for my Mountain Dew. I don't normally carry 2 litre bottles of soda with me I should point out, the bottle was to be my reserve water tanker for the long waterless stretches, strapped on top of a pannier. A bit like spitfires and hurricanes used to attach extra fuel tanks to their wings for special long missions in WW2.

The only problem with my campsite as it turned out was that I had been misinformed by the American cycling association that anyone could camp there. You actually need a permit from Wyoming for the land, which is held by the lovely couple Mike and Bobbie, who run an outfitting business there (tourists come sleep in their teepees, and then go out on horse back treks into the mountains and desert). Well after their surprise at finding me in their creek, they were very kind and let me stay, and even gave me some food and a cold beer. They explained that actually divide riders end up staying there all the time because of the bad info and they do like having them to stay.

So the next morning I set out into the wilderness, and the hostile but impressive vistas left me feeling small and in awe. A real experience not to forget, and one that would continue, with a growing sense of isolation, for the next two days. Also I found it nearly impossible to take any kind of photo with either of my cameras to capture the immensity of the views. Sorry.

Riding across the very top of the continental divide with views of incredible scale to either side, I saw another divide rider parked up having a break. Knowing who it probably was from Twitter I had a Dr. Livingstone moment. 'Maarten I presume?' Anyway Maarten is a thoroughly nice Dutch fella, with impeccable English of course, who I have been riding with for the last few days.

We passed through south pass city later that day. Another gold rush ghost town. But to be honest, while fun to look around, it felt a little more like a cheap amusement park with its plastic props, especially in comparison to Bannack's creepy air of sudden abandonment and its ghostly whisperings.

A few miles further on though was our last little outpost before Rawlins, still maybe a 150 miles away. Atlantic city. I think maybe Atlantic is meant as some kind of desert humour. However it has a great little bar and the chance for a proper meal was welcome. While we were eating a guy, literally, bounced into the room with his baby daughter and wife in tow. Ethan is one of the maniacs I have been becoming more and more curious about. A great divide racer! Every year they have a race along the route, and two years ago Ethan came third, and when he saw he was driving past Atlantic city he wanted to come in the bar and see if any divide riders were about. Now get this. Ethan completed the route in 17 days! Frankly something I just can't get my head around. He said he averaged around a 150 miles a day, starting with days of a 190 and finishing with days around a 130 miles. Now more than ever I don't know how it can be done. With little sleep seems one thing to be sure of.

That night Maarten and I camped at sweet water river. The only other life forms around a few cows disgruntled at us being in their spot. We made use of a fire ring though, and had a surreal moment sitting round it as it turned dark and a storm rolled in, forked lightning hitting the hills in front of us. That I think really did make us feel small and vulnerable. We literally had nowhere to run to. I'm not sure a tent is much use against several thousand volts. I guess it might pack up smaller in its bag if it did get hit though.

One thing I have noticed out at informal campsites which is odd, people from Wyoming and Montana seem pretty good at keeping their country litter free...apart from bullet casings! Check out the picture. They were all over the place.

The next day was the big slog. Seventy miles of desert to our next possible water source, and even that wasn't guaranteed. Well we made it, but I can tell you towards the end of the day with some headwinds, while physically we were ok, it was a real mental battle to get there. And what elation we felt to find a full flowing reservoir there, complete with it's own little musk rat family. The experience of traveling all day in the hope of finding water is something I have only really experienced through media such as tv programs and films etc. Believe me though, I can now understand to an extent the joy oft depicted in those films and programs.

One thing we saw a lot of and are worth mentioning are pronghorns. These things look like antelope, but are incredibly well adapted for the landscape. They can see like eagles, and can run for miles and miles at 30 to 40mph, and sprint at 60. To put it in context, my fastest speed on this trip on a steep downhill was 41.1mph. Incredible speed, and hence why they have no natural predators, and I couldn't get a good picture on my phone. Click here to see some internet pictures.

Anyway, yesterday I think we craved civilisation and practically sprinted the fifty five remaining miles out of the desert to Rawlins. A lot of people have told us this is a tough town. I can see why. The state penitentiary is here and a few shifty looking types. But I like it. It has character, and some friendly types too. And after 220 miles of desert I can't tell you how good an ice cold beer tastes, and how great huge portions of food are. I made the same mistake again though. I ordered a side with my burger. I mean how big could a side of loaded potato skins be? Well try two whole jacket potatoes loaded with cheese, pork and bbq sauce. Nom!

Photos: it's surprising how many llamas and alpacas you see out here ;-) Also I love the evidence of the little evangelism Maarten ran into out here!

Ain't no thing but a little mountain thing

Rain rain go away, come again to a different mountain range far away. Well leaving Yellowstone and entering Teton national park certainly brought some rain with it. We had an absolute downpour in the night, leaving us with some very soggy tents.  In truth though we have been so lucky. This is the first rain I have been caught out in since getting off the plane in Calgary...And you know what, it does appear to have gone away. Well sort of. After leaving Chris and making my way to the campground at turpin meadows a huge storm rolled in, splattered my tent with hail, and was generally loud, thundery and boisterous, until it buggered of to harass someone else. But on the whole everyone I meet can't believe how long and hot the summer has been over here.

At turpin meadows I met a couple, Chuck and Donna who very kindly cooked me breakfast and gave me a hot mug of coffee, setting me up for a fantastic day. I also have to mention what I believe they call a horse trailer. I would call it a 22ft monster caravan, with attached stable, and motorbike garage. Check out the picture. Chuck also showed me a picture of his "bigger" RV. The man utd team bus is probably smaller. They take luxury camping seriously over here.

Talking of equipment, I noticed I had a partial tear in the sidewalls of one of my tyres. But the adage still holds true that there ain't much you can't fix with duct tape!

Anyway after leaving turpin meadows I had a serious day ahead of me. Climbing two passes, both of which were over 9000 ft, one getting close to ten thousand. New territory for me. One thing I can tell you about riding on your own is, out here in the vast spaces, your emotions seem intensified. Being on my own again had left me a little flat, but I can't really even describe the sheer elation of conquering those two passes, and the feeling of pride. Coming up over the first with the tunes booming in my ears, I just could not stop grinning and whooping, and trying to almost dance on the bike. I must have looked a proper lunatic. What made it even better I didn't have to use the granny ring once (the smallest chain ring on the bike, the easiest and slowest to pedal, for steep hills).

And at the top of the last hill where I was expecting nothing, I saw a sign for crooked creek resort; 'divide riders welcome'. Well after a fun time in their saloon till two in the morning let me tell you there was no elation about the next day, and the granny ring was definitely used...a lot. Forty five miles of, probably, very pretty country, with some steep climbing after copious beers, whiskies and spider monkeys, whatever the hell they are, was rough. I can at least say I didn't vomit.

Anyway I knocked off the thirty five miles to the cowboy town of pinedale this morning (with a frosty start which is a reminder i need to keep pushing on before the snows come) in just about two and a half hours with it being mostly flat pavement. Surely a beer would be a good reward right?

(Regarding my bison encounter from the last entry, Chris sent me a photo he took on his phone which I have added, although i suspect as i don't know how to change it, it will appear upside down for some reason, doh!)