By Frosty Wooldridge
The first official bicycle tour of the Rockies commenced this past weekend with a starting point in Frisco. We hitched the panniers to the bikes, slapped on sunblock, packed on all the gear—and headed up the cycle path toward Copper Mountain.
Within minutes, at 75 degree temps, sweat poured down my brow! A warm sun and melting snow proved glisteningly beautiful under a blue sky. Beavers cut through many aspen along the river route. Gray jays, crows and robins sang their songs. A few finches and blue birds gave us special visual delights!
Along that route, water cascaded down the mountain in rapidly flowing waterfalls. Also, we could hear rushing water everywhere along the bike path. The first spring buds burst from the underbrush, but the big aspens remained dormant at 9,000 feet.
We passed several frozen lakes that showed water around the edges. We passed one cyclist who stopped us, “You ain’t goin’ much further.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“About 500 yards ahead, it’s deep snow,” he replied.
“Thanks,” I said. “Maybe we can cross over the bridge and get back on 70.”
“Good luck,” he said.
About another half mile, two foot snow piled up, but another cyclist about 100 yards away slogged through the snow bank on his way toward Frisco.
“What the heck,” I said. “Let’s bust our butts through this ice cream pie!”
Ten minutes later, breathing a little harder, we pulled the bikes through and made our way to Copper Mountain. One guy stopped and asked about our touring loads. He toured with his wife last year from Vail to Virginia. Right after him, a young kid came up asking questions about the flags. He rode back from Vail last year after the ski season and he decided to repeat it again this year because he enjoyed the ride so much. He definitely decided to hook flags onto his touring bike.
As I talked to those other riders, more ideas came to my head for writing the safety article on flags. A bunch of photo ideas popped into my head. I wrote them down once he took off down the road. I always ‘catch’ ideas immediately as they flow through my head. I write them down so they can’t escape!
Back on the road, I crossed over the road along the golf course in Copper Mountain. The big ski runs remained with lots of snow, but the city reminded me of a ghost town.
“Is the pass open?” I asked a fireman on his truck.
“Sure is,” he said. “They plowed it last week. You shouldn’t have any trouble.”
Within minutes, I cranked my bike Condor along the path toward Vail Pass. However, as I sweated like a race horse, I pedaled through three foot snow banks on both sides of the path. Funniest feeling being cooled by the snow from the side while being burned by the sun above, and sweating at 9,500 feet! All around me, aspirin-white snow blanketed the terrain with the river growing in noise and power. Up I pedaled toward the 10,000 foot pass.
Only five other cyclists raced back down toward me. On a summer’s day, it’s usually a hundred or more. I enjoyed the quiet and scenery.
At the top, wow, yes, freedom and joy! Now, for the long ride down the mountain into Vail! Life doesn’t get any better than that! Yahoo! Yippee ki yea and git along little doggie! What a freeing feeling from a long down-hill coast with gravity power doing all the work for you!
Through Vail, we rode along the bike trail pass million dollar homes and glorious statues. Such beauty and architecture!
On route 24, we crossed over the river on our way to Minturn. Sandi met me at the Turn-Around Café where the railroad used to feature a large round platter that turned the big locomotives around.
“I starving,” I said.
“Me too,” Sandi said. “Do you want to get pictures for your article after we eat?
“Yes,” I said. “Let’s get some great shots going up Battle Summit Mountain Pass.”
After watching a little train chug around the edge of the ceiling five times, we finished lunch. Before we left, we walked into the memorabilia room to see Elvis singing with his guitar and Marilyn Monroe with her white dress flaring out as she stood over a ground vent in New York City. Famous shot and we got to see it again!
Back on the road, Sandi took shots of my flags flapping and traffic passing. She shot some from inside the car and along the highway.
She drove ahead to set up camp in Hale Valley along the river at our favorite spot.
Several other cyclists rode with us up Battle Mountain. One guy guided tours all over Tuscany, Italy for two summers. He told me half dozen stories of his adventures. I told him a few of mine pedaling through Tuscany and the walled city of Volterra. Many great memories for both of us!
About an hour later, with six percent grade, we made it to the top. His girlfriend chattered the whole way. She skied Vail for five years and instructed beginner classes for kids. Nice lady! One heck of a pair of legs! I couldn’t keep up with her!
At the top, they turned around. Within seconds, the incline dropped and we flew down the other side, over the European-style green arched bridge. Below the river sparkled in the afternoon sun and the sky remained blue with a few clouds. Sweat cooled my skin while I stopped to put on a jacket.
Soon enough, I picked up Sandi reading in the car. We pulled off the road next to the river and set up our tent.
“What would you like for dinner?” I said, boiling water for hot chocolate.
“Potato/broccoli with cheese,” she said, tossing me a freeze dried bag of Mountain House cuisine.
She pulled out a loaf of homemade brown bread and butter.
“Oh my gosh,” I said, as I stuffed the tasty potatoes, cheese and veggies into my hungry mouth. “This is delicious!”
Later, we boiled more water for “Raspberry Crumble” desert. Once we mixed all the ingredients, we waited for eight agonizing minutes. Then, we dove in!
“Umm, umm, good,” Sandi said.
“Mouthwatering!” I said.
We cooked up more hot water for hot chocolate as the sun settled over the mountains and shadows played across the river. Several birds chirped, coyotes howled and squirrels chattered like machine guns in the trees overhead.
Later, we crawled into the tent for a good night’s sleep.
Next morning, a hummingbird buzzed by the tent. Several robins chirped. Ice clung to the tent flaps. That first rush of cold air filled our lungs with excitement!
We ate breakfast as the sun warmed the air. Within an hour, back on the road again. We traveled through Hale Valley where 10,000 soldiers trained for combat in the Italian Alps during WWII.
By the time we hit the incline for Tennessee Pass, it warmed enough for T-shirt riding. Then, more sweat all the way up to the top of Tennessee Pass. At the top, three guys pulled in for a picture. We all talked about bicycling. One guy, Bob, from Colorado Springs, said, “I used to be a paperboy and hauled papers on my Schwinn.”
“Me, too!” I said, remembering my newspaper days.
After they split, I pulled on my jacket for the ride down the back side. As I turned the corner, a brilliant white chain of mountains including Mt. Elbert, Mount Massive and others jutted into the azure morning sky. Took my breath away! I pedaled down through snowfields, cascading waterfalls and bulging streams growing by the hour as the warm 75 degree temps heated the land.
A straight shot across farming land showed century old buildings still being used for living and ranching. With the glowing white mountains in the background, pedaling became incidental to the beauty around us. Another couple passed going the other way.
In Leadville, at 10,200 feet, Sandi took a few pictures showing the visual effects of safety flags.
We pedaled through the valley up to Freemont Pass at 11,318. Great ride, hot weather and long pull up that pass! On the other side, yow, 15 miles coasting downhill along a raging whitewater river to Copper Mountain.
Not wanting to drag the bike through the 100 meters of snow again, I broke down the panniers, threw the gear into the car and locked my bicycle onto the roof rack.
“Let’s grab a Quiznos sub in Silverthorne,” Sandi said.
“You’ve got my attention,” I said.
We rolled into the I-70 traffic stream on our way back home. In our minds--beauty, serenity, wildlife and wilderness! Couldn’t help remembering the taste of wonderful Raspberry Crumble desert! Oh what a sweet life and a grand weekend pedaling through paradise in the Rocky Mountains in the spring of 2009.
Enjoy Frosty's great adventures around the world: Bicycling Around the World: Tire Tracks for Your Imagination; Bicycling the Continental Divide: Slice of Heaven, Taste of Hell; An Extreme Encounter: Antarctica; Handbook for Touring Bicyclists; Misty's Long Ride: Across America on Horseback.
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