Touring Tunes

On Thursday, July 17th we woke up at 4:30 AM, giddy with anticipation for the promise of an epic ride. Annie made us eggs and we packed quickly and were on the road and in Rocky Mountain National Park by six o’clock. In recent weeks, the lightning storms that descend over the mountains in the afternoons had twice proven to be lethal at or above the tree line, so we wanted to reach the summit before the dangerous weather. The weather was absolutely gorgeous, and even though we had a 20+ mile steady climb to the 12,183′ peak, we stopped to take lots of pictures. It isn’t every day that we attempt to pedal up the highest bike ride in the USA.

As we climbed through the morning fog, there was fortunately little traffic and we continued on ever higher. The vistas were indescribable.

At one outlook, a park ranger had echoed our concerns about the afternoon storms, so we climbed almost without stopping until we were a mile or less from the peak, when the thin air plus some asthmatic breathing caused me to pull over suddenly and almost fall, dropping my bike for the first time. Petunia was unharmed and mostly unfazed, and Greg leapt into action, handing me my inhaler, got me to unhook my helmet, and helped Petunia get righted. A scary moment, but soon after, everything was calm again.

As we sat on the side of the road, we saw a familiar face waking towards us- Annie had driven up to cheer us on! She made sure we were okay (we were), took some groovy film photos, and offered the encouraging promise that we were almost at the top where the visitors center and hot chocolate awaited. It was noon, we were soaked from sweat and needed dry clothes and lunch. The exhilaration of the ride and reaching the amazing apex of Trail Ridge Road was overwhelming.

After a well-deserved lunch, costume change, and some resting, we ran into a couple we’d met in Estes Park and they cheered us on as well. So many people stopped and talked to us, minds blown that we’d pedaled fully loaded bikes and an adorable dog to the summit on roads without guardrails with steep
cliffs on both sides and tourist drivers in rented RV’s. We were both proud and humbled, elated and exhausted. It felt like the best part of the trip so far.

The ~5 hour ride up was of course followed by a 30-45 minute downhill that was an ecstatic blur of unparalleled scenic awesomeness. Lots of great shots made it onto the GoPro and I’m looking forward to editing and reviewing it all when I get home. We turned off the road at the end of the park and found a quiet space to camp and made a small fire to fend off the mountain’s chill before curling up for sleep. What an incredible day.

During our nearly week-long layover in Denver, we gathered enough intelligence and tips from local cyclists and outdoor enthusiasts, including Jay from Turin Bicycles to continue our cross-country adventure. Armed with new maps and a plan to reconnect with the official route, we set out for Boulder by way of some highways and even an interesting set of bike paths that paralleled some interesting canals reminiscent of the race scene from Grease… with my terrible singing included. (Cha Cha for reference.)

At an intersection, a friendly woman in an SUV waved to us, and we asked her for some additional local route advice. Tracy pulled over and gave us her take on the safest way to Boulder, and after we pedaled on for several miles, she intercepted us on her own bicycle and actually led us toward our destination.

In Boulder, our Warmshowers host Ed greeted us at his beautiful home and let us stay on a futon in a snazzy garage/game-room adjacent to his house. He and his partner Wendy dined with us at The Sink, a popular local hangout, and to my great excitement, I learned Wendy was also an evaluator!

So, a short digression… people often ask what it is that we do professionally that allows us to travel this way, or just outright asked, “how can you possibly afford this?” For me, the truth is I probably can’t! 😉 Searching for free camping sites and limiting my expenses to food (as much as possible) have helped to stretch the budget. That said, this trip has been sponsored in part by the wonderful opportunity to work with Anita Baker at Evaluation Services, doing work I love– helping not-for-profit and social service organizations evaluate their programs and building the capacity of those agencies to conduct their own evaluations. End of /shamelessplug. But in all seriousness, I have the best boss and a rewarding career, and I’ve been able to live my cross-country-touring dreams with her support and generosity. And that was how I came to find myself in Boulder, enjoying a fun meal and discussing the American Evaluation Association’s annual conferences with Ed and Wendy.

The next day, we got a great start at Village Coffee Shop, and even Tunes was a fan of their bacon.

Nourished and rested, we began the climb toward Estes Park. Up, up and away.

There was a bit of a hail storm, but it didn’t last long. When we stopped in the ghost town of Ward, elevation 9,450′ and population 150, we stopped into the general store for a legendary homemade chocolate chip cookie and luckily dodged another intense hail storm.

The drizzly rain continued and we had on our warm layers as the high altitude chill set in. That evening, we set up camp on the covered front porch of an unused rental cabin behind an abandoned grocery store in Allenspark. It was a good way to dodge the rain and lightning that persisted throughout the night.

The next morning, we filled our many water bottles at a spring station and were treated to another day of long views of the Rocky Mountains that we were eager to traverse.

An ominous sign for cyclists was not a deterrent, and we pushed onward.

A glorious descent into Estes Park, complete with breathtaking views and the rainy wind in our faces, led us to our warm and winsome WS host Annie. As it turns out, last year, she’d cycled the TransAm, and rode part of the way with our Irish inspiration, Garry. We met Garry last year as he was riding from NY to VA to OR, and chatting with him was one of the catalysts for our own undertaking of this journey. It’s a small cycling world afterall.

Annie baked us a plate full of chocolate chip cookies that were instantly inhaled, and in our fun conversation, she shared that she’d buzzed her head and it had been liberating. Having a long-standing desire to be low-“mane”tenance myself, we were off in search of her coworker’s barber tools. Finding none, we settled for a borrowed and cleaned beard trimmer, made a coif-cutting playlist including india.arie’s powerful “I Am Not My Hair,” and began to lighten the load on my head.

We were eager to get an early start to begin our ascent through Rocky Mountain National Park’s legendary Trail Ridge Road. Now I was more aerodynamic and wouldn’t have to carry shampoo and conditioner.

After taking a shortcut through most of Kansas, we landed smack dab in the middle of the biggest city in Colorado. Denver’s sea of concrete and skyscrapers (sort of) was a shock to our sensibilities after a month and a half of riding through small-town America.

We felt a little overwhelmed by the people and the dense crush of civilization, but we were happy that the city was incredibly bicycle friendly, with ample bike lanes and motorists who were mostly aware of bikes and courteous to us. Initially, we had a hard time finding somewhere to stay the first night that would also accept Petunia. Out of exhausted desperation, we splurged on a pretty nice hotel (our first hotel stay) as the day was ending, and we got a great night’s sleep.

It was hot in the city, but we had fun exploring. A local guy and TransAm cyclist, Drew helped us out and Petunia made a friend.

Then we contacted Jessica and Jon on Warmshowers, and they graciously let us stay with them in their beautiful Washington Park condo, fixed us beautiful breakfasts, and let us stay another night when Greg woke up feeling under the weather the next day. Even their sweet hot dog Maggie was totally cool.

Jessica even gave us two free passes to visit the Denver Botanical Garden while Tunes luxuriated on the bed all afternoon. There was a gorgeous Chihuly exhibit on display, imbuing the natural beauty with a Seussian surrealism.

A doctor back in Pittsburg, Kansas suggested that I should take some time off to take the pressure off my hand a bit. Another doc in Denver that Jessica recommended agreed. It’s starting to look kind of creepy and claw-like. Greg pointed out that there was some resemblance to this plant we saw in the garden. The left hand can’t make a cup shape or cross my fingers, or pinch things.

Denver was a nice place to rest. We all got haircuts, and to avoid spending a few days in bike shorts, I bought an inexpensive summer dress and treated myself to some primping.

While cruising around the city and trying to determine how to get out of Denver an back on the TransAm route, we met a local counselor and cyclist named Michael who enthusiastically recommended that we ride through Rocky Mountain National Park via Trail Ridge Road. He even went back to his office to pick up a map to give to us. We were excited for the challenge an the promise of spectacular views.

But first, we needed to rest up before the journey. My Uncle Mike and Aunt Patti generously put us up in a comfy hotel! Uncle Mike has been an awesome “pit crew” all the way from Connecticut, sending me weather updates, route suggestions, geography and local history as we go! Getting cheered on by family and friends has made me feel so supported and loved. Thanks again!

It was hot, bright, flat, and boring after a couple days in Kansas.

So we skipped it.

The morning we left Chester, IL, we ran into the TransAm racer who was in the 16th position, just behind Marcus, the ninja cyclist we’d met the night before. We provided directions to the eastbound Mississippi alternate route, and he told us he and Marcus were part of a group of 4 racers who were stuck in a snowstorm together back in Colorado. While holed up in a hotel room waiting for the storm to pass, they’d made a pact to complete the race all together, seeing as how the leading peloton were already far ahead and the rear group wouldn’t be able to catch up to them. It turns out, according to racer #16, that Marcus snuck out of the hotel in the middle of the night, breaking the pact to gain an edge, and with a competitive glint in his eyes, the racer in Chester told us, “I’ll definitely catch him.”

We made it to Farmington, MO that evening where Katie and Karensa were staying at Al’s Place, a former jail now turned upscale hostel for cyclists only, along with three or four other small groups of cyclists. It was like The Real World of Bike Tourism, with everyone staying up late to talk story. We met three cyclists who are headed east, and as they are all starting medical school this fall, have dubbed themselves “The Health Nuts.” They shared some great tips about their experiences out west (a good warmshowers host in Montana) and some horror stories (headwinds and 113° heat in Kansas that meant it took 5 hours to cover 20 miles). They loved Petunia, which was really great since we all shared a room with bunk beds!

Jamie’s left hand has been crimped into a claw and painful for a week, likely the result of cyclist’s palsy (ulnar neuropathy). At least, that’s the Google search diagnosis so far. This may be due to to not wearing padded gloves after one flew away back in Virginia, plus rode vibrations and not keeping a “neutral wrist” position. Al’s place was so nice that we decided to take a day off there and rest the hand a bit.

After a nice weekend at Al’s Place, we attempted to head out after breakfast and resupplying, when suddenly a loud hissing emanated from Jamie’s front tire. After a failed patch attempt, we realized the big hole in the sidewall was going to call for a new tire. So back to the bike store in Farmington we went. Petunia made some new friends there and ran around and around, and even tried on some bike-streamer weave.

After some hilly riding with some aggressive drivers (we’d been warned about this in Missouri and sadly our sources were right), we were forced to delay due to a pretty serious storm, lightning and driving rain included. Finally, after a short-mile day, we camped out at a state park, arriving at dark and riding around parking lot-sites full of cars and tents. It looked like suburbia just packed up for the weekend and moved in, cable television and all.

Riding through the Ozarks was sort of like eastern Kentucky, with its unending onslaught of steep rolling hills, but at least it has cooled down a bit and the humidity hasn’t been nearly as unbearable. It’s described as a self-propelled rollercoaster, and I can almost hear the same metallic clicking and clacking as we slowly crawl up each hill.

We stopped for a short detour to dip our feet in the gem-colored water under a bridge on our way to Eminence, MO yesterday. It was a fun and refreshing diversion!

In Eminence, we stayed at a very simple campground alongside Jack’s Fork river, and Jamie got to go for a nice swim at sunset. We skipped rocks in the morning and climbed through the Ozarks for yet another day.

Last night, we decided it was best not to ride too late because the hills limit our visibility to motorists and we’d encountered enough angry, engine-revving, close-encountering, horn honking drivers, so we stayed at the city park in Houston, MO. We showered at the town pool, which was very nice of the lifeguards to give us some time to do so as they were closing for the day.

We’re hoping to make some good mileage today. For the 4th of July, I’ll leave you with a funny slice of ‘Murica.