It says something about today’s ride that when I proofed my first draft of this post, I used the phrase “kicked my butt” 4 times. I’ve tried to trim it down but at this altitude I don’t trust my brain as much as usual so who knows how many are left.
Well I wanted mountains and mountains I got. Today’s ride was pretty easy for the first 30 miles and then it turned uphill for the next 15, all the way to a 9000+ ft summit. But I’m jumping ahead.
The road out of Pueblo rose slowly and I had to skirt around the Pueblo reservoir to get to the real objective of the day. I enjoyed the slow transition from old Pueblo out to the edge of town and I was happy to see little canyons and creeks as I rose. I crossed a high plain up above the reservoir and all was good up to Wetmore.
Then the road started a steady climb that my ACA map told me to expect. That would have been fine but I was not prepared for leaving all the oxygen behind in the valley. It was just as slow and gradual as the climb but I found my heart rate climbing and I had to go slower and slower. My legs were fine but I started to feel all the classic symptoms of altitude sickness – fatigue, nausea, and by the time I reached the top, a head ache. I had to take frequent stops just to be safe but the thin air was clearly kicking my butt. I can’t remember the last time I had to stop at the top of a climb and just catch my breath before descending. But I knew I had to get down soon. All that and the Colorado DOT didn’t even see fit to put an elevation sign at the top. I guess 9000 foot passes are a dime a dozen here.
I coasted down the other side of the mountain and my head started to clear. The nausea abated but I had to even take rests on the 5 mile descent to be safe. A beautiful valley opened up where I’m staying tonight, with huge peaks on the other side that I’ll need to cross soon. In two days my route takes me over an 11,000 foot pass. That pass was present in my mind when I made it to the top – “what if you were 2000 ft higher? Fortunately I have a couple of days at this altitude to acclimate, but I’ll take more if I need it.
When I made it down to Silver Cliff I stopped at the local museum to learn a little about it. Like a lot of former mining towns, Silver Cliff used to be relatively big – over 5,000 but that was for a short time until the silver thinned out. You can easily see the scars from the mines and the tailings that they left behind. It’s worth learning to recognize mine tailings because it’s an easy way to spot mine entrances that often have cool relics and buildings around. All the mining tools in the museum just make me glad I was never a miner. They used a crazy combination of hard labor, explosives, and chemicals to extract and separate the silver from the ore. Combine that with a crazy map showing the hundreds of claims in the area, the riches brought by the silver and you have the stage set well for trouble.
I found lunch and headed on down the hill to Westcliffe where I knew there was a campground. I found it and set up camp quickly, just in time for a thunderstorm to roll in. I curled up in my tent and went right to sleep for an hour, feeling absolutely spent.
I think I’ll sleep well tonight and I hope it doesn’t storm too much. My tent is pretty comfy but the gusts were ferocious this afternoon and I need a good rest. Tomorrow’s an easy, relatively level pedal and sure glad that I built in time to get used to this air. So far, the thin air is kicking my butt.
What is it about rest days that seem to turn my brain and body to mush? I suppose it’s all those miles across the plains catching up with me but it’s odd to feel more tired on the rest days than the ones I ride. There’s something there too that I remember talking with Richard and Tash about back in MO. Exercise doesn’t tap you out, it gives you more energy. I know I need the rest too because today, just toodling around Pueblo, when I stand quickly in the pedals my legs scream for mercy. OK, mercy today legs for tomorrow we climb and perhaps contemplate ”what is pain.”
The folks from Springs Mountain Sangha have been so great to me. Kerry and Linda have hosted me to meals, given me rides, and a place to stay and it has been lovely to be welcomed into their community.
I attended the Koan study with the Sangha last night where we read and discussed this short story: (BTW for those of you not familiar with Koan work, read 3 or 4 definitions on the web and you’ll have an idea of it. I didn’t really like any of the ones I found but then, its kind of the nature of koans to not be nailed down. At least that’s my incomplete understanding, having had little experience with koan work.)
When Dongshan was dying, someone asked him, “you’re unwell. Is there someone, after all, who isn’t sick?”
Dongshan said, “There is”
“Does the one who isn’t sick take care of you?”
“I’m actually taking care of that one.”
“What is it like when you take care of that one?”
“Then I don’t see that there is any illness.”
That may bring up lots of thoughts and feelings as one reads it and the really interesting thing about discussing it with a group is to see how it was received by different people. At first, I had a very definite idea of what it meant to me (engineer brain, kicking in to solve problem. Ha!) Sarah, the Sangha’s Roshi (congrats on becoming Roshi, Sarah!) had us take it apart one line at a time, which really opens it up. As people discussed it I felt my own reading of the lines changed and the meaning broadened. It was a very interesting experience and many thanks to Sarah and the group for sharing it with me.
Today I explored Pueblo, just following my nose as I did a few errands around town. It’s a really interesting place, having been a crossroads for a long time. Did you know Pueblo was known as “Steel City”? Apperently it used to be a big industry here. Now the town has a definite vibe to it – western, green chiles, bolo ties, boots, desert, art, sun. I see solar panels on many buildings, and they even have a coffee shop that roasts their beans using the sun.
I focused downtown as that’s where I’m staying and I didn’t want to spend much time on my bike seat. So here’s a few pictures from my meandering.
I did some review today of all the miles that I have to go. I was getting concerned that I wouldn’t make it home by mid August – my original plan. But I was suprised that, if I follow the ACA “Western Express” route from here, I’ve only got about 1,575 miles to go to get home. Only. So that’s about 24 days of pedaling if I can keep to an average of 65 miles a day. Seems doable which is good because I miss Megan and Jonah. All the other pains can be overcome, but that one is persistent and the only way I can ease it is to get home. That provides the constant tension these days between wanting to hurry on home, and slowing down and soaking up all that this trip offers while I have the chance.
Tomorrow I start into the Rockies for real and we’ll see if my legs are up for my first pass. I may wish I was back in Kansas again.
And just like that, I see mountains! From my new vantage point in Pueblo, there, to the west, the Rockies rise. Still murky forms in the monsoon July air but I can clearly make them out, even see snow on the north sides here and there. I’ve been elated all morning, just seeing them slowly emerge and grow.
And as if there was any doubt about it, we are truly in the West. I had huevos rancheros for breakfast with an amazing green chile sauce, and I saw my first roadrunner. as I was poking around railroad cars near the river (again I fail as a wildlife photographer). We still follow the Arkansas, which oddly is bigger here than farther down. Tom, who runs the Ordway Hotel said that a lot of the water disappears into a rift not far from here. Apparently much of it goes down into the Ogallala aquifer, the massive water supply that sits below Kansas and Nebraska.
I got a late start today but still reached Pueblo by 1:00 or so. Today was only a 50 mile leg and it’s gotten much cooler so no need to beat the afternoon heat.
Tonight I’m headed to spend some time with the local zen sangha. One of their members has graciously given me a cushy pad to crash in for a couple of days. Thanks, Kerry! Rest day tomorrow to explore Pueblo and rest up for the coming climbs. Big slopes a comin’!
Well, I think I will. It’s possible in Pueblo and even though I knew that today that I wouldn’t see them, it’s hard to not scan the distant horizon looking for their first appearance. I’ve taken dozens of trips by car across the plains, following I-70 across Kansas to Denver and beyond, and I can’t help but start looking for majestic, Coors-can worthy, peaks high above the horizon. And though I know it doesn’t work that way, I look anyway because I love these mountains.
My love for the peaks of Colorado started in the 5th grade when I was lucky enough to have a chance to go there as part of an Environmental Education Program offered through my school. A bunch of us piled into a big orange school bus with sleeping bags and outdoor gear and made the 2 day trek from Rolla MO to Brekenridge CO. All that week we went for hikes, learned about the local species, and soaked up the pine-scented clean air. It was the first time I heard that Colorado had a water crisis (yes, even in 1975) and it sparked my interest in trying to protect the environment. Well that and Frankie, one of our camp counselors who I, and every other boy on the trip (and probably some of the girls) developed a huge crush on. The point of the trip for my teachers was to engender concern for the environment and it worked. I came back home with my only souvenir, an image of a mountain climber silhouetted against the setting sun with the slogan “Get high on mountains” on the front. I wore the hell out of that shirt. So this little story is, in part, why I feel connected to this state, and why I’m looking forward to getting into the mountains soon.
I “slept in” today until 5:00. Luxury. I’ve planned out my next couple of days to stay with some friends, or friends of friends, in Pueblo, so no need to rush the last couple of days to get there. It felt good reach today’s destination early in the day, have a chance to nap, and catch up on a couple of biz items for home.
Sweet Mariah smiled upon me again today and I had a lovely breeze at my back all morning.* There’s also been little traffic since Leoti KS, which has been great. But it also means I need to keep vigilant because it’s easier without the traffic to get careless and complacent about the cars and trucks that remain. But usually I hear them coming from about a half mile behind me so it’s not that much of an issue. Just don’t get too lost in my thoughts.
I’m already at about 4500 feet elevation having climbed almost 1800 feet on my way to Eads yesterday. I didn’t really realize it, it was so gradual but check out this elevation profile from yesterday’s ride:
Yesterday I finally perfected my aero-tuck too which helped some. I salvaged a swimming noodle from the side of the road and made some pads so I can rest my forearms on the bars. This makes a huge difference in how hard you have to work against the prarie gusts. Plus it gave this engineer something to tinker with geek out on while otherwise bored by the scenery.
Some riders want to stop and chat and some just go on their way. I had a nice chat with Scott and Louise (you can follow them here), and also with Richard, who’s retired and from Eastern Oklahoma.
Tonight there are thunderstorms due in shortly so I opted for the local hostel. It’s in an old Hotel in downtown Ordway. I’ve got some more exploring of Ordway to do this evening.
*For those of you tuning in late, we do not say the four letter word that starts with “W” here. It’s working for me so I’m not ready to put my superstitions down yet.
I’m excited today because I am officially in the West. I have seen cactus, sage and the air is bone dry. Suddenly it feels like I’m making progress again.
The $50 hotel last night felt like the lap of luxury. The short day allowed me to rest, catch up on my laundry, stay cool, and sleep well. 4:00 AM seemed like a new normal today and my neighbors at the hotel were leaving as I was. Seems like the local trade specialists travel a lot – the guys next to me were boiler technicians and I suspect they were up to beat the heat just like I was. The quickie mart was crowded by the time I got there at 4:30, with the now familiar crew of ice-bucket-sized coke drinkers stocking up for the morning.
At first the breezes were blowing hard. Then as I pedeled in the dark, they subsided gradually until they were practically gone by dawn. It was cool and overcast which kept the sun from really being a factor until late. I caught a lot of lucky breaks this morning and Mariah smiled on me again. This time she turned around completely from yesterday and was blowing from due north. I couldn’t believe how much difference that made to the truck suck coming from the east-bound semis. With the breeze in the north, I couldn’t really feel them going by. Then, even better, she turned again to give me a push from behind that lasted, in varying degrees the rest of the day. Otherwise I couldn’t have made the progress that I did.
Can We Stop Burning Stuff Now?
I spent a lot of time this morning contemplating climate change and how important it is that we do something about it. (Some of my thoughts here are rated adults-only you if you’re reading to kids, you might skip on down to “On to Other Matters”) My sister-in-law Allison forwarded a link to a NYMag article that has caused quite a stir. It’s not for the faint of heart so be prepared before you click. It paints a scenario that is pretty bleak if we don’t take any significant action, which we really aren’t. As I’m riding through Kansas in 102ºF heat, it’s pretty easy to believe that extreme heat is getting more and more common, and today’s headline from the New York Times that an iceberg the size of Delaware broke off of a major Antarctic Ice shelf, didn’t calm my nerves. It seems that we’re seeing geological phenomon on a time scale of human lifetimes. I know that it’s not accurate to directly correlate local weather with climate change. But when you continue to see an aggregate of unusual phenomenon, record high temperatures, multiple “100 year floods” in a few years, higher storm surges with regularity, you begin to switch from concern to panic.
The article is clearly somewhat alarmist, but I think that’s appropriate. As it points out, the calm, deliberate culture of science works against it in this case. When has science ever had to scream and yell to be heard? What if a meteor the size of the moon were found to be headed directly on the path to earth? We’d all gather around the telescope, take a good look, and get down to the business of doing something about it. Right? Well science HAS done that, and it HAS seen the meteor, and it IS hurtling toward us and those of us in the US are squabbling about whether we caused the meteor or not. OR continuing to deny that that scientist’s telescope works.
I found it inspiring that Al Franken called Rick Perry to task on this very point. Perry was arguing that we really need to be sure and hey lets have an open discussion on the matter and review the results. Franken pointed out that’s exactly what we’ve already done and 100% of peer-reviewed scientists agreed on human-caused climate change. There were even converted skeptics in the course of review of the data.
So I don’t mean to go on a rant here – I’m likely preaching to the converted. But if I’m not, let’s talk because our children’s future is, quite literally, at stake and no one is really getting anything done about it.
As I rode today I was thinking about all the trucks going by, burning gas, bringing corn to feed cattle that we don’t need to eat and to sweeten drinks that we shouldn’t be drinking. I see people leaving their cars running in parking lots because it’s so hot they can’t stand to get in them if they don’t. We know that every minute that car runs, it makes the problem worse. You’ll need more AC tomorrow because of our actions today as long as we keep burning stuff to stay cool and to get where we’re going. We Know This. It is not uncertain and we need to be a lot more concerned abut it because it is going to take a lot of work to turn this ship.
So that’s exactly what I was contemplating – how the hell do we turn this ship? How do I personally, have the biggest impact that I can. Is it to focus on one small place and try and make it better? Or should I go help Al Franken try to get people’s attention? Do I go back and run my business or try to perfect the cost-effective solar-powered air conditioner? I really don’t know, but I’ve got about 30 more days or so to think about it before I get back and need to start making choices. And we all know that it’s those choices that get you to tomorrow, and determine whether you’re stuck in Kansas or on your way home.
On to Other Matters
I had planned to stay in Sheridan Lake but the black flies drove me out. I still felt fresh and it was only another 30 miles to Eads. I’m glad I kept going…
This is in the town of Chivington which should be renamed. Chivington was in command during the Big Sandy Creek Massacre when over 100 Cheyenne and Arapaho were killed by US troops in 1864.
I’d planned to camp out but a cloudburst hit and sent me running for cover. I was so busy typing this, I didn’t see it coming! Another cheap hotel. Tomorrow it’s supposed to be dry.
One of the nice things abou a blog is that you can leave loose ends.
"If I had my druthers, I'd ride a bike" Jim's low CO2 trans-am cycling trip