Riding in a Tutu - July 31, 2007

Riding in a Tutu

(July 31, 2007)

 

The last few days of riding have been awesome. The 26th I followed Route 24 up to Leadville, Colorado, two miles above sea level. I was worried about the climb and altitude but had no trouble and felt almost euphoric, enjoying the scenery and physical experience of being in the mountains. I managed to find a bookstore and bought two volumes of women’s letters and diaries from the Oregon Trail. To finish off a perfect day, I camped near a beautiful mountain stream. It was 55 degrees when I pulled into town; a pleasant change from the heat of Kansas and southern Colorado.

Strangers continue to be generous and kind. At the Buena Vista visitors’ center a woman gave $10 for JDRF. Then the ladies who worked there sent me to the Chafee County newspaper office and they wrote up a brief story about my trip.

When people see my handsome mug, circulation will double. 

(Or maybe not.)

The next day I dawdled before getting going. I tend to eat gigantic breakfasts and read the paper instead of getting out and riding. I followed Route 24 to the point where it strikes Interstate 70. Then I took a bike trail for several miles, meeting three teachers out for a ride. They were out in Colorado for a conference on teaching environmental issues throughout the curriculum. All three were friendly and I rode along slowly, happy to have someone to converse with. Robert, 39, and his wife (not one of the riders) are expecting their third child. Etna has worked in the private sector, usually for food/chemical companies but got tired of it and tried teaching – and loved her first year. Margaret was a third-year teacher from West Virginia. All seemed dedicated and we made an interesting quartet: one African American (Robert), one Hispanic (Etna), one white woman (Margaret), and one geezer.

That would be me.

Rain stopped me that day. So I holed up in a motel. Since then I have been rolling. I rode 103 miles on July 28 ending up at Walden. Part of the route was gorgeous, following the Blue River. Then I hit a stretch of 62 miles with no stores, and made the mistake of carrying only two full water bottles.

I treated myself to a terrific prime rib dinner at the River Rock Cafe. Then I camped out in the city park.

The next day I did 97 miles and camped beside the North Platte River. I still haven’t seen anyone going the same direction as me. But I met Robin Geary, a teacher from San Francisco, out for a 990 mile ride. Like me, she was going solo. She says her parents don’t like it. So her brother suggested she tell them she was riding with “Bob and Ed,” two guys she “met” along the way. We both laughed at that idea. I’ve been tempted to tell my wife the same thing.

Yesterday and this morning have been challenging. I had to cover the distance from Rawlins to Lander – about 130 miles – with some care. To sum up the terrain I can do no better than to quote a traveler on the Oregon Trail who passed the same way: “These everlasting hills have an everlasting curse of barrenness.”

Frankly, I was nervous about this part of the trip. The entire route is sagebrush and without shade. You can stop at Grandma’s Kitchen (32 miles from Rawlins), a store at Muddy Gap (46 miles) or a cafe at Jeffrey City (88 miles) and that’s it. Them’s the choices!

Yesterday, I happened to get my first flat of the trip; and as I was fixing it up rode a young girl, Sarah Brigham, 22. She was heading down to Durango, Colorado, with her bike loaded and wearing a red and black tutu (which she made herself).

Sarah was out for a thousand-mile ride. 

I made it from New Jersey all the way to Wyoming before I got a flat. 

Now I’m in the library at Lander trying to get this posted. They have a half-hour limit on the computers. So I will have to take a break and add pictures later.

The landscape north of Rawlins can be rather bleak. 

I stopped to take this picture, looking back the way I had come.

I liked the view so much, I camped atop this hill for the night.
Near South Pass, Wyoming.
 

*Last time I passed this same way, in a car, in 2020, massive forest fires were creating a gray haze all across southern Wyoming, the town of Lander was booming, but Grandma’s Kitchen was boarded up. Saw plenty of young riders, though. This is part of an Adventure Cycling Association mapped-route. 

I’ve never used their materials, although I’ve looked at some of their ideas for routes, and sometimes followed their routes.