Adventures

Where You Ought To Be

Stagecoach Reservoir

Brush Mountain Lodge, CO (1 July 2019)Mud was stuck to everything. The mud was so thick and sticky it pushed the chain off the front chainring whenever the pedals were turned. It was the much dreaded peanut butter mud. This mud was merely an after image of what must have stopped some of the Tour Divide front runners in their tracks. After stopping a couple of times to scrape mud and reattach the chain, I just gave up. It seemed a lot less futile to plod through the mud with the bike on my back and gingerly glide downhill with the chain still unattached. Not that this was easy. Attempting to coast downhill through thick mud required the reflexes of a cat. Every skill and muscle was used to avoid going down in the muck and it only took once to completely cover me in mud -- making all subsequent fall seem superfluous. Less than an hour into the day, rider and bike were a hilariously muddy mess.

The mud was a result of a storm that rolled through while we slept in our comfortable beds without a care. After Kirsten's hearty breakfast, we were greeted by a wonderfully sunny sky. It took less than a mile, however, before metaphorical dark clouds appeared in the form of peanut butter mud. After the mud, came the ice covered pass near Meaden Peak. We discovered, from some of Kirsten's friends yesterday, that the pass the Tour Divide crossed was not traveled by the locals. It was apparently unnamed and stood 9,856 feet in elevation. That would make it a high pass in Montana but in Colorado, it was hardly worth mentioning.

The road became more rocky which allowed the chain to be reattached which allowed the bike to be pedaled. The road rose gently at first. Mule deer were seen playing and a small group of Greater Sandhill Cranes watched me closely from a nearby meadow. The sun was bright, the mountain air was fresh and everything was green.

As the road twisted through trees from meadow to meadow, it became steeper. After cutting through some trees, Bill was seen riding ahead. The road was rough with rocks which were wet from the rain. The last throw to the top of pass was covered in snow and ice. A stream of water flowed under foot as the bike on my back was hauled over mud, snow, ice and rock. When the top was reached, I was briefly joined by Jason Kiefer. Jason was delayed by mechanical problems and would otherwise be riding near the front of the race. He lived in the area and was familiar with the rocky descent in front of us. After this short introduction, he tore down the hill at dare-devil speeds.

The downhill of the pass was rough and embedded with sharp rocks. There was the risk of cutting a tire or, possibly worse, a loss of control. Brakes were useful for controlling speed but when it's steeply rough, braking exaggerated the roughness and caused the bike to bounce, sometimes uncontrollably. The downhill could be walked, crawled down by the heavy use of brakes or made smoother by use of speed and body english. My approach was to use the brakes sparingly on all of the downhills. Most downhills had short sections that were flat or rose slightly and presented a good opportunity to scrub speed. Another good place to brake was when a smooth patch would appear. This rough rapid descent seemed to lack both.

Besides saving ankles, flat pedals have helped me feel more confident on downhills. The pedals gave me a better feel for the bike or more specifically, how the wheels were weighted. By shifting my body weight, the wheels can be weighted together or separately. With enough experience, this happened without conscious effort. Of course being clipped in doesn't make this harder, in fact, being clipped into the pedals allowed for the pedals to be pulled up but the feedback to the feet was more subtle. What I gained from flat pedals was a better foot position for downhills and an active awareness of the how the wheels were weighted. From using flat pedals, one quickly learns, that passively riding a rough downhill causes your feet to bounce off the pedals which can lead to disaster. Ironically, clipless pedals were probably safer for that reason alone. Yet by actively engaging my ankles, knees, and hips on the downhill as required to safely ride flat pedals, I found a greater feeling of confidence and control. In addition, the ability to move the feet forward on the pedals for the downhill made the connection to the bike feel more stable. Flat pedals aren't for everyone but if you think you might want to try this for yourself, I recommend giving yourself lots of time to learn and take a class if you can. It helped me to take an online flat pedal course.

Stagecoach Reservoir Dam

The rough downhill was short and only slightly terrifying. Soon the route rolled though some ranch land where horses grazed. A pair of sandhill cranes were spotted probing green open ground near a stream. In Wisconsin, we have sandhill cranes and these were often spotted on bike rides near to home. Our Lesser Sandhills are a subspecies of sandhill that is smaller and more numerous than the Greater Sandhill cranes. The greater subspecies stands taller than the lesser but are otherwise identical in appearance. With the estimated number of cranes in Colorado being only 250-300 mating pairs, it was pure luck to spot two separate groups of these large "prehistoric" birds.

The road improved as the route glided past bright green horse pastures and hobby farms, eventually leading to the highway and the Clark Store. The store was buzzing with activity. Motorists, road cyclists and even other bikepackers were coming and going in a constant flow of people. The line inside was not long and it was a joy to eat a sandwich made to order with fresh quality ingredients. My body thanked me for the dose of lettuce, peppers and tomatoes. There was nothing better than real food for a long day of bikepacking on the tour divide.

After a smooth ride on pavement and gravel, it was a happy arrival in Steamboat Springs where the bike was cleaned and examined at the Orange Peel Bicycle Shop. While waiting for the bike to be serviced, I was treated to a visit from my dear friend, Maggie. She was with Kira Dyer who started the race in Banff but had to end her race in Ovando, due to ankle and lower leg swelling. We enjoyed fantastic malts at the drug store and soda fountain. It also gave me a chance to tour Maggie's art gallery. It was great spontaneous visit!

After the bike was ready, it was impossible to leave Steamboat, it seemed. The bike path was flooded, the result of the recent storm and snow melt. After one detour was skipped, it felt wrong to skip the others. Out of a desire to respect the decisions made by city traffic engineers and safety managers, the detours were followed. The route became confusing and time was lost trying to figure out how to stay close to the Tour Divide Course and follow the designated detours. After some backtracking, the outskirts of the city was finally reached and it was time to eat and resupply.

Over three hours were spent in Steamboat Springs. After getting turned around, the bike serviced, visiting, eating and shopping, it was finally time to resume the trek to the Mexican border. It was after 6 P.M. and I pedaled away from Steamboat Springs, without a plan. The pedaling always felt good and joyful when there was no specific destination. The evening light illuminated the mountains to the left and the broad valley of horse farms in front of me. The paved road gently rolled and flowed easily under wheel.

After awhile the road joined the edge of a stream, gently rising above it. The road came to a dam and the divide route left the road for a path that followed the shore of the reservoir. There was a state park nearby but it was in the opposite direction of the dam crossing to the lake shore path.

It was a fantastic scene of rushing water as seen from atop the large hydroelectric dam. It was not immediately evident that the concrete walkway over the dam was connected to anything on the other side. Once on other the side, however, the connection was made and the fun began. It was a twisty rock path with some loose sand but mostly it rolled well. There were good views of expensive homes overlooking the quiet reservoir. Tall weeds obstructed the view sometimes, as the path dropped and rose along the shore of the reservoir.

Around the reservoir

With a slight flourish, the end of the path spilled out to a parking lot. The signs and maps along the edge of the parking lot were studied as daylight began to wane and my thoughts turned to camping. The signs confirmed that Stagecoach State Park was on the opposite side of the lake and the clearest route back to the campsites was the way I came -- back to the dam and off route for a couple of miles. The decision was taken to press on and camp rough somewhere. The path was fun but riding it took some effort plus -- backtracking? It never feels right to backtrack.

The gravel road climbed steadily away from the reservoir, the sun was low and the sides of the road were lightly developed. There was a subdivision of homes on one side and a horse pasture on the other. It wasn't looking like a promising location for a remote camping site. When stopped at an intersection to study the map on my phone, a motorist in a large while pickup truck pulled up. We discussed my options for getting to the State Park from there. I was uncertain about all of them. Finally, he said, "you know that path you took goes all the way around the lake." Okay, that was the plan. I turned around, dropped down the hill to the parking lot and rejoined the path. It was a buggy ride on the path as it wiggled around the lake for an extra 5 miles in the increasing darkness.

Upon arrival at the park, I was greeted by a friendly ranger who immediately told me the campground was full but to wait here. He departed on an ATV for the office to check on a list of overflow sites. When he returned, he directed me to a site among many but convenient to facilities.

It was a crazy day with peanut butter mud, an icy climb, getting trapped in Steamboat Springs and finally ended with the circumnavigation of a reservoir. Eventually, camp was set up at the state park which was just 2 miles from the dam by the direct route but it took me 2 hours by the route that encircled the lake. The unnecessary miles made me smile as I drifted off to sleep. It was all fine because when there's no destination in mind, you were always where you ought to be.

Elvation Profile for Day 18

On to Day 19