June 29, 2001--Pueblo, CO.

Today started with a very chilly ride out of Salida. It didn't take long for the three of us, John, Andy, and I, to warm ourselves up. Most of the first forty miles were down hill. The three of us raced through farmlands and canyons with steep red rocky walls. The road we wove through followed the Arkansas River and blocked the wind we had been experiencing so consistently through the trip. Our average speed through this section was about 24 mph and the mountains seemed to move slowly as we rode swiftly down the road as if they were making a path for us. The red rocks stood so strong, tall, and powerful, I could hardly keep my eyes on the rider in front of me. (Later the other riders expressed the same thing) A song that came to mind in this section was the chamber choir version of Barber's Adagio for Strings. The mountains seemed to sing, as the cliffs loomed high above our heads. The first picture is of me standing next to the Arkansas River.
In the middle of the trip we decided to take a suggested side trek that would add some miles and some climb to the century. We went off route 50 to the Royal Gorge. The climb became extremely steep and the temperature began to rise. The Royal Gorge supposed to be the highest suspension bridge in the world going over a canyon of 1050 ft. We came to the gate and were shocked to find that admission was $15 each. Bikers were no exception. We paid our money and continued on to the bridge. The place was crawling with police. Apparently a man had jumped about an hour before we got there. They had not yet located the body because he probably landed in the river. We did some site seeing and tried to make the most of our money. The panoramic view was really spectacular from the bridge. The river made its way through the valley like a tiny snake as the snowy peaks of the Rockies sat majestically above the green mountains in the foreground. I am sorry to say that other than the view, the Royal Gorge was a classic tourist trap. Very little historical information was available about the bridge but there was a huge souvenir store, candy store, tram ride, merry-go-round, ice cream shop, etc. We departed and made our way back out to Rt. 50. The scenery was changing drastically from the rocky peaks back to rolling hills with dry grass and cactus plants.
At the 70-mile marker we hit the town of Canon. We decided to stop for lunch and get sandwiches. I ate a 6-inch sub and jumped directly back on my bike. Heading out of town we hit a climb and my stomach had different ideas for me. It took me about 10 miles before I was up to speed again. In the town of Canon we passed a time and temperature sign that read 96 degrees. When we rolled into Pueblo we passed a time and temperature sign that read 103 degrees. We were ready to be done by the time we stopped in Pueblo.

THERE WILL BE NO JOURNAL ENTRY FOR June 30, 2001. THIS IS MY FREE DAY IN PUEBLO.

June 28, 2001--Salida, CO.

The rumor today was that the weather was going to be cold. I dug out my long gloves, my long cycling pants, and my jacket so that I wouldn't suffer like I did in Truckee. We rode a mile up the road from the hotel where we were served breakfast that included pancakes, oatmeal, and orange juice served plastic beer cups. I found the beer cups rather charming.
After breakfast we headed up Rt. 50 east. Today's farmlands were not quite as breath taking as yesterdays but the mountains surrounding them gave me plenty to look at. The beginning of the trip was flat with a few small climbs. Mountains that surrounded the road were lush with large green pine trees. Every-so-often large boulders would protrude from the mountains in colorful clusters and formations. At the small town of Sargents the climb began to the Monarch summit.
The climb was about nine miles long and was very steady. When there were no cars passing me I could hear the sound of a river running through the valley below me. The fresh mountain air was rich with the cent of a well-dampened forest. The more I climbed the more the trees thickened and seemed to blanket the peaks.
I continued climbing and began to see mountains in front of me that had no trees on them. A few of them even had snow. The more I climbed the closer they came till I noticed I was having a hard time getting enough oxygen into my cardio vascular system. I found that if I just kept a steady pace and breathed deeply, I would be okay. A few times I tried climbing out of the saddle (using my body and standing up on the peddles exerting more force) and returned to it moments later panting deeply. I finally reached Monarch summit at 11,312 ft. and breathed a sigh of relief. Monarch pass is part of the Continental divide. It is the highest point of my journey.
After basking in my accomplishment for a bit I headed down the other side of the mountain. It was virtually a twenty-mile down hill course. After descending a few thousand feet I started being pelted in the face by some sort of flying bug. I was averaging about 38mph on the downhill and a bug in the face even at that speed feels like a small rock. When I reached the bottom of the steep incline I could hear crickets chirping in the underbrush as I rode by. The birds were making all sorts of racket as well. I decided that crickets and birds are certainly more pleasant to listen to than passing trucks and Harley Davidson motorcycles.
As I am writing this there is a thunderstorm forming over Monarch pass and I can see it from my hotel room. The clouds stand like pillars miles high into the sky. The cloud tops are white and the bottoms close to the mountains are an ominous gray. Occasionally a flash of light will kiss the mountain tops just long enough for the human eye to get a glance. I love the storms of this region and the mid west. They seem to form out of nothing and overtake a community within a few hours. It reminds us who is in charge.

June 27, 2001--Gunnison, CO.

Today, I began my trek over the Rocky Mountains. This morning, due to characteristic early morning high winds in the Montrose area, we got to sleep in till 7:30. This was a true gift from heaven. I needed the rest. I took full advantage of this and ended up leaving after my friend Andy so I decided to ride alone for the day. Pushing off at 8:30 I began to climb the mountains on Rt. 50. By the time I hit my 15-mile marker I was in a different world. Billowed cloud passed over green mountain tops the stood high above rolling valleys of brilliant green grass that flowed gently in the bashful wind that so mildly passed through the trees making the leaves shiver from time to time. The country was tender here. Every ten miles I would pass an old fashioned gas station with faded signs and rustic looking pumps. There were homes out there located amidst rolling grassland. An old man yelled from his rocking chair on his porch: "Cross country boy?" I yelled back "You bet-cha my friend!" He returned with a hefty "good luck to ya boy!"
Every corner I turned held another optical fantasy world filled with inquisitive ferrets, butterflies that would flutter around me as if they were curious of my bright colored clothing, and horses that fed upon the lush landscape. Even the cows seemed to be relaxed in this environment. I passed schools of them all sitting in the grass under shady trees. They looked as if they were having an afternoon picnic and enjoying the finer things in life. I had to stop and take a picture of them having their peace and quiet. I hoped that I wasn't annoying them. Since I was riding alone today, there was nobody to take a picture of me, so I did. Behind me are some of the large green mountains that I rode passed today.
I began to think about my website today. Everything I write in my journal is true, though I sometimes leave out things that are not as positive because anybody could write about that part. Every task comes with its own set of frustrations. Indeed this ride has exhibited its own set of trials. We often put too much value on the negative things in our lives. I was in a thrift store the other day getting some T-shirts when an old lady in a rocking chair began to talk to me. She rocked back and forth gently and was wearing a fifty-cent headband as she said, "You have a wonderful smile."
I was taken by her directness and was intrigued enough to begin a conversation with her. She had lived in Elko Nevada all her life and told me she had seen many people come and go from this earth. "The people who smile the most and have the most joy in their hearts are the one's who live the longest and feel the most fulfilled with themselves when they pass on. It's wonderful what you're doing my boy. Don't forget to laugh, and don't take angry people too seriously. I'm 84 years old and I know what I'm talking about. It's a shame to see somebody go who didn't enjoy themselves while they lived on this earth. Laugh and be joyous." Her words where timeless, and were spoken with such sincerity. I knew right then that she was one of the people that I was predestined to meet on my journey. I held her hand and looked in her eyes for a moment as we said good bye, and with that, she was gone from my life as soon as she had entered. She made an impact on me that I will not soon forget. She spoke words that seem so simple, but how often do we really think of our lives like this? Frustration is a part of our lives that we sometimes need, but excess of it for long periods of time leads to diminished life fulfillment and despair in old age. Simple words can mean so much when spoken with such sincerity. Her name was Mary, and I thank her for her kind words of wisdom.

June 26, 2001--Montrose, CO.

This morning we started out in the town of Grand Junction. Before I started off this morning I noticed my back tire was flat. It was my second of the trip. Better to change it in the comfort of a hotel lobby than on the road.
Today was our first day on Route 50. The beginning of the day was more of the same including unforgiving head winds and dirty road shoulders. Route 50 is a simple two-lane highway that is well traveled. The road didn't have a lot of harsh turns and there wasn't much off the road to distract drivers from it. Nonetheless, the roadside was lined with makeshift memorials to people who died in specific places. Every 200 yards there was a cross and usually some faded flowers marking the site where some person's soul passed on. It seems there is a problem with alcohol consumption on that stretch of road. No thinking person could pass all those memorials and not feel how senseless each person's demise on this road was.
Later on Route 50 we began to see more civilization. We passed through the town of Delta. Colorful banners were painted on the sides of many buildings. It seemed to be the small towns' claim to fame. Passing out of Delta the scenery once again began to change. The smell of fresh soil and greenery began to permeate the air. In the distance I could see vast mountain ranges with snow capping the tops. To my right, far off on the horizon, I could still see the red volcanic rock I had seen for the last few days, but to my right there were tall green mountains that were lush with trees and life. While riding today I also started noticing several ferret like creatures running around by the roadside. They were light tan and had a very curious nature to them. They would act like they were afraid of me while I passed by, running to the small openings in the ground that connected to their tunnels. They would then pause and stare at me inquisitively before disappearing entirely. It was if they were afraid, but not afraid enough to take a second look.
Last of all today we rolled into the town of Montrose. There was a car show going on in the down town area so I took a shower, threw my STANK cloths in the washer, and headed down town for the festivities. This is a picture me standing next to a 65 Chevy truck in down town Montrose. My dad used to have one of these; it just didn't look quite like this one.

June 25, 2001--Grand Junction, CO.

When I started riding today I felt tired. I had gone to bed early but still felt as if I could use a few more hours of sleep. I started riding and felt slow and weak. We had the ever-blaring head wind that has plagued us throughout our journey and that affects riding a lot. As the ride bore on I began to feel better. The landscape was barren and didn't capture me as some of the days leading up to now have.
At about 75 miles we passed the Colorado border and stopped to take pictures. Much to my amazement, the moment we passed into Colorado there was a dramatic change in landscape. It was still desert but there were green trees, wind sculpted rocks that bore unique personalities, rivers, and larger mountains that were closer to the road.
The excitement of today's ride happened when we stopped at 5 miles from the end of the 96-mile route for lunch. We met up with one of the staff who said that a short drive up the rode was the Colorado Monument National Park. He said that the rest of the group would be doing shuttles up to the summit of the park to see it but that we were free to ride it by ourselves. Four of us decided to go for it and do the extra 30 miles to see the park by bicycle. The beginning of the park started with a 15-mile hill climb that wound around breath taking bright red mountains with colorful natural designs painted on the sides of them. The Four of us stood on top of the mountain in awe after completing the climb. The wind in the trees was the only thing we could hear. The red mountains stood in their stoic mystique with evidence of ancient rockslides and volcanic movement at their feet. After a moment of blissful quiet Jeff, a 53 year old US. Navy Admiral and one of the best riders in the crew, said "I have received three legions of honor for my service in the military, but nothing I have ever done comes anywhere close to being as fulfilling and as magnificent as this ride. I will never forget this trip for as long as I live." The three of us were taken aback but completely understood because we, though much younger, felt the same way.
The ride through this park could have possibly been the most beautiful ride I have been on in my whole life. It was worth the extra miles. I ended up biking over 126 miles in all today. Without climbing the mountain myself I would not have the same feeling of accomplishment right now. I was not even sure at the beginning that I would make it the whole way. But pushing one's self to the limit and disregarding self doubt helps individuals accomplish more than they ever expected out of themselves.

June 24, 2001--Green River, UT.

This morning we started at 6:00 and began peddling out of the town of Price. We passed through the peaceful town as it continued to sleep through the Sunday morning sunrise. The weather forecast predicted scattered thunder showers throughout the day. As we cycled our way out of town a high cloud cover hid the morning sun as it made its way over the crimson mountains. As the houses became sparser the landscape became more untamed with rolling dirt hills covered in scrub brush.
After the first hill climb I was elated to partake in the heavenly beauty of the sun casting hundreds of vast rays of sunlight onto the desert valley floor. The sun showed only though gaps in the clouds as the light created a celestial glow on the dry rocks and scattered green brush on the rolling hills and plateau of the eastern Utah desert. I could hardly keep my eyes on what I was doing. I stopped and took the picture that you see but the light contrast in the picture doesn't show all the colors of the landscape reaching to the mountains in the background.
As I rode on my bike seeing the vastness of the desert and the immense sky with whisping clouds it was once again made clear to me just how small we really are. The road I was on formed only a hairline vein through the desert while the rest of the land stretched for miles in all directions untamed and uninhabited. This is some of the most desolate land in the country. Nothing can be grown here. Habitation is difficult with the desert conditions. Even with this land's disagreeable nature it holds such a timeless ambiance. Remnants of ancient volcanic activity line the mountains and contribute to their brilliant color array. I could spend hours on the side of the road just taking in the beauty of each mountain.
Ten miles from the hotel Andy, my riding buddy, broke his chain. While he fixed his chain I walked out into the desert looking for interesting rocks and hoping to possibly spot a fossil of some kind. I found two interesting rocks that almost glowed bright red. I put them in my jersey and headed for the hotel after Andy finished with his chain.
The last 25 miles of the ride were nowhere near as enjoyable. The head wind started up again and the road got rough. This afternoon we will take a van to Arches National Park to enjoy the scenery.