July 3rd dawned damp and
cool from the rain the previous night. We packed our gear onto our bikes and
lazily pedaled the few miles into town. We dropped our bikes by the shop and
decided that a large breakfast was in order. After walking a few blocks down
the main street, we ate an amazing breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon at a
small restaurant in the renovated downtown district. There was no rush to get
on the road, since we knew our bikes would be in the shop till at least noon,
so we took full advantage of this knowledge and had a very relaxing morning. We
ambled down to the post office where I dropped a postcard I had written to my
grandmother in the box. On the way back we stopped in at another bike shop,
where we didn’t buy anything, as well as an outdoors shop, where I bought some
more fuel for my camp stove. We checked in at the bike shop and they had yet to
finish our bikes so we explored the town a little more. One thing that stuck
out to me more than anything was the amount of cyclists I saw on the streets.
Sure, people seemed to be riding bikes for enjoyment, but many people were
using their bicycles for transportation on streets that had dedicated bicycle
lanes. Having come from the Shenandoah Valley where almost the only people to
use bicycles for transportation are the Old Order Mennonites, it really opened
my eyes to the benefits of infrastructure that supports bicycle travel as well
as automobiles. After virtually exhausting all of our time-killing options we
headed back to the bike shop to check to see if our bikes were done.
Unfortunately they weren’t but we were promised they would be done soon. While
we waiting I bought a new pair of Assos cycling shorts to replace my ragged
Ibex shorts as well as more chamois cream to lessen my ever-present saddle sore
pain. The pair of Assos bib shorts I bought was easily the most expensive piece
of cycling clothing I had ever bought; but after a few days of wearing them it
seemed like “you get what you pay for” became a well-known saying for a
reason. After my suspension fork was serviced, my chain rings, cassette, and
chain were replaced, and my wallet’s weight was drastically decreased, we
pedaled through downtown Steamboat toward the Yampa River.
After stopping at a pizza joint to
refuel, we rode out of town at around 1 pm on lightly traveled roads, baking in
the summer sun. We left the pavement
behind and starting climbing on a rocky dirt road. After winding around for a
while we suddenly came upon a reservoir. We followed the route across the dam and
soon hit the big climb of the day, a 15 mile grind up to Lynx Pass. The road
alternated between wash boarded sections that almost loosened my teeth and
choking dust that trailed after passing vehicles. I failed to find where we were supposed to
turn off for a long downhill down to the Colorado River , so we kept climbing up to the top of Gore Pass
at 9,524 feet. We were then rewarded by mile after mile of glorious downhill,
which was welcome after 15-20 miles of climbing.
You have never lived until you ride
a bike down a steep hill. The mixture of endorphins, the sound of wind in your
ears, and unbelievable speed, combine until you feel invincible. Moments before
you might have been struggling to just turn over the pedals; but now you hammer
the pedals with careless abandon as if you don’t know you still have many miles
to go before you sleep. Joseph and I chased each other down this seemingly
unending descent for the better part of fifteen miles. Eventually, as all
downhills do, it flattened out and we were brought back to reality. We had wandered
off course because of the missed turn, and we had to orient ourselves once we
reached a busy highway. We turned right and shortly after we saw a road sign
telling us that Kremmling Colorado was a mere 12 miles to the south. With the
euphoria of the descent still fresh and the promise of a meal less than an hour
away, we pedaled like madmen against a gusting quartering headwind. We kept our
heads down and our legs pumping for the most part, but just as we were getting
into town the amber-colored setting sun lit up rock formations to the east. With
the last few gasps of sunlight we rode into town and leaned our bikes against
the front of a restaurant in the middle of the town of 1,500.
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While waiting for our dinners to
come out, Joseph had ordered a steak while I had opted for the fish and chips,
we talked about our day. Even with a late start we had been able to ride 65
miles in around 6 hours. With our stomachs full and with the weather starting to
look a little less than ideal, we looked around for some lodging. Only a block
away we found a motel that looked like it was straight out of the Old West. We
talked to the elderly man inside and were able to get hostel rates at only $15
a night each! We had to sleep in the basement in a room with sparse furnishings
but that was a small price to pay for such a deal. After taking showers we
curled up in our soft beds and dropped off to sleep.
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