The Queen Stage

We left for the day at 545am. The Race Within The Race started from the hotel in Crested Butte while the rest of us bumped up to various spots to try to meet the impossible logistics of the day. John and I get to the start of the 14mile dirt road up to Cottonwood Pass first. It sounds like it would be tough to ride on, but it really wasn't. It was rough, and you did have to watch for ruts, but it really was simply a unique and spectacularly fun climb. John and I got waylayed by a cowgirl and her dog driving a herd of cows. In case you ever need to know, cows don't attack cyclists in any way shape or form and they don't appear to arbitrarily bust out into a stampede (to be safe, I wouldn't carry a coffee grinder - bonus points if you know what movie that was from), they just meander on their way, looking at you out of the corner of their giant eyes.

John and the herd. Can you imagine the peleton blasting up Cottonwood and running into this?

We continued on up Cottonwood, making countless friends along the way. The views were, as you might have guessed, just as spectacular as everything else so far.

On the way up to Cottonwood Pass. The tan colored splotch in the middle of the picture is the road we just came up.

John, coming up Cottonwood.

One of the remarkable views on the way up the mountain. Similar views in every direction you looked.

Near the top there are serious fans camped out (they must've been there a while - the road had been closed to vehicle traffic for 2 days to keep it in good condition), and I run into a lively lot who gave me lots of cowbell, and a nice push as they ran beside me laughing as hysterically as I was (there may have been alcohol involved for some parties, and it wasn't in my water bottles). We also get passed by Sada and Humphries, still talking smack as they undoubtedly were the entire way. Humphries wins King of the Mountain by some amount of time (reports vary, depending on who you ask). Sada, not seeing how far ahead Humphries was, doesn't stop at the top and blasts on down in furious pursuit (for the record, he'd continue this pursuit for another 70miles, not knowing that Humphries had stopped at the top of Cottonwood to hang out and consider waiting up there for the Pros to pass as they're MUCH closer now than last nite's faulty math predicted).

King of the Mountain. Sada is chasing Humphries' ghost down the other side of Cottonwood right about now.

At the top. Behind us to the right is the road we came up.

The gang at the top, with such lovely clouds.

We piddle around at the top of Cottonwood just long enough for a really ugly storm to brew (clever planning, if I do say so myself). Right about the same time, we all start noticing the sky darkening and the temps dropping drastically. We hurry to put on all the clothes we stripped off on the way up, and head down the mountain. I bust out first, knowing I'll be the slowest one down (remember the last terrifying descent?), and the rest of the gang follows - passing me almost immediately on the hairpin turns at the top. Within minutes the storm is on us and the rain and thunder start. I watch the boys race off in front of me as the rain picks up, and after the next turn they're gone - I won't see them again for hours (but it's important to note that I WILL see them again).

Proof that we were there. And a lovely picture of the quickly darkening sky. It was unusually early in the day for a big storm to be brewing, and yet ...

The rain starts sheeting and then the lightening comes. Two BIG strikes and I hold my breath waiting for the next one to try to count how close it is. I didn't have to - the monstrous sky to ground bolt was right on top of me. Yes, I screamed (I'm a girl, leave me alone). I try to calm myself down and stay on my bike (rubber wheels, I know that's good) but I'm still so high on the mountain and I know that can't be good. I pass several people off their bikes - including one guy sitting on a guardrail. I hesitate just long enough to realize how utterly stupid that is and keep rolling. With the lightening still coming, the rain sheeting on the road, and my panic mounting, I make another few turns and see a white SUV. I pedal up to the SUV, play my girl card, and ask if I can stash my bike under a tree and come into the car. John, who as it turns out, was the Sheriff of Chaffee County (the county I happened to be in), quickly cleared off his front seat and opened the door for me.

I sat chatting with John the Sheriff for 20 minutes or so, until the lightening eased up (while sitting here I heard a call come in on his radio that there had just been a 12 man crash in the middle of the peleton: 2 riders were transported to the hospital. I silently hoped that no one fell down the side of the mountain. I found out later it was due to ... you probably guessed it - one of the cattle guards). John called down the mountain a few miles to ask his deputy if the storm was passing down there. It was. I thanked him, got out of the car, and headed back out in the rain. Feeling pretty good that I hadn't died yet, I start making better progress down the wet roads, and within a few minutes I see the first motorcycle go by me. The second one pulls up beside me and tells me the riders are coming and I have to get off the road. Reluctantly, I find a tree with a nice rock under it to camp out on. This is when my day turns bad.

I've heard about people dying in the mountains but it was only within the next few minutes that I understood how that actually could happen. I was still 11 miles up the mountain, it was still raining, I was drenched to the core, and now I was sitting on a rock. You don't generate a lot of heat sitting on a rock. My teeth started chattering wildly within about 30 seconds. I thought for a minute that I should probably let someone know I was ok, but that I'd be a while, so I try to send a text. There were a few typos, but I figured it was damned well good enough for someone to get that I was still alive and slammed my phone shut so I could get back into my huddled ball of frozen misery. If you're wondering, the text didn't go out (no signal, of course) but arrived after I was in the van - it said:

"im still coming own copttopnwood. just got pullweds off by patrol. ok tho. will follow."

After about 10 minutes (which is a really long time to shiver wildly) the lead riders came by - a pack of about 6 or 7. I hooted and tried to take pictures, couldn't hold the camera still, and gave up, deciding I actually didn't give a damn about the Pros at that particular moment. They were spread out a good bit at this point (inconsiderate rat bastards!) and after another 30 seconds I decided I needed to start moving. All I could do was walk along the edge of the road until the final vehicle came through saying it was ok to get back on my bike. An eternity later my buddy, the Sheriff, who was the final vehicle, comes by with his window rolled down and hollers out a happy "Terri! You made it!".  I laugh in spite of myself, get back on my bike and head down the mountain, glad to be moving again.

The lead riders coming down Cottonwood. Image Stabilization was no match for how ccccold I was.

On the way down I dry off a little bit (it's much warmer now that I'm off the mountain and the storm has passed) and learn that Steve also got caught by the Pros and is at a little restaurant in Buena Vista (just a few miles from where I am) eating a sandwich on the porch ... and go to find him. We chat for a minute while I inhale an energy bar, and then I start to shiver again - I tell Steve I'm too cold to stop and I'm heading on: he'll catch me anyway. Steve and I ride another 20 miles or so, and eventually get to the lunch spot, which is actually in yet another really pretty spot by a lake. Deciding I've had enough adventure for one day I get in the van and we head off to find the others, who have already headed up the 2nd mountain on to Aspen.

Between Cottonwood Pass and Aspen - still gorgeous, even as the storm moves on.

John, Terry, Todd and Humphries had made it down on the front edge of the storm and, being mistaken several times for the breakaway leaders, were given tremendous crowd support (complete with cowbells, wild screaming, and picture taking) as they sped through Buena Vista. Rumor does have it, however, that Humphries, while attempting to eat a package of goat cheese coming down Cottonwood at 45mph, met with an unfortunate gust of wind and ended up coated in it. If anyone spectating on Cottonwood has a photo of that please contact us: we'll pay big money.

In the van I find a snoozing John Martin. As it happened, when the storm started on the mountain, John tried to beat it out of there just like the rest of us. As luck would have it, right as the lightening started he came upon the back of a local rider who knew the terrain and was also racing to get down ahead of the storm. John wisely tacked onto this rider's wheel and got out of Dodge. For a fun and exciting quiz, I'll give you one guess as to the gender of that local rider? I was told later by witnesses that he was deeply concerned for my safety, which I'm sure he was, right after the local girl dropped him like a hot potato. (In truth, he knows my healthy fear of lightening, and figured, rightly, that I'd gotten myself off the road somehow and would be coming along later).

Sada had an incredible ride, and got to Aspen about 45minutes before the pros, obviously winning this stage of the Race Within the Race. He arrived early enough to run along with the Pros near the finish (Anthony, his 9yr old cyclist son, saw him on TV that nite!). Terry, Todd, and Humphries finished the stage as well - with a long harrowing wet descent into Aspen. It was the one and only time Todd wished for a downhill to be over; Independence Pass would prove to take it's toll on his butt in the very near future.   

In Aspen, the Liquigas and Garmin-Cervelo teams stayed at our hotel. We saw them hanging out in the lobby, viewing race footage, swearing in Italian and flipping off the screen every now and then. John had a chitty chat in Italian with the Liquigas support crew (I have GOT to brush up on my Italian!), and Sada talked to Basso briefly. Later, we watch the race on Versus in the hotel bar, which was littered with various cyclists and support folks and Elise, the reporter we met in Crested Butte. Her story from the top of Independence Pass got picked up and is fantastic - check it out here: Spectators Watch Bike Race on Two Wheels

Our table went WILD when the Lizard unexpectedly appeared on TV for the 2nd time! Before heading up Independence Pass, near the lunch spot, in the middle of nowhere, Erik and Humphries had taken time out to don the Lizard suit and run alongside the Pros (again, if you DVR'd it it's worth going back to find - you can't miss his greenness near the start of the climb to Independence Pass and Aspen). It was the perfect end to a perfectly imperfect day.