When the Wind Blows ...

This morning we were up before the sun and shuttling our way to the day's start in Montrose. It was rough to leave the pure clean beauty of Telluride, nestled tight in the middle of mind-blowingly gorgeous mountains, but we had places to go and bikes to ride. These shuttle rides are usually 1-2 hours but they go by in a blink. When you have 12'ish bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (not to mention well-rested) people confined in a vehicle for more than a few minutes the stories inevitably start to roll. With folks from across the country on this trip we were bound to learn a little about things outside our own radiuses. The New Orleans crew were particularly rife with stories. If you've ever been to New Orleans you know what a unique place it is (I've only been once, a lifetime ago, and I mostly remember drinking booze while walking down the street (not something you could do legally in my uber-conservative midwest hometown) and the most delicious oddly-shaped donuts that left me immensely happy ... and covered head-to-toe in freakishly-fluffy powdered sugar) ... and if you've ever spent much time with any of its inhabitants you also know that it's not just the place that makes it unique, it's the people.

Shuttling along with Team NOLA was both a hoot ... and an education. Talking to folks who lived through Katrina is a bit different than just hearing about it on the World News. The fact that that city survived that horror 7 yrs ago and is (still) building itself back up is incredible. We learned earlier about how, of course, there are no mountains in New Orleans - but there is wind, lots and lots of wind - which is still pretty good training on the bike (if you ask me, wind can feel eerily like a steep climb). We learned they do most of their riding on the levees down there - you know, the man-made structures that hold the ocean off the city and all the people and their homes, the ones that breached during Katrina. Everybody probably knows New Orleans is below sea level ... but until I heard the stories of them riding their bikes along the levees, and glancing up and seeing the boats floating ABOVE them ... did I realize exactly what that meant. We also heard many stories about one particular overly-caffeinated lady who is typically out on her bike daily at 545am with the boys chasing - I won't say names. There will be many more stories-from-inside-the-vans ... some of which can be shared here ... others not so much (sometimes what's said in the van, stays in the van). Add it to the growing list of reasons you need to go experience one of these trips for yourself ...

As soon as we arrived at the first drop off spot in Montrose the electricity started humming. The RWTR contenders, and any other riders wanting to go long, would start from here, and battle some fierce and constant wind clear up to the 2nd drop off. Chris, the aforementioned guy who used to ride with the Pros, appeared (I'm still not sure from where?). Team Sada and Team NOLA were zipping around getting geared up. Humphries was busy ensuring the rest of the crew had what they needed for the next drop off while also getting ready to ride. While all this action was going on the Carmichael Training Systems (CTS) Team whizzed by in their smart and matching kits with a few quick, but friendly, nods. These guys were being called 'The 17th Team' on the Pro Tour by the press - for a pretty sizable tour fee (hint: you could buy a new Kia), they got the 'True Race Experience': they rode every single mile of every stage, got VIP access to all the finishes, lodged and even dined with the Pros, and had their own professional bike mechanics and soigneurs (what's a soigneur, you ask? from what I understand a soigneur is anything you want them to be). We'd see the Carmichael guys on the road quite a bit, and some of our folks would inevitably ride with them on various days. In case you're wondering, I saw one girl on the CTS Team - she was hanging comfortably near the back of the group of CTS men ... and looking tough as nails!

Some of the RWTR gang before heading out to brave the wind out of Montrose. Photo Credit: Rodney Steiner

Sada, getting his game face on prior to the Montrose start. Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr

Steve, with his game face smirk on (slightly different from Sada's game face). Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr

Shortly after the gang took off those of us who opted out of the wind-tunnel-experience piled back into the vans and headed out. On the ride up we marvelled over how intense the wind was - we watched bushes, shrubs and small trees blown almost horizontally and held in that position by the amazingly constant wind. When we started to see miscellaneous riders (ours, CTS's, others) you could tell just how intense the wind was by the grimaces etched on their faces (think Jens on a breakaway), and the odd combination of how hard they looked like they were working ('tasting lung' as some might say) with how not-fast they were moving (I was glad to be in the van for this stretch). We stopped once to pick up a stray ... Steve - from last year's tour: the Telluride native who suggested I check out that part of Colorado. After climbing into the van he confirmed just how ludicrously strong the wind was as we caught up on the ride to the top. 

As hard as the ride up against the wind had to be, the ride from the top where the rest of us hopped out was gloriously fast and easy. It felt a lot like floating on the wind, more or less effortless, and you felt more like you were hovering above the road than riding on it - as if your tires were magically frictionless. You know how runners get that elusive runners-high? ... this was a riders-high. It was phenomenal. There were some distinctly rolling parts as we flew down wide open road and by some of the most gorgeous mountains-and-water scenery I had yet to see in Colorado ... but in general it was simply a screaming blast of a ride clear to lunch. A couple folks had the good-sense to stop and snap some spectacular pics (I wasn't one of them), and a few of us stopped briefly to talk to a chicken (no, none of us thought to ask the obvious questions - I think we may have all been too delirious from the out-of-this-world ride we were in the middle of) .

A little snippet of the magical frictionless pavement from the non-wind-tunnel drop-off down to lunch ... it was gloriously roll-y and outrageously FAST and FUN! Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr

Did I mention that it was also crazy-beautiful? Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

I know, I know. Now I'm just rubbing it in. See that bridge way off? Yep, we'd fly right over it and around the other side of this reservoir. Don't feel too bad, it wasn't TOTALLY perfect ... there IS a cloud in the sky.  Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr

No, we still don't know why it crossed the road or which came first. Cut us some slack - we were all drunk on endorphins. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

By the time we got to lunch we were all pretty geeked up and, not wanting to lose our high, we had one of the fastest lunch stops to date. Remarkably, Ann still found time to make friends with Eric, the BMC bus driver, who happened to be taking a break in the same parking lot, and got a looksee inside the team bus. She took her job as team captain of the Race to Meet the Pros (RTMP) seriously.

Making friends with Eric, the BMC Team bus driver.

Inside the BMC bus. Not bad digs! Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Whose pile of stuff? ... Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

If he could just win a stage I bet they'd give him something better than a paper bag with his name scribbled on it. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

After a few bites and a deliciously cold Coke we were off. Now the game, even for those of us not in RWTR, was to get to Crested Butte before the Pros. Why? I have no idea - I think I was personally just high from the ride so far and didn't want the buzz to wear off. From last year I remembered that at some point, roughly right after you can first spy Mount Crested Butte in the distance (mountains are sizeable ... and spyable from a considerable way out), the wind gets cued to start its abuse, doesn't care who you are, and doesn't let up until you make it into town. JFM and I hooked up with a solo rider on this stretch last year, and even with another person to help pull it still was a painful ride. It was exactly as I remembered. But ... time was running out and we were still (for reasons that none of us actually verbalized, and maybe none of us even knew) trying to beat the Peloton into town - there was no time for bellyaching. Right around the time our little group starting to slow down, the RWTR blasted by: we somehow missed Chris, who must've flown by us seconds before, Steve, from Team Sada, then appeared out of nowhere (as is his custom), apparently by himself, with enough of a lead to waste a few seconds on some friendly banter. Quick on his tail were Sada, Humphries, Donald and a pack of others who went by too fast to identify including some CTS guys (their stylish Pro-like race kits were actually really easy to spot). A few more quick, but friendly, greetings and they were gone as fast as they'd appeared. Their testosterone wake, thankfully, charged us girls up a little bit at a time when we really needed it ... and we were suddenly pressing hard again to get through the wind and into town.

One Team Lizard Head rider's opinion of the wind coming into Crested Butte. Sums it up pretty well. She still made it clear to the top for the finish. Photo Credit: Aaron Fridenmaker

The lead cars started whizzing by - the media motorcycles and the guys with the microphones telling you how far back the Peloton was and who was in the breakaway ... but we weren't getting yanked off the road yet so we kept riding. We started seeing fans, and volunteers, and barriers to keep the road clear ... and then we saw the Inn at Crested Butte, our lodging for the night, the Lizard Head vans, and some of our crew standing behind the barriers. We weren't going to make it up to the finish line at the top of Mount Crested Butte (another 3 miles) ... but we had made it far enough. We quickly parked our bikes next to the vans, grabbed cold drinks, and ran (literally, though I'm not quite sure how the legs did it) across the street to watch the Pros come in minutes later. We were still buzzing from our own ride and now from the Pros passing within inches of us as they were finishing theirs ... it was simply unreal!  

The leaders coming into Crested Butte, just before the final short climb up to the finish line. These boys had been following us for miles - they'd just have to suck it up and do the final few miles of climbing on their own.  Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr

Can't get much closer. Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr

The Lizard Head Guides, Nicole and The Lizard, cheering riders (us peon mortals and Pros alike) into Crested Butte. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

After the Pros had all finished the rest of our gang came down from the finish - several had made it to the top. Chris and Steve, who started in Montrose and rode the whole stage, took a close 1st and 2nd in the RWTR with Humphries chasing close behind. Sada, Donald and others weren't too far back. Everyone settled into their rooms to get cleaned up and enjoy a quick rest before walking the two blocks to dinner. A couple of us roamed the town looking for a quick protein fix to try to rejuvenate our wind-weary legs ... and happened across a natural foods store with the best boiled eggs on the planet (yes, I'm sure of it) - they were little rubbery white balls of manna from heaven. Interesting how suffering can reduce life back to the simplest pleasures ...

From our team reporters up at the finish line: Tejay Van Garderen and Christian Vande Velde neck and neck atop Mount Crested Butte .... Who would win? ... Photo Credit: Aaron Fridenmaker

Tejay on his victory lap. He won this battle ...  Photo Credit: Aaron Fridenmaker

Had a little trouble holding the camera while simultaneously stuffing an egg in my own mouth. There may also have been some bouncing involved out of pure joy. No egg will ever taste that good again. 

That night we had a team dinner upstairs at Lil's - the same restaurant as last year - and, just like last year, we mostly talked about 'tomorrow'. Tomorrow would be The Queen Stage: Crested Butte to Aspen, 138 miles, up and over not one, but two, 12,000ft mountains - Cottonwood (aka Rabbit Ears pass) - the infamous unpaved climb ... followed by Independence pass - the climb followed by the remarkable descent leading into Aspen. Everyone had their own approach to the day. And after an evening of discussion about starting points, drop offs, where lunch would be, possible bump options, and what time dinner would be the following nite ... nobody really knew who was doing what. We'd figure it out in the morning. We all just headed for our beds, wanting the glorious sleep we'd earned today ... and that we knew we'd need to get us through tomorrow.

For the record, I didn't do and redo the math at dinner this year like I did last year. There was no point. If I learned anything last year it was that Mother Nature will throw off your equations any time she damn well pleases ... especially in the mountains. Might as well just accept it and get a good night's rest ... she'll let you in on her plans soon enough ...

Ready! ... Set! ... Ride, Party, Ride, Party, Ride!

Sunday morning we woke up in Gateway. When you wake up in a unique place like this it's pretty impossible to not haul yourself out to try to catch the sunrise, no matter how exhausted you are. I'm a big fan of sunrises but I wasn't too sure what I'd get way out here in the middle of the continent in what seemed a lot like dry-bone no man's land. Pictures never begin to capture these things (you have to be there to truly 'see' it - part of why it's always so special, I suspect) but it was well worth sacrificing some sleep for this one.

Sunrise over Gateway. I have never met a sunrise I didn't like ... but some are better than others.

By 9am the gang had gathered. After signing waivers acknowledging that careening off a mountain was possibility but a risk we were willing to take, piling our luggage into the luggage van, and filling water bottles, the Lizard Head debriefing meeting began. Humphries, Lizard Head owner and guide, along with Chuck and Nicole, our other guides, explained the pertinent logistics, we all introduced ourselves, took some group photos (just in case someone actually made that waiver meaningful?), and we were off.

Who could pay attention to the gnomish figure in the floppy hat? We were all staring awe-struck at that gigantic red rock. You can actually hike to the top of that thing (somehow, around the back, not requiring scaling up the sheer rock wall) ... if only we'd had time. Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr

The Gang (minus just a couple folks) at the Lizard Head Tour Kickoff Meeting: Left to Right: Steve(OH), Louise aka 'Fireball'(LA), David(LA), Tom(ATL), Courtney(ATL), Rodney(LA), Michael(SF), Scott(LA), Kathleen(OH), Tani(OH), Aaron(OH), Todd(OH, not LA), Donald(LA), Me(OH), JFM(OH), The Infamous Sada(OH), Ann(OH), Rocco(OH), Susan(OH), Richard(SF), and in front, The Lizard King(CO). Photo Credit: Either Chuck or Nicole expertly manning Ann's camera.

The ride out of Gateway and through the Dolores River Canyon was hot, dry and stunning. We didn't encounter any blast furnaces today, but there were a few odd stretches that were markedly 'toastier' than others - a pretty weird phenomenon to ride your bike through. It's tough not to gawk around as you're riding. There's so much 'nothing' out there that you can't help but wonder what 'somethings' might actually be lurking around that you just can't see (ever look out into the endlessly deep and wide ocean and wonder 'what's out there?' and freak yourself out just a little bit? Yeah, me neither). When I mentioned to one of the guides that I was hoping to see a mountain lion but so far was disappointed, I was casually told 'Well, they're really tough to see, this is their terrain and they blend into it very well. But don't worry, they spotted us a long time ago'. Another thing you notice out here is the large number of cattle guards across the roads ... relative to a seemingly low cow population (we saw and heard only one). This time I was told, 'Oh, well it's high summer, they drive the cattle way up on the tops of the mesas where there are plenty of green things to eat, and ponds of fresh water. I spent quite a while after that trying desperately to spot just one cow peeking over the edge (surely some must misjudge and get dangerously close?). No luck on either mountain lions or cows with death wishes, but it was still a spectacular ride.

See any cows up there? Me neither. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Looking back towards Gateway. We just rode our bikes from there. To here. Our bikes! Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

The whole area looks more-or-less 'untouched' by humans - there are no neon signs, no Wal-Marts or golden arches, barely even a man-made structure, a shed, a lean-to, anywhere to be seen in any direction - which made me wonder about it's history: could it really have gone through time without anyone trying to tame it? We humans are not exactly known for leaving things alone ... It's called the Dolores River Canyon - The Canyon of the River of Sorrows. You have to figure a place must have done something to earn a name like that. It did. If you're interested try this: The River of Sorrows: The History of the Dolores River Valley.

The River of Sorrows and its Canyon. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

The Lizard Head lunch stop was truly an oasis, conveniently located with relatively easy access to a little hidden creek which most of us headed straight to right off our bikes (food could wait, or, if not, some folks brought their plates and ate while sitting in the middle of the creek). Already sweat-soaked it was hardly a big deal to just throw your whole-self right in. The water was cool and refreshing and so clear and clean that you could find a backward-scooting crawdad under every rock you turned (I tested. It was true), and countless fleets of those little bitty fish that nibble almost (but not quite) imperceptibly on your feet. With several of us strewn in and around the creek, lying on rocks, sunning in the cool waters, floating downstream, paddling back upstream, loving life, it was tough to leave this place ... but we eventually had to dry off and pile into the van for the drive to Telluride for the night.

The creek. Folks were undoubtedly getting little love-nibbles by crawdads and fish as this picture was taken. They look like they care, don't they? Photo Credit: Steve Fields

As dry-bone-hot and dusty as Gateway and the Dolores River Canyon was ... Telluride was lush green and moist. How two such different environments can exist so near each other is pretty unbelievable for those of us who come from areas where it's nothing-but-the-same for almost as far as we can drive in a day's time.  But there it was. After barely a couple hours drive the view changed drastically before our eyes. The Tour didn't come here last year, but I was told by one of the guys on last year's tour who lives here, that I *really* should come see Telluride sometime as it was something special - it didn't take too long to understand what he meant. My other scout trips still hadn't brought me here yet so I was glad to finally see this place. It's not an easy place to get to ... which might be a big part of what makes it special, and keeps it special.

A herd of elk enjoying the lush greenness of Telluride. You might not think elk 'play' but the little ones bounding around the herd like ping-pong balls would indicate otherwise. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

We walked to a remarkable group dinner at The Sheridan on Telluride's main drag .... complete with a surprise celebration for our guide Nicole's birthday (I won't disclose her age, but I will say her wisdom of both people and of Colorado is far greater than her very-young-pup years). A few folks went out and had a cocktail after, met some of the locals (there's at least one young man in town who drinks way too much and has been very unlucky in love, we wished him the best), and then retired to our monstrous suites at Camel's Garden Lodge. Steve, one of our midwest posse, had an interesting night chasing a strange guy through the woods who he caught peering in the window at his scantily clad (ie, naked) sleeping roommate ... after a couple pursuits he gave up and (wisely!) reported the incident to hotel security. I suppose there are crazy people everywhere in the world - even magnificent places like this (the peeper, not Steve ... though chasing a guy in the dark through unknown woods MAY be considered crazy by some). One ride and one party down ... we were more than ready for bed.

Group dinner and birthday celebration in Telluride. Photo Credit and owner of the frosty paperweight: Rocco Maiolo

As an added bonus to the day, as luck would have it, today's Washington Post featured an article: Wheeling through Colorado's High Country about Lizard Head's Colorado Cols Tour (a 'cols' is a mountain pass, don't feel bad, I had to google it too) and our "gnomish guide with his floppy leather hat and child's passion for bicycling" ... which we all found to be fun to read ... and inarguable.

Monday morning was 'Scout the Ride, Telluride' - a local event sponsored by Lizard Head (whose World Headquarters happen to be based in Telluride's neighboring town of Ophir) and several other local businesses. It started at Paragon Sports (one of Telluride's local bikeshops - yes, a population of 2000 has more than one bikeshop, you're liking this place more and more, aren't you?) on the main street in town, which as you might have guessed, was also where the Pro Tour finish line was being setup: today's Pro stage would be coming the opposite direction as we were riding, up and over Lizard Head pass, and down into Telluride. Those of us on the tour were automatically registered for 'Scout the Ride' - we just had to show up at the bike shop ready to go. The morning started with rain, and it would continue on and off all day, but somehow it didn't put much of a damper on the festivities. We did have a couple of unfortunate mechanical failures that DID cause a slight damper for some - one of our NOLA crew had his stem fell apart at the start, and one of the Atlanta contingent had a busted spoke early on in the ride, but luckily close enough to ride safely back into town ... both were dealt with as quickly as possible to get them back on the road. Aside from these, and 2 flats that I know of (one was before the start of the initial bonus-ride), I don't think we saw any other faults the whole trip (?). For 2 dozen people and 8 days of riding that's not too shabby at all!

'Scout the Ride' Promo Poster. We looked just like these guys. I was too far in the back to see the shapely gal in the 1950's dress and hat, but I'm sure she was there. 

The start of Scout the Ride. They were finishing setting up the US Pro Tour Finish line as we took off. We rode out backwards (directionally, not rolling in reverse ... though that would've been interesting too) through the Pro's finish chute. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Our ride would take us up and over Lizard Head pass - the namesake of our fine tour company. It was our first 'real' climb and we got our first taste of 35mph descents and on wet roads to make it even more exciting. The RWTR hadn't fired up quite yet so even the main contenders were able to relax and enjoy the lush pine forest covered mountains, a few gorgeous little natural lakes with homes that you couldn't help but daydream about living in for just a moment (I'm betting several of us triathletes were helplessly socked with visions of early morning open water swims, right out our backdoors, while watching the sun peek up over the mountains). Folks that wanted to ride longer had two additional manned aid stations beyond the pass that they could ride to before turning around and heading back.  

We'd just have to imagine the blazing streaks of sun on this day, but the resemblance was still unmistakable. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

At the top of Lizard Head pass our guides staked out the Lizard Head Party Complex. The plan was to ride however much we wanted, then meet up and cheer the Pro's on from here - what better way for Lizard Head Cycling Guides to represent? Both vans and trailers, a tent, a grill, plenty of gourmet food and drink (including piping hot coffee and tea, from the grill!? - these guys thought of everything), chairs and blankets (rain-soaked at 10,000ft can get a little chilly), cowbells and spray paint - and a whole passel of flatlanders - what more could we ask for? Pro team buses and their other non-critical support vehicles zoomed by a couple hours ahead of the peloton, almost all honking at our getup, a few tossing out cheering paraphernalia. One RadioShack Nissan Trek (RNT) car went by, honking wildly as we cheered, with a garage sale sign on the side that said "FOR SALE CHEAP: Jens' Bike". (More about Jens later, but if you aren't familiar with the name he's a veteran Pro racing for RNT, nearing retirement, who said recently that when he's done racing his bike is going into the corner of the garage to collect cobwebs and maybe, only if the kids insist, he'll get it out once or twice a year to go down the street to the ice cream shop. Yeah, I know, you already like this guy don't you? Tell me about it). The Lizard was in attendance, of course, along with a cow, a guy wearing giant antlers (remember the antlers The Grinch strapped onto Max the dog? Yep, like that), and several cowboys (with their horses). When the Pro peloton came by (1 guy out in front - I think it was Tommy Danielson, local boy and crowd favorite), followed by a couple small chase groups .... and then the whole peloton) it was electric! Those of us who were on the tour last year knew what to expect and were still giddy ... but for those who weren't, who were experiencing their first taste of Pro cyclists whizzing by just a couple feet from you, over roads you JUST had your own bike on ... the excitement was unreal.

Waiting for the Pro peloton at the Lizard Head party complex. Ever play Where's Waldo? Where's the Lizard? Photo Credit: Kathleen Carmody (it's not really 9:33pm 11/1/2009, I swear, and Kathleen promises to fix the date on her camera before the next trip)

A Dad teaching his kids how to properly spray paint JENS on the road before the Pro peloton arrives. Note how the youngsters stay safely on the side of the road? Now that's good parenting. Photo Credit: Kathleen Carmody

The Lizard cheers for everyone. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Here they come!!! Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

The Lizard Head cheering squad covered both sides of the road. Even the little guys were all-in with flags and banners. They showed up on the stage's TV coverage. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

After the last of the support cars flew by and the sweeper car went through (you can't mistake it - it has a giant 'End of Peloton' sign on it, is driven by people with monstrous grins (no idea how you get that job), and is decorated with several large unmistakable push-brooms - this was a nice add-on since last year for those of us who would get mercilessly run-down by the peloton over the next several days - as soon as it passes you can get back on your bike, mere moments after the Pros blow through ... back onto the exact same pavement they just rolled over ...) we started gearing up for our ride back down into Telluride. Generally spent from the climb up and the hours of Pro excitement, we still pushed to get back into town while watching a storm brewing. Some would get caught in a short but intense deluge, some would press on, others would find cover to wait it out. In some places you could see the storm ahead, but by the time you got there all that was left was the foamy sheet of water covering the road. After getting back into town some bolted to the hotel for dry clothes, others headed for a warm cup of coffee, others rode around town just not wanting to put their bikes away for the day. The town was still generating a solid low-hum from the Pro finish not long before. Bob Roll was still wandering the streets doing interviews. It had to be one of the most exciting days Telluride had seen in a long time ... it was definitely one of the most exciting days some of US had seen in a long time!

On the ride back down to Telluride. A gorgeous carpet of green along with the massive San Juan mountains.

Also on the ride back down to Telluride, moments later (but still not 11/1/2009). The light, and the weather, changed quickly as the storm rolled in.

 

Trying to beat the storm down the mountain. Some of us did. Some of us didn't. Didn't matter . It was remarkable to watch it roll in, over, and out, no matter where you were. Photo Credit: Rocco Maiolo

You never know who you'll run into just walking around town after the US Pro Tour blows through. We all have our heroes!

We didn't meet up as a group for dinner - after a long day, folks were ready to do their own thing. Warm showers, dry clothes, hot tubs, food, naps - whatever you needed. Some took the always-free ski-gondola up to a small village for dinner. Others ate in the hotel or back up on main street where dinner was the night before, and where the day had started what now seemed like eons ago. A few of us met up in one of our Brady-Bunch-sized party-rooms for the 9pm local replay of the race and cheered like fools when we spotted some of our group on the TV footage from Lizard Head pass.

Telluride, from the gondola (can you tell this is after the storm went through?). Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Sunset in Telluride, from waaaaay up at the top of the gondola. The little pile of buildings in the lower left is the town, boxed in snugly by the San Juan mountains. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Over the next three days, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, we'd have the possibility for back-to-back-to-back hundred-plus mile days, with the infamous Queen Stage (and her two 12,000ft mountains) sandwiched in the middle. The RWTR would be FULL ON starting tomorrow and wouldn't end until 5 days later, just like last year, with whoever touched the hotel door in Boulder first. I don't think any of us felt the need to add-on yet another party tonite. Instead, we were content to be nestled under our warm dry covers with high hopes for 6-7 solid hours of sweet sweet sleep, excited beyond reason, and ... unless you were made of steel ... probably at least a little bit nervous ...

The Days that Never Were

We were not here.

At least not officially. The Lizard Head Pro Tour started at 9am on Sunday and yet here we were, 9am on Friday, mulling around Grand Junction with a growing hum of energy vibrating around us. We still had 2 full days before the tour even started. This is what happens when the uncontrollable excitement of several people combines - before you know it you're miles from home, rearing to go. We planned to arrive early to enjoy a 'bonus ride': we were simply too close to NOT add-in one of the incredible routes from the infamous Lizard Head Red Rocks Tour, highlighted on the front page of the New York Times Travel Section not too long ago in an article titled: Four Corners, Two Wheels. A few of the other Pro Tour guests (our soon-to-be-friends from Louisiana) had the same thoughts ....

The Midwest gang had a 6am flight .... and were all up by 330am (as if anyone could sleep anyway), catching rides, parking in the long term lots, some of us slugging our way into the terminal on 3 hours of sleep. Long lines at the airport check-in and the general I-wonder-what-I-forgot nervousness escorted us to our gate and onto our flight. A quick layover in Denver on our way to Grand Junction was highlighted by someone-who-shall-remain-nameless-but-who-is-very-small leaving her phone charging in the terminal after we boarded. While TSA mandates that passengers are NOT allowed to exit a plane after boarding to say, retrieve a forgotten item ...  it turns out that pilots are exempt from that rule (another reason to be extra friendly to your airline pilots).

For those of us who did the tour last year, flying into Grand Junction, on the West side of the Rockies, was a bit of a shock. The dry, brown and rocky 'high desert' was not an environment we ever saw last year. Being the kind of people that can't sit still for long, after hitting the local bike shop (actually called The Bike Shop, check 'em out, there's a particularly stunning Red Rocks poster on the wall leading into the maintenance section of the shop - if you're there see if you can spot it) and finding some lunch, a few of us went out for a blazing hot run. We couldn't find a speck of shade, and struggled to sip water frequently enough to keep our mouths from drying out between breaths, but did spy our first prairie dogs and small lizards.

On our way back into the hotel's breathable air we met part of the Louisiana contingent at the elevator: Louise, Donald and David. We knew who they were as soon as they spoke - it's hard to misplace those incredible southern draaaawls. Terry, our LA friend from last year, wouldn't arrive for a few days but it didn't take too long to establish that these had to be some of his friends. As luck would have it, as we were introducing ourselves Team Sada popped out of the elevator as well and the Lizard Heard Pro Tour party was unofficially started. We learned quickly that there had been a manhunt for a guy named 'Todd Larson' from Louisiana, who was unknown in their local cycling-circuits, and feared to be some sort of ringer .... we laughed as we all realized it was a misprint in the rider list ... Todd is actually one of our original Midwestern cohorts. 

Some folks in the newly-combined LA-Midwest contingent rode over to The Colorado National Monument (for a BONUS-bonus-ride), while others just rode around town (for some fun with Grand Junction traffic, which turned out to be as lovely as it sounds) ... and still others (who I'm not ashamed to admit included me) simply opted for a nap before heading into downtown for dinner. It would be one of the last naps any of us would see for the next 10 days.

The Lizard Head van, with our shipped bikes already assembled and secured on top, arrived early Saturday morning - they had graciously agreed to bring us our bikes a day early so we could do our unsupported-bonus-ride. After a few snags with the small number of folks who opted to rent bikes, and locating one bike that was shipped to the wrong location (all remedied faster than any of us thought possible) we took the complimentary Lizard Head bump to Whitewater (just outside Grand Junction and it's not-so-pretty-and-not-so-enjoyable traffic) where we'd start our bonus-ride: a 40some mile ride from Whitewater to Gateway, in 100+ degree temps, and blazing dry sun. After sending us on our way, the Lizard Head van would 'officially' arrive with all the other guests, and toting all our luggage, later that night. Our destination was the Gateway Canyons Resort (this place is owned by John Hendricks, founder of the Discovery Channel, if that gives you any idea about how utterly spectacular it might be), where we'd relax and wait for our luggage - it was going to be a rough situation but we all agreed to try to make the best of it.

The gang getting ready to head out on the bonus ride (unsupported, but still with a little support from the Lizard Head crew). Photo credit: Ann Kurtenbach

The Gateway Canyons Resort: After the bonus-ride we would be 'stranded' here for a few hours waiting for our luggage to catch up to us. Oh the horror.    Photo Credit: Gateway Canyons Resort

The bonus-ride was one of the hottest, driest, and most fascinating rides I've ever done. It truly felt like we'd been dropped on another planet. I don't know about the rest of the crew, but 4 years of Geology electives in college had my head and neck rattling around like a bobble-head doll. I wished my memory was better and I could recall the hows and the whys and types of rock in the massive formations I was riding by. The heat accosted a few folks, so much so that even some of the screaming descents were taken in slow motion. We hung in small groups making sure everyone was ok (remember this was an unsupported bonus ride - the omnipresent oasis of the Lizard Head support van wouldn't appear for another day).

Whitewater to Gateway. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

We came from somewhere waaaay back there. Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr.

One road. 40+ miles. Nary a car. Photo Credit: John F Martin, Jr

Towards the end of our bonus-ride was a loooong descent that ended, literally, at the Gateway Canyons resort. After 30'ish miles of riding in a standard household oven, we flew through an industrial blast-furnace created by the canyon walls ... in spite of taking gasping breaths of the hottest air I've ever felt it was still a ridiculously fun descent. As I neared the start of the descent I saw a lone rider coming back UP towards me. Figuring it was one of ours (no one else was out there) I realized it was Donald, our new long-haired friend from LA. He had already made it to the resort once (half-chased by a preliminary RWTR challenge from Team Sada) and was riding back to do the blast-furnace-descent one more time. When I looked at him quizzically he simply shrugged and said in his thick LA-accent: 'I got there and I just couldn't get off my bike'. All I could do was smile ... and chase him all the way back down to the resort.

We checked in to one of the most magnificent rooms any of us had every seen - giant beds, amazing stone showers, spectacular view, gorgeous fireplace in the corner (it almost made you wish it was the middle of winter and that you and the stunningly gorgeous love-of-your-life were hopelessly snowed in for days, though I don't actually know if it even snows in this other-worldly place?) - and, without luggage, headed to the pool to cool off and find food. We'd hang out here for a few hours, swimming, eating, talking, napping - truly 'roughing' it. There was a little smack talk between future RWTR competitors - the budding love-hate relationship between a particular 5ft tall Louisiana fireball and Sada would take its roots here and flourish throughout the trip. Some fun conversations occurred regarding our first encounters with cattle guards (grates that span the road, in theory, keeping the cows on one side or the other) and the resulting 'activation' that they may or may not invoke in various genders as they ride their bikes over top .... and even some deep and real discussions about love and marriage ... kids (or not) ... and the things that really matter in life. After a few hours, in spite of easy access to great food, drinks, and company, I think we were ALL ready to get out of our wet riding clothes - a few people opted to change into bathrobes (though I suspect had the establishment known what wasn't under those robes they may have frowned upon that public practice) ... but we all agreed having the bonus-day was well worth a little uncomfortable sogginess in what had to be one of the most amazing environments on the planet.

Gateway Canyon's Resort: Between the fire and the view you could probably survive trapped here for quite a while .... Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Roughing it at the Gateway Resort Pool. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Midwest meets South: who knew the fun that would ensue? Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

Some folks couldn't wait for their luggage to arrive. At least it was securely tied. Photo Credit: Ann Kurtenbach

The Lizard Head van, with our luggage and the remaining guests from Atlanta, San Francisco, and a few other places, arrived around 7pm. We scooped up our belongings, got into dry clothes, and fueled up one more time with a meal in one of the resort's restaurants. By then it was pitch black outside without a single cloud in the night sky. Only once before, in the middle of a Californian desert, have I ever seen the milkiness of our galaxy as clearly. A few of us stood simply staring upwards for as long as our necks could handle it, and I couldn't keep myself from finding a soft spot in the grass to just lie down for a while, staring up at everything ... and nothing.

We all ended our nights early. Afterall ... we had a big bike tour starting the next morning.