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 ...