Any day on a bicycle is a fantastic day! Jimmy and I were making a run for the hot-springs town of Glenwood Springs. In front of us lie one of the toughest path-bike routes in the nation, 10,500 foot high Vail Pass.
On a good day, the climb up from Frisco is a challenge. The grades are steep and the route turns into a series of sharp switchbacks requiring low-low gear and a determination from the bottom of your soul.
We like to think nothing stops us. The rain and cold weather was stopping everyone else. But we pushed on, up the steep and relentless routes through Copper Mountain. In the crisp air of 10,000 feet, we started looking for a place to camp.
We had just crossed the 4th bridge after Copper Mountain. Only 2 more tough bridges left to go. You could hear the traffic from the East and West-bound interstates. Once in awhile we passed super-built bridge running high over our heads.
Finally we found it, a tiny step on the steep hillside where we could pitch a tent. The rain had slowed. Each of us went about the chores of pitching a tent, perched above the trail in one of the few level spots over the entire route. Now snug in our sacks, the rain started again. Our old North Face tent began to leak like a sieve. It was going to be a long night. At least, we could rest in the bosom of the mountainside. The babbling brook of Ten-Mile Creek talked to us throughout the night.
I love adventure. Sometimes adventure is found in doing something others do at a time when no-one else will try. We were alone at nearly 10,000 feet. We were soaked, but we were safe. Any day on a bike is a day of adventure!
On a good day, the climb up from Frisco is a challenge. The grades are steep and the route turns into a series of sharp switchbacks requiring low-low gear and a determination from the bottom of your soul.
We like to think nothing stops us. The rain and cold weather was stopping everyone else. But we pushed on, up the steep and relentless routes through Copper Mountain. In the crisp air of 10,000 feet, we started looking for a place to camp.
We had just crossed the 4th bridge after Copper Mountain. Only 2 more tough bridges left to go. You could hear the traffic from the East and West-bound interstates. Once in awhile we passed super-built bridge running high over our heads.
Finally we found it, a tiny step on the steep hillside where we could pitch a tent. The rain had slowed. Each of us went about the chores of pitching a tent, perched above the trail in one of the few level spots over the entire route. Now snug in our sacks, the rain started again. Our old North Face tent began to leak like a sieve. It was going to be a long night. At least, we could rest in the bosom of the mountainside. The babbling brook of Ten-Mile Creek talked to us throughout the night.
I love adventure. Sometimes adventure is found in doing something others do at a time when no-one else will try. We were alone at nearly 10,000 feet. We were soaked, but we were safe. Any day on a bike is a day of adventure!
