Out of the climbs, into the heat!

A huge thanks has to go out to Jesse of Fraser for putting me up for a night and showing me the route for one of the most enjoyable days of riding I had in a looooong time. Jesse is a long-time friend of my buddy TK so I stopped in to meet the man and assess as to whether he was "good people" as Tyler had claimed. Jesse and his family were indeed good people. In fact I dare venture to call them great, even fabulous, people. The pass that Jesse showed me was a gravel road in great condition with virtually no traffic and beautiful views. It dropped me right above Silverthorne where I promptly called my next acquaintance, Mr. Matthew Buglione.
Matt and I had been pals way back when. Really far back. Like 17 years or something, when I was but a wee lad in upstate New York and my world travels consisted of the creek in the woods down back. Matt was living in Vail for the summer and although a recent mountain biking injury had put him out of commission a bit, he swung down to Dillon Lake Marina. We shared a couple beers and began the massive task of catching up on eachothers' lives. Before too long we decided to load my bike in his car and head back to Vail. The combination of his injury and having drank a few beers allowed Matt to convince his friend Danny to chauffeur us. Back in Vail we attempted to go see a live concert but I basically decided sitting on the river bank was more pleasant than any further movement that evening.
The next day Matt and I caught up a bit more and awaited the arrival of Besselman. Once the Bess had landed we enjoyed some pizza and World Cup before once again loading the bike onto another vehicle. Erik and I parted ways with Matt and headed south over the mountains towards Salida. We passed through Leadville and started descend alongside the Arkansas River. As the somber clouds above tore open and unleashed torrents of rain and bolts of lightning I thanked my lucky stars; I was dry and moving along at 60 MPH instead of soaked and going 15! Bess and I arrived at his trailer (seriously, he lives in a doublewide...he wanted all of our mutual friends to take note). We grilled up quite the feast with his roommate Mike and watched a couple of interesting films from the library. If you've never seen the Iranian (?) movie "The Cyclist"...well, don't bother probably, hahaha. "His name is Nasim, or the Breeze. But today he is more like a typhoon". We all soon slipped into a food coma but awoke rested and ready to attack the river. After a few strategical mistakes we finally launched onto the river at about 330 PM...just in time for the afternoon thunderstorms. The dismal weather cast a strange pall on the river, lending it a very remote, northwestern feel. I guess it doesn't matter whether its raining or not when you're whitewater rafting; it only changes the direction from which you're getting wet at any given moment. Mike, Erik and I had a good time running the limited rapids that were present in Brown's Canyon (pretty low flow had changed things quite a bit from what the guys told me). We feasted for the second night in a row and watched another strange foreign film, albeit a much better one- "Persepolis".
Friday Erik frustrated me by waking me up far far too early (8am). He gathered the river gear while I gathered my head and we struck out to meet his friend Michelle further up the river. The rapids we ran on Friday were much more exciting (and dangerous!) but with the Bess's expert guidance I knew we would have no problems conquering the mighty Arkansas. Michelle was kind enough to lend us one of her boats; a nifty 10-footer just big enough for 2 paddlers but super agile and fun. Meanwhile she plied the waters on her high-and-somewhat-dry catamaran. After we ran "The Numbers" (a series of 7 rapids with varying difficulties and strategies) we all indulged in the delicious burgers, fries and shakes of Kay's (I think...) in Buena Vista. Michelle told me if I came over and helped her with a painting project the next day she could help me with some funds for the trip.
I spent most of Saturday painting linseed oil onto a fence at Michelle's house. Much to my chagrin I was missing the Colorado Brewer's Rendezvous in the main Salida river front park. However, on second thought, without the opportunity to make some money there was no way I would have paid the 10 bucks to get into the brewfest anyways. As is often the case in my adventures, fortune smiled upon me. Michelle more than justly compensated me for my work and with a big grin I wandered around downtown waiting for Erik to get off of his river patrol shift. As I wandered about a young man approached me for directions to a nearby store. I gave him a lift on the bicycle and in return he invited me to the brewers' after-celebration. He just happened to be representing one of the breweries! I had a couple of cold ones until Erik got off work at which point we moseyed over to some of his friends' house for a little BBQ chicken. All-in-all a solid day for the hobo!
Sunday I began the 150 mile trek to Denver. That first day found me very hungry and a little chilled in the high-altitude town of Fairplay. Fairplay is semi-famous for being the original "South Park" Colorado. Had a good evening chatting with George, a cyclist from Denver out for a 8 day loop. The next ride was nearly 90 miles through lots of hills and increasing heat as I dropped down towards Denver. On my second pass of the day I met two off-road tourists from Denver who told me a crucial route update. Instead of following 285 into Denver I was to take a back way through Deer Creek Canyon. It was absolutely amazing. A small bit of work climbing led to a huge payoff as I spent nearly an hour descending the canyon.
I arrived in Denver all smiles only to be worn down by the realization that I was merely on the outskirts and had 20 miles of suburban sprawl to navigate. Cities are always a big challenge- both getting in and out. The sun nearly melted me as I fought my way up the greenway. Eventually I persevered and found my way to Sarah's house considerably more centered in the city.
For the past two days I've been pretty useless. Mainly catching up on the Tour de France and trying to do some planning/budgeting. Tomorrow evening I am catching a car ride (I know, I'm such a cheater) that will put me within 3 days easy ride to Chicago where I plan to spend at least two or three days checking out the Windy City. I'll drop you a line from there hopefully. Try not to melt in the meantime!

Happy Birthday America!

234 fabulous years! Wow...it was a good run while it lasted. Hopefully we can keep it up a bit longer. Anyways I hope all my readers out there had a great celebration (assuming you are American or a big fan); I know I sure did. Allow me to fill you in.
As I last left you I was leaving Burley, Idaho and heading south towards Salt Lake City. My route options were limited to taking the old highway 30 or the new interstate 84. In the interest hitching a ride and being able to spend more time with my friends I opted to stick to the more heavily trafficked interstate (even though I hate riding on such busy roads). I was just about to give up and take my next (and only) exit to get back on 30 when my saving grace appeared in the form of a Washingtonian named David. He was headed down to Telluride to try his hand at the mountain-bum lifestyle for the summer. We had a great time talking about college, travel, expectations and hopes. David dropped me off in Sandy and continued buzzing on down to camp in Moab that night. Last I checked he's loving life in Telluride.
From Sandy I just had a short jaunt over to my good buddy Adrian's house. Him and his girlfriend Cecile gave me a warm welcome and we quickly made our way up Little Cottonwood Canyon to check out the beer festival at Snowbird. By the time we arrived the beer supplies were running low but the high country scenery more than made up for it. The next couple days were followed by similar scenes of revelry and merry making including some delicious dinners prepared at my friend Chris's house and one high altitude dinner at Ted and Renata's place in Alta.
When it came time to depart SLC Chris gave me a lift up a good majority of Big Cottonwood Canyon and I finished the climb to Guardsmen's Pass on a beautiful Thursday. This let me arrive into the booming metropolis of Heber City just in time to join my pseudo-cousin Ryan for wings. Not quite on par with the famed 'Em R Wings of Apex but tasty nonetheless. I spent Friday lounging around and sorting my gear. That night Ryan treated me to one of the best damn tortas I've had (in no small part due to the amazing salsa bar with something like 25 salsas). I can't remember the name of the place for the life of me, so that is Ryan's little secret for now.
Saturday I pushed onwards over Daniels' Pass and braced myself for more "wonderful" (wink wink) desert riding. Don't get me wrong....the area does have its beautiful and breathtaking moments, but after 4 or 5 days of riding your bike in it, you're ready for a change. Anyways, I moved on through the interesting (and somewhat hilarious) towns of Vernal and Dinosaur. These are places whose biggest draw is probably tacky dinosaur statues inspired by the nearby fossil beds. I kept moving along through the scorching terrain and cranked hard to arrive in Steamboat Springs in the midst of a gusting thunderstorm. Besselman's former roommate Scott agreed to put me up for the night and after I washed 4 or 5 days' worth of road grime off we headed out in search of burritos. Unfortunately, the prime burrito joint was closed so we settled for free chips and salsa instead.
The next day Scott and I drove south and met up with Bess near Mount Evans. Mount Evans is a nice big 14er mountain which also happens to have the nation's highest road on it. We all camped out and awoke at 430 in the morning to attack the mountain. Bess and Scott dropped bicycles off at the top of the mountain then parked the car a bit lower and began a climbing ascent. I started even further down the mountain and chipped away at a 14 mile climb to the peak. After we had all completed our respective climbs we buzzed down the mountain on bicycles. The other two guys stopped about halfway down while I continued all the way down to Idaho Springs- a total of 28 miles and 7000 or so feet in altitude.
After our little side adventure I was dropped off in Kremmling (a.k.a. Krem-tucky) while Bess and Scott headed back north to Steamboat for a friend's wedding. Although I had planned to just sleep in Kremtucky I decided the park did not look all that enticing and rode onwards only to be thwarted by the most voracious mosquitoes of my whole trip and also one of the gnarliest-looking thunderstorms. I took shelter under a general store's awning in Parshall before backtracking to a river access area and ninja-camping. The rain had subdued the mozzies a bit but I was still terrified with how fast and thick they swarmed.
Yet another high-and-dry night in the hammock and I awoke refreshed to ride up to Grand Lake to meet up with my buddy Gray. Lots of shenanigans and debauchery ensued as we celebrated the nation's birthday. As I parted with Gray and my new friends I can't say I felt rested but I can say that I had one heck of a 4th.
Tonight finds me writing to y'all from Fraser. TK, architect of rock-solid wheels and friend of cyclists the world over (well, at least Carrboro right now) told me I MUST visit his old-school buddy here. I've never had any qualms with "visiting" (aka mooching) mutual friends so I stopped in to say hello to Jesse and his family. Tomorrow I'll be attacking a slightly dubious sounding mountain shortcut that Jesse recommends. I'll do my best to tune in from the other side and let you all know how it turns out.
Phew! For now I'm exhausted and going to hit the hay so I can meet Gray for a farewell cup of coffee tomorrow morn. Take care folks!