The past four days have been long, three days of over 100 miles, and a slightly shorter day with lots of climbing. I feel a bit like an arthritic 78 year old, but I'm happy to get some miles under my tires and see the world over my handlebars. We've passed out of Nevada, through Utah, and into western Colorado. There have been hours and days of cool temperatures, tailwinds, long downhills, and good company. There have been frustrations, mostly logistical or bike failure related, some headwind and truck traffic related. Many of the high moments have come from the generosity of people we've met along the road. Fallon, Nevada will stand out for the kindness of the families that hosted our team, fed us, and showed us that there are oases of spirit in the desert.
Crossing into Utah was surreal, a long, fast descent into flat desert. We stayed at a restaurant, RV park, campground right on the Nevada side of the border, won $1 at nickel slots, and enjoyed A/C while drinking chocolate milk. Our next stop was Provo, UT, a town I have never had a reason to visit, despite living less than an hour's drive away for several years. The founders of the newly formed Provo Bicycle Collective hosted us on the floor of their bike shop, let us use their tools, and provided some expertise. With newly lubed chains we headed on a beautiful bike path up to Strawberry Reservoir, and on toward Vernal, UT.
We've been camping more lately, and my inner dirtbag is certainly coming out. Yesterday afternoon one of my fellow riders and I went on a hunt for a bike shop in Vernal, UT. Altitude Cycle, the only shop in town was closed, but we noticed that a house on the lot seemed to have bike people living in it. We knocked on the door and were lucky to find a shop employee home. He opened the store, solved some bike mysteries, and sold us much needed tubes. The owner of the shop was also close by and did his darndest to fix a teammate's broken shifter. After all that, they invited us to crash in the yard around the shop, so we camped for free, resting well after a long day.
Then to Colorado, care of another century ride. The character of each state has been very distinct: California with the high, open forests; Nevada with the mountainous desert; Utah so very dry, hot, and strikingly beautiful. Colorado brought open roads, and miles of wandering up along the White River. Now we're in Meeker, and only days away from the fabled climb up the Rockies. Creaky knees and all, I can't wait for the struggle to begin!
Today, about 70 miles into the ride, I realized that I was riding only to get to camp. I wasn't taking in the sheep grazing in the fields next to the road, or the curves in the river. I was focusing only on my breath, the burning in my legs, the ache in my arms. My mind was wandering far from the ride, but rounding a corner, I was suddenly reminded of the beauty of the place, of the joy of simply being able to spend my summer outside, of the physical act of propelling myself on two wheels. And I remembered that mostly, I ride to ride, not to get anywhere in particular, but just to be on the road, to feel the microclimates as I pass near streams, or the clouds cover the sun. I ride to feel my lips turn dry while staring at a huge river, and to share the moments with others. Also, importantly, I ride because I want to lessen the stigma of HIV/AIDS. And when my mind wanders, my fellow riders, or the scenery, or people I meet along the way have pulled me back into riding for the rides sake.
Now, to lie in bed, giddy with anticipation of the thousands of feet of climbing the next week will hold.
Crossing into Utah was surreal, a long, fast descent into flat desert. We stayed at a restaurant, RV park, campground right on the Nevada side of the border, won $1 at nickel slots, and enjoyed A/C while drinking chocolate milk. Our next stop was Provo, UT, a town I have never had a reason to visit, despite living less than an hour's drive away for several years. The founders of the newly formed Provo Bicycle Collective hosted us on the floor of their bike shop, let us use their tools, and provided some expertise. With newly lubed chains we headed on a beautiful bike path up to Strawberry Reservoir, and on toward Vernal, UT.
We've been camping more lately, and my inner dirtbag is certainly coming out. Yesterday afternoon one of my fellow riders and I went on a hunt for a bike shop in Vernal, UT. Altitude Cycle, the only shop in town was closed, but we noticed that a house on the lot seemed to have bike people living in it. We knocked on the door and were lucky to find a shop employee home. He opened the store, solved some bike mysteries, and sold us much needed tubes. The owner of the shop was also close by and did his darndest to fix a teammate's broken shifter. After all that, they invited us to crash in the yard around the shop, so we camped for free, resting well after a long day.
Then to Colorado, care of another century ride. The character of each state has been very distinct: California with the high, open forests; Nevada with the mountainous desert; Utah so very dry, hot, and strikingly beautiful. Colorado brought open roads, and miles of wandering up along the White River. Now we're in Meeker, and only days away from the fabled climb up the Rockies. Creaky knees and all, I can't wait for the struggle to begin!
Today, about 70 miles into the ride, I realized that I was riding only to get to camp. I wasn't taking in the sheep grazing in the fields next to the road, or the curves in the river. I was focusing only on my breath, the burning in my legs, the ache in my arms. My mind was wandering far from the ride, but rounding a corner, I was suddenly reminded of the beauty of the place, of the joy of simply being able to spend my summer outside, of the physical act of propelling myself on two wheels. And I remembered that mostly, I ride to ride, not to get anywhere in particular, but just to be on the road, to feel the microclimates as I pass near streams, or the clouds cover the sun. I ride to feel my lips turn dry while staring at a huge river, and to share the moments with others. Also, importantly, I ride because I want to lessen the stigma of HIV/AIDS. And when my mind wanders, my fellow riders, or the scenery, or people I meet along the way have pulled me back into riding for the rides sake.
Now, to lie in bed, giddy with anticipation of the thousands of feet of climbing the next week will hold.
Great to hear about your ride Al, it sounds like you are in the moment and truly absorbing the land.
ReplyDeleteWe are keeping safe and tail wind thoughts for you and your pals. Careful with the smoke and fires.
We love you.
Rock-on Alice! I love this blog ;) Good luck on the climb!!
ReplyDelete