Careful who you ride with…

Some friends of ours from Blue Springs, Greg and Susi, share the same playground here in Colorado as us.  Beth and I have been here a few weeks doing our housesit gig and have been socializing a bit with the better half of that duo, when Greg makes his way here for the summer.  He had travel commitments elsewhere, but is now well into acclimating to the altitude.  This is the same Greg from a series of postings beginning with the title of “On The Road Again,” from last year (but since I’ve consolidated my two blogs, it is under June of 2016…for what it’s worth).  Anyhoo…

A few days after he and Susi wrapped up a fireplace facelift at their condo, with friends from Iowa, he and I decide to ride together.  I’d been riding a little bit since being here in Colorado, but Greg has been absent from his saddle for about a month or so.  I love the rec. path around Lake Dillon, all 18 miles of it, and we decided to start there.  Starting in Dillon, we ride towards Keystone and take the cutoff to head up and over Swan Mountain.  After arriving in Frisco, Greg suggests we take a dirt road leading away from the rec. path, up away from town.  I’m along for the ride and Greg has traveled many more miles in this area than I have and I want to see more of what the area has to offer my two wheels, so I follow.

Now when I say it is a dirt road, I don’t mean the midwestern version of primarily a road of dirt, I mean it has rock embedded in it of all sizes.  This is good, because I haven’t had a lot of “off road” experience here in the mountains or in the midwest.  We crank up about a ½ mile, while Greg looks for a trail that will take us back down to the rec. path he’d done before.  He finds one that looks like it may be it, so we turn our wheels in its direction, ride about 10-15 yards and we stop as the trail heads DOWN. 

Now I’ve known Greg for a long time and good decision-making has been iffy at best at times for him, but that was a long time ago.  So when he says this trail might not be the best one for me to cut my “single track” teeth on, I was good with that, especially after peering down the hill and internalizing his comment having something to do with losing my life on my first Colorado single track.  So we retraced our trail back down the “dirt road” to the smooth asphalt trail that would take us home.

Nineteen miles after we first rolled onto the lake rec. path, give or take, we stopped to part ways, where I would ride another 4ish miles home and he headed back to his place.  Before we parted ways, he said he’d like to ride again in another day or so.  We’d be in touch and make plans.

On the way back to where Beth and I were staying, I felt pretty good about the ride.  I’d only ridden 6-7 miles a few times previously to this ride.  My legs were good, lungs recovered relatively quickly, and I didn’t puke on or near Greg during our time on the trail.  So a big day…twenty-three or so miles total…all was good.

We met up a few days later for a second ride.  I liked what we did the first time.  So we retraced the rec. path from Dillon to Frisco again.  One small deviation this time, rather than putting more “dirt” experience under my belt, Greg suggested we ride a ways up Ten Mile Canyon.  I’d ridden down it, but not up it.

Ten Mile Canyon is a continuation of the paved rec. path system in the area.  If you’ve ever driven on I-70 from Frisco to Copper Mountain, it’s the trail that parallels the highway.  It is also up hill, or should I say up mountain, all the way to Copper, from Frisco.  Up is a relative thing.  For this path, it was a steady incline that kept you pedaling, but nothing steep, so we grinded away for 4 miles.  We stopped for a break, saw a mountain goat that saw as much entertainment in us as we did in him as he crossed the path.  He perched himself above the trail on an old rockslide and began to watch riders go by, many of which had no clue they were being watched.  We turned out bikes back downhill and headed back to Dillon.

Scruffy lookin' goat that let us enjoy his company, while he apparently
enjoyed ours.

We stopped once again before parting ways and again Greg suggested we ride again in a couple of days.  This time he said I was ready to tackle the ride to Vail Pass.  The same path we were on that was being guarded by our mountain goat acquaintance, but we would just keep going…UP!  I had the same reaction after we split as the day before.  Legs…check…lungs…check…no pukin’…check.  I thought, ”Let’s do this pass thing.”

Now if your experience in the mountains is minimal, a pass is a low point between two mountains, where you can “pass” over them with minimum altitude gain.  It’s not the highest point, but the highest passable point. 

I’m feeling pretty good about this new goal, because I don’t think Greg would suggest such a move without the confidence in my ability to do so…or maybe he just wanted to feel better about his own little biker self, as I struggle up the pass, sucking the little air I could find while he breaks wind in front of me.  Ooo, that didn’t sound good. 

A few days later, Beth drops me off in Frisco, where I meet up with Greg before heading for the Ten Mile Canyon rec. path and Vail Pass.  Now most tourists rent bikes in town, catch the 12-mile shuttle to the pass, and let gravity escort them back to the rental shop.  But what good is that?  No sucking air, no muscle fatigue…who would do that?  So up we go.

Greg leads the way, setting the pace past the 4 mile mark, where the goat was holding court the other day, and at the 7 mile mark we are already wheeling our way through Copper Mountain Ski Resort.  On the other side of the resort we pick up the path again with Vail Pass as our goal and the next stop.

Making our way through Copper Village.

Traffic on the bike path picks up as the day gets warmer and we still occasionally chitchat between huffs of air as the path now winds between the west and eastbound lanes of I-70.  For those in their vehicles passing by above, they may not even notice the paved bike lane below them, but on the trail it is easy to get lost in the sound of the stream beside you or wrapped up in the view before you, as the mountains help pull you up towards their peaks (figuratively speaking, damn it!).  With a few steeper than normal stretches of path added to the steady climb, we arrive at the pass.  A rest area for truckers, tourists, and gravity seeking bikers, complete with restroom facilities and a sign designating you are at Vail Pass, which yields photo proof that at least you were there, even though there is no proof of how you got there!  Besides having Greg capture my proof of having made it to Vail Pass, I celebrated with a burst of energy, thanking my bike for getting me to the top.

Made it!

We have a snack, some water, some talk of the trip up and then it happens… Greg says, “I think you are ready for Shrine Pass next time.”  I think I may have gagged between bites on a handful of peanut butter pretzel bites at that moment, but hid it well, as though it was the pretzel bite I was gagging on.  Shrine Pass was a mere 500 more feet in elevation gain that continued on a “dirt road” to the south of the rest stop at Vail Pass we were occupying.  Good thing I hadn’t just taken a giant swig off my water bottle!  But after a few seconds of perspective seeking, I realized it was a good thing.  Actually two good thing…Greg had the confidence in me I could make it and we were heading back to Missouri in 36 hours, so I could postpone the idea until my next visit to this playground.

So as we headed downhill for the next 12 miles, back to Frisco, I realized I needed to be careful who I ride with in the future, because in the words of Greg’s friend, Hal Russell, who is participating in the Tour Divide…again…”There’ll be more.”

Back in Dillon, Greg and I again parted ways at the usual spot and I headed back to Beth.  In my excitement of the day, I was hoping Beth would be willing to let Greg shuttle us back up to Vail Pass, so she could experience the ride down…so fun.  She was up for it and within a couple of hours of my return; we had the wind in our helmets and enjoying the scenic ride down.  From the bottom of the trail in Frisco, we logged another 8 miles, as we made our way to Greg's to pick up the car.  All in all I logged about 55 miles that day, with about half that being actual pedaling.  Besides some parts of me that were voicing their concern with my time in the saddle that day, it was a good day all around.  Best weather, best riding partners, and best place to ride.  Since I know this has motivated many of you out there to ride your bike, be careful whom you ride with!

Seems like I was just here...Oh, I was!
But this time with Beth

Cruise control!

Top of Vail Pass celebratory dance with my bike.

My Zen from the rec. path:  Spending some time on the bike trails around here, you see a lot.  Ages from those barely able to touch the ground to balance and ride a straight line, to those whose lines on their face's show every mile they've biked.  The types of wheels seen on the path from inline skating, roller skiing, and the many kinds of two-wheeled bikes make the wheels as varied as their riders.  It reminds me of a phrase I heard from a friend that rode a Harley, but before I got my first one (I was riding a Honda)..."It's not what you ride, it's that you ride."  Just be careful who you ride with!