Riding a bicycle in the Rockies you never know what to expect. The third day of the Bicycle Tour of Colorado meant cycling from the town of Granby to Steamboat...about 84 miles...mostly uphill against a hot headwind. I admit to being unprepared....not keeping hydrated enough, not carrying enough food between the aid stations, not having trained. Still it beat the previous day.
The route the day before was Trail Ridge Road, the legendary highway through Rocky Mountain National Park. The road tops out just above 12,000 feet. On the morning of the ride, the road was closed due to a snow storm. Many of the cyclists, however, hoped it would open later in the day. We all sat around Estes Park High School (where we had camped the night before) and waited for news.
Not me. I had ridden the road three times before in good weather. I knew about hypothermia. So when the aid stations 1 and 2 were open along the route, but the road remained closed, I chose to sag in one of the ride's vans. While sagging can mean "to droop from pressure," in this case it meant "stay alive."
The road finally opened around 10:30 am...in part because the cyclists massed behind the road's closed gates were suffering from the cold. Of course some did not realize that the closed gates were still below tree line and that shortly after they would be exposed to the full blasts of wind, sleet, snow, and rain. So they rode on. As they got above tree line, sleet covered their glasses so that many could not see the road (only the white line going down the middle), hoping they would not collide with cars. Hands froze...they could not feel the grip of the hand brakes. The cold broke through whatever covering they had (one fellow with whom I talked had worn his kayaking gear....he could not stop shaking).
The snow banks along the side of the road were, at times, 15 feet high.
As our van drove by them, I felt something like a voyeur....watching a kind of sport porn that was painful to look at. At the highest aid station, vans and trucks filled with cyclists who could not go any further....and with some who warmed up and then headed on. The rumor was that once you got off the high pass the sun would be shining all the way to Granby. Not true. It pelted rain once the cyclists got below the snow and sleet.
So it was a quiet evening that night at the camp ground surrounding the high school in Granby. The clouds cleared. Most of the cyclists had sagged...taking buses from Estes Park over Berthoud Pass...an alternative route across the continental divide. But they also were quiet after a memorable ride....even for those who deserted their bikes for a seat in a warm vehicle.
But we all had stories to tell. We just talked real quiet.
