Day 2: August 12th, 2008 – Sprinkiller

Westcliff --> Monarch Pass ( ~16 miles east of Sargents)

I was under attack….the sound of the repeating action of a sub machine gun was all around me! I struggled to break free of my restraints, it was pouring rain……... then, in a flash of understanding, I woke. The restraints had been my sleeping bag, but the sound of the would be machine gun continued even louder than before, but the rain I had dreamed was very real as I was soaked head to toe. I squirmed to the edge of my sagging shelter and lifted the edge of the tarp as at least two gallons of water poured off my roof onto my head. Sprinklers!!! Naught but two feet from my tent a sprinkler blasted all that I owned. Still in my sleeping bag, I grabbed the nylon sack that carried my tent poles and looped its drawstring around the rotating mechanism of the sprinkler head to arrest the head in a position away from myself. It worked, but the excitement of the fight with Sprinkiller, as he came to be known, was over and I was left with the sad reality of being completely drenched at 2:00 AM in the forty-five degree chill of Westcliffe, CO. Not wanting to deal with it, I curled back up in my sopping sleeping bag and hoped for some type of coma like sleep, which I promptly received once my heart returned from my stomach. When you see a grassy green park in the alpine deserts of high Colorado….don’t put your tent there! Lesson learned.

The next morning, as I shoved the soaked pieces of my life back into their respective sacks, a curious 10 year old boy with a string trimmer approached me, and in a straight to the chase way that only children can get away with, he said, “What are you doing?” I explained that I had come from pueblo and had plans to head West. The boy pointed down the valley and then up the valley walls towards the Sangre de Cristos and ask what direction was west. I pointed West towards the mountains and he immediately told me what he thought of it. “You know I have no idea why you people do this, I just made 17 dollars mowing this lawn and it only took me an hour and a half, how much are you getting paid?” I told him that I was actually paying to ride my bike and he couldn’t believe it. He gave me a lecture on how I should really try to make some money off of the whole deal and then he bid me goodbye. Maybe the little entrepreneur will understand in a decade or so, or maybe that what he was thinking about me…

After being reprimanded by the tot in the park,I packed up everything I once thought was essential but could no longer stand to drag with me and mailed it back to Nashville. I made good time to Cotopaxi, at the base of the climb to 11,300 ft. Monarch Pass, where I stopped at a greasy spoon for lunch and met a slew of awesome folks. Sitting at a table outside the dinner, an old man on a BMW motorcycle pulled up to my table and ask me where I was headed. Turns out Rick was a 72 year old legend who had crisscrossed the country multiple times on his motorcycle. He invited me inside to have a burger with him and as he put it, “Tell lies to each other”. I gladly accepted as I was reluctant to start the climb.

Immediately after we ordered we met The Dude, another journeyman who had completed the route from Alaska to the Florida Keys on his bicycle in 2001. The Dude and Rick stuffed me with motivation as they recalled tales from their adventures. Rick had been halfway across the country headed west on highway 50 when 9/11/2001 became infamous. His son was the head chef in the towers and Rick immediately turned his bike around and made a B line to New York. His son survived because he didn’t go into work that morning; but he lost 34 of his staff…. On this same morning in British Colombia, The Dude was a few thousand miles into his Alaska to Florida tour at the home of a hospitable Canadian dairy farmer that took them in for the night. The Dude was carrying in a few pales of fresh milk when the farmers wife gave him the news, the rest of the day they spent glued to the radio in their living room. These guys were legends, and the stories went on till we had cleaned our plates of the best burgers in Cotopaxi….(population 50ish) and even less burger joint competition. They offered some huge motivation for a guy who had spent his night in a cold hell.

The rest of the day I spent in a grueling climb to the highest elevation of the trek. The climb was higher and longer than the day before but I managed to feel tremendously better. I slept that night at 11,200 feet in the Monarch Campgrounds, dined on ramen and the other half of my quesadilla, and spent what would be my only night below freezing of the trip. 68.9 miles….only slightly better than the day before but at least I could move without wanting to chuck.

Day: 68.9 mi

Total: 132.8 mi

Elev. Climbed: 4800 ft

Elev. Difference: 3500 ft

Elev. Peak: 11312 ft

Day 1: August 11th, 2008 -- Hungry, but no food please!

Pueblo --> Westcliff

I woke this morning in the newly managed Dale’s Downtown Motel in Colorado Springs. I hate to think what the old Dale’s was like but I am sure it involved many more cockroaches and possibly toilets that flushed even more weakly than the porcelain throne located conveniently within millimeters of my shower, sink, and complementary solitary soap bar. I laid out and packed away all the of the necessaries for the trip last night and this morning I loaded them in Tabernash #2 (my Pathfinder) to pick up my maps at the post office and head to Heather and Mike’s place in Pueblo.

Riding to Pueblo I had a mixture of excitement and doom churning in my stomach I knew that I was the only one who understood how hopelessly unprepared for this journey I really was. Nonetheless my excitement and optimism prevailed and I couldn’t wait to abandon my car and head into the mountains. When I turned onto Gale Road in Pueblo and into the driveway I saw Mike in the driveway and at that moment it struck me that this was really happening. There was no backing out once I met Mike and Heather, who surely expected a well trained cycling maniac with bulging calves to appear at their door.

As I expected from anyone so generous to let a complete stranger ditch his car at their house, Heather and Mike were amazing people. They invited me in to review my maps on their coffee table and satisfy any last minute needs. It was at this time I told my first and last lie of the journey, unless you include withholding the horrifyingly dangerous details from my folks till Cedar City, when the subject of my training came up I found myself reciting what I knew was appropriate weekly mileage in order to prepare for the trip, “err…..yeah, I’ve been getting 300-400 miles a week…..” I knew instantly why I had said it; I could see that they cared about my safety for two reasons; they had now become my accomplices in this crime against normality and they would be reminded of it daily by the presence of Tabernash 2, and also because they were good people and they would hate to see me destroyed by either the climbs through the countless high passes or an oncoming semi. In this moment, it was like Mike and Heather were my folks and as usual I choose to deny them extra worry.

So after a few pictures and a last minute addition of a foldable tire spare from Mike’s bike gear, revealing some of my unpreparedness, I rode off into the midday heat of the Pueblo plains. I felt like an obese gamer toeing the line of a marathon. I knew I had to take it one day at time, like a mason building an enormous building, I just had to lay one brick at a time. As long as I could muster the strength to lay that brick I would be just fine.

My route wasted no time in the flatlands of Pueblo, before I knew it I was climbing 4500 feet above pueblo and cresting out at an elevation of about 9300 feet! I could feel the altitude tearing me apart and the weight of my load destroying my legs. I started rolling into the valley between the Wet Range and the Sangre de Cristo Range in the early evening. This was beautiful, but the paralyzing effects of altitude sickness had taken hold and warped my consciousness. I pulled into the first gas station in Westcliffe and examined my map. A warning/ prophecy read;

“Altitude sickness…. [Is] brought on by continuous exertion in the low oxygen environment of high altitudes, its onset can be quickened by dehydration and tiredness. Symptoms may include headache, loss of appetite, shortness of breath, sleepiness, and apathy…”

This was nothing I didn’t already know or expirenced before, but the confusion of the sickness convinced me that my map (Mr. Map #4) was not only alive but also a mind reader.

I forced myself into a Mexican restaurant where I force fed half a quesadilla and a glass of orange juice. After the sting of the acidy juice stopped burning the back of my chapped throat and lips, I stumbled into a small city park in the middle of the town of 417 rugged Coloradans. I put up my home made tent, designed by yours truly and sewn by Mrs. Alice Abtahi (my beloved Mother), behind a flower bed beneath an Aspen Tree on the unusually soft green grass. Having been a beautiful but extremely trying day, I wondered if all days would be like this and if they would, could I handle it considering I only covered 63.9 miles of the 1600 or more to come…..? These thoughts were brief; I fell asleep as quickly as only those close to me, and a few unfortunate Nashville commuters, know I can.

Day: 63.9 mi

Total: 63.9 mi

Elev. Climbed: 4600 ft

Elev. Difference: 3200 ft

Elev. Peak: 9200 ft

Here's My Story

Alright.....to end any suspense, I am back in Colorado Springs where this all started. It's been 20 days since I left on my bike and I will tell my story in 17 installments and many picture albums over the next 17 days. Each entry will chronicle one day of the trek from Pueblo, CO to San Francisco, CA. These are long entries and as I have been advised are too lengthy for the blog scene, but hopefully you'll enjoy their length and my story. I started on Monday the 11th day of August and today is Monday the 1st day of September (Labor Day), so travel with me as we match these days with those passed. I hope you enjoy my story!

http://www.adventurecycling.org/ride_registry/detail.cfm?r=1BA5F54A

More to Come

At a library in Monticello, UT about 460 miles and 6 days in. This is been great!!! too much to say now. I'll type up the full day to day tales when I get to Frisco.

Santa Cruzing

I started off the morning of the 9th from Oklahoma city after rolling there from Nashville on the 8th. Arkansas is far nicer than Fayetteville lets off (the rest of the state doesn't smell nearly as much of chicken necks). The night of the 9th I slept at Santa Cruz Lake North of Santa Fe, New Mexico on the High Road to Toas, a pretty place. The tent that I designed works thanks to some nice stitching on ma's part.
I would have been on the bike on 9th but I realized going through Texas that I wasn't going to be able to pick up my maps at the Colorado Springs Post Office until Monday, so I've made the best of it in New Mex. I took Highway 64 from Santa Cruz Lake to I-25 through Toas and the Southern Rockies! I made an all Mexican Mass at Saint Anthony's at 8:30 AM this morning which was sweet, I had plenty of time to contemplate if all the bikers I have seen hit by cars in the last week was some kind of omen...? On NM highway 14 yesterday one actually was killed a few minutes before I came through, I was the first car to be stopped by the fire department. There was a particularly friendly female fire fighter who was looking in the back of the pathfinder. She ask me what I was up to in NM and gave me a sheepish look when I told her I was biking to San Fran....

Well here's the gist of it:
http://www.adventurecycling.org/routes/westernexpress.cfm

This starts tomorrow morning

General Delivery

Today is the fourth of August and I am only a few days out from the start of this trip. Due to the nature of the route I will not be able to post en route, frankly right now I am more concerned about the availability of H2O than a wireless connection. So the entirety of my posts will be made after the journey is completed in early September. But I will be following the Western Express Route extension of the Transamerica Trail and Anticipate Departure from Colorado Springs to be on the 10th, Halfway at Cedar City on the 18th, and Completion of the Journey in San Francisco on the 26th.