I had seen it on maps before, had read about it, had even been on part of it before, but had never
ridden it. The popularity of the route with those who only venture out with what a good friend of
mine calls their "internal combustion security blankets" makes it a more than safe solo excursion,
so I decided that this Summer was time to just ride it. Besides, rides in the Colorado high country
are anything but boring, even if they are not the most serene and empty singletrack.
The drive out Sunday found me accompanied by an old friend who had happened into town the night
before. They were aware that I would be MIA for a few hours on Monday, but they understood why and
planned for a foot excursion of their own. We settled into a nice campsite, overlooking the second
largest natural lake in the state. Though the site was excellent, I had forgotten my ground pad and
because of this, got very little sleep. It was promising to be a long day Monday.
Chirping birds and a growling belly finally woke me up from the last catnap of my fitful night. We
were close enough to a town to run in and get some breakfast before the day's endeavors, so within a
few minutes we were off. A hearty breakfast burrito and coffee later we were back at the campground,
getting ready. Though it was early, the monsoon rains were already threatening. I made sure my
friend had proper gear for a hike as I secured a goretex shell to my pack to ensure my own safety.
When you venture above 12,000 ft msl, any kind of weather can happen and it usually does.
Rolling out of the campground at 9AM sharp, the singlespeed definitely felt like the right choice.
The lightly graveled surface had seen daily afternoon rains and was hardpacked where the vehicle
tires ran on it, making a sort of doubletrack out of the wide dirt road. Tire pressure seemed a bit
low at first, but as the miles began to click off underneath me, everything seemed just right.
After a few miles of enjoying the scenery of the canyon I was gradually climbing up, I passed a
tourer on a mountain bike with a BOB trailer. I think he was more surprised at me than I was he, as
we exchanged brief greetings in passing. Very soon after that I happened upon one of the many mining
ghost towns that dot the Rockies and found myself looking at the first real climb. Luckily it was
still below treeline, so I had enough oxygen and warmed-up fresh legs to tackle the first real
challenge of the ride. It was worth the effort as I quickly leveled out after a few hundred feet and
found myself on a very precipitous ledge of a jeep trail above a deep gorge within the canyon.
After exiting the gorge section, everything leveled out again and the view opened up to reveal
several peaks, towering well above treeline. The route passed several side trails that accessed the
area 14ers, as well as the Colorado Trail. There were also a few more ghost towns, as well as mining
"garbifacts" strewn about in-between the dreary remnants of miner's shacks and cabins. It was here
that I also spied my first apex of the day in the form of a far away pass. The hard part was
obviously yet to come.
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As usual in the Colorado high country, the higher you climb, the steeper the terrain gets. It
usually gets rougher as well and in this case did so almost all at once. Of course this was around
11,000 ft msl, where lack of oxygen and a 2:1 gear ratio combined with the loose and steep surface
to force a dismount and a bit of hoofing. This process was repeated a half-dozen times, riding what
was rideable for the conditions that now included rain, sleet and even some small hailstones.
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I decided to not shell up until the pass because I would have gotten just as wet from sweat if I
had. Some atvers passed me on one steep section just to stop and don their rain gear. While riding
past them, I chided, "Why put it on now? It'll be sunny in a few minutes". They laughed and
continued despite the known truth in my statement. Shortly after that a white Jeep Cherokee passed
me and the driver asked me if I was having fun yet. I said that I will after about 500 more vertical
feet. After the predicted slogging, the pass was had and it was time to shell-up and descend into a
large historic ghost town.
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As I started off of a couple of jeeps passed me as a third noticed me and let me drop in front of
him. Jeeps one and two readily gave way and I shot down the hill where the track takes those in
passing through a large alpine meadow that lies in-between huge jagged peaks. I didn't see much of
the surrounding terrain afte rthe pass though because all of my concentration was being placed on
the rocky track in front of me. As the track took me around a corner on its traverse down the side
of one of the mountains, I spied my buddy in the white Cherokee. He must have seen me at the same
time because he pulled to the side a bit and slowed to let me pass. As I flew by his open window, I
yelled, "Now this is fun!" and cut back in front of him just in time to hit a nice ledge
dropoff...all show.
I stopped at the intersection above the ghost town and saw two good reasons to not go there. Reason
#1 was that it was crawling with people. How could I get a good photo or two with a bunch of bermuda
shorts wearing Texans walking all over the place? Reason #2 was that it looked like a good four
hundred feet of vertical that I would have to climb back up. Mr. white Cherokee pulled up as I
mulled over the good reasons to not drop in and he gave me another hearty hello. He said that he
thought I was greased lightning and crazy to boot, especially with only one gear. I told him that I
was surprised that he had noticed the one gear thing. He asked me why I had a bike like that. I told
him singlespeed was about simplicity and nostalgia for days gone by on old one speed balloon tire
bikes, which he fully understood. He was pretty hip for a 60-something Texan. I bade he and his
lovely wife a good day and then began the second ascent of the day.
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The second pass I was to ascend was a bit more popular than the first. The pass itself was at 12,800
ft msl, but before going through it, the trail topped out at over 13,000 ft. The Sun came out here
and there as I spun up the trail towards the apex of the day. There were quite a few more atvers as
well and many didn't have the decency to even slow down a bit in passing. One in particular did the
most ridiculous thing. When we were approaching towards each other, he was descending around a two
foot ledge and when he saw me, he just stopped right in the middle of the line, effectively blocking
the trail. There was only one way to handle this, so I gunned it, popped right up the ledge and
watched that slack-jawed moron's eyes just about pop out of his empty head as I did so. Some
people's kids.
The last bit before topping out was torturous. I admittedly rode very little of the steep grade, but
didn't waste much time in getting up
it. In fact, I even gained ground on a couple of jeeps crawling up the rocky switchbacks at one
point. It was here that break time was decided for me, so I sat down on the outside of one of
the switchbacks near the top and proceeded to devour a packet of pop [censored] and snap some pics.
The panorama was amazing and can only really be appreciated by being there. It's definitely
some "big country".
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There's not much like flying down a sunny trail above treeline and that's what I finally got to do.
I turned the corner on the large ridge and got a great view of two 14ers and the pass below me.
Before dropping in, I stopped to take a few more pics and chat with a couple of jeepers. They
thought I was crazy as well when I told them where and when I had departed from, though they
believed me when I said I would at my starting point in forty minutes from when the descent began in
earnest. More nice folks just out enjoying a beautiful day and view.
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The drop in to the last pass was beyond picturesque and speed had to be reigned in to enjoy the
views and avoid a terminal endo. The two fourteeners to the East came into view again as I finished
the descent, though the tops were now obscured by clouds. There was a crowd at the pass, so an
opportunity to be a show off after the short rest and refueling on the other side of the apex
couldn't be resisted. Every rock became a jump and speed was all-important. Stopping had to be part
of the show, so the finish featured a nose wheelie stop right at the sign, where I hopped off and
planted the bike on the pass sign. There seemed to be a weird silence as almost all of the about
thirty people in the pass were looking at me and the singlespeed like I was a dirty hippie wearing a
Black Sabbath t-shirt and cutoff blue jeans in a mormon temple on a Sunday.
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I only spent enough time in the pass to snap a quick pic and take a look downhill to seewhat was in
store. It looked pretty smooth in a straightaway a couple of turns from the top, so a continuation
of the dirty hippie show was a must at this point. A conservative estimate of what I hit in that
straightaway was forty, but the best part was a nice rock ledge near the following turn where I
excecuted a rare (for
iu) cross-up followed by a nice two wheel drift, inside leg down into the turn for a grand finale.
Fast, smooth and downhill was a nice change and much appreciated payoff for the earlier endeavors of
the day. This was impeded however, when a rented jeep appeared in front of me. They were going the
same direction and obviously were not checking their mirrors. After about a minute, I yelled to get
their attention. The driver finally saw me, but sped up, thinking he could outrun me. What a joke.
After yelling "HEY!" a few more times and eating his dust for about a half of a mile, he finally
decided to give me some room. I yelled a thank you in passing and quickly shot out of sight, down
the curvy track.
After passing a particualrly gaudy cabin that was previously owned by a poet, the flavor of the
route became a bit different. First thing was the presence of trees and more oxygen again. The other
was the surface, which had become covered with half-buried babyheads to form an excellent example of
Rocky Mountain Cobblestone. This made for an interesting bout of intense concentration needed to
weave the rigid bike into the path of least resistance at speed for about three miles or so. The
jackhammering finally let up to smooth with patches of rocky surface that were much easier to
navigate through.
The miles started to zip by as the route became more and more used. Signage indicated trailheads to
the fourteeners and various other points of interest were more frequent, as well as a blur in
passing. Most motorized users were considerate, slowing down when passing opposite direction. Those
going the same direction were also courteous enough to be checking their mirrors, though the jeep
trail was now two lanes wide and passing was easy. The mining ruins also became more frequent and I
could more easily play tourist and gawk a bit at them without worrying about getting thrown onto my
head from hitting a big rock.
Before I knew it, I was back in town and on the home stretch of three miles of pavement and another
two in the dirt to the campground. Through town was good because the highway was wide and empty
enough to ride no hands and sit up straight in the saddle. My neck had become a bit sore from
looking up on the downhill and it was nice to stretch those muscles again. The climb out of town was
a bit of a drag as predicted, but it went by quickly. The sight of the lake and campground on the
far side was a welcome sight. Feeling rejuvenated, the undualting dirt road to the campground also
passed quickly under my wheels and I rolled back in almost five and a half hours after starting.
Why? Because it was there. The opportunity to ride sixty three miles in the dirt on a singlespeed is
always welcome. The opportunity to ride those miles in the Colorado high country is beyond welcome.
JD