schnauzers.ws

You can certainly look back at my archives and get the full details, but this year left us with a question. Who is Bowman and why does he mock us? Or, as the group suggested, maybe Bowman isn't a man at all? Maybe he's a goat.

Whomever or what ever Bowman may be, it certainly took it's revenge. All 4.5 miles of it.

The contemplation of weather to climb or not to climb.

But, oh the reward for contemplating to get up there.

There were those who felt it only fitting to Bowman to complete each and every one if his menacing challenges. Sometimes even twice! It must be those big tires. Go Nate, go!

When single is single, it's truly a magnificent invention.

We are staking our claim! The future site of "we hate you but thank you Bowman International". There is a hero in this picture. Do you know where? I won't embarrass her other than to say that being a Cancer and Heart Attack survivor and then doing this requires one big batch of courage and strength. I am truly humbled!

Bowman is a devil though. He managed to through in a nasty little decent before he bid welcome to Two Elk.

The gateway to truly "all downhill from here".

The back bowls of Vail were alive and kicking!

At this point you put the camera away and pay attention. Of course, I didn't pay attention and found myself tumbling down the side of the hill towards the creek. I probably used a lot of karma points (as Stu would say) since I didn't even get a scratch.

We finally regroup at the bridge (which is still under construction) before the short woodsy ride back to the car.

Another great year on Two Elk. I was surprised that there were more people on the trail than I can ever remember and that conditions are deteriorating fast on some of the singletrack. Thankfully, there were flags signaling some much needed re-routes. I am glad to see that they'll be putting some work into keeping this masterpiece around.

I started a little later than the majority of the pack. That had me a little worried because I rely on others to help set my pace. The smaller the pack of riders left, the less chance I have of finding someone to pace myself against. Squaw Pass lay ahead just about 3900 feet up and fifteen or so miles along the road. I settle in with some riders and begin the push. I'm watching my pace a lot. Too fast and I'll never make it to pass number two. Too slow and I could end up being swept off the path before the end.

This group is working for me. A little slower than I had planned, but it's steady.

This is one of the more scenic passes, which certainly adds a little inspiration to the ride.

Amazingly, my energy level is high and I have a confident feeling I can complete this ride. As the crest appears, I begin to smile and relish summiting the first pass only to feel the bottom drop put and we turn the corner and climb again. Squaw Pass is notable for it's false summit. That's a mean little trick that I believe the cycling Gods have put in place to make you pay closer attention to your pace.

I'm lucky, though. I am with a pack that have done this before. They know the torturous trick that has been played in the past. We reach the summit and rest area one. I am content as I load up on bananas and Accelerade. It's downhill into Idaho Springs and then the longest climb of all the passes awaits. Savor it while you can, I say to myself as I wind past the entrance to Mount Evans on the way down. I'm still a little sketchy on getting my speed up there. I top out at about 38 MPH as others fly past me. This is fast enough. I like my skin.

As we ride through the town of Idaho Springs, I feel like I'm in the Tour de France. People are lined up along the streets cheering us on. It certainly gives me a boost. We have already gone over 32 miles. Wow, I can do this. That was easy and it seems to stay that way as we gradually climb to the next area in Georgetown only 12 miles away viewing the gold and silver mines that haunt and still work the ground. Only twelve miles? What's up with that? More food, including the sweetest and coldest Watermelon I have ever had speeds me on my way.

Saying this is easy are words I'll begin to regret as the gradual climb turns to a hot long climb along Route 70. The exhaust of cars and trucks going by with the hot late morning sun beating down on my head begins to eat at my brain. We are heading from 8500' to the next rest area at 10,800' in just over 12 miles. This is grueling. The pack I was with begins to fall apart and we are slowing down. The pace I had expected is out the window and now it's survival mode. I am convinced that when I reach the rest stop, I'm calling it a day. I don't need this. I can stop now and be rested enough to mountain bike in the high country tomorrow. Yup, I'm calling my Wife before she heads out to Avon.

It has taken me nearly an hour and forty five minutes to go 12 miles. What was I thinking? I haven't even reached the halfway point and I have had enough and I pull into another cheering crowd at Loveland rest area, This is the biggest of them all with sandwiches, more ice cold watermelon, and ice filled accelerade jugs. Ah, I can eat, drink, and call my for the pickup. I take my food into the shade of a tent and make the phone call. No one answers, Have they already left? I get a sinking feeling as I pop some Motrin to mask the growing pain in my thigh muscles. I spend a good amount of time here, eating more and begin to feel a little better. I don't have much of a choice. There's nobody to get me and I can't stay here waiting anymore. Heck, it's only four miles to the top. Then it's all downhill to Frisco and the next rest area. I can call from there. Yeah, that's it!

Four miles and 1000' of climb. The road side begins to become a parking lot for the unexpected. It's a slow climb at 5 mph. As I go buy, I hear the same comments from different people; "I'm spent", "I'm drained", and "I'm not doing so good". However, I'm not in that mode. Just minutes ago I was ready to throw in the towel and now I have a new goal. The top!

I summit!

It's a long, fast, and twisty downhill. It's hard enough in a car, and I'm worried about those two skinny wheels with four pieces of rubber. That's all that stands between me and a hard place. Again, I keep my top speed in check releasing the brakes to allow the rims to cool then slowing myself again. It's a game I am playing with my head. It's working, but my hands are tired. As I past the entrance to Keystone Ski Area, my mind again turns to stopping this insanity early. Just a few more miles and I can make the call. Hey, I did two of the passes. That's not bad, right? I check my pace. Not good. At this rate, It will be more like 6:00 PM and not 4:00 PM as I had expected.

We turn onto Dillon Dam Road. An unexpected treat as Swan Hill was closed. This will save a couple hundred feet of climb.

It's actually enjoyable right now. The water has a cooling effect and the bike path to the rest stop is very reminiscent of my old road rides in the Pinelands of NJ. This really takes my mind off of quitting and again the cold Watermelon just melts my blues away. I can really finish this! It's only one more pass, but for some reason I have this in my mind as being the hardest. My GPS battery finally runs out. Maybe it's better to not know? The next rest area is not close and requires reaching the Summit of Vail Pass.

No time to waste. I hop on the bike and begin an 11 mile jaunt to the base of Copper Mountain. This is a gradual uphill, but halfway through I remember the convenience store at Copper.

The taste of ice cold Coca Cola dances through my mind. A fix! I'm not alone, either. Many riders are pulling in for Starbucks as I drown myself in 16 ounces of cold sugary goodness.

I'm feeling great now, as I cross into the entrance to Copper. The phone rings. I stop and answer it. "Where are you?", says my son. I explain and then my Wife gets on. "How much longer?" I really don't know, it's five miles to Vail Pass summit and I think about an hour for that and then another thirty minutes into Avon. She's worried that's late and wants to pick me up. I'm almost ready to say yes and then my son yells in the background, "you have to let him finish it. He's so close!"

He's right and she agrees. I head up Vail Pass at a pretty good pace. This is easier than I though. In fact, this is the easiest of all the climbs.

Ah! That familiar Vail Pass summit. That's what drew me to Colorado in the first place after coming here summer after summer for my job. I have reached the top, the pinnacle, the final climb. Three passes are complete and it's all downhill (really) into Avon. Old Route 6 is a familiar face and a tributing end to a long journey. Vandalized with the writings of cycling fans, they only help me to gain more power. I ride over "Go Lance, go" and sink into a tuck as I ride along a road of legends.

Funny, I don't feel any pain. Maybe I am just numb?. Vail is just blur as the big ring takes control. As I go under Route 70 and come to the end of the trail, the ride Marshall yells out only five miles to go. 6:00 PM is looming. I can do this. The phone has been ringing for a while now. Obviously with a "where are you" question. But, I refuse to answer the calls. I am in a zone now. 15 MPH might be all I can muster, but it's good enough for me as I come around the roundabout and make the final turn towards the High School. Throngs of people are gathered, Cowboys are ringing as I wave to my family standing at the finish line ringing an old Toyota cycling team cowbell I gave them from watching the annual race in Philadelphia. I cannot do anything but smile. It's my challenge and my accomplishment.

It's up and away on a mostly off-camber rocky ascent.

Did I mention the many switchbacks? It's a necessety when you try and build trails on a steep mountain. Keith was mastering them today, and I did ok on most of them going up. Down is a whole different story.

Continuing up brings in the front range views.

Some rest befor the nastiest fall-line section and another view.

This was a tough one and the picture doesn't really show it.

More switchbacks!

A smile says a thousand words!

Time to head down.

Short but sweet and a fitting beginning to Father's Day and ending to the wee.