Day 27: A Fond Farewell to the Mountains

This was a very emotional day for me. Lots of tears and laughter. It started Friday night, at the Peloton meeting, when our chaplain, Len Riemersma, encouraged us to remember Elizabeth ?, who was paralyzed three years ago while training for 2005's Sea to Sea event. That started me thinking about paralysis. She went from the bike to the wheelchair; I have moved from the wheelchair to the bike. As I biked I cried, and I would be hard pressed to tell you whether they were tears of joy or tears of sadness, tears of gratitude or tears of lament. All I know was that as I pumped my legs the waters in my eyes were released.

Berthoud Pass was the last mountain pass of this tour. I am sad about that, because I have grown to love the passes. They are hard, but I also found them exhilarating. They challenged me, pushed me to my limits of strength and endurance, and then humbly allowed me to stand victorious on their summits.

I found Berthoud to be the easiest of the passes. The grade was moderate, the scenery delightful, and my "go slow" technique continued to improve. My goal for the initial passes-Stevens and Bluett-was simply to get to the top. In the last few passes my goal shifted from completing the climb to enjoying it. Maybe it also helped that I knew that Cindy, my wife, was waiting for me at the top, along with Phil Quist and some watermelon.

Racing down the other side of Berthoud was thrilling. I flew past the spot where 15 years ago I lost a transmission while pulling a tent trailor. There was a slow pick-up in front of me, for whom I needed to brake occasionally. I thought about passing him on the shoulder, but decided that it may not be all bad to be restricted to 35mph, especially with some of the hairpin turns. And during the longer straight-a-ways his speed increased and I could go between 40 and 45.

The hardest thing about the ride was finding my way. For a time I raced behind two young women, until I realized that they were not with the Tour. Still, they seemed to be heading in the right direction-downhill-toward Denver-alongside I-70, and I didn't want to stop to check my directions, so I just pedaled on. We finally stopped where a bike path intersected the road. Our directions told us to turn right on a bike path, and these obviously experienced women looked at our maps and agreed that this was the path we were supposed to take. My partner and I happily pedaled on, until the path dead-ended. Do you think they were trying to ditch us?

We wandered around a bit, enjoyed some Colorado hospitality as people we encountered did their best to help us find our way. Finally, a couple with a bike on top of their SUV, told us to follow them and then led us through Idaho Springs to the bike path we were supposed to be on.

After meandering along this path we finally reached US-40 and the infamous "Floyd's Hill." If you look on the elevation chart in "Shifting Gears" you will see this little rise at about the 45 mile mark. It looks insignificant, surrounded by the dramatic decreases in altitude. It is not. It rises almost 1000 feet in the short distance of about 3 miles. In other words, Floyd's Hill is steep! To make matters more difficult there was a strong headwind trying to blow us backwards.

Several of the cyclists found it easier to walk their bikes up the hill, rather than ride. I found it exciting to reach a new speed of 2.6mph. This was about the same speed as the walkers were moving, maybe a bit less. However, as I delighted in my slowness, I found it possible to ascend Floyd's Hill without stopping.

The ride down into Denver was amazing. We rode along Bear Creek, through a canyon that made it difficult to keep your eyes on the road. On one side of the road was the creek and a number of elegant homes. On the other side were the walls of the canyon-at times rounded into hills, at other times appearing as sheer cliffs. And to top it off, partway down, there were two supporters waiting with an ice chest full of POPSICLES.

I was cruising when I saw them waving a Sea to Sea sign. It is hard to hit the brakes when you're coasting along at 25 mph. Then I heard them yell "popsicles", and I clamped down on my front and rear brakes and eased onto the gravel where they were parked. After eating a grape AND a cherry popsicle (I exercised a lot of self-control to keep from asking for an orange popsicle and completing the trifecta) I went back on the road refreshed in body and spirit.

In short, this ride had it all. I can't think of a better way to end our four week tour through the mountains.

Thank...You...Je...sus...