Paul E. Fallon's Blog, page 69

Trip Log – Day 74, 75, 76 – Copper Mountain, CO

July 18, 19, 20, 2015 – Sun and rain, 50 degrees

Miles Today: 92

Miles to Date: 4,230

States to Date: 18

 The Courage Classic is an annual cycling tour through the Rocky Mountains: 2200 cyclists and 400 volunteers raise over $2 million for the Colorado Children’s Hospital. Some members of my extended family have participated for over twenty years. For the past five years, I’ve included the three-day ride in our annual July reunion. This year, I made the Courage Classic part of my 48-state journey.

Each day the Courage Classic offers a range of routes and climbing challenges so that any level of cyclist can participate. Since our five core riders are getting older – average age 65 – we cherry pick favorite routes. This year, on day one we ascended Vail Pass east to west, rolled into Vail Resort, and then returned over the top. Day Two we circled Dillon Reservoir climbed Swan Mountain (my favorite stretch) and returned through Officers Gulch. On Day Three we left the crowds altogether and mounted Ute Pass, which is a terrific ride up a little-used road with magnificent views of the Gore Range.

  

After each days ride we soaked in the hot tub, then ate huge meals, caught up on old times, and played lots of cards. We are wicked competitive at hearts and fan-tan; my niece even got us to play Old Maid. By mid-afternoon Monday everyone headed back to Denver, but I was able to spend one solo night at our condo and continue west on Tuesday morning.

Trip Log – Day 72 – Denver, CO

July 16, 2015 – Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 26

Miles to Date: 4,039

States to Date: 18

 My three days of R&R have included long visits with family, interviews with Medicine Man Denver marijuana dispensary, Collier Hospice Center, and EcoTech Institute, Renewable Energy College, as well a three evenings of book promotion for Architecture by Moonlight. It has been great fun but will end tomorrow with a bang when I attempt the most challenging ride of my trip: 96 miles from Denver to Copper Mountain, over Loveland Pass and the Continental Divide – 9,600 feet of vertical rise!

When I arrive at Copper Mountain I will be in severe need of a shower, and judging from my experience to date, I’ll encounter a huge variety of soap. Over the past ten weeks I’ve stayed in more than forty different households. They have all been generous and thoughtful. But they also have one other unifying characteristic – a dizzying array of liquid soap.

When did the bar of soap become an artifact? What is in all of these bottles of gel and foam that a simple bar cannot deliver? To be sure, a few homes still have bars of soap, in addition to their bath gel and body wash and hand sanitizer. But nobody only has soap, and many people have no hard soap at all. Even people who compost every scrap of food, recycle every bit of packaging and reject any form of fossil fuel transport have shower stalls littered with plastic bottles of odd colored liquid.

I carry a bar of soap. It’s compact, and portable. When I scrub myself, the friction makes me feel clean. I use it until it’s gone; I don’t lose that extra 20% of product that never shakes out of the container.

Now that I am aware of the liquid soap phenomenon, I realize that bars have become bottom shelf grocery store items. The liquid stuff, which surely has a higher profit margin and more adverse environmental impact, is easier to reach. When my bar runs out I am going to get another plain bar of soap. It will keep me clean. And when I have to bend low to reach it at the grocery, I’ll consider it yoga.

Send me good energy as I climb, climb, climb to the other side of America. I’ll clean up as soon as I get to the other side.

Trip Log – Day 71 – Denver, CO

July 15, 2015 – Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 0

Miles to Date: 4,013

States to Date: 18

Let’s all get along on the road. In the four years since my last cycle tour, people have become much more considerate of cyclists. However, we suffer from being in a hybrid world, neither pedestrian nor motor vehicle. We rarely have our own space. The cars want us on the sidewalks; the pedestrians want us on the shoulder. Most everyone wants us in the gutter.

Five things I have observed after 4000 miles that cyclists and the rest of the world can do to make cycling even better for everyone.

Dear Google: I love your bicycle route maps. They give me options, they give me estimated time, they give me vertical rise and fall. What they don’t tell me is whether the suggested roads are paved or not. I think you do that for cars – could you do that for bikes as well? Whether a road is paved makes a big difference in determining a route.

Dear highway engineers: Bike lanes marked on the road pavement are saver than bike paths set back from the street. This seems counterintuitive, but when I’m on the pavement, cars see me. When I’m set apart by a curb and grass strip, drivers aren’t looking for me at cross streets. My only mishap to date happened when cars at right angles were unaware of me coming off a bike path set back from the road.

Dear people who consider bike paths routes for ten-year-olds to get to a ball game: Take the silly curves out of bake paths. Let us get from Point A to Point B with the same clarify that other vehicles use. If I want to zig-zag my path, I’ll play Candyland.

Dear vehicle drivers: If a cyclist is riding along the shoulder and following the rules of the road – don’t honk! I don’t know if you are perturbed that I exist or are jealous that you’re stuck in your car while I’m in the open air. Either way, being honked at is unnerving.

Dear cyclists. Follow the rules of the road. I know we are independent-minded souls who hate being regimented, but we have to stop at red lights, signal, etc. Okay, okay, if no one’s around roll through the stop sign, but don’t make vehicles nervous about whether we’re going to stop, go, or head off in an unexpected direction. We chose to cycle, so enjoy the journey and accept we can’t get everywhere as fast as possible.

Trip Log – Day 70 – Denver, CO

July 14, 2015 – Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 6

Miles to Date: 4,013

States to Date: 18

After riding thousands of miles along the shoulder, I am the world’s leading non-USPS expert on mailbox design. Here are some of my favorites. Can you guess what states they are from?

Hints: They are shown in the order I passed them. They are all from different states, except for three, which are from the northernmost state on my route.

       

Trip Log – Day 69 –Arvada, CO to Denver, CO

July 13, 2015 – Sunny, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 24

Miles to Date: 4,007

States to Date: 18

My father was an eccentric who chafed in a regular job, wrote a book narrated by an Alaskan Huskie, and ran for sheriff on the platform to repaint fire hydrants. His train of thought logic peaked with the third bourbon on the rocks. My mother was a tightly organized woman hyper-conscious of time, who wore binding girdles and labeled the linen closet shelves. Like so many opposites that attract, they were an irrational coupling. But their genes twist through me in satisfactory ways, for today I arrived in Denver on a quixotic journey rooted in my father’s sprit, exactly on my estimated schedule and distance. My odometer flipped over 4,000 miles as I entered Denver city limits on the day I promised my sister I would arrive. Thanks, Dad! Thanks, Mom!

There is a great bike path system that goes all the way from Arvada to Denver, but today there were construction detours and large sections of bike path closed due to the recent heavy rains. So, I got to maneuver city streets and unfamiliar neighborhoods, which were all welcome diversions. It’s impossible to get lost in a gird city on a sunny day when I have to go ten miles south and ten miles east. I jig-jagged wherever I wanted

I went immediately to Bike Source, where I had arranged to have a tune-up, new chain brake pads and wheel alignment for the Surly. Gotta keep my ride in top shape.

I will be in Denver until Friday, when I head up and into the mountains, finally penetrating the Front Range I have been keeping on my right for the past week. But stayed tuned., Although I won’t be making much distance, I have some special trip blogs planned for those of you who like your daily dose of cycle musings.

Trip Log – Day 68 – Boulder, CO to Arvada, CO

July 12, 2015 – Sunny, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 24

Miles to Date: 3,983

States to Date: 18

Boulder’s church aisle is a bike path. I saw more cyclists, on road bikes, dirt bikes, and mountain bikes, on one Sunday morning in Boulder than in the rest of my travels combined. There were plenty of cars too, laden with bike racks, as I climbed out of town on Highway 93. Even though it was a short day, I got a good workout; the wind was in my face the whole way.

Once I turned east on Highway 72 I enjoyed the long decent into Arvada, with Denver beyond. The distant skyline sparkled on the horizon, where it wasn’t interrupted by the steady crawl of single-family houses scratching up the foothills. Denver probably has the largest psychic catchment are of any city in the United States. Ever since Bismarck, Denver has been the reference city for everyone I’ve met. It is the capital of the West.

 

Since I was invading my brother and sister-in-law’s house house on their anniversary, I picked up a big bouquet at King Sooper before I arrived around two and we passed the hours in catching up since we got together last year. My eight-year-old niece Izzy is deep into Barbie. We spent an hour dressing and redressing her collection, eventually distorting our play into ‘What could get Barbie kicked out of the prom? Out of boarding school? And out of church? Bachelor uncles can be mischievous influences. After pizza and beer and s’mores on the backyard fire, we played cards until we were too tired to reminisce any more.

Trip Log – Day 67 – Fort Collins, CO to Boulder, CO

July 11, 2015 – Sunny, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 45

Miles to Date: 3,959

States to Date: 18

I slept in, took an easy leave, and headed south on U.S. 287, Main Street of the Front Range. Regardless what was on the side of the road, a quick glance to the right always revealed an amazing view gentle foothills, rugged mountains and snow capped peaks, topped with swirling cloud icing.

     

I pedaled through Loveland, which had a Saturday festival and girl’s softball tournament in full swing. Then on to Longmont, where 287 turns into a charming, tree-lined shopping street. I stopped for a break at a Valero and met Sarah, the sweetest convenience store clerk ever. Then stopped at Simply Bulk to talk to the owner about tomorrow.

 

The last fifteen miles climbed up, up to the base of the foothills in Boulder. I arrived at Pearl Street about four and had time to absorb the street jugglers, daredevil skateboarders, and chubby men giving out free gay hugs next to silent Christian protestors. Grandparents pushed carriages, longhaired guys wore nothing but ragged shorts, middle class tourists licked ice cream, and all manner of casual strollers looked each other over. The constant din of an accordion player accompanied the passing conversations. The sun shined bright and then disappeared behind ever-dramatic clouds that threatened to deliver rain, and finally did with a thundercloud burst.

I pedaled in the downpour the few blocks to a CU fraternity house near campus, where my warmshowers host Alana is living for the summer. Her sixteen-person coop, Chrysalis, and another coop in town, Masala, have taken over a frat house while their own homes are being renovated. It proved a great place to engage in Boulder’s eclectic yet embracing ways.

Trip Log – Day 66 – Laramie, WY to Fort Collins, CO

July 9, 2015 – Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 75

Miles to Date: 3,914

States to Date: 18

I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and was out of Laramie by 6:30. Already I can feel the days getting shorter, the morning was just getting underway as i headed south on U.S.287. But for the first time in Wyoming, the skies were clear!

Twenty-six miles in I crossed the state line, and – voila – the entire landscape changed; Wyoming’s stark majesty turned into Colorado’s layers of rocks and hills and mountains.

  

I turned off the paved highway for a dirt stint to get to Haydn Christenson’s specialty farm north of Fort Collins. On the dirt path of Owl Canyon Trail I met Vicky Mortenson who told me local stories of Overland Stagecoaches and Butch Cassidy.

  

I had hoped to get to Haydn’s by 1:00 p.m. but the push of the 2500-foot elevation drop from Laramie Fort Collins helped me cover 57 miles by 11:30 a.m. – a record for morning pedaling. Haydn and his girlfriend Lindsey showed ma around his high yield, ten-acre farm, which has some cool implications for tomorrow.

The final twelve miles into Fort Collins were a breeze. I had a good barbeque lunch at Moe’s on College Ave and then met up with Brian Janonis, retired Head of City Utilities. Instead of having a chat, he invited me on a city-sponsored walk through the area north of downtown to discuss prospects for turning the area around the Poudre River into a Innovation and ‘rugged scale’ commercial district. Since I can always use more exercise (!) I might as well add a mile of two of walking to my day. The tour was fascinating. A few projects are already underway; Fort Collins has impressive sustainability objectives. The first really big project is a $30 million distillery; more proof that our microbrew fetish is giving way to harder stuff.

Finally, I wove my way through town and the CSU campus to my wonderful warmshowers host for the evening. Camilla, her boyfriend Bruce, and his two children laid out a great cook-out followed by an ice cream bar. Camilla raises bees and I learned about hive life. I think bees and Chinese are two longstanding cultures that share much in common.

Trip Log – Day 65 – Laramie, WY

July 9, 2015 – Thunderstorms, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 12

Miles to Date: 3,839

States to Date: 17

I spent the day in Laramie, visiting a slew of interesting people and one spiritual brother.

My warmshowers hosts made an awesome breakfast of eggs and bacon plus pancakes with orange juice and coffee. Fueled for the day, I went to the Night Heron book store to meet my cousin Andy’s Antioch friend, Vicky, a thoughtful and inspiring kindergarten teacher who exemplifies the transplant’s love of Laramie that I find everywhere here.

Afterward I met with Bright Agrotech, a local company with a cool vertical grow agriculture system. We didn’t meet at their headquarters. Rather we met downtown where their system provides truly local herbs for a restaurant – grown on the other side of the wall from where they’re served. Beside offering quick growing local food, Bright Agrotech is superfast with their media; our video interview is already up on YouTube.

Then I was off to Crossfit 7720 to learn about this cutting edge fitness regimen. Why 7720? Because Laramie is 7220 feet above sea level. They invited me for a workout, which I did.

Whoa, it’s a touch workout, especially at this altitude.

During a break from heavy thunderstorms I set out alone to fulfill the primary reason I came to Laramie: to absorb local sites related to Matthew Shepard. I went by the bar where he met his killers, the memorial bench that University of Wyoming placed within the quad, and finally rode five miles outside of town to see where, almost twenty years ago, the young gay man was tied, beaten, and abandoned. Aside from the innocuous bench, Laramie has done everything it can to wipe away this heinous crime. The bar’s had a face lift and fresh title, the streets names around the site have been changed, private property signs abound. Nothing about my 24 hours here gives any clue as to why such a hate crime happened in this seemingly benevolent place. Yet it did. And the horror of it changed things, for me and for many others.

Aside from a few flowers on the bench, there is no proper way to pay tribute to Matthew Shepard, whose senseless death was so abhorrent it triggered an outpouring of human decency. Matthew will never get married in Wyoming, but he is part of the reason that others like him can. I wanted to thank him for what we have all gained through his suffering.

Two deer came by and grazed close to me for several minutes. When they left I took it as my sign to leave as well.

Trip Log – Day 64 – Cheyenne, WY to Laramie, WY

July 8, 2015 – Rain, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 59

Miles to Date: 3,827

States to Date: 17

I was up, coffeed, oatmealed, and packed by six. I stopped at Albertson’s to belly up on yogurt and cinnamon buns before tackling the 50-mile desolate stretch from Cheyenne to Laramie on a featureless grey morning, spitting rain. My warmshowers host Tom warned me – it’s up all the way, until the last nine miles, which are straight down.

Tom is a trustworthy guide. I left Cheyenne (elevation 6,062) and pedaled long stretches of gentle rise. The higher I climbed, the greyer the sky became. The hissing energy of the West flanked my left – crackling power lines and flittering windmills. Vast ranches lay to my right – cows lined tight to the fence with their inscrutable gaze fixed on my tiny form. Yet the immense grey sky dominated them both and the crisp fresh air was infiltrated by musky char from the giant fires in Canada that have laid a haze over the entire continent.

Fifteen miles in I could make out the profile of distant ridges, not so far away to pretend I wouldn’t have to climb them. The rain came stronger as I pedaled higher. The wind was light, and it’s safer to pedal up rain streams than down them. When I reached the ridge crest the rain was steady. It bounced off the road, into my shoes, up and around my fenders. The precipice was a false peak, followed by a dozen more. Short shallows followed by long climbs. Another reprieve; another climb. The rain puttered away to nothing. So did the visibility. I rolled though dense fog, glad to have enough shoulder to veer clear of intermittent vehicles.

The sky lightened up at 36 miles, so I took a break and had a snack. I hadn’t stopped for two minutes when I realized that all around me was dark. Worse was coming from any direction. So, I got back in the saddle and pedaled on, another six miles into the spirit realm of foggy invisibility. Rolling through the atmosphere I could have been on an English heath or Russian steepe or Argentine plateau. There was nothing distinct about my particular location. Yet the ambiguity was gentile and light. I didn’t feel lost or afraid. The solid road and easy wind robbed the rain and fog of danger.

Out of nothing a Stop sign appeared. I was finally at the summit, 8,600 feet, and Interstate 80, though I couldn’t see it and could barely hear it. I eased my way onto the ramp and kept to the shoulder for several miles of 5% grade. With each passing mile the fog lifted, distinct clouds formed, the sides of the adjacent cliffs displayed their rock faces. Within half an hour I dropped to 7100 feet and was in Laramie.

For some reason I hoped that coming off this ethereal climb would make Laramie different. But of course it isn’t. After all, I am in the United States. U.S. 30 has the same Wal-Mart and Applebees as every other commercial strip.

University of Wyoming is larger than I expected; the sandstone buildings are stunning. Downtown is nice, with just enough funk to be interesting. I had the lunch buffet at Grand Pizza, which was quite good. By the time I finished lunch the rain had stopped, so I toured city and campus by bike, took a writing break, and enjoyed a terrific conversation and dinner with Linda and Phil, my warmshowers hosts.