Icy Journey

We went to bed early after that epic storm because it was too cold and cloudy to sit outside and watch the Perseid meteor shower. The next morning, the skies were clear but the air was frigid.

We needed to start moving toward home, which meant that I had a point-to-point mountain bike ride scheduled for that day to avoid a long bumpy ride on a 4WD road. It was so cold outside that the water clinging to my bike chain was frozen. I was worried about the start of my ride, knowing it would go through deep subalpine forest where there would be snow and ice.

I procrastinated a bit, hoping that the warm sun would work its magic on my route while I waited. But, it was a tradeoff - by waiting, I was more vulnerable to being caught in the afternoon thunder storms in the forecast.

I headed out, saying goodbye to our campsite until next year, saying a secret little prayer that our pack would be as healthy and happy then as now. Life is uncertain. I departed this campsite a couple of years ago assuming that K would be back many times, and I was wrong. The tough stuff in life teaches you to appreciate when things are good.

As I started my ride, I was wearing a winter hat, neck gaiter, winter cycling shoes, mittens, and many layers. It was COLD. But, the start of the ride was through open land where the sun had already melted the snow and ice on the ground so I could pedal without worrying about ice.

I pedaled across the meadow and toward the forest, which you can see the start of in the next photo. Unfortunately, the trail became very hazardous in the shade. Every root, water bar, and other wood object on the ground was covered in ice. After trying to negotiate a few of these icy obstacles on my bike and nearly hitting the ground hard, I decided that I needed to be more cautious, especially given my delicate spine. So, although it was slow, I hopped off my bike and walked over all icy obstacles for about the first hour of the journey.

Eventually, I worked my way out of the forest and into the sun again. The trail was ice-free so I could ride continuously! But, as you can see, the mountains still sported their beautiful layers of snow.

Soon, I was climbing toward the highest point in the ride. For a moment, I thought that the mountain pass that I was aiming for was the snow-covered slope to the far left in this photo. Thank goodness that I was wrong!

This is a pass that I always end up calling "Endless Pass" in my mind. When approached from the south, it is a really long and hard climb.

It seems to go up and up and up. I was running very late due to the ice at the start of the ride, and I thought that maybe I could make up some time by climbing to the pass extra fast. Ha! There was no way to go fast without going too far into the red zone. Around every blind curve, I assumed that the top was waiting. But I was wrong many times before I actually made it to the top.

Finally, I got to gaze at the mountains from the top of the pass and then coast down the other side.

I could see my path laid out in the alpine tundra ahead of me. Clouds were building in that direction but didn't look too threatening.

It turned out that I had a tough time for the last quarter of this ride. I think that I hadn't been drinking enough fluids. At our last water refill station a few days earlier, we'd filled the LabMobile's tanks with water that I thought tasted horrid. I was carrying that awful water with me on this ride but I really hesitated to take sips.

I pedaled powerlessly through the last miles, about as fast as a snail. Climbs kept appearing in front of me that I'd forgotten existed. In the view below, I was getting close to where I was meeting the pack. I was hot and tired, and it was very hard to believe that I was running late due to ice on the start of the trail!

I finally made it to my patiently waiting pack. We found some good water, and I tanked up (and ate a lot of food), which made me feel much better.

As a side note, many of you asked about the hikers in the storm the day before. I didn't see those particular people but I asked the two "through-hikers" who I saw on my ride what they'd done during the storm. They'd set up their tents and hunkered down for the afternoon and evening. They were warm, dry, and safe.

I did, however, suspect that someone might have been lost in the area because a small airplane kept patrolling the Colorado Trail during my point-to-point ride. The pilot spotted me three times, and each time, he circled me. I didn't know how to signal that I was okay except to keep moving. Since I didn't hear any big news after arriving back in civilization, I guessed that there was no big crisis. Most people out in this wilderness know what they're doing... and I'm glad for that when big storms hit!