No Examples of My Wife's Misbehavior as a Third Grader Were Provided

July 6, 2013

Day 13: Estes Park, Colorado to Idaho Springs, Colorado

I slept well in the comfortable spare bedroom in Marilyn's home. I forced myself to get up at 5:15 and pack everything up. I'm only ever able to get up this early on bike tours, for some reason.

Later, before leaving, I talked some more with Marilyn, now a National Park Ranger, formerly a public school teacher in Iowa, where she was Joy's third grade teacher. I asked for some examples of my wife's misbehavior as a third grader, but as I expected, there were none to provide.

As soon as I got on the bike I knew it was going to be one of those days that I just wasn't "into it." There was a figurative dark cloud hanging over me. I felt homesick and lonely, I was annoyed with the initial steep climb out of Estes Park, and I was irritated with all of tourists out driving on this extended holiday weekend. Of course, it was my decision to do this solo tour, it was my decision to ride through the Colorado Rockies, which are not exactly know for their flatness, and it was my poor planning that had resulted in riding through an always busy tourist area on the busiest few days of the year.

Today's route took me through several small mountain towns. I stopped in Allenspark in search of breakfast, but the only cafe was completely full and I didn't want to wait over an hour for an omelet, so I ate a couple of the now-unrecognizable, melted Star Crunches I had been carrying since Iowa.

On the second big climb of the day, I was listlessly pedaling at 4.5 mph, thinking my morose thoughts, when a man and woman coming down the hill stopped to talk. It was Ed and Robin, who had done some bike touring and were planning a long tour of their own. Their enthusiasm cheered me up, and I soon reached the top of the mountain, and stopped at a bar and restaurant that seemed equally populated by bicyclsts and motorcyclists.

One of the bicyclists, an older woman, engaged me in conversation, although we never seemed to get in sync:

"Where are you going?"
"San Francisco."
"Why did you stop here?"
"I was hungry."
"No, I mean why are you on this road?"
"It's on my map."
"Well, let me see that map. Harrumph. You could have taken [insert confusing set of directions involving dirt roads] instead!"
etc

More descending, more climbing. Colorado seems a lot harder on this trip than it did in 2006, when, as someone helpfully pointed out recently, I was seven years younger. I'd never seen this many road cyclists in one day. In the past I would have stood up, shifted, and made an effort at keeping up when one passed me on his or her damnably light bike. Today, I just sat and spun the small gear at 5 mph.

In the afternoon I reached the infamous Black Hawk. This is a small town controlled by casinos that became notorious a few years ago when it attemped to ban bicycles from its narrow, clogged-with-compulsive-gamblers streets. I got out of town as quickly as possible only to see a "No Bicycles" sign at the entrance to Central City Parkway, which is part of the Adventure Cycling route. What!? I decided to ignore the sign (another dick move by the Black Hawk city people?) and rode the eight miles without incident.

When I reached the end of the Parkway, however, I found that my next road no longer existed. I rode around the "Road Closed" signs and kept on riding until the road turned to mud, then turned to a narrow path separated from I-70 by a concrete barrier. After much gnashing of teeth I wound my way through the most incredible, concert-related traffic clog ever and, having decided that I was done riding a bicycle today, stopped at the first motel in Idaho Springs that had a vacancy. The motel was pretty dire, but I didn't care. For some reason I decided to haggle very aggressively over price with the lady at the desk, but failed to get anywhere, probably because it was obvious even to her that I was not riding anywhere else today.

Tomorrow: A brand new day, which I fully expect to be much more fun than today. Also: Loveland Pass and Hoosier Pass.