Tag: Pueblo

Bike Tour 2022 – Pueblo to Florence

Last night’s dinner was trail mix and water. Yep, my lunch was so filling I couldn’t eat much of anything else. I must drink about a gallon of water every night. Very little of it sees the light of day.

I rode through Pueblo to get on the Adventure Cycling route but the digital map app I bought to guide me was useless.

I ended up with a tour of Pueblo’s middle class neighborhoods. I passed many arts and crafts bungalows and other styles of one-story houses. Once you get away from the highways, Pueblo’s not half bad.

This bungalow caught my eye. Love the paint, the art work, the pergola, and the little Buddha on the approachy to the porch. The black fence, not so much.

I gave up on the Adventure Cycling app and switched to Google maps. I was going great until it led me to a 4.5 mile dirt road. I backtracked and got on the main road, having gone about five miles in circles between the two apps. Give me paper maps any day!

Highway 96, which I have been on for a week or so, goes straight to Wetmore where my Warmshowers hosts live. In the process I gained 1,400 feet of elevation to about 6,100 feet in 30 miles. Of course, that includes riding over a ridge east of town that must have been more like 6,400 feet. The climb up was a 9% grade. I gave up about half way. The driver of a pick up stopped, backed up 100 yards, and asked me if I’d like a lift to the top. I stubbornly and stupidly said no and pushed The Mule on foot all the way to the top. I did this climb easily in 2019 so today’s hike-a-bike was very disappointing.

The ride down the ridge was fun. When I got to Wetmore I pulled out my phone to get the address of my hosts only to find that my phone had overheated and shut down.

There are only 3 streets in Wetmore. I tried the first but a local resident told me it could not have been his street. I rode to the Post Office on the next street but the Postmaster was new and couldn’t help me. Next I talked to a couple of women who were chatting a few houses away. They immediately knew which house I was looking for.

It as the first house that I passed.

Arriving at the house, I was greeted by barking dogs on both sides of the street. I figured they would alert my hosts to my presence but no one came to the door, so I helped myself to some water from the canteen on the porch (as they had advised me to do). After a few minutes Johnny came out. 6 foot 2, shaved head, fit, long sleeved technical shirt with a hood, leather kilt, and lace up boots that covered his calves. And, as it turned out, as pleasant a man as you’d want to meet.

I knew I was unlikely to stay because Johnny’s wife Kristin messaged me last night with the news that their daughter had tested positive for Covid yesterday. Still Johnny and I had a pleasant chat. He let me use his phone to book a room in a motel near Florence.

I had heard that there was a 1,000 foot climb between Wetmore and Florence. Johnny explained that the climb was southward. I was heading north.

He’s a bike commuter. He once fashioned a bike with two chain rings and one cog. He’d use the big chain ring to ride downhill to work in Florence and the small one to ride back home.

With the imposing Hardscrabble Mountains to my left and the ridge I earlier had walked up to my right, I cruised ten miles downhill to my hotel.

This county is home to ten prisons, three of which are next to my motel. One of them is the federal SuperMax prison. It’s occupants include the World Trade Center truck bomber, the Boston Marathon bomber, the shoe bomber, the underpants bomber, the Unabomber, numerous murderous Mafiosi and drug dealers, and Robert Hanssen, an FBI agent turned Russian spy. Before he died, the father of Woody Harrelson was imprisoned here. He was a hit man who killed a federal judge among others.

After checking in and dropping my bags, I phoned home to wish Mrs. Rootchopper a happy 34th anniversary.

Next I rode a half mile downhill to a fast food burger place for lunch. The burger and fries were medium but to me they seemed huge. I also drank about a half gallon of soda. They lost money on me.

I confirmed that I can stay in the city park tomorrow. It has early morning sprinklers but I’ll think of some way to make it work.

The convenience store next to the burger place is called the Loaf and Jug. They did not have any loaves but, incongruously, they had junk food from Cumberland Farms, a New England dairy.

I bought some junk food and a huge can of Australian liquid bread and rode back to the motel.

The vegetation west of Pueblo was noticeably different. That’s the ridge I walked in the distance
Hardscrabble Mountains on the road to Florence
Two of the prisons near my hotel. The SuperMax prison is not visible from the road.

Miles today: 48. Tour miles: 1,275

Today marks three weeks of the tour

Bike Tour 2022 – Ordway to Pueblo

I neglected to mention Olav’s close encounter with a grizzly bear in Yellowstone Park. He was riding fast down a hill when he saw a large vehicle with a camper stopped on the road ahead. He passed the vehicle on the left. Just as he came to the driver’s door, he saw a grizzly crossing the road in front of the vehicle. He said he was within five meters of the bear who paid no attention to him. I did not ask if he pooped his pants.

In case you are concerned about me, no worries; Mark who will be joining me soon usually takes the lead. Go Mark Go!

The Ordway Hotel was a good choice. The bed was comfy, the shower positively heavenly.

Breakfast was coffee and a cherry turnover. That’s pretty much what Ordway had to offer. Off I rode for 50 miles in the Arkansas River valley to Pueblo. (People in Missouri and Kansas pronounce it R Kansas. Coloradans say R Kansaw.) Mercifully I had a tailwind. And the road was either flat or slightly downhill.

The turnover was wearing off when I stopped to talk with Tony and Carrie, two eastbound riders. They were on their way from Denver to Bethesda, MD, almost certainly passing within a mile and a half of my house.

Tony, now a 62-year-old teacher, did the TransAm 36 years ago.

We parted ways and I made it to Boone and a rather poorly stocked convenience store. They had Gatorade, ice cream, and cheese and crackers. Gulp.

Of course , my snack messed my blood sugar all up and I rode like a drunk for a few miles. The last 6 miles into Pueblo was a bit of a shock. High speed traffic on a divided highway. People! Houses! Businesses! What happened to home on the range? In a strange contrast, my side of the road was briefly bordered by prairie dog habitat. As I rode along, they’d pop out of their holes and chirp.

I had a few things to do in Pueblo. First I needed a spare tube and a shot of air in my tires. I pulled into a curb cut to check the Google. Then I looked up. I was in front of a bike store! The same one I visited in 2019.

After that I went to an ATM. I’d nearly gone through $200 in cash since sometime in May.

A bike shop employee recommended the Shamrock Bar for lunch. Being a newly minted Irish citizen I couldn’t not go there. I had the green chili mac with bacon and an Irish Red brew. The plate of food was enormous. I have no shame; I ate it all.

Next I checked a hotel downtown for a room but it would have cost over $200. I reserved a room at the Baymont Inn three miles uptown. As it turns out, I booked the last room.

After checking in, I put a did a load of wash, everything but my rain pants and my torn t-shirt. After the wash I put the clothes in the dryer. It wouldn’t take my quarters. I complained to the manager. She refused to let me use the hotel dryer. She told me to take it to a laundromat. I reminded her that I was in a bike and that it was 95 degrees outside. She objected to the fact that I was upset.

After a few minutes of stewing, I used the Google to find a laundromat and rode there. A customer, obviously of modest means, pointed to a machine with 2 minutes of drying time left then added 75 cents to it. He wouldn’t let me pay him back. Laundromat karma’s gonna get you.

Tomorrow I’m heading further west, about 35 miles, to stay with a Warmshowers host. It’s supposed to be very hot but, as they say, it’s a dry heat. I will be gaining about 1,400 feet in elevation. Staying overnight at over 6,000 feet should help me acclimate.

Today was my first sighting of the Rockies. They are rather intimidating looking.

Tony and Carrie, two crazy kids on their way to Bethesda, MD
No more open range and mega farms. They got trees here!
Ice water and Irish Red. Hydration is important.

Miles today: 57. Tour miles: 1,159.5.

And I Thought It Was Me

One of the worst, most depressing experiences I have ever had on a bike, or for that matter off a bike, was hitting the wall on my first day climbing in the Colorado Rockies. The day started with 30 miles from Pueblo to Wetmore. In the process I climbed about 1,400 feet. It was a bit challenging but not too bad.

Between Wetmore and Westcliffe, however, was a 3,000 foot climb over what I learned today is something called Hardscrabble Pass. The Google says the distance is 15 miles but other accounts have it at 12 miles. Either way it is a relentless grade of between 6 and 8 percent for most of the way up.

Today I read an account of a bike tourist who did this ride in 2009. He describes having to stop every 1/10 of a mile to avoid going anaerobic. His legs kept tying up as he rode. With no experience at this sort of thing, I didn’t stop until I was completely unable to get a breath. At around 7,500 feet, I leaned over my bike gasping. (My asthma didn’t help a whole lot.)

Another rider broke the Pueblo to Westcliffe ride into two days. He referred to the pass as “the wall.” He took five hours to ride 15 miles over the top. And he walked three times.

After starting and stopping several times, I ended up walking the steepest part about half way between Wetmore and the pass. I felt humiliated, but these two journals assure me that my failure to ride nonstop over the pass had nothing to do with my fitness or age.

My ego feels better now.

No Name Tour: Day 23 – Let’s Ride over a Mountain, Not!

I began the day by riding to a WalMart north of Pueblo to buy supplies. Then I rode to the Post Office to mail something.

I was on the road pretty early, well before 8. The route began by wending me through a city park and some nice neighborhoods of modest, well kept single family homes. One of the homes was apparently owned by a whimsical artist.

I love the glasses

After my tour of Pueblo, I headed west on Highway 96. Again!

The terrain immediately switched to rocky desert. There was a two-mile hill leaving town that I didn’t pay attention to when planning the day. It wasn’t hard but, having not taken a day off in over three weeks, I felt like my legs were full of lead. Not a good sign.

Leaving Pueblo

About 25 miles into the day I was caught by Yoni Doron Peters who’s doing the Western Express with a friend whom he’s meeting in Canon City. He was loaded even lighter than Corey and Mark. How do they do it?

After 37 miles I met two men who were finishing up the Western Express Route. Jagdish and Steve told me of a place a mile ahead with water and bathrooms. Steve is ending his ride in Pueblo; Jagdish is headed for Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.

It turns out that they ran into Corey and Mark there! It’s located in the town of Wetmore where the Western Express and the TransAmerica Trail diverge.

Of course, Corey and Mark we’re gone by the time I arrived. I stayed about 15 minutes then rode out only to spot one of Jagdish and Steve’s riding partners, Warren. I told him about the bathrooms and water. He was all smiles having descended from over 9,000 feet in 14 miles. He said the hill would be no problem. I noted that all three riders in his group had mailed home lots of gear to shed weight.

Jagdish and Steve

Warren, all smiles.

I bid Warren goodbye and began the climb he had just flown down.

Since I was not acclimated to the thin mountain air I decided to take it easy. The scenery was beautiful, conifers and aspen trees all over the mountain slopes. I didn’t see much of it as I had my head down, grinding away.

After three miles of nonstop climbing my heart was racing so I stopped on the side of the road until it settled down. I did this again at 6 miles, 7 1/2 miles, 8 miles, and 8 1/2 miles.

A woman in an SUV rolled to a stop as she was coming down the mountain. She asked if I was okay and offered me water.

This hill was the hardest climb I’ve ever done. And 8 miles into a 14-mile climb my legs were kaput.

Rather than risk a heart attack or a crash from the extreme fatigue, I decide to swallow my pride and walk. And walk. And walk.

From time to time I got back on the bike but my legs were gone. At one point my right leg muscles went into a cramp whenever I pushed down on the pedal.

Walk. Walk. Ride. Walk. Walk.

I had allocated 3 hours for what I originally though was a 10-mile climb. Suffice it to say it took more like 4 hours.

An ascent as pretty as it is painful

14 Miles of Up

My problem was a combination of not enough rest, too much weight, not eating and drinking enough, and age.

At the top the road gently rolled. A storm approached blowing me all over the place. Then I reached the descent. Wind howling, Mule flying. I saw a curve ahead with a 40 mph warning sign. I looked down and saw 37 and rising on my speedometer. I tapped the brakes to keep me from shooting off the road into the scrub and rocks.

It’s hard not to admire the landscape as you zoom downhill. Dead ahead loomed the ominous snowy peaks of the Colorado Rockies. Getting over them will be brutal.

I rolled into Westcliffe and looked for a motel that Jagdish and Steve recommended. The Courtyard Country Inn is a funky place with rooms arrayed around an outdoor courtyard with fountains.

Mo, the co-owner greeted me, and told me that there were no vacancies and probably none in town.

She took pity on me since I looked like I was about to keel over. She asked the Air B&B next door if they had anything. Only a $200 room. Then she remembered that some friends had booked tonight and tomorrow at her motel but said they might not come tonight. She called them and, indeed, they weren’t coming tonight. So I got their room!

Mo says they of anybody cancels for tomorrow night, I can have their room. I hope so; I like this place. Otherwise I’ll ride to Salida and get a room there.

Miles today: 63.5

Tour miles: 1,432.5.

No Name Tour: Day 22 – We Approach the Rockies

It was a goof thing we grabbed the hotel last night as the pleasant forecast turned into a thunderstorm. The park where we would have camped was already wet from a sprinkler system. We fit 3 in a room with Corey sleeping in his sleeping bag on the floor.

The morning began with a quick bite in our room. When I retrieved my bike out of its hiding place I found that the front brake was grabbing. Mark worked on it for 30 minutes and got it functioning again.

We headed off into another light headwind. The forecast called for tailwinds. Just like last summer’s tour. Local weather forecasts out here are very unreliable.

The first 15 miles had us rolling through high desert.

Pretty arid out there

The air is dry making me constantly thirsty.

We rode 15 miles then turned south off-route to locate a proper breakfast in the town of Fowler. Sadly, the town eatery was closed so we settled for Subway.

After an ATM stop, we stayed off Route and headed toward Pueblo on US 50 (Arlington Boulevard and New York Avenue to my DC area friends). It was a busy truck route but the paved shoulder was about ten feet wide with a two foot rumble strip. We were safe but for someone pulling a horse trailer with his pickup. He swerved toward the shoulder as he passed me and earned the first bird flip of the tour.

The Mule broke 53,000 miles today

Approaching Pueblo we saw two super long unit (all one cargo) cold trains. The last few miles it felt like all the water in my body was evaporating.

Coal train headed east in the BNSF

Once in town I caught up with Mark and Corey who stopped at the Great Divide bike shop. I purchased some long fingered gloves for the mountain descents in the days ahead.

We were going to eat at a Mexican restaurant across the street but it had no windows and, therefore, no way for us to keep an eye on our bikes.

Must be pretty old

So I stopped a passing letter carrier and asked her about local eateries. She was incredibly helpful and sent us downtown. We ended up at Bingos, a hamburger joint. I had a cheese burger and fries and a vanilla shake that really hit the spot.

I noticed that once again my brakes were grabbing so we headed back to the bike shop. One of my brake pads in front was unevenly worn and gripping the rim. The back one was having troubles too. The mechanic fixed them both, I hope, for good.

While there he also replaced my chain and cassette (the gears in the back). My chain had stretched the length of a full link in two months. Corey’s chai was also worn but he had an unusual drivetrain. My chain cost $25; the chain the store had in stock for his bike cost $100. The owner offered it to Corey at a generous discount but Corey wouldn’t bite. He is mighty thrifty.

We rode a few blocks to a motel that I thought was gross. Cigarette butts everywhere. The laundry room smelled of mold. Cars in the parking area looked beat up. The room was nice and inexpensive. Corey and Mark has tried to hook up with a Warmshowers host but couldn’t close the deal do they took a room at the hotel. We said our goodbyes. They head north on the TransAm tomorrow. I head west in the Western Express.

I found a hotel north of town that is pretty nice. The only choice for dinner is the Mexican restaurant next store so that’s where dinner will be.

Tomorrow, assuming my bike behaves, I’m doing a climb over a 9,000 foot mountain. (I’m at around 4,700 feet now.) it should be challenging.

I am now a day ahead of schedule. I planned a rest day for Pueblo but I’m not particularly tired. I’ll save it for a bad weather day.

Many thanks to Mark and Corey for keeping me company. I’ll have to rethink solo touring after my experience with them. I wish them safe travels and great adventures through the Rockies and beyond.

Miles today: 57.5

Tour miles: 1369