I guess he'd rather be in Colorado

Some of you may consider John Denver that sappy '70s guy but hey, if you've ever spent any time in Colorado with your eyes open, the title of the song speaks for itself. Especially when it comes to cycling. First of all, I've recently been in touch with the author of one of my favorite books, Road Biking Colorado: The Statewide Guide. Michael Seeberg is as cool, and as pumped about life and cycling in his state, as his prose suggests. The photo included with this post (near the top of Trail Ridge Road) is one of a few that he took for the book that he was generous enough to share with me. Having actually e-mailed this man and received a response is one of the highlights of, at least, my cycling life.

Seeberg is the man who exclaimed about Rist Canyon, "Near the top, you'll ride 12-percent grades!" As it turns out cyclists are invited to join the exclamation June 21-22 on the Ride de Rist, which is for everyone from pros to, well, dorks. The idea of being able to wheelsuck my way up Rist Canyon is remarkably compelling. Instead I will probably spend those days crunching my way through the hinterlands of Chatham County not far from my current home. My Rist ride will most likely wait until September.

As much as I enjoy and respect Rist Canyon, Independence Pass is a whole other kettle of fish. Independence Pass peaks at more than 12,000 feet and is one of the few (shit, maybe the only) roads that I'm scared to drive dry and in the light. I've gone over Trail Ridge Road (even confiding to some that I had "crushed it" and I plan to go over again during this year's annual Colorado Cycletacular), which Seeberg rates as even more difficult than Independence Pass, but I still believe Independence Pass takes more rider than I can offer. But here we have video of people apparently cheerfully racing up. Note the depth of the snow on the roadside and that most of the guys you see are in shorts. No doubt it's a ride that'll warm you up. Fun fact about Seeberg: he's gone over Independence Pass "some 50 or 60 times." Talk about separating the sheep from the goats.

Annual Colorado Cycletacular set

This year's event will be a little bit later, Sept. 12 through Sept. 20, than it has been the past few summers. That way I make sure that I avoid all of the airport nonsense that will be involved with the Democratic convention, among other things. Tourist traffic should also be significantly reduced by that time. On the preliminary agenda for this year are a reprise of Trail Ridge Road through Rocky Mountain National Park and perhaps two climbs of Rist Canyon. I'm hoping the weather holds.

I really wasn't making it up

Some of you may recall that I ranted last summer about the habits of younger cyclists in Fort Collins, the northern outpost of the Cycling Riviera. Now Colorado State University concedes, based on a graduate student's research, that there is substance to my hopelessly antediluvian outlook. Only 9 percent of student commuters are wearing helmets? That's even lower than I expected.

Guess what? "As for the reason why students only wear their helmets for certain purposes, [pyschology doctoral student Itsumi] Kakefuda suspects a number of factors. She believes students hold a sense of invincibility as well as the perception that injury is less likely close to home."

Imagine my surprise at these findings. On the other hand, I suppose I should tone down the sarcasm, since someone has collected data to support my observations — and demonstrated that I was right all along.

Cycletacular posts now photographically enhanced!

Several of the posts from the cycletacular now have pictures. See the view from the Horsetooth overlook, the entrance to Carter Valley Campground, and Rob and Luke, the friends who shared road and mountain bikes (and shoes) up Rist Canyon.

Hygiene

I didn't realize until today that Hygiene sits at a critical junction of the Cycling Riviera. I just thought I'd picked about the perfect destination for a 100K victory ride. Located about 33 miles south of Fort Collins, it's the town that announces that if you keep pedalling you'll soon arrive in Boulder, Colorado's two-wheel Monte Carlo. Even though there are plenty of Litespeeds and high-end Treks up here in Fort Collins, the closer Boulder looms the more Looks and Times and Pinarellos show up. I expect going to a bike shop in Boulder is like scoping the parking lot at the Casino.

I caught a couple of Pinarellos a few miles outside of Hygiene who had been dogging it on the hills. So what if they were on their small rings. That group passed me at a stop light and hammered out the last couple of miles to arrive at a bait store and cycle shop about 30 seconds ahead of me. As I enjoyed my frozen strawberry bar, I noticed hot-shit bikes at every other business, including the grocery store across the street, the coffee shop on another corner and a bike shop across the street from where I stopped. They were beautiful bikes, all heading south and west toward Boulder. My suspicion though is that many of the people on these bikes are posers. The frustrating thing is not being able to recognize the real deal when I see it -- and I'd bet I have.

The ride back to Fort Collins was fast, somewhere around 20 mph. My mission complete, I was glad to get back to my end of the Cote d'Azur. It's also good to know that if I need energy gel and night crawlers in Hygiene, even if can't sort out my fellow shoppers, I know where to go.

Return to Rist Canyon

Two years ago Rist Canyon kicked my ass. It kicked my ass again today but not quite as hard.

Nobody goes into Rist Canyon without wanting to. Rist Canyon ascends about 3,000 feet over about 12 miles. When I got here last week it was not on my intinerary. It was on my avoid-at-all-costs list. I considered returning to Estes Park today (it's hard to spend too much time at the omphalos) but I decided I wanted something closer to Fort Collins. Given the relative ease of the trip to Estes Park (only a few hundred yards on the smaller ring), I thought Rist Canyon would be a worthy, and maybe too much of a, challenge.

When I rode Rist Canyon in 2005 I did nearly the entire ride on the smallest, 30-tooth ring, of the three rings my bike had at the time. I don't have a 30-tooth ring anymore, just a 39- and a 53-, and teeth matter. Basically, the fewer teeth on a ring -- the rings are the things with teeth that pull the chain and to which the pedals are connected -- the easier it is to pedal, just not as far and not as fast as using the bigger rings (to learn more about this, check out sheldonbrown.com).


I used the big ring for the first couple of miles out of Bellvue. By the time I met up with Rob (right) and Luke (guys, if you're reading, let me know if I got the spellings right), I had been on the 39-tooth for a while. What blew my mind about these guys is that they were riding a road bike and a mountain bike. They'd agreed to switch shoes and bikes every two miles. When I met them they were still friends even though they had at least three switches left. I hope they were able to cope, and stay hydrated, after they found the Rist Canyon Volunteer Fire Department locked up tight.

There's no humiliation in taking a breather at any point in Rist Canyon. Look for the flattest uphill spot so it's easier to start once you're ready. I enjoyed the scenery, even when it wasn't scenic, in several locations. And I kept ascending.

Michael Seeberg writes of Rist Canyon in "Road Biking Colorado: The Statewide Guide," "Near the top, you'll ride 12-percent grades!" That exclamation provides only so much excitement when you're the one on that grade. Nevertheless, a mile or so from the top, a woman descending in a vintage Toyota slowed to tell me, "You're almost there!" I hadn't been so heartened since leaving Rob and Luke, or maybe since I got out of bed. Ten minutes later, I was looking at the Mummy Range, 50 miles to the west.

After a few moments I started the descent. Based on the elevations provided in Seeberg's book, it's about 700 feet down in about a mile. My high speed, I think, was over 49 mph (the speedometer, which records a sustained speed, clocked in at 48.6) but I couldn't see well because my eyes were being blown shut. Whatever speed I attained, it occurred while coasting. I braked only lightly until the last quarter mile or so, when I had to squeeze hard to avoid going into the traffic on Stove Prairie Road.

I broke 40 several times on Stove Prairie and might have been able to approach 50 except for the cattle guards (it's open range -- no livestock fencing -- for several miles), which were a real buzzkill.

My reward, beside the experience: the last popsicle at Carter Valley Campground.

Why can't I do this at home?

Today I rode to Estes Park. All in all, it was about 25 miles up, 25 miles down and 45 miles rolling or flattish. And I rode it a lot harder, especially up, than last year. So here's my question, especially for any of you folks who know anything about conditioning: why is it that my last two rides of similar distance in North Carolina nearly left me for dead but I returned from this one fresh as a daisy? No doubt it is cooler and less humid here. I'm guessing that the weather helps keep me hydrated. Stopping for lunch (two slices of pizza and iced tea) probably didn't hurt either. But I don't get it. Let me hear your ideas.

By the way, I took U.S. 34 both ways. The high speed was just a hair under 39 mph. I did hit 45 mph yesterday coming down from Horsetooth. There was a lot of traffic and wind in the canyon today. The wind helped me on the way up and slowed me on the way down. I also learned that it's really not so bad to hug a granite wall in a two-foot wide patch of gravel when a semi is passing me on a curve.

Popsicle flavor of the day at Carter Valley Campground: tropical blend. There's one left in that box and I'm hoping it lasts long enough for me to get it.

Fort Collins: bubble town of the Bicycle-Friendly death wish

It's no surprise that a city with great bike facilities has lots -- shitloads actually -- of people who use them. Right on and in a huge way. Nevertheless, it blows my mind how utterly oblivious the huge majority of those riders are to risk. I announce my dorkishness, for instance, by being part of the minority who wear a helmet. Earphones and -buds are ubiquitous. Road signs are for chumps. Forget about any indication of directional change. Riding time is the perfect time for that involved phone chat. No need to watch traffic, including other riders, since bicycles here apparently operate in protective bubbles (not mentioned in the Bicycle Friendly Community commendation). Local authorities must not have been alerted to my arrival as my bubble hasn't shown up yet.

Confession time: I do not stop at every stop sign and I don't signal every time I'm required to. But I do slow down at every intersection and I do look. And I avoid not stopping when a car is approaching my bike perpendicularly.

I understand that many of the riders I see are older adolescents and young adults who are still invulnerable. But they do things on bicycles that even they would be embarrassed to do in a car (see above). I also understand that age does not necessarily confer maturity or judgment, yet it's not just the bezillion college students who remove their brains whenever they ride. It's people approaching my advanced age who are old enough to know they have something to lose.

Don't get me wrong: it is too cool that bikes are so heavily used here and catered to. The bike racks in my mom's apartment complex are jam packed. How great would it be for every place to embrace cycling so thoroughly, especially if riders reciprocated in a way that didn't make me worry about killing them.

Carter Valley Campground

I stop at this campground every time I go over Horsetooth. It's about 45 minutes southwest of the overlook above the reservoir, so it's perfectly situated as a rest stop. The office was closed Sunday so today was my first time in this year. What I appreciate most is the welcome I get. The proprietors greet me cheerfully whether I spend 50 cents or $50. On Sunday, a few miles to the north in Masonville, the owner of an "antique" shop told me to buy my beverage out of the machine outside instead of the cooler inside (I heard some really funny stories when I was a kid about vendors who make their own antiques). When I bought my mango popsicle(!) at the campground today, the owner told me where I could wash up and fill my water bottles -- for free. To boot, the men's room was surgically sterile. Not that I plan or want to perform surgery but it's nice to know it's there if I need it. If you're ever riding your bike on Larimer County Road 29 or driving your RV west of Loveland, stop here and spend money.

One other thing. At 4:44 p.m. EST, someone in Cary was my 1,000th visitor. I can tell that by looking at data provided by sitemeter. Thanks for reading.

The Lyons traverse

For all the mileage I get out of telling my North Carolina friends about how every ride out here is uphill balanced on the edge of an abyss, I'll confess immediately that was not the case today. In fact, today's ride from Fort Collins to Lyons was more or less flat. Really. Flatter than most of the rides I take around Wake and Chatham counties.

Not only that, the ride was a success. I wanted to see if I could make the trip without getting on U.S. 287, one of the main arteries connecting cities up and down the Front Range. County roads -- paved all the way -- got me south from Fort Collins to Colorado 66 (about 33 miles) through ranch and farm country. Lyons is about five miles farther west. I was particularly concerned that paved roads would turn to dirt once I left Larimer County and entered Boulder County.

Lyons is a strategic key because it's at the bottom of one of the mountain roads (abysses included), U.S. 36, that leads to Estes Park. Estes Park is about 20 miles northwest of Lyons. My big ride for this trip will be from Fort Collins west to Estes Park up U.S. 34 (another mountain road) and returning via Lyons instead of just turning around. I am still mulling the route because 1) U.S. 34 is a beautiful road both for its scenery and pavement, 2) I know every turn in it and 3) it offers the best opportunity for the entire cycletacular to break 50 mph (on the descent). Weather forecasts have me thinking Thursday or Friday will be the day, so I have several days to decide.

Horsetooth and points south and east are the likely destinations for tomorrow's chapter of the cycletacular. It should be similar to Sunday but include real climbing. Since it won't be a survival or reconnaissance ride, I may see if I can add some speed.

The Horsetooth kickoff or triumph on the big ring

It was an auspicious start for the cycletacular. No riding trip to Colorado can start correctly for this obsessive compulsive without going over Horsetooth Reservoir first. Horsetooth is about five miles from my mom's apartment and about 500 feet above it. The 500 feet occur over 7/10 of a mile. Then after a couple of miles down, another climb to the overlook. After one last descent, one last ascent. Then rollers for several miles meandering south. Anyway, the first time I rode this route two years ago I went over the reservoir and associated hills in my smallest gear (30/25) and wanted an even smaller one. Last year I badassed it and went over in the middle ring. This year it was the big ring, all 53 teeth of it, and my 21-tooth cog. Going 11 mph up the first hill was as good as going 50 mph. The pain breathing would be too much of a pain in the ass to describe. The other 50 miles were cake and included a foray into Berthoud, which I had skirted around previously. I have been to Berthoud before but only to experience an Estes Park Bobcat athletic team have its ass handed to it. This was better. Anyway, among the interesting things I saw along the route was a dead skunk in the middle of the road. Much to my surprise it did not stink to high heaven.

Yesterday, of course, was still part of the cycletacular even though it was spent off the bike. We went to Campion to determine the composition of County Line Road (the counties are Larimer and Weld; it is dirt) for possible inclusion in the Fort Collins-Lyons transit. Following the reconnaissance, we stopped by Lee's Cyclery for supplies (tube, CO2, gel, seat bag). Once outfitted I was ready to roll this morning. Many of you know that I do not take my gels for granted. Yesterday I picked up a new brand: Hammer. This is the shit (speaking metaphorically). The tropical flavor actually tasted sort of mangoish without the chalky pastiness that I've come to expect> Tomorrow's flavor is orange. Oh boy.

I wrote in the first cycletacular post that maps and pictures were coming. That's easier for me to promise on a Mac than on a PC. For some reason my Veloroutes maps won't save from this computer and Googlemaps requires too much mind reading on any machine. However, pictures should be forthcoming assuming the PC has something to interpret that type of data once I use up the disposable cameras I bought. My hope is still to provide you with stimulation beyond my prose.

Tomorrow's destination: it looks like Lyons.

Cycledork's annual Colorado cycletacular!

Yes, readers, it's that time again. Believe me, waiting a year was harder on me than it was on you. The bike and I arrived in Denver this morning and will be here in Fort Collins until Sept. 2. It's about 25 degrees cooler here than in the Triangle with about zip humidity. There are significant differences in the view as well.

After acclimating today and tomorrow we hit the road Sunday. That'll be the kickoff of seven cycling-, mileage-filled days. Though some routes are already planned (and in some cases mapped), questions remaining for the week include whether I can get it 500 miles. Daily posts, though, will reveal answers. Meanwhile I need to get a disposable camera (having forgotten the scientist's) so that I can accumulate visual evidence.