CTR...Who the hell knows what day it is.

Originally, I started writing these "days" up in terms of riding segments divided by sleep but then "day 4" turned out to be quite long. In addition, Heather says the early days (written not long after getting home) don't make a helluva lot of sense. So I don't know what to do at this point. This entry covers when I checked into a motel in Silverton, to when I made it to my wife. 

After eating mass quantities of food and freaking the bar staff out in Silverton, Kurt wanted to go take a nap in the grass somewhere and push on for the finish. I'd be lying if I said that this didn't bum me out. We had ridden together a long while and I was enjoying his company but I knew he wanted to get done and his time just didn't mesh with my mine. We said goodbye and I went to look for a hotel room. I found one and got out of my clothes and then looked into the mirror. I could not believe how badly I looked. My face was swollen. My thighs, knees, calves, ankles, and toes were huge. My knees reminded me of those on singlespeeders that I had seen in years past when riders weren't used to the climbing. In fact, Ian and another guy stopped by my room on their way to Molas and asked if I was riding single.   

Why the fuck had my tongue felt like it was on fire and bumpy for the last 2 days? I took this picture and sent it to Heather and she claimed they were stress sores. That made sense and I was glad to hear she didn't think it was Herpes. When I slide my tongue on my upper lip it felt like corn on the cob.

I made a few trips to the grocery store for food and drinks and demolished most of it. I organized gear. I  think I slept for about 3 hours but I couldn't say for sure. I know it wasn't more than that. I contemplated whether I should leave then (about 6 at night) or midnight, or 5 in the morning. I talked to several people about the plusses and minuses of each. I wanted to see Heather and I didn't wanna make picking me up a huge pain in the ass. I wanted her to see me arrive at the trailhead and I was planning on that taking 24 hours at this point. I wanted to try to have the best weather. There were many variables on my twisted mind and I didn't know the correct answer but as I thought about my options I began to see riders going past on their way out of town. I noticed many of them from a day or two prior and was a bit frustrated to see them leap frog me yet again. I started packing up but it wasn't until probably 9 or 9:30 that I left the room. I stood there with my hand on the door knob for 30 seconds thinking about my options. Do I leave now or do I leave in the morning? Then I pulled the door closed.

I took my time heading up 550 to Molas Pass. Once back on the trail, I was actually looking for a campsite where I thought some racers would be bivying around camp fires. I never saw them although, I thought I heard people quite often. I was amazed at how sketchy the trail was when I looked at it. In some spots it dropped right off the side of the mountain. Not sure if it really is that way but I learned quickly to not shine my headlamp off the trail. The night was full of weird things. I kept hearing dogs barking and people yelling and cows well....mooing. Even way above treeline I would hear these things. At one point, I think I was yelling back. I began to look behind me. I recall bivying up at one point because I simply could not keep my eyes open. I slept for 30 minutes maybe and was startled awake by what sounded like horse hooves galloping by. I quickly threw my bivy off me but there was nothing but darkness. And cold. I packed up and started riding again.

This is Blackhawk Pass. I remember being in really good spirits pushing up this because I had told Heather that when I got here to start heading down. I knew that soon I would see her.

I wasn't sure if she would recognize me but I was so excited to see her. It's odd how swollen my face is here. I could feel it becoming tighter.

This is looking down Blackhawk Pass. Sometime around here I was pushing my bike and looking at the ground and saw something in between all the faces. I stopped and took a few steps backwards. There it was. It was a small rock. It looked exactly like a heart. It wasn't flat on the backside but the front was and it was the exact shape of a heart. I reached down, picked it up and put it in my gastank bag. I was now more excited to see Heather. Even with my head down I just kept pushing. One step after another. Ignoring the multitude of blisters on my feet.

Most of the pictures I took here are beautiful and so are the ones that have been thrown up over on bikepacking dot net but I can't tell you anything about them. Sadly, I don't recall them at all.  All these years I have wanted to ride in the San Juans and I'm not even sure if I was really there.

I think this is in section 27. The miles barely came in this section. I would ride for 30 minutes and then toggle to the computer on my GPS and see that I had gained 3 tenths of a mile and be crushed. This went on for hours. I wanted nothing more than to quit. The only problem was that I had no clue where I was. There were times when I didn't know why I was even riding. What city was close by? Why the fuck had I not seen a road all day? Where was I yesterday? Where am I going? I saw a few people in this section but I don't know what they said to me. At one point I saw a kid in front of me riding uphill with shin guards on and strapped to the back of his backpack was a cow elk skull. When I passed him he said, "Hell yeah brah...cheers mate." This irritated me. The one thing I was convinced of was that Stefan (the person that came up with this whole idea) was fucking with me. Why was he having me ride in circles? I knew I had seen that same stump and that same rock at least a dozen times today. Was he somewhere sitting in a chair watching my SPOT and laughing his ass off? I think I even stopped to think about this once in a while. I would say, "I've met Stefan and ridden with him a few times. He didn't seem like a jerk." Then I would think, "Wait...Stefan didn't build the trail...he just came up with the dumb idea to ride it all in one effort." It was like Groundhog Day allllllll day. I'd swear I'd passed that rock hours ago and go right back into that same discussion with myself.

No idea where this piece of high alpine singletrack was.

Not sure where this was.

No clue.

Yeah.

Finally the miles creeped up to 17 or so. Where the fuck is Kennebec Road??!! At one point I came up on a guy and asked him where it was. He said, "Oh you'll get there." Ya think??!! Then I realized that to get to that road I would have to go over Kennebec Pass which would be above treeline. Those closing miles to section 27 put me deep in the hurt locker but I know I covered them very quickly. There was a storm moving in and I did not want to be above treeline so I was moving. Once I made it to the top I saw it. "Oh fuck." I knew of it and had seen pictures of it and knew we were going to ride it but had forgotten all about it. Indian Trail Ridge is a knife edge that drops off on both sides and a miscalculated step would see someone hurt at the very least. Possibly unaccounted for. I walked it all. Coming down off that is very technical. Then I thought I was going to have a 20 mile downhill on a road into whichever town I was heading towards and into the arms of my wife. Then I realized that it was a trail I would be going down. I seriously thought I was losing my mind.

I started in on the downhill and was making good time. There were a few instances where I would glance down at the GPS and not see a track and worry that I had blown a turn. I'd turn around and walk back up and find no turns and then see the track again. I'm still not sure if it was the track or me. At about mile 7 the trail crosses a nice bridge over Junction Creek. It was here that I stopped. I couldn't see a track on the GPS. I started to panic. I thought I was lost. I started to cry. I wanted to see Heather so badly. I was convinced I was lost. I decided to walk down the trail a bit more and saw the beautiful creek turn into a wash. I saw junked cars, and all kinds of shit piled up. I knew this couldn't be the Colorado Trail. I turned around and walked back up and past the bridge. This didn't feel right either. (Amazing to think that I had arrived at this spot in the trail and yet, neither direction was correct.) I stopped. I heard voices. I got off my bike and walked towards the creek. They were on the other side. I began yelling for help. They just kept talking. Never yelling back. I walked up to the brush at the edge of the creek. Yelling. "Why won't you fucking help me!!!" I could see people sitting in chairs. Then I realized they were tree stumps. I'm going insane! I walked back down the trail with my bike. I saw houses on the ridges above me. They had decks. On the decks were people. All looking down at me. None of it existed.

Finally I heard someone. I looked up on a ridge and saw a guy peering over wearing a helmet. He asked if I was a racer. Then he told me to stay put and he would come down. A few minutes later he came down with his friend. They looked familiar. He said they had seen me eating in a bar yesterday in Silverton. Yes!!! I did eat in a bar yesterday!!! They said I WAS on the Colorado Trail and headed towards Durango. I put my head in my hand and mumbled something about going crazy. They asked if I could ride and I said yes. We started making our way down the trail. Through the junked cars. They didn't say anything when I mentioned them. Several minutes later it started to pour and not long after that, the lightening came. We stopped to eat and put on layers. We were pushing up hill now and it seemed to take forever. I was still seeing and hearing things but I was not hysterical or in a state of panic. The two riders I was with were touring the route and now they began to try to communicate with each other without me knowing. I became almost insulted and told them not to play games with me and shoot me straight. The one said he thought I should press 911 on my SPOT. I said I disagreed because we were making headway and there was no way they were going to get into this area to get me anyways. I figured they would either run/walk/ride in and then deal with me. Eventually they talked me into it. But then we kept going and I don't think that's really how it's supposed to work.

Eventually we hit a downhill and it looked to go on until the end. I had been running the same brake pads since Denver and the mud was eating up what was left of them quickly. I stopped to adjust the brakes but soon, there was no more pad. Instead of fumbling around with a repair, I decided to jog with my bike. I was probably 8 miles out now and it was about this time that both of them told me to just keep going straight and everything would be fine. Then they left me. Within 20 minutes I was hysterical again. It was getting dark quickly. I felt like I was having a horribly bad acid trip. With the darkness, came increased hallucinations. At one point I saw something big and it's head moved in my direction. I looked down and away and kept walking. Every few steps I would look at it and it would still be staring at me. It scared the shit out of me. It wasn't until I was right up on it that it became a downed tree.

Soon I came to an intersection with another trail. It appeared to be marked well but I stood there for a long time before making my choice. A bit later and I came upon another intersection. I was in full on panic mode at this point. Screaming my wife's name. Screaming for help. Dodging things. I had no idea how close I was to the end but feared that my bike was slowing me down. I wanted to hide it. I walked back to the last intersection. I looked at the name of the trail. Then I walked about 40 yards off the trail and hid my bike in some scrub brush. I grabbed my GPS (although I no longer knew how to work it). I thought my phone was in my gastank bag but when I opened it up I couldn't find it. I got back on the trail and started running. I know I wasn't running very quickly because my legs were swollen and I had so many blisters on my feet. I was hyperventilating from panic. I didn't make it far when I fell on my knees sobbing. "I'm not gonna make it. What the fuck have I done?" I screamed at myself. "You fucking idiot!! You are going to give up EVERYTHING for this!!" None of this had been fair to Heather and now I thought I was going to lose her. Or her me. She deserved better. I made the decision to stop trying to find my way out. I thought my focus needed to shift on trying to come up with a way to survive the night. I knew I had a bivy that I could cut in half and make bigger and I wanted to be able to build a fire under it. I looked for trees and couldn't find anything that worked. It was still raining. I walked a bit further down the trail and saw these huge boulders. I started shining my light in between them. There was one spot on the side that faced the trail that was big enough for me to slip into. I thought I could cut the bivy in half and keep it in place on top of the boulders with big rocks and be sheltered from the rain. Then I found dry pine needles and leaves and sticks between the boulders and knew I could get a fire going. I was inside the space gathering things when I thought I heard something behind me.

I turned around and saw someone standing there with a bike. The bike had bags and the person was wearing rain gear. He asked if I was building a fire. I said yes. I also said that I was in trouble and asked that he please not leave me. I think he thought I was out of my mind and I begged again and told him who I was and that I was a racer. He looked at me and asked my name again. I told him. He said, "Chris I know you...we rode together a few times over the past several days. I'm the guy that broke my chain going up Fooses." I said, "Oh....I remember that! Please do not leave me Paul (Bosworth)!" He said he wouldn't. I told him what had happened but it all sounded so fucked up coming out of my mouth. I was worried he would leave me. He asked if I wanted to call my wife at the trailhead. He had one bar on his phone. I heard Heather's voice and started crying all over again. She said she was scared. She told me that Search and Rescue was waiting for me and had been getting organized. Paul told her that he had me and that he was going to walk me out.

A while later, we were met by a medic for Search and Rescue. His name was Leo. I told him I had seen him before. He asked me a few questions and we started hiking out. At one point Leo was telling Paul that he and I were going to exit at an earlier trailhead so that we could get to his vehicle. I think it was Paul that asked what kind of vehicle he had. Leo said he had a Honda Pilot with a roof rack. I asked if it was maroon in color. He said yes. I can't explain that at all. A short while later we made it to the trailhead. I will never forget seeing Heather. Days later she would tell me that she didn't even recognize me. Search and Rescue asked me more questions and determined that I did not need to go to the hospital but that I did need lots of rest, calories and liquids. Heather and I drove to a hotel and I screamed at her about nearly hitting so many people on the way. I told her how freaky this trail was and how many statues and ornaments were hanging in the trees. We got to the hotel. I tried to not look at anything. I just stared at the carpet but it had faces and skulls in it and they were terrifying. Once inside the room, I wanted to get undressed and get into the hot shower. Heather had to cut off my socks because my feet were so swollen. While she was doing that I told her that I hadn't noticed all the weird designs in them when I bought them. She said, "Your socks are black sweetie." I cried. After I showered, Heather went out to get me food. I laid on the couch wrapped in a towel. She came back with McDonalds. I remember taking a bite and being so tired that it would fall out of my mouth and the burger would fall out of my hand and hit the floor. Soda kept falling out of my mouth. Here I am right after getting into the hotel room.

Eventually I just wanted to get into bed. After a night of sleep, I heard Heather say my name and then she asked if I knew where I was. I looked around the hotel room and it took me a while to put things together. She said I cried and screamed all through the night. It was 10 in the morning. We talked about going to look for my bike. I said, "I can't wait for you to hike up there with me so you can see the gnomes and statues and stuff." She told me I had hallucinated all of it. I balled. We left to go get food. I had a cup of coffee, water, half a breakfast roll, 3 breakfast sandwiches, a smoothie, a muffin, and a cookie. I wanted my bike back. We went to Velorution Cycles to talk to Joey Ernst. I told him what happened and we looked over some maps. Heather said she didn't think I had a clue where my bike was but I knew I did. I told Joey about the intersection with the trail that began with an "H". He showed me the intersection and it was 4 miles in. He told me that the area was a really popular day hike and that he would be surprised if the bike was still there. We hauled ass up to the trailhead. I got out, put on my mountain bike shoes that were filled with dirt. I had no socks and knew that my feet would be seriously damaged after the hike but I didn't care. We started in. I wanted to jog it but Heather was frantic about me getting lost. I walked quickly but once out of sight I did jog and even ran at times. Sometimes I would start to cry. I passed one guy riding and he asked if I was ok. I kept going. I kept asking people, "How much farther to the switchbacks. How much farther to the boulders? How much farther to the first intersection?" After 30 minutes, I rounded a corner and saw the intersection with the Hoffheinz Trail. I stopped. I turned around and walked a bit back down and then looked to my right. There it was. I walked back into the brush.  All the stuff that had spilled out of my gastank bag was just as I had left it 12 hours earlier (including my new ipod that I had just bought before the trip). The ipod was broken. My Colorado Trail data book was soaked. Aside from having some food on it, the heart shaped rock that I found was still just fine.

I got everything together, dried my eyes again and started down the trail. It wasn't long before I ran into Heather and gave her a big hug. We stopped on the way down to get a picture of the boulders. We got the bike loaded up, the dog in the car and started heading home.

CTR Day 4 Part 2

I saw this while riding through Sargents Mesa and thought it was pretty cool. 

I made it through Sargents Mesa and rolled into Apple City at 2 in the morning to a bikepacking convention. There must have been 10 rigs laying there. It was bivy city. It was also freezing cold in that valley. I bet it was 30 degrees. I put my bivy out and crawled in and it was like laying on ice. I shivered uncontrollably. I got up and grabbed a camp chair and climbed into my bivy and sat in the chair so I wouldn't be laying on the un-insulated ground. It helped but only a little. At about 3 and with no sleep gained, I decided I was better off to ride. I left and made my way through the next 12 miles before hitting another detour. Even when the sun came up it was alarmingly cold out. In this picture I've now been up and riding for at least 24 hours now and you can see my eyes getting swollen. I now know this is one of the early signs of sleep deprivation.

This is part of the detour on the way to Dome Lake. In this picture I am only about 30 minutes away from where I quit in 2009.

No clue which direction this is looking towards but it's still on the way to Dome Lake. Once I got to Dome Lake, I organized my stuff again and kept pedaling. It was far too cold to try to sleep.

Not long after Dome Lake, my old buddy Kurt would catch up to me. He was actually staying at Apples when I rolled through. In this picture we are on a detour (La Garita I believe). This is about 60 miles of fire roads with a load of climbing thrown in at the end. Very beautiful in this area.

More detour.

This is still on the detour and after we had been climbing for a while and had many more climbing miles to go. I had gone up the road a bit in front of Kurt and another rider (Jeff?) that we met to stretch my legs a bit and look for a place to make a pitstop when I glanced to the left and saw this bull moose. It's the first moose I've seen in the wild. It was awesome. Wish I could have gotten closer.

After hours and hours of climbing, we finally made it to the start of the 30ish mile stretch of high alpine  riding in sections 22 and 23. I was terrified of these. There is very little cover if a storm whips up. Because of this, Kurt and I decided to knock it out at night. This picture was taken at around 6 p.m. while we were putting layers on.

You can see how faint the trail is up here. Navigating was much easier in the rockier terrain. Riding on this stuff was even difficult. Cairns are visible maybe every couple hundred yards or so and you basically leap frog from one to the other while usually pushing your bike.

 A look back from where we came.

More hardly visible trail. At night it's almost easier to shine your headlamp to the sides and use your peripheral vision to look for the shadow that gets cast down in the depression of the trail and follow it that way. An interesting thing about section 22 is that there is a South American herder (Peruvian I think) who has a flock of sheep in this area. Last I heard there were about 1700 sheep all together. He has a small camper that he lives in during the summer months. We rode right by his makeshift home.

I guess by now I was awake for about 36 hours and not feeling too terribly.

We actually rode into section 22 for 8 miles and camped in a nice little grove of trees that offered good protection. We made it there at about 8 and our plan was to start at 10. I tried to fall asleep and take a nap but I couldn't. I organized gear and checked my bike over until about 9:30 when I convinced Kurt that we should head out.

Much of the rest of the this night and the next day is a blur to me. This is when I began to notice problems so I'm sure that Kurt was seeing a difference in me earlier in the day. Some of the terrain was very technical and I'm lucky I didn't fall off and hurt myself. Here on the GPS you can see we had covered 12 miles in about 3.5 hours and topped out just over 13k. I led most of the way through these sections and would stop frequently to shine my lamp and look at things. At one point, I saw a white animal above us. It appeared to be following us as we moved along the ridge. I shined my light a bit further above and saw maybe a thousand pairs of eyes looking back down at us. Kurt said, "Elk". I said, "Nope...sheep....and the white thing is one of the dogs." Then if we listened we could hear the bell on the lead sheep as they moved about. It was really neat.

Not long after seeing the sheep is when I began to really have problems. I was no longer able to ride in a straight line. I constantly weaved and would hit the sides of the trough of the trail that exists up there and get hung up and sometimes even crash. It was very hard for me to clip into my pedals. Sometimes I could get one in and then fall over trying to get the other foot in. Everything was moving (almost like the sensation you get when you're dizzy). I began to see faces in rocks that littered the trail. As much as I would shake my head or rub my eyes, they still appeared. Rocks began to move. Sometimes I would stop and tell Kurt to look at the Mountain Goats. Kurt would just tell me those were just white rocks. I think we even lightly argued about it once in a while. I think I recall seeing more Moose in a high alpine lake. At one point, Kurt suggested that we bivy up and get some sleep. As tired as I was, I kept feeling bugs crawl all over me and they kept me awake. We lay there for maybe 45 minutes before moving on but I didn't sleep. Kurt was so supportive. Always telling me how great I was doing. Always telling me how proud he was of me. Always telling me we were going to make it.

Without a doubt, the hallucinations were worse at night so I was pretty happy to see the sun coming up again. I had no clue where I was or where we were heading to. Sometimes I had no clue why I was riding my bike. I remember, at one point, telling Kurt that I had this overwhelming sense of deja vu. I had seen all these trails before. I think I asked Kurt if we had ridden these together. Of course we had not and I had never been in this area before.

It was almost like we were riding on another planet. How the fuck did all these Cairns get here?

I've wanted to ride the San Juans for years. These pictures are the only memory I have of them.

This is one of my favorite pictures.

It's steeper than it looks. I know that towards the end of 23 I began to get irritable with Kurt. It was here that I began to have the sensation that I was lost. Kurt didn't know where the fuck we were. I think I asked him constantly how much farther to the end? I am so sorry Kurt.

After pushing to the top of each mountain, there would be endless more visible.

I saw this on top of one Cairn.

After what seemed like an eternity, we finally made it to Stony Creek Pass. Or at least that's what Kurt told me. We had to push up to the top of the Pass and then ride a downhill into Silverton that lasted forever. My arms and wrists have never hurt so badly. My feet were numb from standing up on the way down. We made it into Silverton and wanted to eat. We found a bar and were told that all the power in the town was out but that we could help ourselves to what was left over at the breakfast buffet. We went over to see eggs, sausage, bacon, all kinds of fruit, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, etc. I got some of everything. I got a beer, orange juice, coffee, water, Coke and ate like a savage.

I kept looking at the bartender. Finally I said, "How do we know each other?" She said we didn't. "No...we do. Have you ever been to Woodland Park or Colorado Springs?" She said she had not. "She's lying," I told Kurt. "Why are you being untruthful to me?" I think Kurt told me to settle down. At least a dozen more people passed by and I recognized all of them and told Kurt. I knew all the people walking by the window. It felt like some big game. 

CTR Day 4

I had not hung my food the night before and I woke to a startle wondering if the noise I thought I had heard was a bear getting into my food. I popped out of my bivy only to see another rider steadily going past. It was 6 in the morning and the air was super crisp. I went over and grabbed some food and ate breakfast and then broke things down and got moving. Soon I caught the rider who had slid past in the early morning. As I made my way towards highway 50, I found this sign taped to a tree. 

I kept moving, crossed highway 50, and started the long slog up Fooses Creek. Not far into the climb, I found 2 riders. One was Paul Bosworth and the other was Dan Hickstein. Dan was ITTing the route from Durango to Denver. I rode with Dan most of the day at the Salida Big Friggin' Loop a few months prior. For that race we both rode rigid Salsa El Mar singlespeeds. I was amazed to see he was still riding the same rig. He appeared in good spirits. Paul had broken a chain and Dan had helped him fix it right before I arrived. We all got moving again and Dan laughed and said, "Hey...enjoy these next few sections!" I think I told him to fuck off.

The climb up Fooses tops out at 12k and change again as you go over Marshal Pass. Another storm was brewing so I was in another hurry to get up and over and back in the safety of the trees before the lightening started. I did snap a fee pics up there.

Once on top of Marshal, you are actually exposed for a good bit of trail and then you climb a bit more before dropping down.

I have no clue if this picture was even taken in the area of Marshal Pass nor do I have any idea why I don't have a helmet on. There are times when I will take it off for really long climbs but I don't think this was one of them. Anyways...I'm including it because I think I still look normal.

You can see here that this section is actually relatively flat but still really exposed and those clouds are thinking of something evil.

I think this was looking east on top of the pass.

Right after Marshal Pass you enter an area that is typically very dry so it's important to not miss that last water re-supply. There is supposed to be a piped spring on the backside of Marshal Pass but I missed it. I made it to the end of the section with hardly any water left and very pissed off. I drink a lot of water. For this race I had a 2 liter bladder in my pack, 2 bottles and a collapsable 1 liter bottle as well. I was planning on having them all full for the next few sections.

A storm rolled in and I bivied for a bit but it blew over quickly and hardly dropped any rain. Not more than an hour later, I saw where there was supposed to be a creek (Silver Creek) about .3 mile off route and knew I had to go. I left my bike and went down the mountain to where I could see green brush. It was scarce but I was able to get enough to fill my bladder. On the way out another storm came in and this one was more determined and had me running up the mountain to where I had left my bike at a small stand of trees. I got in the center of them and bivied again. I was miserable. "Fuck this. I'm going to do the same thing I did in 2009. I'm gonna hit 114 and take it all the way into Gunnison." I was planning my route when all of a sudden a rider appeared. It was BC Paul. I yelled at him and he smiled and came into my little tree fort. We ate food and talked a bit and he said I wasn't quitting.

I liked riding with Paul so I agreed to go a bit further. I could bail after Sargents just as easily. Paul was traveling really light. No bivy. Hopping from hotel to hotel. He intended to simply push through the long stretch day and night because of his sleeping system choice. Kinda like me. We made our way through the next section which sucks unless you have a motorcycle. We hit Tank 7 Creek and I told Paul that we were now about to enter the fabled Sargents Mesa stretch. I've seen it bring riders to their knees. It can be truly be soul crushing. For whatever reason, I was looking forward to it this year.

Paul was frustrated at the amount of pushing right away. I told him to chill because we had another 17 miles of this to go. It sounds unbelievable. 20 miles of pushing your bike. It's not steep. It's just rocky. Maybe 8 miles in, Paul put his bike down and said he was quitting. "You can't quit here dude. You have to get to the end of the section to hit 114."  He said he was going to cook up a hot meal and then take his time and get out and then head to Gunny. He didn't wanna push his bike anymore. "I'll hang out with you then because it's not safe to leave anyone out here." "Don't be silly. I've been in much worse conditions than this." I knew Paul had attempted Tour Divide twice and done some serious rides around the world (one of them across Africa). He appeared to have his wits about him but was just tired of pushing. We argued about it for a bit and then I gave him water to drink and to cook his meal with and headed off.

CTR Day 3

I got moving relatively early this day and made my way into downtown Leadville. I stopped for a coffee and a muffin. I stopped to say hello to Brian at Cycles of Life. Then I left town and started making my way up Halfmoon Creek Road. In 2008 I camped right along Halfmoon Creek with 2 other guys. In reality we were really fast touring the route but it was so much fun. We had gotten giant Fosters beers and sat there laughing and eating and drinking beer after setting up camp with daylight left. I past that spot and grinned. 

I got back on the CT and started heading towards Twin Lakes. I could see fresh tire tracks so I knew there was at least one rider up the trail. Maybe an hour or two later I caught BC Paul and another rider I had not seen yet. We rode together all the way to Twin Lakes. I had to stop to filter water from the reservoir and they went ahead. After I got going again I started catching several riders. Once I hit the fire road at Clear Creek Reservoir I had reeled in BC Paul one more time. We rode the detour into Buena Vista together and talked about food. Last night we talked about pizza but today we wanted chicken sandwiches and burgers with fries. I knew of a bar so we headed that way. 

After eating, Paul wanted to go to a bike shop but I needed to hit City Market and shop for supplies. With what I hoped would be enough food to see me to Silverton, I got back on my bike and started heading up Cottonwood Pass. I made it to the drive in theater and all hell broke loose up by the hot springs. I am terrified of lightning so I turned right around and hauled ass back to town and hid in a bathroom for about an hour or so. Once things cleared, I shoved off again. I made it to Mount Princeton Hot Springs and a room sounded lovely so I went in to ask but they were booked. Up to this point I really wasn't having any fun at all. I decided to sit in the bar and drink Coke and water. I called my wife who informed me that my SPOT was not tracking correctly. She was very worried about me going into the next 200 mile remote stretch with a "spotty" SPOT. I was prepared to bail right there and go find a room in Salida but...a reset found it working fine. At about midnight I left and rode several miles before finding a bivy spot and laying down for the night. It was the first night where I could see the stars. I watched them for a while before drifting off to sleep. 

CTR Day 2

Day 2 started off with me grabbing breakfast from the hotel I stayed at and feeling like climbing back into bed instead of riding. But I figured I'd at least try to head over to Copper Mountain and see how things felt. I knew it was going to be a rough morning because right off the bat I had to climb up the 10 Mile Range (12,000ish) which meant about 3 hours total moving time to Copper. On the way up I met Ian from Durango, Dominic from Poncha Springs, and Paul from Beaver Creek. Paul was crushing it and Ian and Dominic came by as I was 1.5 miles below the summit and getting ready to rip it back down to Breck and find a bar. Dominic is the one that convinced me to keep climbing so I did. Once above tree line, I started seeing lots of people pushing up the switchbacks. One of those people was my friend Kurt. 

Once over the top I started the descent to Copper and found Kurt and about 4 others at the gas station. Soon there was about 12 of us there. We ate, talked and I considered bailing. Kurt wasn't having it. I think he told me to harden the fuck up and then insulted me. So I said what would become a trend over the next week. "I might as well pedal a bit towards X and see what happens." Just going through the motions. Having very little fun. I left Copper first but then almost immediately found my climbing legs. I passed one rider (Paul Bosworth) a few miles up the 12k climb from Copper to Searle and then Kokomo Pass and then caught Paul from Beaver Creek near the top. This is looking down the valley as I climbed up Searle. Paul Bosworth is somewhere down there in the trees. 

This is looking east towards 10 Mile Range and the backside of Breckenridge. Weather was an issue almost daily this year and the storms were rough.

Well above tree line I began to see loads of Marmots on the rocks. At one point, I was pushing with my head down and when I looked up to take a rest, this little guy was in the middle of the trail and about 6 feet from my front tire. I whistled at him and he waddled right on over. Then he bit my front tire. I screamed hoping that he didn't puncture the sidewall. Luckily he did not but then he waddled closer to me and then bit my left toe. I went after him with the intent of making a neck warmer and he ran for the rocks.  

BC Paul and I went over Searle together and then started towards Kokomo and Elk Ridge. This is on the way.

Eventually we were dropping down towards Camp Hale on the raging and long descent. Paul was a wonderful downhiller while I tend to take my time when in the middle of nowhere. We hooked up again at the bottom. This is Camp Hale. I lost Paul here because some blond headed gal was waiting and he stopped to chat it up with her. I think he knew her but he was pretty smooth so he might not have.

I pushed on by myself and eventually climbed up Tennessee Pass and knocked out about 10 miles of trail before another storm moved in. I had 2 more miles of trail to get through before starting a detour. I Stopped to put on rain gear yet again and started riding in the slop. Soon I popped out on a fire road which leads to a highway which leads to Leadville. It was 9 when I hit the pavement and I was hauling to make it into town as fast as possible. I got a room at the first hotel I saw, and ran across the street to order a pizza and then came back to the room to stuff my face, dry off and get warm. This was the earliest night I had. It rained hard through the night and I was so stoked to be in a warm bed with the heater cranked.

CTR Day 1

Disclaimer: I think this write up is going to be a bit different than in years past. Kinda like most of the ride, I feel like I'm just going through the motions. The stuff that truly matters and impacted me didn't happen until the last hours before the trail ended. 

Like in years past, we stayed at my friend Scott and Kim's house the night before which is maybe a half a mile from the start at Waterton Canyon. It's super convenient and we appreciate you letting us do so. The morning started at about 4:30 with coffee and a big breakfast and going through last minute things. It is amazing what you can forget at the last minute for something as stressful as this. I know people who have forgotten everything from arm warmers to their credit card. Luckily, I had all my ducks in a row and just needed to throw a leg over the bike and pedal. At 5:30, I did just that. As I left the neighborhood the sun was just starting to come up and it was beautiful so I stopped to take a picture of it.    

When I arrived at the trailhead, the riders meeting was going on so I walked over to hear what was being said. The crowd was big but something seemed different this year. It felt more relaxed. Two minutes to the start. I went back over to Heather and the dogs to say one more goodbye and then I got on my bike. Stefan yelled, "Go!" and a small group started making their way out of the parking lot. I gave Heather one last kiss and petted each dog one more time and took off. In years past the group was really tight during the 6 mile neutral start but this year there were riders stretched out as far as you could see. I was watching the South Platte cut its way through the canyon and thinking about all of the trout that I have not caught in the last several years while chasing this trail. I was looking all around that morning. I saw fresh bear scat on the side of the road. Not too much further, I noticed this black bear on the far bank. It was enjoying some berries and I stopped to watch and take a few pictures. This was real.

I started pedaling again and right away had an old friend join me. This is my buddy Kurt. We first met in 2009 on this trail just outside of Breckenridge and rode together until Copper Mountain before he pulled the plug. Kurt's a good guy and I was happy to be riding with someone I knew.

My biggest mistake every time I've tried this race is that I chase riders that are faster than me and don't ride my own race. I was very confident that I could avoid that this year and the test would come right away. Segments 1, 2, and 3 were pretty normal and my pace was the same as it had been all year during training rides so I knew I was doing a good job of riding my race. Just outside of Bailey, the first storms came. Once in a while I would have to take refuge under some trees on the side of 285 but I still made pretty good time up to Kenosha. Kurt and I continued on to Georgia Pass with him on my wheel. As the miles ticked off, I ended up losing Kurt and wouldn't see him the rest of the day. Near the top of Georgia, a nasty storm was brewing and I pushed very hard to get up and over. There was a huge white cooler at the summit filled with soda but with lightning popping off all around me, I just rode on by and wanted to get down in the trees as quickly as possible. It was miserable. I was cold, and soaked and not having that much fun. Eventually I stopped under some trees that offered a dry spot and wondered what to do. The trail was a mess and the rocks and roots were extremely slippery.

It was probably 5 or 6 and I knew I had another 6 to get to highway 9 in Breckenridge. I pushed on. I made it to the highway at about midnight. Never before had I made it that far on day one. I was thrilled to be out there. Really.

At the last minute before the race, I decided to change up my sleeping system. I swapped out bivy's to a heavier Gore Tex model, and got rid of the sleeping bag in favor of an emergency bivy. This would prove to be a huge mistake and I knew it was a gamble that would possibly make sleeping at night impossible and force to me to ride through the nights and sleep during the warmth of day. I did not think this decision would be life threatening. Merely uncomfortable. Because of this, I decided to grab a room in Breck that night. I got in, ate some food, took a hot shower, talked to my wife and went to bed. I remember being extremely emotional. I kept thinking about how selfish this thing had been over the years and all the time it had taken away from Heather. I questioned whether or not I was a good husband. Whether or not she deserved someone better. I just wanted to be home with my wife and dogs. Like always, Heather calmed me down. I Drifted off to sleep feeling intimidated about the big climbs I would face right away in the morning.