those would be the rockies...

At about 9:00 AM on July 24th the mist lifted and off in the distance I could see the Rocky Mountains ominously peering out of the clouds. Shocked -- I actually stopped pedaling, as they were absolutely enormous even at such a great distance. We proceeded to gain a few thousand feet in elevation before reaching Ft. Collins, Colorado where we spent an anxious evening at the foot of the mountains.

I know that there is a group of people that has had doubts about my ability to actually make it across the country, and I would say that when I saw the Rockies up close, I joined said group. We were told that over the next two days we would be climbing roughly 7,000 feet over about 41 miles. If you are interested in the math, that yields an average MPH of 6. Fortunately for us, climbing has its perks. However, the only one that comes to mind is the scenery. Yesterday, as everyone else pulled out of the church parking lot, I discovered that I had a flat tire. Usually I believe this to be the cyclist's equivalent to waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but yesterday it was about the only thing that really went wrong. At mile twenty we headed up (and I mean vertical) and climbed a canyon that had a river running all the way through it. I quickly reacquainted myself with my lowest gear and starting chugging along. I think we were all surprised at how different these mountains are from the Appalachians or Poconos. Some people suggest that we are better cyclists. I think that might be a part of it, but I also think that the civil engineers learned from their road planning mistakes out east and tried a new method which includes switchbacks.

The day ended fairly early in Estes Park where Dad, Aunt Nancy and Uncle Rick were visiting. Dad had suggested we do a little sightseeing so not really knowing where we were headed, I invited Carys and Carrie. Turns out, Dad wanted to see Trail Ridge Road (the highest paved road in the country and also our route for the next day). We all crammed into the Albertson's car and headed up and up and up. Needless to say, it put the three of us cyclists on edge. Reindeer greeted us at the summit and we entered the visitor's center only to use the bathrooms. Mostly, we kept laughing at the idea that we would actually be propelling ourselves up the same trail the next day.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep very well.

This morning came all too early. When I heard the wake up call, I rolled over and had another nightmare about the lack of shoulder on Trail Ridge Road. Once I was a bit more awake, I witnessed what seemed to be a bit of a Bike and Build fashion show. Everyday we wear the same jerseys and no one really owns more than a few pairs of shorts, so I was shocked when people started pulling out clothing that I had never before seen. The temperature this morning was pretty low, so people wore or packed anything they could find. My two favorite outfits included a flannel shirt and a purple hooded zip-up sweatshirt.

We finally hit the road at about 6:45 and were at the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park by 7:15. I posed for, what I believed to be, the last picture I'd ever be in and we started to climb. I don't know how many of you have biked the Rockies, but for me, I only thought about a few things. Those being: look how far the road goes, don't fall off the edge while evaluating the road, and why didn't I get a bike with more gears. Several times, I actually jammed my hands into my gears with the hope that I might just get lucky. No dice.

The story is half over when I say that we made it to the top. We lunched at more than two miles above sea level and even climbed by foot to the highest point to take a picture with the altitude sign. People were shocked to hear that we had biked to the top and one woman asked if we were a group training for the Olympics. I don't think she noticed the speed at which we were climbing...

The uphill was certainly a challenge, but the downhill was almost worth it. I cruised down at the speed of traffic and therefore felt entitled to the whole lane. In only half an hour I covered the same distance that I had covered in four hours on the uphill.

We arrived at the host location, a middle school, ready to shower and relax. Like I have said several times before, showering is a total wild card. A few nights ago, we stayed in Stoneham, CO. where there were 9 houses. The road connecting the highway to the town was actually dirt. Without hope of a shower, Carys threw caution to the wind and stuck her entire head into the sink only to realize that the water smelled like sulfur. This, however, didn't stop anyone. By the time I had washed my legs with WetWipes, there were people standing in the sink rinsing their entire bodies with the faucets. Other kids were outside with squirt-guns and bars of soap, and still others using their water bottles. Back to today, the host location, being a school has locker rooms equipped with what I call May-Pole showers. This means to say that there is a pole in the middle of the room with six faucets off of it (apparently this is what the boys have every day). It wouldn't have been bad, except that the water had about the same pressure as a leaky CamelBak. Everyone was apprehensive to lather up, imagining that the soap would never come off until the toilet flushed and water pressure was restored. After some strategic investigative work, we had one girl manning the toilets and sinks to rectify both the pressure and temperature problem.

Very soon I hope to put up some recent pictures (especially from today), but in the meantime you can visit Carys' blog which has most of our state sign pictures.