Day 20: Ft. Collins, CO to Laramie, WY

I’ve decided to call this day "The Climb". I could call it the "Windy Climb" or maybe even"The Gusty Climb", but "The Climb" just flows smoother. Unlike what we did on our bikes today.

Got up at 6 AM, sleeping in an hour since the team was divided across three hotels and our room was the central meeting place, and hence I got to wait for everybody else to show up first. Packed and headed downstairs to the continental breakfast. Ate some waffles, pastries and the like. Kind of meandered about waiting for people to get moving. Finally headed out just before 8 AM, way too late I think.

But on the other hand the team knew that it was "only" 65 miles to the next city so maybe we were feeling like it would be an easy day. Ahh, naivety. We knew that Laramie was about 2,500 feet higher, but we figured that really wasn’t too bad considering we had 65 miles to do it in. After all, all of our other climbs had been fairly gradual. We had also been told that the state line was about 30 to 35 miles away, a good racing distance for those dedicated to racing.

So we headed out, staying together as a team until the highway intersection at the city limits. But almost immediately the racers took off. Channing, Brett, Mario, Brenna, Chris, and myself were the principal people who pushed for the line. Brian and Nick Weaver are usually sprinting as well, but they were the drivers for the day so that eliminated some competition.

Channing took off so fast that nobody was going to catch him. I let most of the people pass me up as I got my legs warmed up, but still kept a faster cadence than the rest of the team. It wasn’t too long before I couldn’t see anybody behind me and the people in front of me were starting to pull away so I started accelerating. About ten miles into the sprint I saw the first rest stop, but blew by it since I still had plenty of water. I also knew (or thought I knew) that the border was only another 20 miles or so.

So I pedaled on and started passing people up on the uphill climbs. I seem to always lose ground on the downhill sections since the taller, heavier people have more potential energy, but on the uphill sections (especially the really steep ones) I can gain tremendous ground. There were plenty of these steep sections so within about 5 miles of passing the first sprinter I was in second place. I held it for a good long time and raced along.

I came up on the second rest stop and thought about stopping since I only had half a water bottle left, but I asked Nick Weaver how much further and he thought it was about ten miles. I figured I could handle that so I zipped by. But in my head I heard a little warning that said I should probably have stopped.

We hit some downhill sections and only moderate uphill sections and it wasn’t too long before Brett and Mario were on my back wheel. I wasn’t really aiming for second place, only a top five finish so I let up a little bit so I didn’t kill myself for the rest of the day and they slowly pulled away. Shortly thereafter we rounded a curve and into a valley we were hit by fierce gust of wind. I went from a steady 22 mph uphill to about 10 mph going downhill. The nice thing about seeing so much headwind is that at some level you get used to it. It doesn’t make you much faster, but it’s not as demoralizing (it still is a little bit).

So we headed on, now with a headwind and we made our way through the valley. It was a pretty steady pattern; on the uphill I would close in on Brett and Mario and everywhere else they would pull away. After a few miles of this we hit a long stretch of fairly flat ground and they pulled away permanently, leaving me in fourth place. But I figured the state line was only a few miles away so I didn’t think it was a big deal.

I came up over a high hill expecting to see the sign, but instead saw another large hill. So I would climb that one sure that the state line would be right over the ridge. But it wouldn’t be. I did this for about five large hills, each about a mile or so long and quite steep. And each time I would be surprised, disappointed, and a little confused when all I saw was another long steep hill. By this time I was out of water and was feeling quite hungry. I had gone close to all out for over 30 miles over mountainous terrain without stopping so I was ready to take a little break.

Just when I was getting ready to call Nick Weaver and ask him if he could help me out, he pulled in front of me and pulled over. I was very grateful to see him and had no problems pulling over and conceding time to whomever was behind me. When I talked to him he said that it was more like 40 to 45 miles to the state line from Ft. Collins, which meant an extra ten to fifteen miles over the big hills. And maybe ten miles doesn’t sound like a lot, but with a stiff headwind and steep hills it becomes pretty tough.

So I filled up on cookies and fruits, filled up the water bottles and headed out again with nobody in sight behind me. Climbed a very long hill, I’d guess about two miles and the wind picked up even more. I’d venture that it was the stiffest wind I’d ever faced and wouldn’t have been surprised if it was 15 knots or higher. But even with bigger hills and faster winds than the day into Buffalo, Oklahoma I felt like this wasn’t nearly as demoralizing.

When I finally made it to the top of the hill I saw a short steep downhill and then the steepest hill in front of me that I think I’ve ever seen. I stopped to take a picture of it since I knew I was about to conquer something quite sizable. The road bent around a curve so I couldn’t see how far it went, but I guessed it was about a mile. I could also see the construction was going on below and cars were lined up for miles.

After snapping the pictures, I coasted down the hill, never making it over 15 mph due to the wind. Kind of a bummer since a hill like that with no headwind could send me to 40 mph. Started up the hill and my speed dropped to about 6 mph. So even though the state line was only ten miles away, at my rate I could take an hour and a half or so to make the distance. But with a steep hill and a stiff headwind you start hitting a realistic effort limit. Specifically, the drag increases with the wind’s squared relative velocity. (so 10 mph would be like 100 times the coefficients while 20 mph is 400 times the coefficients) Or in other words you can work really, really hard and not make much more progress than if you work hard.

So I worked hard and was satisfied. I started passing up the line of cars at my paltry 6 to 9 mph as the 4 lane highway was reduced to one lane that was shared by both directions of traffic. One direction was allowed to move for a short time and then the other would go and so on. The positive side effect for us was that there wasn’t anything of any importance happening on the other 3 lanes so I had a lot of room to move around on the road.

I made it the bend that had masked how far the hill was and found that it kept going on around another bend. So I made it to that bend and saw that it went further to another bend. And so I worked hard to make it the bend and, surprise, there was another bend. And another and another. At 6 to 9 mph. Chris Liu later said that (according to his odometer) the hill was over ten miles long. Ouch. Mario’s GPS said that we climbed about 3,400 feet since the beginning of the day. Ouch.

Kept going up the hill not knowing any of this, not feeling bad at all, just knowing that it was going to be a while until I made it to the state line. The whole time I kept thinking that surely this hill must end around the next bend. It happened so many times that it became hilarious. When I’d make it the bend and see another I’d start whooping and hollering and I’d stand up in my pedals and start sprinting the first part of the way. Good times.

Came across one of the construction workers while I was going along and he asked me how I was doing. I think he thought he was being funny, but at the same time he seemed pretty sociable. So I told him that I was climbing a steep hill with a stiff headwind at a high altitude, but other than that I was doing great. He laughed and said that we were over 6,000 feet up and that there was another 1,000 feet of vertical to go. First, the fact that I was able to have this conversation should indicate how slow I was going. Second, it occurred to me that we were going to climb higher than the elevation of Laramie and then descend from the mountain pass into it. You'd think I wasn't in charge of planning the route.

But onward and forward. After about an hour or so of climbing along at my steady, comfortable pace I came across a state run rest stop. Not only did it offer the chance to stretch a little bit, it also promised historical information and a map of the area so I’d know exactly what to expect for the rest of the journey. So I pulled over and read all about the area and some of the characters that developed the area and the supporting trails. While I was enjoying all of this I saw Brenna pass me up, putting me in fifth place. But I didn’t care since I suspected the next person back was at least 30 minutes away.

Checked out the map and saw another three miles or so ahead of me. Got back on the bike and made my way up, always climbing. But plugged away and not too much longer I at long last saw the fabled state line. Cruised in and saw that a hundred feet in front of the line was another historical marker. Sigh. Pulled over and checked it out anyways. Another rock saying that it was a trail marker and it was put there by such and such historical society. That’s twice now a rock has got me at the state line.

Pulled into fifth anyway and promptly plopped myself down on the ground. Found that Channing had been there for over an hour already and that Brett and Mario were there for 30 minutes or so and that Brenna had been there for less than five minutes. Started eating and expected that we’d see people showing up in a little while. Leah and Chris showed up about 30 minutes later, but an hour later nobody else had shown up.

Mario started getting impatient and wanted to start going again. Brett was leaning towards going as well. Managed to buy some time hoping for a group picture at the state line, but nobody. So we took a picture with the group that was there and Brett and Mario took off. Chris and Leah left shortly thereafter.

I stayed hoping to see what happened to the group. Almost two hours later nobody else had shown up and we were starting to get worried. Thirty minutes is funny, but two hours is not. Finally, though, just as we were getting on bikes to move on so the van could go back, people came around the bend.

Turned out that the wind and hills had taken its toll on a lot of the team and that at the last rest stop they had rested for over an hour. Took another group photo after relaxing with the team and sharing stories. Soon after the photo, Brenna and I headed out together with about 27 miles left to go according to the sign. But the state line was not at the top of the hill. That would be too easy. Instead the hill kept going on and on around bend after bend. It almost seemed like the workers had purposely taken the road to the highest point possible.

On the other hand, the view was absolutely gorgeous. And we all had a lot of time to appreciate it at our slow pace. They say that one of the signs of hypoxia is that colors seem more vibrant. I must have been oxygen deficient because the view was so vibrantly colorful. Going up most of the hill the terrain consisted of large green fields of short grasses dotted with dark green, but stunted trees. There were very large tan boulders piled one on top of the other forming odd and artistic formations. As a backdrop, there were large purple mountain majesties with snow capped peaks. Gorgeous.

As we neared the crest of the hill (finally) we were above the tree line so everything was green, rolling fields as far as I could see. And off in the distance were those purple mountain majesties. At the very top of the hill you could see way into the valley and it was breathtaking. Absolutely stunning. The mountainsides seemed to sweep in from every side to form the valley. There was a railroad curving along the valley wall and the highway glinted in the sun. Various livestock dotted the green fields and in the distance I could see a rainstorm blanket the valley. I shouldn't tell you this, but I found that if I took my hands off the bike, and lifted my arms up horizontal, then lifted my chin so I couldn't see the bike or road, then it was like I was gliding down into the valley. It was an incredible experience.

Brenna and I made our way down into the valley, the headwind robbing us of what could have been a spectacularly fast descent. But even still we picked up to more than 25 mph. A nice reward after going uphill for so, so, so long. With the rain in the distance my motivation increased and I dropped the pedals hard and fast. We seemed to narrowly avoid each rain cell with me only counting four raindrops splashing against my arms. Along the way we raced against trains, which seemed to come every 20 minutes or so.

We cruised into town, went through some fairly dangerous construction areas and then through quiet neighborhoods. Pulled up to the town recreation center, hopped off the bikes and waited for the rest of the team. As always, it’s been so nice to have a great roof over our head and welcoming hands to greet us.

Round about 6:00 or so, Channing’s uncle hosted a dinner over at the local nursing home. Pasta, salads, breads and all the nice touches like parmesan cheese. So delicious. And then to top it off they made homemade ice cream. There is always room for homemade ice cream.

Headed back to the center and watched the Spurs take the NBA championship (my home team). Woohoo!

It seems that the day is almost two days sometimes. Or what I’m trying to say is that we ride the bikes in the early morning to the afternoon, then relax and maybe take a nap. Then we have another six to eight hours to fill, which we often do by spending time with our terrific hosts. Other times we’ll head to the local pub for dessert and such. A few times we’ll have an opportunity to check out a local museum or the town park. But in general the time seems so disjointed from the experience of riding through the countryside that the day doesn’t seem continuous. It’s an interesting phenomenon that the team has discussed on several occasions.