DAY 25: MONARCH PASS!!!

194 km (120 miles) - total: 3586 km (2228 miles)

Canon City, Co to Gunnison, Co

Welcome to the defining moment of the trip.
I got it! I climbed the mountain! Today was by far the most satisfying day of my trip as I reached the highest point, the Great Divide! I knew I had a shot at the Monarch Pass today, I just needed a very long day to do it.

This morning I switched my mindframe. No more Mr. Nice guy, no longer a tourist, forget nice words, forget touring the US with the bicycle. Today I was a racer, today I wanted to gamble big, today it was do or die. No looking back, no bullshit, today it was pure adrenaline, a competition against myself dictated by the blind conviction that I will beat the road, I will beat myself, I will get where I want.

I was up at 5.45 when it was still pitch black outside. After going through my routine, breakfast and quick stretching exercises, I was on the road by 6.30 with the sun not out yet and the air still chilly. I could only hear my breath and the lulling sound of the tires rolling on the road surface. I left Canon City and I immediately began to climb. The road led to the mountains with a gentle but steady grade, it was a sort of warm-up for the big one later on. After 15 miles or so the road found its bearings into a beautiful canyon. I rolled through the first 50 km without worrying about speed, time, mileage or anything like that. The setting had me riveted, I kept looking around me at the scenic canyon, at the light, the colors, the details and, despite my intention to "be a racer" today, I kept stopping to take pictures. I have taken many and it was hard to select a few for today's report (take note of Highway 50 from Canon City to Salida, an enchanting ride that was). After a couple of hours, the canyon gradually widened and I found myself in a lush valley ringed by mountains and cattle and flowers. It vaguely reminded me of Switzerland. I kept a steady pace and before I knew it I entered Salida, the town where I had planned to spend the night. I reached Salida having cycled 95km and it wasn't even 11am, how could I stop? I stop to refuel on my energy intake, had some food and felt in superb shape so I studied the map and I set sights on a motel 12 miles from Salida, 6 miles before Monarch Pass. The climb to the pass from Salida is 18 miles long so I thought I could break that in two stages. Who was I kidding? The minute I got back on the bike, I stared at the mountain tops before me and adrenaline immediately began to pump in my veins. I reveled in the Colorado sun feeling free and happy. I was gonna forget about motels, miles, speed, time and weather conditions and I focused all my energies on reaching the Monarch Pass, from 7000ft at Salida to the 11312ft of the Pass, a pretty intense climb. The weather was ok, not perfect but not so nasty to hamper my ride. I just said to myself "freeze everything out and just focus on getting up there". Once I left Salida the air turned chilly and it was very breezy but I knew that on the climb the wind would subside as the mountains walls shielded the road from strong air currents. To be as light as possible I got rid of all the unnecessary items from my rucksack. In Salida I threw out a pair of socks my underwear and some power bars that I had bought in anticipation of a long day ahead. To go fast on a slope you have to be nimble, it is as simple as that so I got rid of all the unnecessary weight. I locked my gaze on the road and there I was on the climb, the bicycle wheels rolling gently on a steady white line and a few cars passing me by. The scenery was just incredible, mountainous and rugged, the more I climbed the less trees grew on the mountains around me. The road kept on going up, snaking through the mountains, surging steadily, winding, calm, silent, defiant. I tried not to look up too much, the sight of the steep grades could easily sap my energies and mess up my mind. I saw big trucks coming from the opposite direction in low gear which was a source of motivation. I was sweating a lot and the pace got slower as the grades got steeper. But I didn't want to stop. I wanted it to do it all in one go, I wanted to do it in style. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do the climb with 10kg on my back and many miles in my legs and still be as agile and elegant as I wanted to be. After it was my race! The road signs and the geography of the mountains were clear and telling, I was getting closer. At 2.10, after about 2 hours of slow grind I saw for the first time the Pass above me, a few turns away, maybe 400 feet, no more. I was getting tired and increasingly out of breath. Come on I said, actually I said come on many times on the 18-mile climb from Salida to the Pass. I talked, I whispered to myself, I imagined the moment I would see the pass, and how I would react at reaching it. I made one last effort to get up there, standing on the pedals, not feeling my rucksack anymore, sweat dripping down my face. My arms, legs light as a hound, I felt good, I felt beautiful, life made sense, all made sense, I got to the Pass teary-eyed but I could not actually let it out, at least not as I would have liked to, I don't know exactly how but maybe in some crazy theatrical way, it was all inside me, I could not shout it out, I just said to myself something like 'well done boy', I felt a bit stupid saying that actually! But I think I just may have reached the point of ecstasy! I knew I would have a memory to cherish forever. And it was all mine.

The experience of cycling to the Pass has been extremely poignant, certainly today has provided the most emotional moment of my trip. I had been thinking about this day for over 2 months and after so many doubts and uncertainties, after all that fear, fear of injuries and accidents, after the trip unfolding the way it did, the expectations, the pain, the obsession of getting to the Gran Canyon, the fear of failure, I managed not to be overwhelmed by it all. However silly, trivial or easy it might all be, it is my challenge and I am happy for it.

The fast ascent to 3448mt possibly caused me a slight headache but wasn't sure whether it was due to the altitude or lack of sleep - didn't get much sleep last night as I was too excited to ride to the Monarch Pass (actually I woke up at 3.15 and said to myself: let's go now!). On the Pass, which straddles on the Great Divide, I took the customary pictures by the sign and devoured 3 chocolate bars but I was keen to go down rapidly as I had a steep descent to deal with. The wind was really cold and by the time I began the descent I was literally shivering. My gear was soaked in sweat and I could not change so I had to go down as quickly as possible. The descent was incredibly tense as I had to cycle down the mountain for 9 miles on a single lane with cars and trucks behind me for most of the time as they had no road nor visibility to pass me. The gusts of wind made the back wheel of the bicycle skid a lot and I stopped a few times for fear of my brake pads melting and for the pain in my arms and the numbness in my fingers and toes. Descending took more out of me than the actual climb. After 14km I breathed a sigh of relief and I was glad to be back safely on flat terrain again. The scenery changed slightly as on the other side of the Pass land got drier and more rugged. My map confirmed that if I wanted a roof over my head tonight I had no choice but to ride on another 35 miles to the city of Gunnison. By that time it was almost 3pm, had covered 140km with the huge climb and had been on the bike since 6.30 am. So I dug deep and pressed on into a headwind of 15mph. I am not even gonna talk about the wind anymore, I am beyond frustrated, feels like I have been riding into headwinds for ever. The ride to the city was uneventful and felt very long but finally at 6pm, after almost 12 hours of cycling through the Rockies, I entered Gunnison a happy but exhausted man. My legs feel a bit heavy at the moment but after a good meal and a good night's sleep I will be back for more tomorrow.

Slight change of plans, tomorrow I am riding to Montrose and I will take a 20-mile detour to see the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, which as I have been told by a number of people that I bumped into in the past few days, it is really something worth seeing. I will spend the night in Montrose and then turn Southwest to make my way into Utah. Things are going my way, so it seems.

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Dedico la scalata del Monarch Pass ai miei cari nonni che domani 2 settembre festeggiano il 60esimo anniversario di matrimonio, nozze di diamante!


Leaving Canon City with the sun barely up


Early morning, my long shadow on the road


Entering the Blackhorn Sheep Canyon


The road snakes into the Bighorn Sheep Canyon


Bighorn Sheep Canyon


The peaceful and intimate Canyon


Arkansas river in the Canyon


Entering Salida


The steep road to the Monarch Pass


Total concentration on the way up


Up, up, up to the Pass


6 miles to go


On the Pass


The beginning of the descent from Monarch Pass


After a stressful descent from the Pass I am back on flat terrain


On the western side of the Great Divide land is more arid




Downtown Gunnison

DAY 24: Necessary stop

65 km (40 miles) - total: 3392 km (2107 miles)

Pueblo, Co to Canon City, Co

Since I had to wait for the bicycle store to open (9.30) I was able to sleep better without the usual frenzy of having to hit the road early. I also knew that it was going to be a short day so I was able to ride at a leisurely pace and enjoy the scenery which is really something as it opens up 360 degrees wide and colorful. I kept my eyes glued to the peaks in front of me, the road I cycled on today, highway 50, leads directly to the Rockies. It's funny how I went from wild excitement at barely making out the Rockies yesterday from afar to the same wild excitement at being right at their foot. And I cannot wait for the climb. I have thought about it the whole trip.

As I said, this was another short day due to the necessary checks on the bicycle. After the tune-up, I was able to leave Pueblo at around 11 and after three hours of easy cycling I reached Canon City, the last town before the Mountains. The wind picked up in the last 10 miles and at times it was as bad as on Saturday. I think I am not being very lucky with the wind as it has been my foe for 3 days on the trot. It is extremely frustrating because there is nothing I can do to fight the wind, it is a lost fray. Other than that, the ride to Canon City was smooth as I made my way through the rolling foothills of the Rockies inching ever close to the distant peaks. I had to cut my day short at 2pm, I feel like I have wasted two days but come to think of it I know I did the right thing as I needed the spare tubes. There are no bicycle stores until the very end of my trip so if something was to happen among the mountains I could be in serious trouble without the needed gear. And plus, my legs got a bit of extra rest time, even though I don't like to have too much rest as you drop your guard and get a bit sloppy.

The town of Canon City, at an elevation of 5332ft (1625 mt), is a very pretty urban centre nestled at the foothills of the mountains. In Pueblo, I could see the Rockies in the distance, but having traveled 35 miles West now I see the mountains right at the end of the town streets. The hills are arid and dry, peppered with small bushes. The wind keeps sweeping down the valley walls but it is nowhere near the intensity of Kansas. The heat is not too bad either, 84 today. The famous Royal Gorge Park is just a stone's throw away from Canon City, there is a train that takes you through the Canyon on the bridge deck which hangs 955 feet above the Arkansas River, which was the highest bridge in the world from 1929, the year it was built, until 2003. Canon City is also famous for being the location of 13 state and federal prisons. I actually rode past three of them on the way into town. The city has an historic downtown area around Main st, it was built in 1858 during the famous Pike's Peak Gold Rush which kicked into gear when the California Gold Rush dried up and didn't last very long.

So, today at dinner I kept thinking about how to take on the pass tomorrow, will I be able to get there before noon? Will I have to split the attempt into two stages? I can see myself pushing on those steep grades. I can taste my sweat and feel the pain already. Tomorrow is gonna be the biggest day of my trip. I will have an early night because I want to be on the road by 6.30 to beat the wind and the heat. If I won't make it all the way to the pass in a single day, I will have to stop in La Salida tomorrow night and then attack Monarch Pass on Wed. I am ready.



Colorado...wide open!


Highway 50 leads to the Mountains


Canon City


A security guard on the watchtower of one of the city's 13 correctional facilities


The Rockies right behind the city


Canon City, Main st at dusk

DAY 23: Rocky Mountains, beginning to climb

110 km (68 miles) - total: 3327 (2067 miles)

La Junta, Co to Pueblo, Co

While I have made considerable progress in the past 5 days, going the width of Kansas in 4 days, I am now stuck for at least one day. I am forced to stay an extra morning (or day) in Pueblo because today is Sunday and all the bicycle stores are closed. I need to have the bike serviced and I also need some additional tools before I can take on the Mountains. Which means that I will most certainly waste a day, which is good for my legs but I am running out of time. With 12 days left I am almost certain that I will not make it to the Gran Canyon, but hey! going all the way from DC to Colorado, right at the base of the Rockies in less than a month and possibly doing the Monarch Pass is quite an achievement.
Today I was able to put yesterday's troubles behind and, aided by a windless climate and an unabashed determination to get back to my normal pace, I zipped through the miles and reached Pueblo at 12pm. I felt 100% and could have easily reached Canon City or even one town farther into the Mountains but I need the bike in perfect conditions so Pueblo is a necessary stop.

Today has been an incredibly significant day because I have always considered the sigthing of the Rockies an important landmark for me. From the plains to the mountains. When I left this morning I knew it was only a matter of time before I could make out the high peaks in the horizon. Each village I went through had elevation listed on its 'welcome to' sign - it was a boost to see that I was climbing, proof that the anticipated mountains were getting closer. As soon as I left La Junta I started keeping a look out for the mountains and 22 km through today's stage they finally appeared. At first I thought I was seeing just another cloud on the horizon, but as I got closer I realized that the cloud was in fact the snowless cap of a distant mountain. Throughout the morning they became clearer, and more defined and I felt more and more fired up and flew down highway 50 to reach Pueblo, a town at the foothills of the Rockies. From here, either tomorrow afternoon or Tuesday morning, I will begin the climb that will take me 11000 ft high up the coveted Monarch Pass. The transAm trail cuts through the Rockies Northwest on an equally high but gentler climb through the Hoosier Pass. Instead of following the official bike route, I am making my own route. I want to go West on a straight line cutting the Mountains through the steeper Monarch Pass and then turn Southwest into Utah. Given the limited time that I have, it is certainly an ambitious plan but I will give it my best shot.

I am not sad at all to leave the high plains, they certainly are a beautiful setting to cycle in but they also provided me with the worst riding conditions I have ever experienced. I will never forget yesterday's stage, a punishing ride into the winds, a day of joy and pain that will stay with me for a long time.

I wish to mention that yesterday morning I rode through Holcomb, the hamlet where the brutal murder of the Clutter family took place in 1959. The facts were forever immortalized by Truman Capote in his masterpiece "In Cold Blood". The book took five years to research and write, the genius of Capote was to understand that the killings were far from ordinary but rather they signified the demise of the American dream and embodied the innocence and the banality of the American soul.

The real drama of America history unfolded right here where I am standing. Eastern Colorado is a region of historical significance. Many Indian wars were fought here, right here where I am staying the famous Cheyenne were exterminated and brutally killed in their hundreds. And more, much more. The slaughter of the bison took place on the high plains of Colorado and Kansas and of course the 'Dust Bowl'. The bison was at the very core of the Plains culture. The Indians hunted the bison and used every single part of it, from the meat to the hides, to the bones to the muscles fibers. Then the white settlers came and used only a minimal part of the bison and the rest was left to rot. By 1880 all the great beasts were exterminated, only a few remained. And the Dust Bowl was again induced by the stupidity and shortsightedness of white men. Initially, it was the bison that damaged the environment by trampling and compacting the sod but then men came and destroyed the deep grass and all the roots were gone. During droughts huge clouds of dirt from the dusty fields filled the air and some were so huge that darkened the skies of New York and Washington DC. In the Plains cities, street lights had to be turned on at noon. During the Depression, when the flow of migrants passed through the dusty Plains there was very little to grow and much less to eat. Men suffered from starvation and apathy and hopelessness. Many got sick and died.

While I rode on the Great Plains, while I fought through the winds, while I rejoiced at the unimaginable beauty of the High Plains, while I dreamt and wondered by the legendary Santa Fe Trail, I also paused to think about the hardship, the conquest, the loss, the drama, the killings, the extermination of many men which took place right here, right on these very fields which give me a long road ahead to follow.

For the record: In Pueblo I will briefly join the ACA route again before I part ways and head West to Utah. I am leaving the TransAmerica Trail for good tomorrow!


Holcomb


The city park dedicated to the Clutter family


A long freight train


The village of Manzanola


My first sighting of the Rocky Mountains, can you see the big dark shadow in the distance?


Mountains appearing on the horizon


The Rockies coming into focus


Getting closer...


...and closer!


10 miles east of Pueblo I almost run over this snake. On my trip I have seen at least twenty dead ones, but this one was well alive!


Entering Pueblo

DAY 22: COLORADO! ‘Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas any more’

198 km (123 miles) - total: 3217 km (1998 miles)

Garden City, Ks to La Junta, Co

What a day. I cannot believe I am now sitting on the bed in my motel room, writing the journal and almost laughing about it.
I don't even know where to begin. Everything happened today. The wind, I entered Colorado, my 6th state, I had my first flat tire, I took my first tumble (nothing serious, due to the wind), I entered the Mountain time zone (-2 hours from DC), I got stung by a bee, I broke my sunglasses, a bowling player gave me a lift for 8 miles before it got dark and I almost racked up 200 km. More? Despite the bad day I will come back for more in a few hours and tomorrow night I will be at foothills of the Rocky Mountains, eager to attack the Monarch Pass, 11312 ft - 3448 mt. I never thought I would make it this far this quickly. I am doing this trip on a clock so I knew that I could squeeze only a certain number of miles in before my deadline. But here I am in Colorado only 80 miles from the Rocky Mountains, I have 3200 km in my legs and I feel fine and I cannot wait to see the Rockies tomorrow. Even though I have begun a slow and steady ascent, today I was still riding on relatively flat terrain. La Junta is at 4066ft, which is the highest I have been so far on my trip. They all say that Kansas is flat but it actually isn't and that becomes apparent when you are cycling through it.

Today I knew I had a long day ahead and when I checked the weather report last night I thought I was doomed! It forecasted strong winds from southeast of 25-30 mph, which in other words meant almost unrideable. So I was up early trying to get a head start on the wind. I was up and it was still dark outside and I left Garden City with the first rays of sunshine streaking through the houses. Despite the early start, the wind was blowing strong already. I said to myself "stick to 20 km per hour and you'll get there in 10 hours, maybe 11 with the breaks". Easier said than done. I got through the first 60km ok but then a bit of tiredness set in, I dropped my guard and things began to happen. While riding along the highway my front wheel began to rock and when I touched it it was almost flat. I immediately got to work to change it. The road I was cycling on had no shoulder which meant I changed the tire almost on the grass lining the highway. I was in the middle of nowhere between villages. There was no service area or gas station nearby so I had no choice. The wind was so strong that it took me one hour to change the flat! I had two spare tubes and applying too much pressure with my hands I accidentally ripped the first one trying to get air into it. In a state of panic, getting increasingly tired and fighting to keep the bike standing upside down as the wind was constantly tipping it to the side, with a lot care I somehow managed to put on my second and last inner tube. Throughout the whole process, I kept the bicycle still between my knees and with my hands I changed the tire. I must have looked ridiculous, in the middle of nowhere, sweating like crazy, all dirty and anxious to get out of there, fixing the bike in the wind by the side of a long and lonely road. It took me a long time to get moving again, my hands and my shorts were all black and oily and I was pretty upset because of the wind that made what should have been an easy job a grueling operation. I soon realized that it was going to be one of those days when nothing goes to plan. When I was dealing with the tire and the wind and I was trying to keep the bicycle standing to put the wheel on, I said to myself: if I can get through this I can get through anything!

I got back on the bike and the wind was so strong that I could not ride straight. I managed to crawl into the next village, something like 5 run-down buildings and tumbleweeds and dust kicked up by gusts of wind and at the grocery store I was informed that today was the windiest day of the month. What a consolation! Probably blowing at 30-35 mph, the lady said. I waited for a few minutes but the clock was ticking and I was back on the road but again I had to stop several times because the wind would take off balance and almost knock me off. By that time my arms were pretty sore for holding on the handlebar so tight. Then the road turned Northwest for a few miles which was a reprieve with only a crosswind now, so I pushed hard and made up for lost time and rode strong to the Colorado sign which gave me a psychological boost. Entering a new time zone gifted me one hour so when I rode into Lamar, I was physically strained but with over 6 hours of daylight to spare my guts told me to carry on. When I left town I bumped into two cyclists, very nice guys, Juan and Pablo, Americans of Mexican origins, traveling from Montrose to New Mexico (is it?). If you are reading this please let me know how the ride went! When I told them that I was on my 22nd day from Washington DC they were really impressed, they said that it usually takes more than a month for riders on the TransAm to get this far. Their kind words were another needed boost to continue into what was becoming a full-on headwind. So I bode farewell and I set my sights on La Junta, still more than 30 miles away. After a few minutes I felt something burning in my shorts and I saw a bee stuck in them. By the time I picked it up it was too late, I had been stung. Just a couple of seconds after that, in a momentary lapse of concentration, a strong gust of wind knocked off my bike and I fell onto my right side, on the grass, causing my glasses to break. I yanked myself up as if there was a crowd of onlookers laughing at my clumsiness. While I was fine from the tumble my inner thigh was numb from the sting. I immediately removed the stinger and it felt absolutely fine in a matter of minutes. So I guess I was lucky. I think that adrenaline also took care of any physical pain. I checked to see if there was any damage to the bicycle and it all seemed in place so I got back on the bike cursing at the winds! By that time I was in open fields with no choice but to carry on. I pushed more and more on the pedals throwing down the gauntlet at the Gods of the winds. My obstinacy to tame the winds did not pay off this time because I was riding into a full headwind blowing with an intensity I had never experienced. I was getting more and more frustrated and to make things worse the sun was beginning to dip lower over the horizon and I didn't like the idea of getting stuck by the side of the road, in the middle of the desert at night with no food and only one waterbottle half-full. I pushed on riding into a strong headwind with gusts of crosswind, how is that possible?? I swear I had never seen such strong gusts of wind which made me stop several times for fear of falling again. The wind was so loud that I could barely hear the passing cars only 3 feet away from me. I got to 8 miles from La Junta pretty tired and increasingly upset. I knew I was gonna make it just before dusk, but it was gonna be very close and it was gonna take every ounce of energy out of me. At that point a truck stopped and the driver asked me if I wanted a lift to town. I got the bike in the back of the truck and rode with him the remaining 8 miles. His name is Jack, he plays bowling and works in a bowling alley. I told him about the Big Lebowsky and he laughed. He dropped me off at the hotel and I checked in way past 7 with a feeble sunlight but I knew I would have made it but those would have been the worst 8 miles of my life! I am glad this day is over! Tomorrow should be a shorter day, only 75 miles to Pueblo. So I can take the bike to the doc, buy some spare inner tubes, get some energy, and get ready for the big climb. Right into the Rockies. No messing about.



High grass bent by the wind


Flat tire


Me and the Colorado sign, a hopeful moment in a very eventful day


Hasty, Post office


The road looking East


With Juan


With Pablo, I hope you guys make it home real soon to see the grandkids!


Kit Carson..right!!


Downtown Lamar


Old locomotive at Lamar


Trees twisting, bending, surrendering to the wind


A house in Coolidge


Coolidge, a hamlet of five buildings


Beautiful Colorado sky