A Ride In the Woods

With apologies to Bill Bryson's beloved book "A Walk in the Woods" I humbly submit that right up there with a glorious stroll through Mother Nature is the chance to see her creations from the saddle of a mountain bike. I'm fortunate to spend a fair amount of time in the little town of Leadville, Colorado which offers extraordinary scenery as well as an abundance of ways to enjoy it on two wheels.

My wife is not a particular fan of mountain biking finding it sometimes physically and technically overwhelming to ride trails that routinely top elevations over 12,000 feet, grades of 15+ percent and sketchy descents that make you wish you'd brought a parachute.

Leadville hosts numerous challenging events through the summer, including the LT 100 MTB race that sees thousands of riders come to test their mettle riding hither and yon over some spectacular Rocky (emphasis on the rocky) Mountain terrain. This time of year the Leadville trails are still fairly quiet, especially mid-week and I truly love being able to enjoy them while not in a testosterone-induced frenzy. I've often wondered why there are not more organized mountain bike rides rather than races. I enjoy the chance to pit myself against my fellow competitors as much as the next guy (or gal) but slowing down to truly look around and smell the wild roses along the trail remain among my most cherished rides.

Last night I took a sunset ride along parts of the LT100 mountain bike and LT100 running routes but at a far more leisurely pace. For 24 miles I had the trail completely to myself. No cars, no people, just glorious trail leading me - no, pulling me, over the next rise in anticipation of what was around the next bend.

Mind you, to my wife's point, this wasn't the easiest of rides and I had to push, rather than ride, my two wheeled companion up some steep terrain but unlike in a race I made sure to stop and enjoy the views from the overlooks, to take in the contrast of the

green forest canopy against the blue Colorado sky, and take pictures to enjoy when the snows of winter come as I think back on this ride.

For those of you familiar with the Colorado high country you know that late June into July is the height of wildflower season and on last night's ride the sides of the trail were awash in the reds, whites, yellows, blues, and purples of thousands of flowers as far as the eye could see.

The LT100 mountain bike race doesn't happen until early August and sadly by the time those riders roll these same trails the flowers will be long gone. Perhaps that is just as well as who would even notice amidst the constant clamor of "On your left!". Dare to stop for 30 seconds to take a picture and a hundred riders would pass you by. But the images from this and other rides, taken at a far slower pace, are among those I'll cherish for a lifetime.

A little perspiration, a little inspiration...

When the temp hits 95 and the humidity feels like a Colorado thunderstorm and the asphalt stretches interminably into the hazy distance the perspiration flows more quickly than the passing miles beneath our wheels. Inevitably during any long tour there comes a challenging point where you question why you are out there, pounding the pedals, while the locals are all comfortably ensconced in the air-conditioned comfort of their homes and automobiles. Perhaps that's why fools like me, along with the several hundred other cyclists out here keeping me company, ride in the first place. To overcome those challenging moments. And for riders this week when the going gets tough they just have to look around for Sharon.

Sharon Roggenbuck is a lot of inspiration when the perspiration really starts to flow. 78 years young Sharon is a World Class triathlete who started swimming, biking, and running when she was 40. Since then she's amassed more than her share of podium finishes and is looking forward to the upcoming world's in Australia. When she first started tri'ing she did the swim segment sidestroke and borrowed one of her kid's bikes for the cycle portion.

My wife Sophie Chats
with Sharon

Sharon is ACSM (American College of Sports Medicine) certified as well as a spinning ang group exercise instructor. Still going strong on her titanium steed you'd best not dawdle lest you want to get left in Sharon's dust. And should (when...) that happen its the perfect chance to mix a little inspiration with that ever-present perspiration.

Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude

Jimmy Buffet knows his way around a song and his Changes in Latitude is no exception. Last year at this time we were on our way to Alaska having just made it to Dawson Creek which is the start of the Alaska Highway. Dawson Creek sits at 55 degrees North Latitude while Springfield, MO, where we spent the night two nights back, is at an almost tropical (just kidding) 37 degrees North. Since, for the math inclined out there, each degree of latitude is approximately 69 miles, that's a difference of some 1,240 miles. The difference in attitude, as Mr. Buffet points out, is considerably greater.

A year ago I had just retired from my employer, Pinnacol Assurance, and was anxious to hit the road after being a desk jockey for too many years.

In Dawson Creek this morning it's 50 degrees but 'down' here in Missouri it's a balmy 70 with temps heading towards the low 90's. As we had headed north through Wyoming and Montana last year we had seen a fair number of Trump/Pence signs and in a month we'd  be taking a picture for a couple of avid Trump supporters at the Artic Circle. Who knew then that in less than a year Mr. Trump would actually eke out a win and take office as President.

We had visited in Montana a World War II Japanese internment camp and I had contrasted that against Mr. Trump's demand to build a wall. While the physical wall on our southern border may never materialize, there are plenty of walls that have been erected between Americans. Used to be when a political party lost an election they'd huff and puff but then quiet down safe in the belief that in another election cycle their candidate would prevail as the American political pendulum inevitably swung back and forth. This time the wounds and divisions seem longer lasting and only time will tell if we can ever regain our balance as the UNITED States of America.

What's any of this have to do with heading South for a bike ride? Probably not much but as we've been riding now for two days, and I'm admittedly a little tired and cranky,  we've seen a lot of Trump posters still up down here so it drives home how much Mr. Trump, love him or hate him, has already changed the world. I hope he can help the country come back together. As Mr. Trump's predecessor, Abraham Lincoln, once said, a house divided cannot stand.

Our route is taking us through countryside adjacent to the New Madrid earthquake fault and last night we had a speaker tell us more about the massive quakes from 1811-12. His real message though was how unprepared the area is should a similar quake hit today. There are more than 50 million folks in harm's way. As much as Mr. Trump's victory jolted the political landscape even his historic win pales compared to what Mother Nature can do. And as the speaker pointed out, the New Madrid fault shifts in about 140 year cycles so the area we are riding through is overdue for the next big shake.

All this is too much to ponder for this tired cyclist. Today's 72 long, hot and windy miles ending in Paragould, Arkansas has plum tuckered me out. Now if I could only find that lost shaker of salt. Whoops, sorry Mr. Buffet, wrong song.

Off again...

Having been home from my Arizona and San Diego trip for a month or so my feet started itching for the road that beckons so it's off again. This time my wife Sophie and I are headed east, bike (tandem) in tow, to do the Ride the Fault Line bicycle tour. Over a week's worth of riding we'll pedal almost 400 miles in four states (Missouri, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Kentucky) along a route highlighting the New Madrid earthquake fault. I don't think California has a "Ride the San Andreas Fault" probably because they are still waiting on the 'big one' to hit. The New Madrid Fault is way ahead of the anxious dudes and dudettes out west as the midwest's 'big one' (actually a series of three quakes  - December 16, 1811, January 23, 1812, and January 23, 1812) happened more than a hundred years ago with magnitudes of 7.5 to 7.9 and they remain the most powerful quakes to hit the contiguous United States east of the Rocky Mountains in recorded history. They were named after the town of New Madrid which was close to the epicenter. New Madrid at the time was part of the Louisiana Purchase but now is in the great 'Show Me' state of Missouri. The quakes were felt over approximately 50,000 sq. miles while by comparison the 1906 San Francisco quake rumbled over about 6,200 sq. miles. Fortunately, since the Louisiana Purchase was still sparsely populated so few people were impacted. If the quakes had happened more recently, given the area's current population one can only imagine the damage they would do. Hopefully the folks at in Cali have to wait a long, long time for anything like them.

The Salina, KS KOA has aWizard of Oz theme

Of course to bike 400 miles over the course of 7 days we'll end up spending 6 days (3 coming, 3 going home) and driving almost 2,000 miles but for those of you who are cycling fanatics  you'd agree that was a fair exchange. We've been staying at KOA campgrounds, last night in Salina, KS and tonight in Springfield, MO. Both KOA's have been delightful but the Springfield campground is really, really nice and also far removed from the closest highway. As I'm writing this I'm sitting on a nice umbrella-covered patio by our cabin listening to birds chirp and flags flap. I'll take that any day compared to the roar of trucks rumbling down the road at 75 mph.

It doesn't get much more comfortable than this.... Wait, where's
The pool?

Tomorrow we'll be in Sikeston, MO where the ride begins and I'm looking forward to trading a car seat for a bike one. It's finally June which means 100 degree temps and almost equal humidity so this Colorado boy is going to be sweating like a pig. Several years ago we biked the Katy Trail which goes from Clinton, MO to St. Charles and I've never been so hot in all my days. Hopefully the Ride the Fault won't' outdo that but we'll soon find out!

Aah, that Midwest sense of humor... Cowabunga!