At the Apex of the Never-Ending Story

I left the Pancake Patio Place with a fully digested stomach and felt as ready as I'd ever be to tackle Monarch Mountain. The climb would be around 5,000 feet. As I got off of the main street to bike upon a route made specifically for cyclists, I saw a deer standing right by the side of the road. At first, I thought it was one of those taxidermist jobs but as soon as I processed  this thought, the animal slowly turned its head as I got to within 10 ft. Just a few steps away, I noticed the deer's baby digging around in a bush nearby. It was a beautiful sight and my first thought was of Bambi. Yeah, Disney ran my childhood.

Eventually, up the road I departed onto the very busy Highway 50, which started the climb. I could see two bikers in the distance. Once again, the wild MS crew and I crossed paths. The two in the road were Harry and James.

James is a 19 year old route leader amongst three other leaders, who plan the places to camp, eat, ect. He's British and gets quoted quite often... because British accents are the best. He completed the TransAm last year self-supported but he met the MS organization on the first day and followed them the whole way. This year, he's just repaying the favor for their care. The kid is pretty incredible... and mightily altruistic.

Harry was a smoker with an apparently large beer belly when he began the trip. At age 55, you wouldn't notice any of that as he's certainly thinned out. He also has a hilarious sense of humor; characteristic of those old, grizzled drinkers you meet at the bar.

As I approached the two guys chatting, I sat awkwardly idle and listened. James looked toward me as Harry got ready to go.

"Watch this weighed down bastard still pass me on this climb", laughed Harry to James.

James looked over at me with concern and said, "Where are you sleeping tonight?"

In my usual fog of plans, I replied, "Beats me, just going until I'm tired."

"Monarch Campground is 3 miles from the top. Hang with us tonight."

I smiled and thanked him profusely. I secretly wanted to have some company up in the mountains but I couldn't help but feel like the black swan amongst all the MS guys. It's just kind of a funny situation but I've been getting a lot closer with all the members. Last night especially. Although I was quick to throw some of them under the bus at first glance for looking at the trip just as a cycling excursion, I've come to personally get to know everyone. They're all awesome people.

So, I left James and quickly caught up behind Harry. I was amped up. My legs were moving at a blistering pace and I was on a mission to prove I could conquer this mountain. I blew past Harry (I would later learn this pissed him off some) and heard a muffled, "Jesus Chr-" but the wind from breaking the speed barrier cut him off. A few miles down, I overtook three other MS cyclists. I was an animal possesed. 

Suddenly, I found myself only three miles from the camp after the 12 miles uphill. And also quite suddenly, I found myself struggling to catch my breath. The elevation was suffocating me. I would eventually make it to Monarch Campgrounds, where I was the first person there. Again, I felt slightly awkward to be the first one at a campground that wasn't even mine. I sat under a tree and started reading.

Harry and the three other cyclists would arrive forty five minutes later. The three cyclists were known as "the MLB" (Major League Bitches). Composed of all women over the age of 30, it was Mary (M), Laura (L), and Babs (B). They were awfully friendly and I got along with them just fine.

I took a nap.

When I awoke, most of the team had reached camp and the beers were happily being passed around as everyone recounted their climb. The night was absolutely wonderful. For starters, all the MS cyclists were ecstatic to see me in the camp, which surprised me and added to the euphoria of the evening. Also, Duncan and I have become very close friends. Secondly, I kind of came out of my shell and really felt like I got through to a lot of the members I hadn't really spoken to before. The morning reiterated this change of social status. In the morning, we would make the final 3-mile climb to Monarch Ridge.

A pancake breakfast was in store for everyone in the morning and again, I was treated like a special guest. Pancakes are the steroids of cycling, I believe. 

At 9 o'clock, everyone left together toward the top of the ridge. It was a relatively easy ride as I had expected much worse. At the top, there was a chairlift for $10 that took people 1,000 more feet for the true view. Well... Duncan and I mischeviously decided to hike it instead. We got Pete (6'5 bike mechanic) and Danny (Musical prodigy from NY who quit his computer job for the trip) to join our team. Emerie also was up for the challenge. We hiked to the top in 20 minutes, almost passing out from the altitude change several times. The climax had one of, if not the most breathtaking view I've seen yet. We all stayed up there for almost 2 hours, totally neglecting the rest of the day.

When we finally took the chairlift back down, everyone gathered at the rest stop, got coffee, and food and just talked with one another. This was a special occasion that I'd been missing out on. As I looked around the dining area, I felt a little bit of sadness that I would be leaving them shortly. They are a wonderful bunch  though... much more than just cyclists.

Everyone left the little rest stop until I was the last one left, slowly sipping on my coffee and reflecting. Again, James told me to stay with them tonight before leaving. What a guy, huh? So I sat and pondered, wondering what I was going to do. My planning becoming more and more fuddled with the more thought put into it. Eventually, I thought, "To hell with it, let's hit this downhill". 

And so I did.

The downhill was about 10 miles down but it was a very slow descent. It also didn't help that at such high speeds, I was now overwhelmed with anxiety at my slightly bulged back tire. It wasn't spinning flush and I couldn't empty my mind's contents of the possibly fatal scenario of tumbling off my bike on a blown tire. However, even if I had wanted to go faster; the wind was so intense that I don't think I ever went faster than 30.

Midway through the downhill, I ran into a big rig that had crashed on the road. At such altitudes, the entire mountain gets shut down to traffic. As I came closer to the wreckage, an overweight woman was emphatically yelling and waving for me to stop. With disc brakes, I stopped in less than 3 seconds, and I looked at her questionably because of the visible distress she had just shown at my "speed".

I passed the wreckage and continued on my well-earned downhill, still consumed by the anxiety of my tire. As the road began evening out and the terrain became balanced, the anxiety overtook me. I stopped by the side of the road to switch tire tubes. I inspected the rim to see if it was crooked, (it was hard to tell) then put on the new tube. No difference.

I pedaled onward, attempting to ignore the imperfect circle. It was a pleasant ride to Gunnison. The mountains are still all-encompassing but the road seems to neither go up or down. I stopped at a convenient store in Parlin, CO. There, I met a man by the name of Jack who was eager to talk while I felt like napping. I bought a soda and attempted to disengage myself from the social man. I told him I needed to eat because I was "out of it" and couldn't really follow his conversation. After I'd properly refueled, I went back inside to apologize and resume our conversation.

Jack was from Stanton, NJ; an area I'm not familiar with but we found common ground talking of the beach. He noted the crowd that overtakes the beaches in the summer has changed greatly. He talked about the pros and cons of Ipods, the wonder of Itunes, his enjoyment of music, and especially Colorado. Another cyclist came into the shop as I shook Jack's hand and thanked him for the snack. 

Gunnison came quickly after my rest stop. I stopped to take a picture (the panorama) when I saw the cyclist from Jack's shop coming by. He glanced over toward me, and as we made eye-contact, I jumped up and down, pumping my fist into the air to indicate I was rooting for him. He broke out in a wide smile and continued on. I followed closely behind him into town.

I've contacted James tonight about staying with the MS crew again and he was as cool as could be about it. Looks like I have another evening to spend with good friends. I like this trip.

The deer that I mistook for a stuffed corpse.

 The only picture I took of the climb.

This morning, the MS bikers and I gradually climbed those final 3 miles.

Emerie looking out at all we've biked... and hiked. I wish I could describe it... but I can't. Unbelievable view.

Ahh, this is a mantle piece right here. All the MS guys started talking about a team picture as I silently sunk down in the observation deck. It never occured to me to be in the picture. However, as everyone began shuffling toward the door, James called out to me, "Ralph! That means you too, buddy." A grin and warmth surfaced. I'm second from the left on the top row, mohawk blowing in the wind.

          On the road to Gunnison.