The 5th of July and The Half-Day That Followed

There were so many staggering changes today that totally contrasted everything I've seen since Missouri. I still have no idea how to acclimate myself. For starters, I'm no longer in a 100,000 person city like Pueblo, (which I do miss) I'm in between two very small mountain towns. Secondly, I climbed for half the day and it was hard. I feel like I trekked Everest, when in reality, I've only gained 1,200 or so ft. in altitude of the eventual 12,000. I've seen nothing but flat land for the past couple weeks. Thirdly, the mountains are absolutely teeming with wildlife. Fourth and final, it hasn't stopped raining since I entered the high elevation; a sharp contrast with the prairies experiencing their worst drought ever.

So this morning I had my Super 8 included breakfast, which I had been dreaming about since I checked in. It was the bee's knees. Afterward, I got my bike stuff together, and took my front tire off to make sure she was fit for action. She was. Then, I possibly may have damaged her attempting to pry the tire back onto the rim.

Also, on the night of the 4th of July, in a case of very bad decision-making, I bought a pack of cigarettes. I consumed my fair share of them. However, as I was reading my book called Brotherhood by Deepak and Sanjiv Chopra, one chapter spoke of how Deepak was attacking his stress with alcohol and smoking. Then, he took up meditation. I've been an on and off practicioner of meditation but it inspired me to kick the cigs in the face before I got hooked again. So, that morning, I left the half-empty case on the dresser.

Eventually, I left to hit Walmart to get some Clif bars before entering the mountains. I met a man outside by the name of Richard who was extremely political. The man had a silver unibrow with a handlebar moustache that hung half an inch past his chin. He had a large belly and stuggled to catch his breath while he spoke. We spoke (he spoke) for awhile about how he likes to listen to Rush Limbaugh to get the wide-right side of a story and then he'll listen to a guy from the wide-left. He talked to me about a few stories and political stuff he believed for awhile. He seemed like a lonely guy so I felt obliged to hear him out. After all, I was lonely too.

It was already early afternoon after Walmart so I thought I'd check out the Pueblo history muesum. It twas pretty cool, and I learned a lot. My favorite part of the day was taking the sceninc bicycle route that paralleled US 96 out of Pueblo and toward the Rocky Mountains. I followed the Arkansas River for 10-15 miles out of Pueblo and it was absolutely gorgeous. I realized it was one of the first times I was totally relaxed without any fear of a motor vehicle flying upon me at speeds in excess of 60 mph. I could dilly-dally along, admire the sights, sun, and river. I stopped midway through the path and meditated a little off the road in the woods. I felt renewed.

I got back onto 96 after the scenic route and the Rockies came into view. I was taken aback. After so much flatness for so long, these gigantic behemoths seemed to just spring out of nowhere.

The Pirates just so happened to be playing and I put them on my phone as I rode. It was quite pleasant. Soon enough, I got hit by the ominous black clouds that had been ahead of me making noise and thundering all day. The wind picked up a bunch and biking in the storm was nearly impossible. The rain never came down that hard but I was so frustrated by the goddamn gusts of wind.

After cycling for a long time toward the approaching mountains, I finally entered the base and into the town of Wetmore. I walked into the first restaurant that I saw. Inside, the place was much nicer and luxurious than I thought. I sat down by myself and had a conversation with the musician for the evening (live entertainment!) who's last name was Stiles. The only reason I remember that is because he spelled it out for me, at which point, I guess I realized he was kind of a big deal. I told him I was from Jersey and he said, "You didn't bike here from there though, right?" I cherished my response to the answer for the reaction. Maybe I am a godforsaken cyclist... nah.

After my spaghetti dinner, which was the cheapest thing on the menu, I got to cycling. I thought I would be bustling with energy but I was as lethargic as I'd ever been. I left the restaurant around 6 and decided to crash for the night around 745 as it got dark.

Last night was the first true night of stealth camping. As opposed to paying the nonsensical amount for plopping my tent down at a campground, I elected to choose my own location. Nestled in between two mountains, I ventured off the road and found the perfect place for my tent about 1/2 a mile from the road. I passed out around 9 and woke up at 9... I don't know why I was so tired.

This morning, I got all my stuff together and prepared for the grueling climb I had for myself. Maaann, it was grueling. The downhill wasn't that fast but it goes on for a very long time so I'm still about midway through that part in the town of Westcliffe, CO. At the very beginning of my downhill, the MS van passed me so I'll be running into those boys again. As I've said before though, I can't helped but get sucked into their race of the trail. I'm hanging out in the Westcliffe library right now, about to check out the history museum, and get a hot dog or something. I'm taking my time.

But, the mountains have a reclusive affect on a man and I am admittedly feeling lonely. I'm not about to allow that take away from the beauty I'm about to see. In fact, I'm going to use that feeling to reinforce the spectacles around me. I'll be home when I'll be home but for now, I need to enjoy these picturesque places that I may never see again.

There's likely spelling errors galore in here but I'm not spellchecking today. Also, I've barely had cell phone reception since I've entered the Rockies. Don't take a missed blog post to be my death, I just can't get around to it.

Peace.

Inside a re-created Native American tent inside the Pueblo Museum. The curators were extremely kind to me. Judy and Mary Ann were both emphatic about me signing their visitor's log. Also... on the 4th of July, Duncan shaved my head into a mohawk so I was a tad skeptical about how my social situations would go. So far its been great. I think people's first guess with the hairstyle is that I'm a troublemaker but after I've given a warm greeting and smile, they seem to really open up.

Graffiti was all over the walls of the Arkansas River. Since 1910, the river has moved about a quarter of a mile around the town of Pueblo. A terrible flood of 1921 led the residents to attempt to dig a path for the river to follow. So far... I guess its worked.

The Rockies

Before the Rockies came into view, I could already notice strong and rapid geological changes occuring in the terrain.

Today's ride, somehow out of chronological order. More mountains.

Off the road where I chose to set up camp, I passed a jawbone with the teeth still lodged in by the root.



Makes for a cool picture but not the moossttt fun climb. I was wondering if I had altitude sicknesss I was so dead. I'm sure the cigarettes hadn't helped my preparations though.



Another section of the Rockies coming into view just before Silver Cliff, and West Cliffe (elevation 9500).