Day 41: Emmenez-moi au bout de la terre

Rest day in Colorado Springs, CO — 0 mi, 0 ft (optional: 9.6 mi, 1117 ft)

This morning was the first day we got the absolute privilege of waking up to a home cooked meal made by one of our families. It might have been the best breakfast I’ve had on this trip yet. Beautifully cooked omelettes with onion and cilantro and everything delicious, poha with cashews and sev, fresh berries, a mango smoothie, coffee. 

Last night we had made a game plan: get to the Pikes Peak entrance at noon, spend three hours on the drive up and down, leave for the Garden of the Gods at 4, and make it back to the airbnb in time for the World Cup quarterfinal at 7.

Inspired by the mountains surrounding Colorado Springs, and the fact that Coloradans are the fittest in the country, I decided to float the idea that we should go mountain biking. Drew and I have been meaning to this whole trip, and have been waiting for the perfect opportunity. We found this trail system in Red Rock Canyon, which by chance, was right across the street from the Garden of the Gods. This was perfect. A sign from the heavens, you could even say. 

We’d almost convinced Tatiana and Caroline to come join us, but they really wanted to see the godly rocks. Even so, I’m still working on converting them. I am in charge of the route after all…

After breakfast, we had to unpack the car to fit the bikes, take off the camper top so it wouldn’t blow away off of Pikes Peak, and just make every modification we can to the minivan so it was less janky. 

The mountain bikers (Drew and I), Caroline, and Nunu all decided to take the minivan, while Aarushi would drive with her family, and Tatiana with her grandparents. We all attempted to leave for Pikes Peak at the same time. But 10 minutes into the drive, our group ended up 3 miles ahead of the others, which translated into being 30 minutes ahead once we reached the top. Separated by the waves of traffic and time, I began to see the four of us as our own little subteam, conquering windy roads and miles of elevation to get to the top. 

I, for the first time, was put on aux. Since only half of the team was in the car with me, I felt less pressure to “curate the perfect vibe” or something like that. Caroline and Drew gave me French song recs, which we blasted for several minutes and tried to sing along to in our own French accents, all acquired from a varying number of years taking the language in high school. I then played songs by my favorite French artist, the wonderful Charles Aznavour. Every song of his is filled with so much emotion. Emmenez-moi might be my absolute favorite. So I played it for them. It’s about a longing to escape a monotonous life, to search for and find somewhere more colorful, more free.

Emmenez-moi au bout de la terre,

Emmenez-moi au pays des merveilles,

Il me semble que la misère serait moins pénible au soleil.

Or:

Carry me to the end of the Earth

Carry me to the wonders of other lands

It seems to to me that misery would be less painful in the sun

I do enjoy a song that yearns. 

After I serenaded them with the most beautiful French accent I’ve ever heard, I put on Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, the Beatles, Electric Light Orchestra, Paul Simon, Pink Floyd, etc. and tried to capture that “road trip into the mountains” feeling. At least what it’s like to me. 

Once we reached the tree line, the switch backs got serious. No guardrails, just trust in your driver and your breaks. Thankfully Drew is not a reckless driver, and we made it safely to the top. 

We got out of the car and set out for the edge of the peak. There were chunks of rock strewn about the top, probably relocated blasted bits from where the switchbacks were carved out (according to Caroline, I think it’s genius). I led them along what looked like a trail, which devolved into rock scrambling, until we reached the edge. 

Nunu had the genius idea to scream into oblivion. There were tourists hundreds of feet away on an overlook, so we initially thought we might disrupt their peace. But then again, it’ll only last a few seconds. So we screamed, “AMAZING” at the top of our lungs, followed by an “OHHH LAAA!!” inspired by Nunu and Aarushi’s friend Ria.

For several days before, Aarushi has been trying to convince us to listen to the Heroes of Olympus series, and while I’m waiting for it to no longer be on hold, she has been telling me the plot. The one thing that stuck out to me was that the author chose to have the main characters fly on a golden dragon to the top of Pike’s Peak. Looking out from the top, it made sense. I finally understood why people obsess about the Rockies, it really is majestic, almost godly. The end of the Earth. The trees that fall away from the peak, reservoirs that even when low appear impressive, a candyland-like landscape in its perfectly imperfect features.

Eventually, Aarushi and Tatiana arrived with their families, we met up, had photos taken of us almost like we’re celebrities, and then the original four of us left to start the drive back down the mountain. 

We stopped along the only part of the road with a shoulder to take more pictures of our beautiful selves. Drew first ran down until this cliff’s edge to pose for a picture, despite the wind that was threatening to blow us off the side. We all got some awesome looking photos. I especially like the ones of us pointing in random directions, that capture us talking about performatively pointing in random directions. 

The rest of the drive down was utterly stunning. I really admire this man’s commitment to capturing the view in 360. 

The four of us were on a mission: to go to Freddy’s before we met back up with everyone else at the Garden of the Gods. Colorado Springs has one of the most scenic Freddy’s I’ve ever seen. It’s also so American. Beautiful mountains in the background, with rows and rows of fast food chains and gas stations lining the valleys. After biking though rural towns, large cities, and everything in between, seeing an Applebee’s next to a Wendy’s next to a 7 Eleven feels like home.

In my opinion, the burgers were good but overhyped (and overpriced), with not enough toppings, no burger sauce, and fries too tiny that forced me to eat like a newborn, licking my fingers between each bite. In N Out is still superior. 

Us four then dropped off Nunu and Caroline at the Garden of the Gods, while Drew and I headed over to the trailhead. As we climbed out of the car, quickly got ready, and pulled our bikes out from the back, I was reminded of how I used to feel preparing for a mountain bike ride: slightly nervous, anticipatory, excited, and ready to suppress my fear.

Trying to navigate mountain bike trails on a Garmin is nearly impossible. The turns are incredibly hard to tell apart at a five way intersection. It’s almost always a gamble, bike for a bit and see if you’re going the right direction. I had to turn around many times and awkwardly shuffle my bike 180 degrees, until halfway into the ride Drew, the genius that he is, learned the language and was able to decipher what trails to take.

The first mile in I was met with smooth, windy single track, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to call what we were doing mountain biking. But then we started the climb, and ran into this huge rock feature with horizontal ridges. I sized it up. I went for it. It felt euphoric. I scaled that huge rock, leaned all the way forward, gripping the ends of my hoods, in my lowest gear, half standing up and pedaling like a maniac, and rather easily made it to the top. Fantastic. I wasn’t completely sure I could do that on a gravel bike, but managed to anyway.

Riding trails on a gravel bike is incredibly different than doing so on a mountain bike. You feel faster with a bike 10 pounds lighter, slightly more unstable as you break and your tire skids, shaky since the only suspension is your arms and legs, but also more connected with your surroundings. You’re lower to the ground on a smaller bike frame and are positioned less upright, leaned more forward and more aerodynamic. I used to think that those who rode gravel bikes on mountain biking trials were just stubborn idiots with no sense of self preservation, but now I can understand the hype. Even though we had to walk several features, half of which I probably could do with the right bike, it was such a singular experience. The instability enhanced the ride, and led both of us to become far more comfortable balancing on our bikes. 

The first flowy section allowed us to go insanely fast. I was slightly fearing for my life, going over bumps and rocks I was unsure if my bike could handle. It was mainly a straight path, and so we shot down the trail. When the next turn was coming up I had to break so quickly that my back tire fishtailed in the dirt. Instinct took over as I tried to overcome the fear of losing control, kept my balance as I gained traction once again. These small rushes of adrenaline from conquering something you are 85% sure you are capable of handling are what, to me, make mountain biking so fun, and so much more different from these long endurance rides. This is why Drew and I chose to spend our rest day back on our bikes.

The second rock feature was insane, a 5 foot drop utterly impossible to do on a gravel bike (for someone who has to be in one piece the day after). We had to scoot our butts down the side.

This eventually led into some loose rocky climbs, another flowy downhill with fast, tight turns, which spit us out onto a beautiful vista, with fields of native grasses, red rocks, and a view of the city below. We could even see the Garden of the Gods from where we were; didn’t miss out on it after all.

The next feature was even more impossible, a vertical wall of rock that neither Drew or I was about to attempt. So once again we walked slowly up this >20% grade hill.

There was another sketchy downhill with smaller rocks that I could feel every single one of, each shaking the bike and causing my forearms to cramp up with how tightly I was holding onto the hoods, to both break and just not fall off.

But this led us to the last gorgeous downhill with a rolling trail along the side of the mountain. It had single track that required my full concentration, since the other side was a steep drop off that could send me tumbling into some shrubs and cacti (admittedly only small prickly pears). But by looking where I wanted to go and not where I didn’t, I survived. The thrill, the landscape, the sprints up and down, this is why I chose to bike on my rest day. Why we both did. It was incredibly fun. 

We drove back to the Airbnb and were met with the most delicious dinner made by the Mehrotras, this heavenly indochinese cauliflower dish.

The rest of our team had been camped out on the couch intensely watching the Argentina v. Switzerland quarterfinal game. Caroline has the most important job of exiting the No Wifi screen every time the connection was lost (her reaction time was insanely impressive). When we arrived, it was tied 1-1. Argentina obviously just needed the support of us two, since they then scored two more goals in overtime, securing their place in the semifinal. It was quite fun to watch everybody yell at the screen in shock.

After dinner, the day ended like it always did: we made the route, blogged, and went to bed. 

I always enjoy our restless rest days. Maybe sometime in the future, we’ll actually learn how to take a break.

– Carmen