Sunday, July 14th, 2024
Kenosha Campground → Buena Vista, CO
65.3 mi, 2064 ft
(Sorry for the scary title. Spoiler alert, we all made it to Buena Vista unscathed.)
After the nightmare that was the US-285 yesterday, I woke up this morning eager for a less trafficked route. Amulya and I planned the route yesterday and came up with three options. While we would have to brave the 285 for 10 miles regardless, the options were:
Turn onto Elkhorn Road, which had 20 miles of well-packed dirt according to Google Street View, then finish the route on US-24, which some cyclists on Adventure Cycling Association’s forum had praised as being a good route going into Buena Vista from the west. We were coming from the east of Buena Vista, but that still gave us some reason to believe the 24 would be better than the 285. This would be the least trafficked option but would have us on dirt for a while (meh).
Stay on the 285 for another 10 miles, before turning onto CO-9, which had minimal shoulder but we expected to be less busy than the 285, and finishing the route on US-24 again.
Take the 285 all the way to Buena Vista.
With three options to choose from depending on traffic, not too many miles, and minimal elevation, I had high hopes for the day’s ride.
As soon as I turned onto US-285, those hopes evaporated. There was a steep descent immediately coming out of our campsite, hitting -10% grade at one point. And while the traffic wasn’t too bad in the morning, the mountain road and minimal shoulder brought back the events of the day before. Cleo and Sophia were talking about how they appreciate being able to forget things and start each day fresh. And while I usually like being able to look back on experiences, recall how I felt, and reflect on what I’ve learned, in this moment, I understood that sentiment. The fear and tension coursed through my body as it remembered the feeling of being passed way too close by a truck and trailer. I took a deep breath. It only helped a little.
Luckily, we planned a stop only 5 miles at the last gas station before mile 38, so I got a bit of a mental break. As people ordered lattes, hash browns, and breakfast sandwiches from the Hungry Moose Caboose, someone on the team laughed about how this was our earliest food stop. Indeed, we had just eaten breakfast and needed almost no pedaling to get to this stop. I didn’t order anything so just hung around as people ate. I was in no rush to get back on the 285.
Eventually, we set out again. Varsha, Rebecca, and I planned to take the dirt road to minimize our time on the 285, while the rest of the team continued on the highway. “Only 5 miles”, I thought to myself as we turned back onto the 285. This stretch was not as bad. Soon, we turned onto Elkhorn Road. The first three miles of this road were glorious, a gentle descent on a paved road with few cars. It doesn’t get much better than that. But then we reached the gravel. It was much looser than anything we’ve biked on before and cars kicked up clouds of dust as they passed us. Varsha, Rebecca, and I regrouped. If the entire 20 miles were like this, it would not be bikeable. But the Google Street View images showed dirt! Alas, those photos were not to be trusted. We waved down a passing car and asked if the entire stretch was like this. She confirmed our fears: the rest of the road was more of the same. So we turned around. Back to the US-285.
The next 10 miles on the US-285 were some of my least favorite of Spokes. I brake for dear life on the downhill mountain roads and focus on staying within the narrow shoulder. As cars pass me closely because there’s traffic going in the other direction, I’m reminded of the day before. How it took all my mental energy and upper body strength to keep my speed and direction under control as I navigated downhill curves amidst heavy traffic. My heightened anxiety as a truck and trailer passed within inches of me. And how I stopped outside a house intending to rest my arms for the next bit of the downhill, but then immediately broke down from the fear and stress (crying is my stress response). I think about my grandpa’s words and his warning to make thoughtful decisions and not act impulsively, lest I regret something for the rest of my life. I think about my parents and how my decision to do Spokes would be a source of stress for them for the duration of the trip. And I think about my thought process when deciding whether to do Spokes. Many months ago, I thought this trip would either be (1) fun and amazing or (2) challenging in a way that would help me grow as a person, both of which would be fruitful experiences. The only reason I might regret doing Spokes is if I somehow got permanently injured. Until now, that hasn’t felt likely.
Rebecca waits out some hail
Eventually, Varsha, Rebecca, and I make it to Fairplay. Our 6-mile detour meant that we also had to wait out some rain and hail the others missed, so we were pretty far from them and our planned lunch stop. Instead, we got the famed Palisade peaches and bowls that reminded me of Life Alive. As we ate, we chatted about risk levels and decision-making.
Bellies full, we got back on the road. We stopped again pretty soon because Rebecca got a call from JD, driver for the day. He told us that Cleo had arrived in Buena Vista, but the last part of the ride where the US-24 merged with the US-285 was very scary and she’d been grazed multiple times by passing cars. They recommended either shuttling the last part into Buena Vista or being very careful. The call was aptly timed as we were standing at the junction of the CO-9 and the US-285. Not only did we need to decide whether we wanted to bike the last bit of the 285, but we also needed to decide whether to turn onto the CO-9 with minimal shoulder but hopefully less traffic or stay on the US-285 as the rest of the team had. Seeing that Hank, Amulya, and Sophia were almost done biking, we decided to wait a few moments to get their opinions. They took the last bit of the US-285 slower than Cleo had and said that it was bad but not as bad as the part after Conifer from the day prior (where I almost got grazed by the truck and trailer). And that the part of the 285 between Fairplay and the junction with the US-24 was the best part of the 285.
Armed with this information, we made a plan. We would continue along the US-285 until just before the junction with the US-24, where we would reconsider whether to finish the ride or call JD to shuttle us to Buena Vista. So we kept biking. This part of the 285 was the best part of the ride. The shoulders were wider and the road was straighter. It reminded me of the good old days of the US-50, which made us believe that all US highways had wide shoulders suitable for biking.
A couple miles out from where the 285 met the 24, we reconvened. For about half an hour, we made calls and pondered whether to keep going. Did we feel safe biking the last portion? Could cars safely pass us? How much traffic would there be? All mixed with a strong desire to finish the ride and probably a bit too much pride. Fraught with analysis paralysis, we sat, gazing off into the mountains in the distance. After flip-flopping a couple of times, we eventually decided to try to finish the ride. As we set out, Rebecca noticed that Varsha had a flat. Whoops.
While we had all the tools needed to fix the flat, the hand pump we had would probably get Varsha’s tire to at most 40 psi, which wasn’t enough to feel comfortable on the curvy downhill road we had ahead of us. So we messaged the rest of the group and asked them to bring the floor pump. “Are we picking up all three of you?”, they asked. We didn’t answer and got to work on the flat.
When Sophia arrived, we finished pumping up Varsha’s tire and also asked her more questions about the last part of the ride. She said traffic had died down a bit from when the rest of them had biked this segment, which was reassuring. Our plan was to take it slow, take breaks when the shoulder widened when needed, and try to stay together. And so we began.
Most days I ride with music, but today I had other things to occupy my mind. All my mental energy went towards staying within the narrow shoulder, keeping control of my speed on the steep descents, navigating the curves on this mountainous road, and staying calm.
After the final descent into Buena Vista, Varsha comments that it reminds her of Interlaken. I’ve never been to Switzerland, but Buena Vista is one of the most beautiful towns I’ve visited. But was getting here worth it? All of us made it here safely, but that doesn’t immediately justify the decisions we made along the way. I think we got lucky, for which I’m extremely grateful. Maybe I’m too prideful to admit we should have shuttled or maybe this ride was reasonable for our skill level. I can’t say. All I know is I’m never biking this portion of the US-285 again.