6/25/2010
Of the majestic passes that grace Colorado, Gore barely merits mention. It's now garnered my undivided, loving but respectful attention.
My first attempt was more than two years ago, and I severely underestimated "the impact of UP". Racing up her flanks in a car, you kid yourself at how easy it might be. Now, I'm more fit and smarter, and definitely more respectful, but again I am denied. By starting out about five miles from the turn at Kremmling, I'm thinking "how hard can it be? We're only talking about 1600' of vertical over 6.5 miles."
Clouds racing by and looking like they feel left-out.....a bit menacing, but no real winds yet. I stop CONSTANTLY for breath, but I slowly wend my way up her side.
The Pine Bark Beetle has devastated Grand County. A hundred shades of rust surround me as I puff and pant my way up this mountain. It's me and the trees, and not much else. The few vehicles I see tend to be trucks; trucks pulling boats and campers. Maybe because the travellers look "local", I seem to garner some respect and breadth in passing...even a wave once or twice.
There is nothing quite like air at altitude. It's a pine on your tongue. A dry purity that's intoxicating.
I'm within two miles when the rain starts; within one, when the hail starts. I'm thinking I'll find a tree to hide under when the lightning crackles and the air becomes electric all around me. My bike is aluminum and this fact is not lost on me. I turn tail and flee. I'm racing the rain line; the rain is heavy but when I steal a quick glance, I'm doing more than 40 mph!
Soaked and cold, I reach the car in a fraction of the time I spent climbing this beauty...and that's ok. I'll ride up her another day.
Just me and the trees.
-r
Of the majestic passes that grace Colorado, Gore barely merits mention. It's now garnered my undivided, loving but respectful attention.
My first attempt was more than two years ago, and I severely underestimated "the impact of UP". Racing up her flanks in a car, you kid yourself at how easy it might be. Now, I'm more fit and smarter, and definitely more respectful, but again I am denied. By starting out about five miles from the turn at Kremmling, I'm thinking "how hard can it be? We're only talking about 1600' of vertical over 6.5 miles."
Clouds racing by and looking like they feel left-out.....a bit menacing, but no real winds yet. I stop CONSTANTLY for breath, but I slowly wend my way up her side.
The Pine Bark Beetle has devastated Grand County. A hundred shades of rust surround me as I puff and pant my way up this mountain. It's me and the trees, and not much else. The few vehicles I see tend to be trucks; trucks pulling boats and campers. Maybe because the travellers look "local", I seem to garner some respect and breadth in passing...even a wave once or twice.
There is nothing quite like air at altitude. It's a pine on your tongue. A dry purity that's intoxicating.
I'm within two miles when the rain starts; within one, when the hail starts. I'm thinking I'll find a tree to hide under when the lightning crackles and the air becomes electric all around me. My bike is aluminum and this fact is not lost on me. I turn tail and flee. I'm racing the rain line; the rain is heavy but when I steal a quick glance, I'm doing more than 40 mph!
Soaked and cold, I reach the car in a fraction of the time I spent climbing this beauty...and that's ok. I'll ride up her another day.
Just me and the trees.
-r
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