How the West Was Lost

The start was an awkward push off as racers crossed and criss-crossed paths all day. I spent the day chatting with many racers before finally clocking in a 240 mile day, my first and only of such length in the race. I felt good, as if I kept this pace I'd most certainly finish near the top. When I woke the next morning and saw that the top racers were already blitzing ahead across the Oregon landscape, clearing the next pass, I realized that maybe I wasn't as hot shit as I thought I was. It was a lesson I'd have to tell and retell myself over and over and over. This was my race, my ride, I had to take it at my own pace, I cannot control how others ride, only myself. But that didn't sink in for a while as the next two days I'd continue finding myself chasing wheels.

The start in Astoria at 5 AM.

243. Ouch.

At first chasing racers worked well for me. Going over McKenzie Pass and out past Prineville on day two I'd pass and catch several riders finally camping out with Nathan for the end of day two.

McKenzie Pass was one of the most beautiful spots in the race and it was day two. Blue Ridge would take second on the second to last day. Fitting.

"What time is it?" I mutter to Nathan across the dark of the early morning.
"4ish" he was already sitting upright wrapped in his bag. I uncinched my head from my bag and the cold air rushed into my face. "You coming?" he asked.
"I don't know. It's cold. I think I'm going to stay here for a bit." This too would be the never ending story of the West, and probably half the reason I'd sleep in every morning. I laid their stagnant til the sun came up. I would eventually rise and refind my rhythm. I caught Nathan and would pass him that day and never look back, I was now onto the next wheel of Julianna, the women's World Cycle Race record holder and an absolute beast rider. I decided I'd fight to stay on her wheel, that meant riding late into the night to Halfway, OR and trying to wake up early again the next day, Julianna is not necessarily fast, but she is super disciplined on her sleep, which I am very much not. That next morning I actually did succeed in getting up early, but a cold night's rest had me tossing and turning in Halfway and I had to lay down shortly after in my ride to regain that much needed sleep back. She would take off down the road and I once again was playing catchup. On the other side of Lolo pass I closed in again, but the cold forced me weary once more and she went off into the night as I laid out my bag.

So many passes in the West!

The fine folks at Inspired to Ride interviewed me in Grangeville, while I stuffed my face. Photo source: Inspired to Ride

I'd always wanted to go to Montana. I saw no bears, but saw a lot of bunk weather. I was disappointed that I didn't get to stop over in Missoula. Someday...

This was a brutal headwind. That is a laugh of delirium not joy. Photo source: Inspired to Ride

By this point I was really sick of the cold, but things were about to get much much worse. I splurged for a hotel in Dillon, MT to keep out of the cold for one night but more was to come. Rain, hail, lightning, and headwinds slowed me to a crawl into West Yellowstone. When I finally arrived in West Yellowstone I had a decision to make. The sun was nearing the horizon, which meant temperatures were about to drop. Weather.com told me an expected low of 32 degree. My bag rated 55 degrees. I had to make a plan. I pushed down hot McDonald's coffee and thought it over and devised a plan; My goal; get the fuck over Yellowstone and sleep in the hopefully less chilly Tetons that night. I enter the park with the sun behind the trees. Traffic was backed up for miles. I pull around it and finally reach the cause of the traffic; bison. These terrifying beasts were just trotting along the road. I had to hop off and walk, trying to keep cars between me and them so I didn't get gored. That cost me not only time in the race, but more importantly time of warm air. I was finally able to get around them and I started racing toward Craig's Pass. Going up was not so terrible, but once I hit the pass I donned every article of clothing I had and it was nowhere near enough. I even got smart and stuffed my jacket with my Tyvek ground sheet; not enough. I survived to West Thumb, where I remember pockets of warm air from the springs a few years back, but they weren't there now, the air was just too cold. Instead I laid out with my mylar blanket and all my clothing. It was a tough nights sleep. I was definitely cold, but the mylar blanket kept me alive for sure, especially at about 5 AM when snow started falling. I tried to wait out the warm sun, but the sun never warmed anything, by about 7 I finally forced myself out of bed and on the bike. I hit the lodge, which was open an hour before and where I should have gone straight to, this was one of my biggest regrets thus far, I screwed the pooch on this one, I could have salvaged that morning but I didn't. The lodge had a vegan breakfast burrito (not very tasty) and hot coffee (taste didn't matter). I stayed in that lodge for damn near an hour and a half. Juliana was up the road and most certainly out of striking distance. I didn't care. I needed to recover. The doubts swirled. Why was I doing this? Why was I punishing my body so? Was it worth it? The thought of last failure swirled up and I just couldn't face that level of defeat, especially knowing that this would be the worst of the cold and that it would get better. I saddled up and pushed off toward the Tetons.

A typical Yellowstone traffic jam

As the day proceeded the weather never let up. It snowed on and off until I was well past the Tetons. At first it felt reminiscent of commuting in the Buffalo snow, but unlike Buffalo, there are downhills here and they were freezing. I had to stop at every lodge or gas station to recover my heat. It took everything I had left mentally to pass on through that cold and get to Lander that night. I nestled up in the school yard for another cold miserable night and dreading the next days 120 miles of serviceless Wyoming desert.

Serious lifesavers, seriously. Next time though, I will be carrying a SOL Bivy at the least.

That desert would be extremely kind to me to start, starting with a blessed tailwind only to be turned into the most brutal headwind ever encountered, on a heavily trafficked hot roadway to boot. I looked off into the flat distance to see the final climb, but it never felt like it was getting closer and when it finally did, I was toast, and it's not even like the hill covered the wind, no, instead I had to climb while sucking down those winds. I skinny geared it to the top, not even concerned about speed, but rather just making it, with no other option, I did. It started to seem that every obstacle would be thrown in my way before I finally finished these damned mountains, as once again a cold night would lead to windier riding the following day. All this brutality, wind, cold, rain, hail, snow, led me to get a second motel the day before the 12,000 ft pass, which intimidated me, why? I'm not sure, because the next day would be one of the better ones.

Hotel exhaustion selfie. Trying to put on every article of clothing I had. Need to cover those shins and get a better jacket for sure.

The climb to Hoosier Pass would be full of services along beautiful resort towns and lavishly green lawns spreading along rivers. The good food and good views and anticipation of clearing my final gap over the Continental Divide had my legs buzzing and before I knew it I went from 7,000 ft to 12,000 ft and found myself dropping down toward the flats of Colorado but before then I'd be hit with a terrible surprise; CO 9. This road that I, for whatever reason, assumed was flat would be a roller coaster of steep climbs. Stunning scenery this time wasn't enough as the aspen trees, ranches, and gravel roads that meandered off to the visible distance were just images that passed, I couldn't process them as my legs were now toast. By the time I finally hit the descent I was ready to quit, but I knew that Canon City on the other side would have services to pull me back up, so with some slow rolling I finally made it. That was it. I was out of it. The climbing was done. The elevation plot was a flatline across the heartlands of  Colorado and Kansas. The best part was that I was still somewhat in the race, hovering about 30 miles behind Tom and 50 behind David sitting pretty in eleventh place.

Recorded lows of every place I slept (red indicates slept inside)*

6/7 - Eugene, OR - 50°

6/8 - Mitchell, OR - 43°

6/9 - Halfway, OR - 52°

6/10 - White Bird, OR - 45°

6/11 - Victor, MT - 55°

6/12 - Dillon, MT - 44°

6/13 - Yellowstone, WY - 35°

6/14 - Lander, WY - 38°

6/15 - Saratoga, WY - 43°

6/16 - Kremmling, CO - 37°

6/17 - Wetmore, CO - 56°

6/18 - Tribune, KS - 55° (SUPER WINDS!)

6/19 - Nickerson, KS - 69°

6/20 - Toronto, KS - 72°

6/21 - Fair Grove, MO - 69°

6/22 - Johnsons Shutin State Park, MO - 66°

6/23 - Eddyville, IL - 70°

6/24 - Rough River, KY - 67°

6/25 - Kirksville, KY - 69°

6/26 - Lookout, KY - 67°

6/27 - Radford, VA - 68°

6/28 - Charllottesville, VA - 70°

*Temperatures pulled from weather.com of the recorded low of the following day, since the recorded low is usually earlier in the AM.