Day 35 - Gunning It from Gunnison to Placerville: 117 Miles of Colorado Rock

In Gunnison on the morning of Day 35, I totally super-sized my Super 8 “continental breakfast” knowing that I had 117 miles to Placerville where, unbeknownst to me early that morning, I would treating myself to a rather fancy “lodge” experience. I was in the breakfast room as soon as the attendant opened at 6am. Here’s what I downed: 3 hard boiled eggs (sans the yolks, not so much for cholesterol reasons as because I’m not a big fan of the hard green-yellows), 2 packets of oatmeal (sweet as can be! I still can’t believe how much I love oatmeal now, have a yen for it), a blueberry bagel (my first ever – always has been something to avoid, not a “real” kind of bagel) with peanut butter and honey, a banana, a cup of OJ and a mug (I asked for one – no styrofoam for me on Day 35!) of tea. And I grabbed another bagel, a banana and an apple for laters.

Time to face the shortcomings of yesterday. I was resolved to make the several climbs the day required, the worst of which would have me at the summit of Dallas Divide at 102 miles. My strategy was not to stop for any reason (except a pee need which was certain) until I reached the point where I was supposed to end yesterday. I rode west of Gunnison toward Curecanti National Recreation Area. I tried not to pout as I passed the several campgrounds I could have chosen from had I been able to continue the day before. Much as I tried to avoid stopping until the 23 mile mark, the scenery was so unbelievable that picture-taking was a necessity (and I peed twice). The Blue Mesa Reservoir was so placid and the early morning light so right-on that the water mirrored the landscape perfectly.

From Curecanti I ascended what looked to be not such a major climb from the elevation profile but was actually quite steep. The ride down into the town of Cimarron from Cerro Summit was one of the most satisfying downhills of the entire trip, upwards of 35 mph, long enough for a good rest as well as a thrill. Look, Donny, no hands!

In Montrose, I stopped at my ol’ standby, Subway for a double meat turkey on wheat with extraextraextra spinach – actually could I have a little more, please? – after chatting for a while with Chris, a local cyclist. I called the Blue Jay Lodge, the only place to stay between Ridgway (not long enough) and Telluride (too far away). I balked when I was quoted the price having paid really low rates for motels thus far in Colorado. Because I was a cyclist traveling alone, the lady gave me a deal and told me to eat a banana cuz I’d need it for the uphills to come.

From Montrose to the top of Dallas Divide was 37 miles, most of which was traveling south, which, unfortunately was the direction the wind was coming from. It was a slow and steady climb (worsened by the troubling wind) to Ridgway and from there 10 miles to the top. The scenery and the weather were beautiful or else I don’t know if I could have hacked the ascent plus the wind which worsened toward the top. The horses looked at me like I was nuts – they were, I tell ya! A gaggle of old-timey cars passed me by kind of like a motorcycle gang. But not. In addition to all the other sporty and outdoorsy vehicles and ATVs in Colorado, there’s also this subculture of people who drive cars from the 20s and 30s, even earlier (I can’t tell). Do they own heir own? Or rent for a jaunt? (Later I saw many more in Utah – always seems to be during weekdays. Is there a special rule about that?) I guess I’m part of my own sporty-vehicular subculture these days.

During the hellish Dallas Divide climb, I fantasized about the Blue Jay Lodge hoping that there was a good reason for the elevated room price. I imagined different scenarios of reuniting with Donny. I mused about whether I’d do some kind of victory lap on South La Jolla Ave. when I finally got home. Anything to get me through it. It worked and I sailed down with the wind mostly at my back from the rocky mountain pastures into a cool and lush pine forest. It was getting late at this point, almost 7pm, and I was yawning again from the altitude. I suffered a moment of paranoia and terror when I mistook a wayward cow grazing on the side of the road for a bear. Don’t laugh – I could sense the bears in that neighborhood. They were hiding behind trees deciding whether or not I’d make a good meal. Luckily they opted for deer meat instead. Or a more meaty cyclist.

When I made the turn on the road toward Placerville (which must be said has a lovely, piney town park that expressly forbids camping per signage), I realized why the hotel I was staying at was so expensive: I had arrived in fancy tourist Colorado. Not just fancy for tourists but for the locals and vacation-homers. The houses were of immaculate cedar, large and set back from the road on smart pieces of property. Placerville is right down the mountain from Telluride, and that apparently is the real-deal of Rocky Mountain posh for that area. Telluride isn’t directly on the route; you have to veer up another few miles to get there, and it wouldn’t be in the cards for me.

I ate like it was my last meal at the Blue Jay Restaurant hording crackers from the soup for later. (The lodge, by the way, is really nice as are the women I met that work there. Way out of the normal price range but nice. It was a place which I wish Donny was enjoying with me. Potentially romantic.) Speaking of crackers, that’s another new eating habit I’ve developed on this trip: actually putting crackers in soup. Again, that’s a Donny thing. He is disappointed when served soup without crackers. But I’m a carbo-convert now. I’ll take it all, especially on a day when i've added on 23 miles i should have done the day before. Or wished i had...