Trinidad to Cuchara
First, some housekeeping. Last evening, Mark’s brother, Kurt, joined the group. He got delayed in Dallas on his way to Colorado so joined the group a day late, and we were happy to have him along. Also, the mileage on this tour, if we choose to ride EFI (every freaking inch), totals 869 miles. I tentatively set a goal to get extra miles each day, hoping to ride 1,000 miles by the end of the two weeks. Jim brought it up to the group last night at dinner. Greg and Leslie fully supported my goal, and Tom thought it sounded like a fun thing to accomplish. That settled that. I’m shooting for 1,000 miles in two weeks.
This morning started with a curve ball. John, the owner of the company, suggested a slight variation in route. He thought we should ride through downtown Trinidad to see the brick cobblestone streets. Greg navigated us through the twists and turns of the vague directions while we enjoyed the sights of downtown and the red cobblestones. We came to an intersection and stopped. Greg looked at his phone. We all looked around. My Garmin yelled at me for being off course.
Greg scratched his head. “I think we go straight here, then wind around, and it will take us to the right road out of town.”
Tom said, “My Garmin is saying to go left here.”
Greg looked at his phone again.
Jim chimed in, “Mine says if we go right here we can skip a lot of this.”
“Mine says to make a u-turn and go back the way we came,” Mark added.
Greg shook his head, we all laughed. “No, I think if we go straight, we will get where we need to go.” With that, he clipped in and pushed off. We all followed suit, and within a few miles our Garmins were happily back on route and no longer screaming at us.
We pedaled along a relatively flat road, gaining elevation at 2 and 3% grades, enjoying a tailwind as we rode. The temperature continued to rise, and the sweat began to drip. The Spanish Peaks, our target for the day, lurked in the distance. We pedaled and pedaled, the miles ticked by, and we reached the mountains. The climbing began in earnest.
The grade sharpened and the sky darkened. Thunder clouds filled the sky as we continued upward, passing 8,000 feet, then 9,000 feet. I felt a few raindrops splat on my arms. Around the corner I rode, and there was Leslie, pulled over with the van.
“Thought you might want to grab your rain coat,” she said as Tom and I pedaled up. We both donned our raincoats and continued on. The rain intensified, the road was saturated, and I could feel water running down my legs and filling up my shoes. The chamois in my shorts quickly soaked up all the spray off the road, leaving me with a case of swamp ass. Nothing to do but pedal on, so we did. Thunder ripped the sky, bouncing off the canyon walls like cannonballs. We continued to climb.
The rain slackened, then intensified, over and over as thunder continued to roar overhead. And still we climbed. As we climbed higher, the road became steeper. 10%, 11%, 12%, oof. 15%. Ouch. Look! There’s the summit! As we crested, the rain stopped. We paused long enough to snap a few photos, grab a bit of water and snacks, then plunged down the other side.
The descent was quick, narrow, and winding. Within what seemed like a few minutes, we were pulling into the small town of Cuchara, and our home for the night. Tom and I opted to ride back up the pass a few miles to get an even 70 for the day, keeping our new goal of 1,000 in mind.
Today was a fantastic day. I feel great, and I am already excited about tomorrow.
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