2014 Bikepacking Year in Review @ Bikepackers Magazine


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Thanks to Bikepackers Magazine for mentioning my Tour 14er super ride in their 2014 Year in Review! My thoughts usually span quite the spectrum. I remembering it wasn’t really all that long ago that I bought my first thrift store beater bike for < $15, and it didn’t take too long after that for me to wonder if I could ride it from Denver, to Boulder (A whole 30 miles).

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Tour 14er: 34 days, 12 hours – Success!

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  • Total Hike Mileage: 387.9 miles (624.265 km)
  • Total Hike Elevation: 154,727 feet (47,160.8 km)
  • Total Bike Mileage: 1,609.1 miles (2,589.6 km)
  • Total Bike Elevation: 151,335 feet (46,126.9 meters)
  • Total Time: 34:12:26:57

 

tour14_finish.jpgImage (and beer!) provided by: 14er.com user, glenmiz

 

 

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Tour 14er is On!

OK, time to begin!

Start time is scheduled for Friday @ 4:00am at the American Mountaineering Center in Golden, CO – There’s a small chance I’ll start a little earlier depending on how my schedule works out. Trackleaders has been kind enough to take the time to put up a Tracker for this, so you may follow along:

http://trackleaders.com/tour14er

I’ll be riding/climbing this as a self-supported individual time trial
– the goal is to  ride to, and summit all the named and ranked 14ers in
CO (53, by my count, but it’s a given thatn I’ll do the other usual
suspects).

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Watch Mike’s Colorado Trail Race Video!

Mike DeBernardo and I started on the Denver end of the trail this year on the Colorado Trail Race. Funnily, we found ourselves as the only two people starting out on the Denver end of the trail this year for the Grand Départ – everyone else – almost 75 people!  

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Colorado Trail Race, 2013

I’ve reported a finishing time of, 7 days, 2 hours, 57 minutes and 58 seconds. Happy to have just finished; a day past what I guessed for myself and two day past what I had hoped from myself. Story to be expanded, as my fingers heal enough, to allow me to type.

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Star Crossed

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Took a little spin on the Colorado Trail – admittedly, the first “mountain” bike ride I’ve taken since around April – not that I haven’t been riding bikes, or riding bikes in mountains, but somehow it’s all completely different to some that it’s bikes on dirt, rather than pavement. To me: not so much. That happens when your primary mode of transportation is your bike.

 

Plan was to start from Downtown Denver, to Waterton Canyon (the start of the CO trail, proper), all the way to Camp Hale, then N. onto HW 24, left on Tigwon Road, all the way to the trailhead for Mount of the Holy Cross, where I’d meet up with H., who would have gear to do the snowclimb right up the Cross Couloir. In two days. Well, less.

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Seven Peaks, Five Days

6/12/13 – 6/17/13

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The trip’s itinerary was to hit up most all the 14ers in the path between Denver, CO and Alma, CO, taking the I-70 corridor to Breckenridge, and then HW 9 to Alma. Ambitious, as the routes picked weren’t the easiest, or shortest: Bierdtstat from the East Ridge, then over the Sawtooth to Evans, Torreys via Kelso Ridge – and then to Grays, Quandary via the West Ridge – and then a final  push to do Democrat, Lincoln, and Bross. All in five days – all ridden to on a bicycle.

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Le Tour de Dirty Double Fondo

on_loveland.jpg Step, step, PULL, Step, step, PULL. Step, step –

I’m not saying I’m always on the verge of feeling sick, but today – Monday, I’m there.

And I’m not ready, anyways. This surprisingly happens quite a bit: underestimating the time it takes to get gear together to make a trip happen. Even with my style of cobbling things together that, if you would talk to someone with bike know-how would raise an eyebrow, and let out an audible, “eeeehh…?”, I think I got things straight:

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Adventures in Sensory Deprivation – Anti Epic 160

4/5/13 – 4/6/13, 292 miles

I’m on mile #162 of – on paper at least, a 160 mile race. In other words, pretty near to the end of the ordeal. The clock is ticking off hour number 11 on riding these long forgotten gravel roads south of Denver – and when I say, “South“, I mean, a good 60 miles south. Better sounding then, “20 miles North of Colorado Springs“, I guess – because who knows really where Colorado Springs is, relative to anything, except Pikes Peak?

I’m staring down a small, one-lane slot that makes up the overpass below I-25. Bleary-eyed, a little sunburned. My crotch is something akin to being on fire, as my pair of bibs are very well over their guaranteed freshness date, having seen thousands upon thousands of ill-cared for miles in the (only) 9 months I’ve had them: the stitches in extremely important places are now only memories, stripped out like the fillings in my teeth from today’s ride, the only evidence of both being the holes left behind. My bottles are empty – I’ve been eating roadside snow for the better part of 3 hours. Stomach is full of nothing but rocks.

I’ve picked up quite a bit of speed, as the last few miles have been downhill – the last 75 miles before that have been achingly undulating – but the direction has been mostly up – 7,000 feet of, “up?” Much to my chagrin and complete blubbering of basic chart reading. At present, I’m going about 25 mph, racing directly towards this hole in the wall. On the other side, going a little faster, but a little farther off, is a giant, F-250 red pickup truck. We’re both approaching this slot, not wide enough for both of us – barely wide enough for the truck at a reasonable speed! – and one of us is going to have to give way.

Christ“, I think, “I’m playing a game of Chicken with a local in a 3-ton full-cab.“.

Surely, the truck will give way to the bike. A head-on in the center would render the cyclist (ME), dead and the truck – well, a quick sweep of the wipers and I’m just a little bump in the road. “Perhaps like last week” (I imagine the driver thinking out loud) “when that errant alpaca got loose on S. Spring Valley Road – and, well the speed limit is 50 mph and those undulations of the grade can be gradual – but they can also be pretty abrupt! biff. Unfortunate – and worthy of some ‘plainin’, but certainly the fault of the lesser object in the way.

I do my best impression of this sometimes stubborn, vicugna pacos, opening my eyes just a little more than seems normal and careening my neck to center in with the slot.

I do a cost/benefit analysis.

Squeezing my tiny little brakes weighed in grams with the force of forearms cross-trained at the bouldering crags, little nibblets of rear tire tear off and join in the surface texture, joined by the sound of the skitching tires. The truck continues hauling through. I give them a thumbs up as dust kicks up around me. “Good job!“, I yell.  The driver neglects to give a second glance.

Welcome to the end of the 2013 AntiEpic Gravel Grinder. You have just earned 6th place. Now, go home.


Photo by Ben Welnak

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