"We kicked Cottonwood Passes Ass today"

We are talking about an ascent to 12,200' via a dirt road for sixteen miles. Doesn't that sound fun.

Today was a day of reckoning. The infamous Cottonwood Pass day. We are talking about an ascent to 12,200' via a dirt road for sixteen miles. Doesn't that sound fun. A total of 77 miles; with the addition of the 5+ miles to the parent's RV park- which was a challenge itself.

We set out of Susan's glorious pad into the brisk CB air. Rolled in with all of our fellow compadres and headed to Almont. From Almont we ascended to Taylor's Resorvoir- along the Taylor river. Did I mention that most of the rivers out here are flowing at about 30k- that is some rolling H2O- if you're gonna pull a Virginia Wolfe, here would be the ideal place- luckily no one has gotten to that point. In fact, just the opposite- I assumed there would be some serious fading by day 5 or 6- but there has been some serious rallying- I mean these people are stoked- not that they are signing up for next year- but the pride here is undeniable. Kathy even mentioned biking from Breckenridge to Newton St. Crazy.

At the aid station at Taylors, the girls broke out the leftover fried chicken.

After this rest stop we started up our dirt road, climbed through pine forests, up up and up. We could see the switch backs ascending to the sky above treeline- oh crap that's a long way up. But the band of rainbow ants just kept peddling. Soon enough we were gliding into the aid station. We induldged on smothered burritos and a brownie the size of a kitchen tile- yummo.
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T had to change her first flat today at the bottom- about one mile outside of BV. She was a total butch ;).

We finally settled in with mom and dad. It was ravioli night. No ordinary ravioli- T's ravioli. She made the pasta, she even made the ricotta- topped with a roasted red pepper sausage sauce. We all helped ourselves to seconds(for once). Dad started and stoked a fire that would become the 'Mallow pit. Mom crawled out of the rv in her robe- she ain't gonna be missin no roasted marshmallows.

It's Saturday morning at 5:53. Its 44 degrees outside. It looks overcast. We still have to bike 6 miles back into town to join our fellow tour peeps. Then 70 miles later we are in Breckenridge. I can't believe we actually biked here from Durango. I can't believe this rash on my sits hasn't gone away. I can't believe the team hasn't dissenigrated (although they do point out every day that this is my fault). I can't believe how beautiful it is out here. Beliefs get blown up and blown away, and then one can just be, yes?