The wind is blowing. It's been blowing for days. It blows at night too. I'm happy for a well designed tent that sheds the wind and holds it's shape come what may. It's during the riding part of the day that it's a problem. While riding I'm either fighting it or being carried along with a giant smile on my face. I prefer that to fighting it. Its not a fair fight. I can eek out an pyrrhic victory of sorts, but the wind never suffers from our occasional bashes while I'm left sore ,exhausted, and reeling.
Did I mention that I'm on a bicycle tour? I'm riding from Denver to Telluride. I know that shouldn't include parts of Arizona or New Mexico, Utah, or Nevada, but it's spring and it's off season, so it's my time to tour. I'm going to make the most of it.
Five months ago I crossed by here on my way to the East Coast. I did a lot of smiling then, as most of the way I had helpful winds to push me along. Now that I'm on the return leg I'm having little luck. On the first full day of riding I passed from Evergreen to Kenosha pass. It was uphill and the wind was either straight into my face or worse and picking up strength throughout the day. The worst winds come at you from every direction but behind, Northwest one moment, then Northeast before you can react. It's the blasting wind that is just off center that drives you crazy and wears your body down as you try to keep your little piece of the road and continue moving forward. The wind has other ideas as it tears away at your ability to steer while just turning a full peddle stroke becomes in itself a Herculean task .
At the end of the day I was hammered. I managed to squeeze my bike through the gate of a winding forest road on a steep mountainside and set my tent up on the first switch- back that concealed me from the highway below and offered at least a little wind protection. I could barely stand without feeling very week and dizzy. Was I sick, I wondered? Was I coming down with something? Or was I just getting very old, very suddenly? Maybe I'd pushed this thing too far and expected too much from myself? Maybe it's time I hang up my cleated shoes, or what ever it is cyclists hang up once they've reached the end of the road. No, I wasn't falling ill, or becoming suddenly old, I was just too fresh to the ride to be taking on so much. I'd been cycling through hellish conditions. In another week I'd be able to storm any mountain pass or overcome any wind, but not yet. I'd have to be broken in first. I'd have to be burnt and blasted, chilled, and strained. There's no other way to prepare for the harsh conditions of riding than experience the harsh conditions of riding. It doesn't really get better, it just gets easier to take. Let me change that. It always gets better, and someday it will get better still. Why else would you ever cycle? You have to at least believe it's true. You have to experience the good side now and then too .Once in a while you must be surprised with how good it can get, otherwise you'd trade your wheels in for something easier, in other words, anything else.
It's day six now and I'm in Walsenburg Colorado. As I said, the wind is still blowing. Today it's from the Southwest at about 20 knots. That's been the prevailing direction and speed since Evergreen. Sitting here in the library writing this column seems preferable to trying to take a bite out of that wind yet again. This morning I had it with me. This afternoon I'm headed into it's path. A wind like this ,with so much strength and personality and duration deserves a name of it's own. I can't keep calling it " the wind". If I'm going to curse it, or bless it, I need to give it a name. The song from Paint Your Wagon called the wind Mariah. Maybe that will work. I'm looking for something less dramatic like Steve or Sally.
Can you tell I'm stalling for time. Can you see that I'm just saying anything that pops into my head to avoid going out there again and facing Steve in all his awesome power. My weather app says not to expect anything better ever. Steve is with us and he's not going anywhere. I'll just have to live with Steve.
Did I mention that I'm on a bicycle tour? I'm riding from Denver to Telluride. I know that shouldn't include parts of Arizona or New Mexico, Utah, or Nevada, but it's spring and it's off season, so it's my time to tour. I'm going to make the most of it.
Five months ago I crossed by here on my way to the East Coast. I did a lot of smiling then, as most of the way I had helpful winds to push me along. Now that I'm on the return leg I'm having little luck. On the first full day of riding I passed from Evergreen to Kenosha pass. It was uphill and the wind was either straight into my face or worse and picking up strength throughout the day. The worst winds come at you from every direction but behind, Northwest one moment, then Northeast before you can react. It's the blasting wind that is just off center that drives you crazy and wears your body down as you try to keep your little piece of the road and continue moving forward. The wind has other ideas as it tears away at your ability to steer while just turning a full peddle stroke becomes in itself a Herculean task .
At the end of the day I was hammered. I managed to squeeze my bike through the gate of a winding forest road on a steep mountainside and set my tent up on the first switch- back that concealed me from the highway below and offered at least a little wind protection. I could barely stand without feeling very week and dizzy. Was I sick, I wondered? Was I coming down with something? Or was I just getting very old, very suddenly? Maybe I'd pushed this thing too far and expected too much from myself? Maybe it's time I hang up my cleated shoes, or what ever it is cyclists hang up once they've reached the end of the road. No, I wasn't falling ill, or becoming suddenly old, I was just too fresh to the ride to be taking on so much. I'd been cycling through hellish conditions. In another week I'd be able to storm any mountain pass or overcome any wind, but not yet. I'd have to be broken in first. I'd have to be burnt and blasted, chilled, and strained. There's no other way to prepare for the harsh conditions of riding than experience the harsh conditions of riding. It doesn't really get better, it just gets easier to take. Let me change that. It always gets better, and someday it will get better still. Why else would you ever cycle? You have to at least believe it's true. You have to experience the good side now and then too .Once in a while you must be surprised with how good it can get, otherwise you'd trade your wheels in for something easier, in other words, anything else.
It's day six now and I'm in Walsenburg Colorado. As I said, the wind is still blowing. Today it's from the Southwest at about 20 knots. That's been the prevailing direction and speed since Evergreen. Sitting here in the library writing this column seems preferable to trying to take a bite out of that wind yet again. This morning I had it with me. This afternoon I'm headed into it's path. A wind like this ,with so much strength and personality and duration deserves a name of it's own. I can't keep calling it " the wind". If I'm going to curse it, or bless it, I need to give it a name. The song from Paint Your Wagon called the wind Mariah. Maybe that will work. I'm looking for something less dramatic like Steve or Sally.
Can you tell I'm stalling for time. Can you see that I'm just saying anything that pops into my head to avoid going out there again and facing Steve in all his awesome power. My weather app says not to expect anything better ever. Steve is with us and he's not going anywhere. I'll just have to live with Steve.
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