Gooney Riders

Byers Peak Super-Duper Tour

It was still early, 4:30 early, when we drove past the temperature display at the bank in Fraser.  The two cups of coffee I'd downed just minutes earlier in the condo hadn't quite kicked in when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a single digit negative number displayed.  Must be in C, I thought, just moments before the second number popped up, -14 C.  -2 F.  There's a reason the town sued to be able to use the moniker, 'Ice Box of the Nation.'  It was going to be a cold start.

More bad news came in the form of a road closure 3 miles from where we expected to park.  An extra 6 miles added to an already 17+ mile day.  It was going to be a long one.  I'm sure we woke up every snowmobiler camped in the lot as we readied to go and started skinning under starry skies.  Our moon shadows were our only company and we didnt' talk much for those first few hours.  Heads down, we trudged with frozen cheeks into the darkness. The road, iced over, ran fast and we covered the first 3 miles to the Experimental Station in just 45 minutes. Frost covered anything that was touched by our breath.
 

Dawn broke imperceptively at first.  One by one the stars disappeared until eventually even the person leading the march had their headlamp turned off.  The sun's rays were welcome and we quickly shed layers before the brunt of the climb up to the ridge.

Last June during our last expedition up the peak, the ridge line was largely devoid of snow and we hiked along the summer trail in shorts and tee-shirts.  The place couldn't have looked more different in the winter.  Looking at it froze me in my tracks with fear.  Then Red, my reliable source of pep talks, inspiration, and a place to shed fear, decided to get sick and puke.  Being a smart one, she decided to turn around rather than face a day without being able to eat.  I quickly volunteered to accompany her down, terrified at the thought of doing the ridge traverse to the shoulder we planned to ski.  Then I started to hem and haw about the decision. I stalled until RedCoat started walking up the ridge, Red assured us she's just follow the skin track straight back to the car, and we agreed to do our run, then regain the ridge and follow her tracks back down to make sure she made it.  Then I started to walk.

In the end, the whole thing wasn't that scary.  It looked far more intimidating from a distance than it was from up close.  I had several moments where I kicked myself for not turning around, being whipped around by the wind with my sails for skis strapped to my back, and even one moment where I thought back to Jill's book, where she was in over her head and wondering what a girl from Utah suburbia was doing whatever she was doing, and wondered how the heck I ended up on a wind batter ridge with a big drop to one side and a giant avalanche prone slope to the other.  But past the point of no return, I walked, only whimpering to myself.  The broad, flat expanse that was to be the start of our ski, was welcoming even with the wind.  I hunkered down in a snow hole while the RC and Chris went the final couple hundred feet to the top and tried to throw stuff down the couloir. 

The skiing was not sub-par.  It was an endless run down perfect soft snow, high enough not to be sun effected, consisted enough to be able to go fast, listening to the wind in our ears as 6 hours worth of elevation gain was lost in a matter of minutes.  We ridge hopped back to where we had left Red, 8.5 hours after we'd left the car, preparing to follow her tracks back down when Chris pulled out his phone to find a text from Red, 'Back at the mini.'  I'm a believer that technology has it's place in the mountains and we were able to focus all our efforts on getting ourselves back to the car.  We also listened to the CAIC avy report while we were de-skinning, nodding in agreement to everything they found.  Then we skied back down through the tree to the snowmobile trail that would take us home. This consisted of a 1500 foot tree run that rivaled any of our favorite tree runs.  A pleasant, and completely unexpected bonus to the day.

Back at the trailhead, we found a message from Red in the snow.  It made me smile.

We were able to do a combination of sliding, double polling, and skating for the first 6 miles, covering the distance in amazing time, the whole time dreading the three mile slog back to the car along the road, which was sure to no longer be ice covered.  We popped out of the nordic trail at the experimental station to see heaven on earth.  The Mini!  With Red napping inside.  Social deviance at it's best. 

The final stats, nearly 20 miles, 5000 feet of elevation, and a mere 8:45 car to car, which made all of us lose the Price is Right rules game of guessing how long the trip would take us.  It always amazes me what a strong, motivated group can do in the mountains.  What a good day.

YWRH 2008: What's in a number?

So I have mixed feelings.  And I know it's silly.  I know it's silly like my silly goal of climbing and skiing 6000 ft in a day...which I nearly hit several times over the winter (until Jackson, that is) but refused to go and ski a silly 400 ft run at the end of the day just to hit the number.
 
The 3rd Annual Yay We Live Here ride occurred on Saturday.  Red organized it.  I'm going to propose to rename it the Yay We Ride Here because I think it's more fitting, or the Yay, We Have More Girls Than Boys ride, which, this year, was fitting.  A loosely planned out 100 miles around Ned accessible trails, a sampling of a bit of everything.  In all actuality, only the first 58 miles was planned, we got to improvise after that.

An alpine start (what did I say about alpine starts being done for the year?) and a sampling of Ned neighborhood trails.  Most of which I'd ridden in the opposite direction, so in my mind, new to me.  18.5 miles, 3 hours.  It was going to be a long day.  I'm fully convinced Red had spiked her normally decaf coffee with a bit of caffeine, a 100 miles at her pace? I was scared.

Then a switch of counties to a network of trails so legally accessible and so good, it makes me wonder why we never head over there to ride.  Navigating around at least 50 hikers reminded me why.  Weekday trip...I'd do it in a heartbeat.

Then back off the beaten path where I finally got to ride The Precipice trail, by a different name, backwards.  Chris claims it clear-able on the way up, I think I like our direction, down, better.

Then all the sane people went home and the two crazies continued on. Yes, girls may be smarter than boys, but I think we might be a little bit crazier too.  The next section was gut wrenching climb, a sidewall splitting descent (thanks Stans, that stuff sealed a huge gash!  Walt, could I get some new tires? I managed to ruin both...I know, they're race tires, be careful with them), pure, GilCo goodness.  9.5 hours into the ride, we hit 50 miles.  We celebrated with a snack.  Further celebration ensued after a wicked fun descent where I somehow managed to slash the sidewall on my other tire.

We sat at the Rollinsville general store 11 hours after starting our journey, drinking Cokes, filling up on water.  58 miles. Huh.  Went for what we considered a legitimate way of adding miles quick.  Up Rollins Pass road.  The spirit of the ride was to celebrate all the great trails accessible from our homes, where ever they may be, and Rollins Pass  seemed to fit the bill.  We quickly tacked on 12 miles by the time we got to the Jenny Creek turn off to head back towards town.

At 7:45, 13.5 hours in, we sat at the highschool. 78 miles.  Decision time.  To climb Caribou, descend Sherwood, toodle around Mud Lakes, try to click the odometer up to triple digits, or call it what it was, a fantastic, long, hard,  exciting ride?

We decided to call it.  Climbed the high school trails to 'prolong the magic', ate Red's Nutella, peanut butter and banana sandwich at the top, and coasted (for the most part) back to Red's. 

83.3 miles, 14.5 hours.

Sure, we could have ridden down Peak to Peak for 8.5 miles and turned around, energy (scarily enough) wasn't the issue, but somehow that didn't seem right.  Still a bit conflicted on not hitting 100, I am a goal oriented person, after all, but geez, the riding for the 83 miles was damn good.  I'd rather ride 83 really good miles than 100 easy ones.

And for next year, we have a plan. Watch out, the crazies are scheming.

A (sorta)-unintentional double century

I've been talking about doing the 'Grand Loop' for a couple of years now.  Boulder-Estes-Winterpark-Berthoud-Idaho Springs-OhMyGod Road-Boulder.  We did it in two days last summer, stopping in WinterPark along the way.  It wasn't particularly hard...I wanted to do it in a day.  I thought it was 180 miles, not too bad.  So I set my date, summer solstice, reset my date after my advisor wanted to meet on summer solstice, and proceeded not to train for it.

Chris volunteered to keep me company, his first time on his road bike since early last spring.  He was an absolute rockstar.

On to the ride-

The Stats
Distance: 201 miles
Vertical Gained/Lost: 15,560 ft
Door-to-door time: 17 hr 2 min
Approx. Calories burned: 6890 calories
Approx Calories eaten: Lets count it up as we go, totals are for both Chris and I

Boulder-Estes Park
Food consumed: half bowl of oats, 2 muffins, banana
Chris Grealish, who's done this ride 3 times before, told us to leave by 4am, and to go up through RMNP first to avoid Trail Ridge road traffic.  I wanted to leave at 5 (how long could this really take, afterall) so we compromised and walked out the door at 4:50.  We were stripped to shorts and jerseys before we even made it out of town.  Watched sunrise over Haystack mountain riding out 36.  I've never climbed up to Estes on my bike before, 36 is a nice little climb when there's no traffic on it.  When we made it to JellyStone park, we knew we were almost there. 

Chris nearly hit an elk on the descent into Estes.  Stopped at the Safeway to refuel and make a final commitment to the ride.

Estes Park-Trail Ridge Road visitors center
Food Consumed: Cranberry bagel, heathly roll, 32 oz gatorade, BabeRuth
Grealish had also told us that if you take Fall River Road to the top of Trail Ridge instead of the main road, it cuts an hour off the ride.  We'd failed to check if FRR was open, so we opted for the main road.  It was 8:30 in the morning and traffic was already considerable.  Paid our $20 to get two bikes into the Park and started up our 4000 ft grovel. 

Turned out really nice in the end.  They were repaving the road, holding cars back for half an hour and then letting them all through.  So we'd have half an hour with the road all to ourselves, then a stream of 50 cars would go by us, and then empty road again. We counted license plates from 32 different states.  There had to be at least 100 Texans and 150 Kansasians.  They all took pictures of us.  They also took a lot of pictures of the elk which were out for the day.

Scoped out some ski lines.  Chiquita is still in, Hidden Valley still has snow in it, the Trough looks even more impressive from far away. 

TRR visitor center-Granby
Food consumed: 2 Snickers bars, jerky, CliffBar
The descent down to the valley was wicked fun.  Chris had cars pulling over to let him pass.  I don't go downhill that fast. My left shifter also broke, so this was to be the last time I used my big ring until the end of the ride.  We started with all out clothes on at the top, and had to rip them off to avoid overheating at the bottom.  Saw a moose on the way out of the park, also saw lots of tourists taking pictures of said moose.

Then we hit the most horrid headwind ever.  I knew this section of the road was going to suck, but the wind just made it worst.  Chris and I both took long, 'put your head down and suffer' pulls, watching the mile markers count down to Granby.  At least riding along the lake was pretty.

Granby-WinterPark
Food Consumed: jerky, cashews, gatorade
It was 2pm when we left Granby.  We were hoping for an hour to WP, another hour to the top of the pass, and then 5 more hours of daylight to get us home.  The wind was having none of that.  It was only 15 miles, but it was a long, crosswind, elevation gaining 15 miles.  I was seriously doubting if we were going to make the ride...wondering if we'd be able to swallow our pride and call for help if needed.  We still had a long way to go.

Saw Tabernash in the distance, mistaked it for Fraser.  What a buzzkill.  Pulled into the 7-11 in WP around 3:30.

Winter Park-Idaho Springs
Food consumed: gatorade, cliffbar, 2 7-11 hotdogs with full condiments, 2 monster energy drinks
I've always been skeptical of gas station hotdogs.  When Chris got one I crinkled my nose at it but took a bite anyways.  It wasn't long until we went back in and got a second, doused in cheese, pickels, ketchup, mustard...and I don't know what else.  Heartburn be damned, they tasted good.

This was the hardest part of the ride for me.  Berthoud Pass was relentless.  Topped out at 5:30.  Chris was an absolute angel setting a steady pace up it for me.  He also towed by big-ring-less self most of the way to the I-70 frontage road in his draft.  Made good time and got to Idaho Springs at 6.  Two more climbs, 3 hours of light.

Idaho Springs-Boulder
Food Consumed: Redbull, jerky, gatorade, cliffbar
I was a bit skeptical if we'd make it.  2000 foot climb up OhMyGod road, at least another 1000 on P2P to Ned...still had a ways to go. 

Somehow, we climbed OMG like Tour de France riders.  Maybe not that fast, but we made good time up it.  Apparently I was halfwheeling Chris the whole way.  This was the best section of the ride.  Fast descent down the otherside to Central City and the painful climb out of the valley.  This was the worst section of the ride.  The climb was relentless, at 6 mph, I didn't think we'd make it to Ned until 10.  How late do the buses run?  Luckly, there's some downhill thrown in there, and when we made it to Rollinsville at 8, we knew we had the ride in the bag.

I think we left Ned at 8:55, twilight.  The Canyon was quiet, we turned our lights on and plunged into Boulder.  Used my last shift from the broken shifter to big-ring it and by the time it got scary-dark, we were to the bike path. 

Stopped at Baseline Liquors on the way home.  Kev had some sandwiches made for dinner.  Never slept so well in my life.

It was a good once-in-a-lifetime ride.  Wouldn't do it again. I'd recommend it as a two-dayer.  I wouldn't have made it without Chris, I'm so glad and honored that he came along.  We carried  a camera the whole way.  Only took pictures during the first 3 hours...whoops.

An Epic Day

Forcast was calling for another 4inches of snow yesterday.  Chris had skied Bear Peak twice and was eager to go for a third.  I figured that if he was willing to do it for a third time, and was actually excited about it...it had to be good.  I've known Chris for upwards of 5 years now...I should have learned by now that that can be an extremely false statement.

Woke up early to take the dogs out running.  Super slick out, flailed my way around our loop, nearly crashing myself out at least a dozen times.  A fresh layer of snow had covered up yesterdays melt-freeze, making conditions terrible at best.  Even Huck took a digger. 

Rushed home from school at 1 to meet Chris to start the Bear Peak expidition.  Out the door and on the biked by 1:50.  Mandatory turn around time: 4pm.  Meeting people at the S. Sun at 5:45.  So we skinned, once in Fern Canyon we took the skis off and hiked, slipping backwards on every third step.  It was slow and brutal going.  Made it to the saddle at 3:50.  Decided to keep going towards the top, 4:15 turn around time.  Then two trail runners passed us, disheartening for sure.  They were flying up in studded crampon shoes.  4:50, at the top.  Strapped the skis on, and picked our way down through knee deep powder.  The terrain and the approach leave something lacking, but there is nothing bad that I can say about the snow up there. It was deep, and light, and sloughed like a waterfall down the mountain.  Skied to the saddle, glissaded down the Canyon in boots, and then skied out under moonlight along Shannahan ridge.

Loaded up the Bob and coasted down to S. Sun...an hour late, but just in time to get seated at a table.  The whole damn backcountry club was out there, RC, Kev, PhD, Evan, Kalet, Greg, and more.  They know to only seat us at the community tables there.  Chris bought me a Junk Burger for my efforts and suffering...and it went down so easy I could have eaten a second.

Pedaled home with RC and Kevin...walked in the house when RC (who'd prolly had a few more beers than Chris and I) announced that it was beautiful out and that we should go riding.  First, we tried to dig out the pump track to no avail, then RC and Kev took turns trying to huck the Homegrown off of the picnic table, and then RC had the brilliant idea of riding to the curly bridge over Foothills and trying to skid down it.  Hence the movies in the previous post.  Everyone crashed out at least once...some more than once, with RC taking the style points crash, and Kev winning on shear number of times hitting the ground.  He was the only one on slicks, and a Death Bike.

Back home just shy of 11...completely and totally exhausted.

Vacation Land

Chris and I took some time off of work this week...well, Chris took time off of work, and I sorta just continued with my general trend of just working sometimes...and we went to go play in the mountains. I had three goals this summer, Arapahoes, Longs Peak, and the Grand Loop.  Arapahoes checked off, so Thursday afternoon Chris, Charlie and I headed up to Longs Peak to camp out and climb the peak Friday.  Hit a traffic jam in the parking lot...there had to be at least 200 cars in it, and when there weren't any backcountry camping permits left for the night, we were more than happy to hightail it out of there.  New policy - only go near 14'ers in the spring, with skis on our backs. Settled on James peak instead and headed up East Portal for a night camped near Heart Lake. Buffalo, pesto and pasta provided dinner - yum.  Slept out under the starts, there were a million of them. It's been a while since we didn't use a tent for sleeping, I found myself lying awake longer than usual looking at the sky. Morning was sunny and perfect for a quick hike up James peak.  Scouted out some good ski lines for the spring before rain started at 10:30 and we hightailed it down, chased by thunder.  Back at camp, cooked some grilled cheese sandwiches before thunder and rain chased us under the tarp for coffee and a nap.  Back in Boulder, decided that the weekend plans for the Grand Loop were still a go, regardless of the dire forecast for rain and thunder. Sure enough, woke up to rain.  Hurray.  RC, Heather, Evan, Erin, and I set off down 93 anyhow. The initial plan was Coal creek-Oh my god road-Mt. evans-Berthoud-WP for the first day.  Heather's dad, Evan, was deadset on doing the whole thing.  Decided that if the weather was bad, forgo Evans and just head to WP.  Started up Coal Creek when Heather's derailler hanger decided to snap off.  Single speeded her bike and sent her home with the plan of her driving up to WP that night and riding the second leg with us.  Well, I think it would have been a fun ride...had I not run down from James peak the day before.  I think I had the single most pathetic day I've ever had on a bike.  I was dragging ass to an extreme degree.  Not pretty.  At Idaho Springs, after an awesome descent down Oh My God road, I announced I was headed to Winter Park.  Erin came with me, Mike and Evan headed up Evans.  They got turned around at 11,900 ft by thunder...but impressive none the less.  I, on the other hand, dragged my sorry butt up Berthoud for a fast descent down the other side to the condo where Chris and Charlie were waiting, after riding Rollins Pass instead.  Those were the hardest 80 miles and 9000 ft of climbing I think I've ever done on a bike. Heather showed up with Bama in tow to drive her car back the next day.  All she had to bribe him with was free food and beer.  He slept on the porch covered in blankets. Sunday, lucky, started sunny as we quickly dropped nearly 1000 feet in elevation to Grand Lake, before having to pay $10 a bike to get into Rocky Mountain.  What a joke, a car filled with 8 people only costs $20.  Parks pass next time.  I decided that the best way to get up Trail Ridge was to go as hard as I good for as long as I could...and hope that when I blew, I wasn't too far from the top.  Worked...sorta.  The last couple of miles were painful, but the first couple of switchbacks were like Alpe D'Huez. Zoo at the visitors center, people were taking pictures of us like we were wildlife on our bikes.  Funny stuff those flatlanders do.  The road was impressive, I'll give it that, though the descent was a traffic jam of cars, taking all the fun out of going downhill.  What a disapointment. Donuts in Estes, one final big climb out before a screaming fast/wet descent to Lyons and a Gooney's paced ride back to Boulder.  120 miles, 8 hours, 5000 ft or so of uphill.  I spent many of the 200 total miles pondering how much I could sell my road bike for. But in the end, it was fun.  120 miles didn't kill me, so for road rides number 3 and 4 for 2006, I think the weekend was an all around sucess.  Then when we got home, Charlie was taking a shower when the cold water faucet popped out of the wall and proceeded to spray gallons of cold water everywhere until we managed to find the water main to the house and shut it off.  Plumber came while we went to the Sun to drink beer...after all, what else are you going to do when there's no water in the house.  Save water...drink beer. Mike has more pics posted from the weekend, he was the camera man as my camera requires a few swift taps against the nearest rock to work properly,  and I didn't quite feel like dealing with it while in oxygen debt.

wp and back

E and I made a special delivery to winter park, keys.  710am Ned bus, wp by noon, beer and cheesey  bagels, back to boulder before 7, bout 10hrs riding time, well more like 9hrs ride time 1 hrs hiking through snow.  The snow on the wp side made it slow goin, and threatening  boomers, mountain lion tracks, got the heart beating on the way home.  rode some single track on Guinn Mtn, bombed the El doo-doo service rode, down bowel movement, and back down the canyon.  E and I managed to not ride up a single hill from the top of el doo-doo to boulder, 30-40 mile down hill, 11600 ft to 5400ft.  2nd ned ride for me this year, first epic, and first time doin Rollins Pass twice in a day.  Yes, there still is a lot of snow, it is still ski season.

~mt

Breaking the 10 hour mark

Like most of our adventures...it seemed like a good idea at the time.  Ski to Winter Park from Eldora.  Armed with avalanche beacons and various methods of oversnow transportation, we left Eldora just as the moon was setting.  Ran into some Nordic race setup and Kev prolly ruined their grooming with his snowshoes as we headed up Jenny Creek.  Chris and I were running kicker skins on our fishscale touring skis, Mike was running full skins on his touring setup, Missy was on full skins on her teles and Kevin, the superstar that he is, hiked up in snowshoes with his alpine ski set-up strapped to his back. 

The acsent up to Guinn Moutain hut was beautiful.  Stopped halfway up for some beacon practice and lunch.  The snow was fresh and clean, weather was beautiful, and in the trees, not a whisper of wind.  After the hut, broke trail along the ridge before descening into the saddle overlooking Yankee Doodle lake before skinning up a steep ridge before the final climb to the pass.  The last bit we did on foot with the skis strapped to our back due to lack of snow.  Took us five hours to the top, we figured we could make it down well before the sun set.

Once at the 'top', Kevin and Missy took their climbing gear off and got ready to descend...guess the 4% grade of Rollins doesn't exactly lend itself to descending.  Finally found a little downhill for Kevin to huck off of, and then some freshies for those who chose to turn down the slope.  Once past the trestles, Chris and I took the road while Kev, Missy, and Mike took off down the snowmobile track.  Guess they spent most of the way down falling on their asses.  Chris and I just slogged on, and once we met back up, the whole crew continued the slog down the road...not a good choice.  Near the end, it was dark, we were all tired, wanting to be down, having our own internalized moments of frustration.  The damn snowmobiles were buzzing us, telling us that the road was a motorized vehicle trail, implying that we shouldn't be on it etc.  The saving grace, found a sweet downhill, freshly groomed for snowmobiles that dumped us out right at the edge of Winter Park.  Picked up by my parents who had dinner ready, and cold beer in the fridge.  Angels sent from heaven.

It had been just under 10 hours from Eldora to the front door of the Beaver Village inn where we sat like dirty hippies waiting to be picked up.  An epic trip, with room for improvement. 

Spent the next two days goofing off.  Did a little bit of cross country skiing up Vasquez road, built a terrain park in the backyard, and drank plenty of beer while doing it.  The drive home was a little sad.  Even with being able to ski in the morning, we were all a little bummed in having to return to the real world.

Pictures are posted in the photoalbum Under Rollins - Winter.  Some good times contained in them.