"Meat loaf beat Loaf. I hate meat loaf."

And to think that I thought my entirely asynchronous interests in bicycles and organic food would never align. Sure there were some connections, but the thread between Zipp wheel-sets and fish emulsion fed veggies is a tenuous one at best; that is until I got on VeloNews this morning.

The story on MSN of all places actually caught my eye before I even got a chance to get to VeloNews to read the real coverage of it: Tour de France champion Alberto Contador tested positive for a scant trace of clenbuterol. The lithe Spanish cycling virtuoso alleges the steroid found its way into his system via contaminated beef that his friends brought him while visiting him on one of the rest days during the tour. And indeed his Yellow Jersey, daily samples confirm that the steroid was not present (even at such microscopic amounts) until this point when it theoretically could have been ingested with his tasty burger or what have you. Head hunters, vigilantes and Lance supporters are clamoring for his ban from the sport, but I could really care less. The significance of such an announcement means so much more to me personally and professionally than anything that could happen to some brilliant bike racer I’ve never met. I’ve now discovered that my mission in life is to market hormone and steroid free meat and veggies as sponsors for continental ProTour cyclists. Finally cycling can resonate with something truly American: prime rib. Mark the time, note the location: this is MY idea.

Picture this:  the new Schleck powered Luxembourg team sponsored by some high profile Euro-bank and…Cascadian Farms home of certified organic fruits, veggies and granola. No chemical sprays, poisons or CERA on those lovely leaves. Or how about the new power house: Garmin-Cervelo-USDA Certified Free Range Angus Beef…the team cars could be black and white spotted like a cow! The guy who runs alongside the TDF riders on massive hill climbs with his antler helmet could now be sponsored to wear ‘hook-em’ Texas Long Horn-horns. "Texas the land of beef"…some raised with chemicals like yucky Spanish meat that losers like AC ate (we don’t like losers)…but some is raised in the good, natural way off grass and pasture before the steer is shot with a bolt to the head like in No Country for Old Men. Cue son of Texas…that’s right, the big L.A. himself.

Rather than the gravely voice of Sam Elliot or some other such Hollywood Western namesake, Andy Schleck in his broken English could pitch “Beef…steroid, antibiotic and hormone free that is…its what’s for dinner.” Then he and O’Grady could switch over for Anheuser Busch and ‘pedal’ some of that as they clearly share a need for some good brew (not that AB is good brew per se but we’re talking market share here folks. And when the almighty dollar talks you better believe the cheap beer is flyin’.) This might be the big break that cycling needed; a crack into the meat and potato crowd of American consumers. And speaking of cracking breaks: “Need a little excitement?” Well snap into that Slim Jim says scar faced Jens Voigt and Christian Vandevelde…who lately in grand tours have looked more like snapped Slim Jims than anything. Maybe Hank Williams Junior could work on a new jingle for the Versus, “Are you ready for some time-trial? An early morning tape delayed time-trial…all my rowdy friends are coming over for fat-free low carb salads, whole grain rice, pasta and some freakin TIME TRIAL!!" (Cut to cheerleaders, cause nothing sells men in spandex like women in lingerie; cow walks across the screen led by none other than 4-time Fabian himself.) Holy shit, what NASCAR loving blue-blooded American wouldn’t tune in for that!?!

So AC passes into the mire and skepticism of his second modern-day doping scandal, but through Operacion Puerto-Meato-Oh-No and his plummet from grace he’s opened a great wide door for potential meat fed marketing to just walk right in one hoof at a time. I for one will be there to cash in on that great cow of opportunism and financial boon.  I just hope its not tainted with something that gives me indigestion.

Golden Cruise September 2010

Ill-equipped with my 'flashless' camera I wasn't properly outfitted to capture all of the sights of last night's cruise. The appallingly early onset of dusk and nightfall really shook me out of my denial that winter is indeed on the way.  So I have only a few pictures from before the ride and none of the actual flannel-pant clad PJ processional; sorry.  Regardless, it was yet again a great evening to be out in Golden riding a big fat tired bike. The route wound through the Clear Creek path area and around downtown avoiding many of the longer road stretches of previous rides either due to the practicality of navigating a couple hundred cruiser riders around Golden in the dark or due to pressure to keep the ride off the road (that's my bit of speculation and I was not alone in the rumor mongering amongst fellow cruisers last night.) In any case no one seemed to mind the change of scenery and everyone seemed to have a good time. As per usual the beer and pizza afterwards at Woody's tasted great and seemed to compliment the evening of hanging out and riding bikes perfectly. I still didn't win a free bike in the raffle but there's always next time I suppose. Speaking of next time, its going to the last ride and Halloween Costume themed, so if you've not made it out for one of these cruises October's final ride of the season might be a good place to start. Then you'll be all pumped up for April when they start back up again: all hail the summer cruise.


Choice curbside parking for Cruisers only



Note the welded tools on the top tube complete with shell casings.

When I think cruisers I often think New Belgium too.

Bike Tuesday

A double stuffed Oreo of bike fun, the last Tuesday of the month is bus Tuesday and its Golden Cruise Tuesday as well…wholesome fun for the entire family. Bus Tuesday occurs the 4th Tuesday of the month where I get to hop on the bus with my bike and ride out to Golden for a recurring committee meeting. A couple months ago I was selected to serve on a committee for work. On some levels getting the nod to serve on a committee can be compared to getting into a car accident: it is bound to happen to just about everyone at some point and when it does you only pray that you’re able to stand up and walk away from it. So while I was ‘voluntold’ to be on this committee, the meetings have been effectively organized and astoundingly on-topic to the point of being productive (shocker for a committee I know), and the real plus has been the once monthly opportunity to flee my gray walled hole during the middle of the day.

Riding to work and traveling to a committee meeting can be a challenge by bike. In the past I’ve managed to only get the call to serve on committees within a mile or two from my office: easy bike to meeting range. A couple years ago I had the pleasure of serving on a group that convened out in Aurora. Fortunately they met early in the morning so I was able to get up and bike down to the main bus depot and hop the express out to the location. Getting back to work was an easy express ride to Denver. Faced with the proposition of an afternoon meeting in Golden I found myself again busing it once a month with my bike. While the commute via bike and bus takes about 15 min longer than driving, I find the time on the bus to generally be more productive work-wise than sitting in a car. I can get caught up on email, read docs or reports and actually prep for the upcoming meeting (which otherwise wouldn’t happen if I went straight from office-to drive-to meeting…there’s just no time for luxuries like effective preparation.)

Today I was able to check some email and get caught up from some lingering items outstanding from last week’s time out of the office, and I got to enjoy the company of some of my fellow bus travelers. Most of the afternoon’s conversation centered around a fellow with macular degeneration who talked at length about how he rides his bike downtown to Golden frequently much to the dismay of his wife who gives him a fair bit of grief about it. When pressed about his route he indicated that the roads are in fact smoother and more direct than the path, which got a chuckle out of everyone around him now listening to the conversation. “I usually take the road down, and then the path back he said,” which made perfect sense to me I suppose; as he had in fact already acknowledged his inability to effectively see either. He also told us a funny story about how he got a call indicating that he was qualified to win a scooter: he just had to answer a few questions. His response to the caller was “Well hopefully the first question isn’t: can you see to drive the thing!” This again got a pretty good laugh from the other riders. He got off at the same stop as I did and cane in hand made his way down the sidewalk. It goes to show how far one can get on sheer willpower and strength of character (if not a bit of stubbornness as well), even despite seemingly limiting obstacles. People all the time say, “Oh I’d probably be able to ride my bike but this and that and such and such.” Well this man could barely see and apparently had a nagging wife: that didn’t stop him!

Home at last from all my biking and busing in a professional sense, its time to load up the bikes for the monthly Golden Cruiser Ride. Tonight marks the second to last installment of this wonderful summer institution. The theme tonight apparently is PJ Party…which is not a theme I can really get behind. I don’t really P or J and I assure you that no one wants to see the alternative. So its shorts and a shirt tonight but for next month’s Halloween Costume Cruiser Ride we’ll be pulling out all the stops. Stay tuned for more on that front!

CO Trip: The Aftermath

Well I'm home once again safe and sound. After some initial miscommunication with my pick up rendezvous, Kate found me out in the desert standing next to that Utah Line pillar. We drove back yesterday stopping in Palisade for lunch.  When all is said and done my trip amounted to about 522 miles ridden in just under 41 hours spread over 9 days.  Of course these are high level estimates, but should be pretty close. Either way you slice it that's a fair amount of work when you think about it.

So I'm cleaned up once again and well rested. Seven nights of sleeping on the ground, even with a nice Thermarest Pad tends to wear you down after a point. I got all my gear aired out and packed away; the nice thing about a bike trip is that there's not much gear to clean up and put away, so it took all of 15 min. I think Kate will still be finding Kebler mud on her panniers for some time. I'm not going to wash mine off, kind of like a badge of honor...or stupidity. My knees feel pretty good; glad to not be pedaling this morning.  Its Sunday, the day of rest, and then back to the salt mines tomorrow. Fun times. Thanks to everyone for following along on my little journey. I'm glad to have been able to share it all with you. Keep checking in on the SpokedInTheEye blog from time to time for more exciting cycling updates or the usual griping and complaining about Denver motorists. Or check in with me at JasonEtc, also on blogspot--link to the right, for more of my rambling thoughts on all kinds of things.

Until next time...I'm thinking Montana...that should be fun...2-3 weeks...600-750 or so miles of wide open big sky country...maybe some bears...black flies...glaciers...prairie...cool mountain microbrews...man that could be cool...

Day 9: CO Monument to Utah Line

Miles traveled: 27.6
Ride Time: 1:36
Avg Speed: 17mph

The Utah and Colorado border along highway 6 lies out in the middle of nowhere marked only by a stone pillar and a cattle guard. The pillar, in true American fashion, has been vandalized by spray paint and shotgun shells. Little is sacred for us these days. But to me this past week has been somewhat of a sacred event, an exploration of physical, mental and emotional limits. No I didn’t climb Everest, and no I didn’t ride across the country, but I did venture out in a spirit of discovery and find new places, meet new people and learn a bit more about myself and my home state.

One gains an intimate appreciation for the landscape traveling by bike. When not racing by at 75mph on an interstate one can appreciate both the largeness and smallness of our more remote places. While many of the little communities along my route are in decline if not outright extinguished, there is a life to these places and a history still vivid in the structures and faces that call them home. I think we take these small places for granted in our rush to convenience and ease, sealing ourselves up inside our small, perfect neighborhoods. A hard scrabble folk still make their living from the land in our country and others, closely tied to this existence, support them by running and maintaining stores and restaurants, shops and services. These small communities are ones of a quaint interconnectedness. People who still say good morning and wave as they drive by, who know each other by name and have a general concern, if not direct dependency, on each other’s well being. There’s a lack of anonymity in these smaller communities, which makes it harder to hide as well as harder to avoid the interpersonal contact one has with everyone else in the town. That person you snub or cut off on the road may very well be the person teaching your child or ringing up your groceries. Its harder to just brush off the casual stranger as someone you will never meet again, and in that sense an accepting welcome greets those who would take the time to head out of their way and venture into these rural locales. For those who drop the pretense and sense of expectation, one can find a more rewarding destination in a small community than in some 5 star hotel or resort. And yet for all the smallness of the back corners of this state there are great vast expanses to behold as well.

The enormity of our great mountain ranges, the vastness of our plains really only sinks in when physically confronted by them. The landscape of Colorado is formidable and at times hostile, yet it offers a rich and diverse range of scenes and climates for everyone to explore. I started on the plains, traveled through great wide, dry hills to stony mountains cut by roaring streams. I climbed high peaks and saw the ferocity of the high plateaus and windswept valleys and have now descended down to red rock desert vistas and sweeping prairie of tumbleweed and junipers. I saw all these things and soaked them in over a single week of pedaling my bike.

I don’t know all that I have gained from this experience on a personal level. There is a tremendous amount of physical accomplishment and understanding at what all I can endure and persevere. But there’s also a point at which the noise and distraction in my head finally shut off and quieted itself. I don’t know at what point this occurred, perhaps when being baked by the sun on the plains near La Junta, or battered by the winds in canyons and valleys towards Gunnison or maybe it was the cold and wet of Kebler that wrung it out; in any case it eventually stopped. And this noise, this incessant chatter which continually provides the background track for my thoughts left in its absence a calmness. Last night sitting out under the stars in the cool wind of Colorado Monument my head and my thoughts were clear and simple. No anxiety for the future, no questioning of decisions in the past. Just a cool wind and wide open sky. I know that as soon as I delve back into the ‘real’ world of obligations, expectations, anticipations and stress my thoughts will again cloud over with self-conscious chatter and obsession; my compulsiveness fed by an unsettled state of being. And yet perhaps when this starts to happen I’ll think back to that night on the red rock with all on earth at that moment exposed and opened wide to the star filled heavens. And I will contemplate the lone serenity of that cool, desert night and I will remember. With the impressions of this trip so richly felt and intimately experienced, in truth I believe it will be difficult to forget.

My cyclist flag and manifesto to motorists.

Day 8: Hotchkiss to Grand Junction, Colorado National Monument

Miles Traveled: 77.5
Ride Time: 6:24
Avg Speed: 12

Along the North Gunnison River valley the temperature plummeted last night. I woke to not only a heavy layer of condensation on everything, but to temperatures easily in the low 40’s. Needless to say I packed camp quickly and got on the road in a hurry to generate some heat. Once atop Roger’s Mesa the highway finishes its tour of small farms and orchards before dropping down almost instantaneously into the dry arid landscape of the western slope. Not even reminiscent of the eastern plains, this landscape more closely rivals the moon for its unnatural barrenness.

I came through Delta but didn’t stop, I kept moving, now northward, and again along HWY 50. A wind blew out of the north west making my progress a bit slower but I kept going over one rolling hill after another. Outside of Whitewater I came across a couple shooting documentary style footage of bike touring of all things. I’m not sure of the intended format or distribution method, however my beloved Surly makes a grand appearance in their footage as a deluxe touring rig. Scott and Dina (might be spelling that wrong) caught me a couple times along my route and actually stopped me in Grand Junction to introduce themselves and look at the bike more closely. As I left Grand Junction and made my way up through Redlands they bumped into me again and kindly gave me a bottle of water. It was sorely needed at that point in my ride, so many thanks to them for happening past. And who knows this trip might make me famous.

I stopped in Grand Junction for lunch and requisite daily updates to the blog from yesterday’s journey. It felt good to stop though I remained up in the air about where to go next. One option was to shoot for Highline State Park out by Loma, which would add nearly another 20-25 miles into the same headwind as the morning‘s ride, or try and head out towards Colorado National Monument and camp there. Again joyful headwind but a considerably shorter route, by about half, however including a hefty bit of climbing akin to Lookout at home: about 1100 feet of gain in 4 miles--ouch. As you all know my exploits on Lookout (recall the 12 days of Lookout…) I certainly wouldn’t back down from pillar to post style riding even if with 65 more pounds of gear than usual. After wandering down the Main Street area of Grand Junction, and topping off my tires at Brown’s Cycles on Main, I began heading west again. Without making much of a conscious decision about it I got onto Route 340 and pointed the Surly towards the Monument. In truth I could have bailed and kept on going to Fruita and out to Loma, but after checking with the national park guard about the availability of sites and water at the top decided to go ahead and do it. This was the right choice. I’m sure Highline is nice, but the Monument is AHA-SOME.

Balanced Rock, Colorado National Monument

The climb up wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I went slow, stopped to take some pictures and generally took it easy. My knees at this point don’t do hammer anymore…particularly on the hills…so easy was my destined speed by default. I got to the top and found one of the few remaining exterior sites (on the outside loop of the campground area) and pitched my tent still wet from the morning Gunnison dew in a wonderfully western slope sunny spot. I wandered around, first behind my campsite, which leads right to the cliff wall, and again around the campground to the Book Shelf Cliffs and overlook. The landscape of the monument reminded me of Moab…like a slice of Moab slick rock right in the middle of the grand valley. You could almost expect Wile E Coyote to come screaming by with a rocket car or something. I went up to the Visitor Center and watched a movie about the geology of the area. It amazes me how much people have been able to figure out about the landscape and unique features around us, especially given all of the natural phenomenon which conspired to create such forms and monoliths.

Looking down on the road coming up to the top of the mesa.

Tonight I ate cheesy noodle surprise…the surprise is that it tastes freaking AWFUL… Fortunately I still pocketed some snacks and Starbursts to help eradicate the lingering taste of foul. I sat out late to watch the stars….well as late as I could stand to be out in the wind and cold with the clothing I packed with me (pretty much everything on at once). The rangers at the visitor center think it will get down to at least 40 tonight if not colder…brrrr. At least I have good eastern exposure for when the sun pops over the Grand Mesa in the morning. Tomorrow I head down through Fruita and out along HWY6 to the border. Should be about 25-ish miles I think and then that will be the end of my journey. Seems very odd to have started a week ago and now finally be here, nearing the end. I’m sure I’ll have more cogent reflections on this whole experience in the morning. At this point I’m tired and still surprised to be here.

Camp Colorado Monument

On the edge, Colorado Monument

Day 7: Paonia to Hotchkiss

Miles traveled: 12 Ride time: A while
Average speed: Slow

Today I took a break. In theory this trip constitutes ’vacation time.’ And not wanting to be one of those people who come back from a trip and exclaim, “I need a vacation from my vacation” I decided to take a day off from riding around. I still ended up riding around, when traveling by bicycle you don’t get much of an alternative unless you want to push your bike, but for my part I didn’t ride hard and I certainly didn’t ride a considerable distance.

Today in the North Fork Valley the weather was gorgeous. The wind was really howling from the west, good thing I wasn’t riding, so it made for a blustery afternoon but all in all a nice change of pace from the rain. I took a back route into Hotchkiss which is a smaller town than Paonia situated along highway 92 and 133. Saying it is a smaller town is much like comparing microscopic to infinitesimal, at a point you’re splitting hairs. There is a City Market and a Family Dollar, I presume more fixtures of the proximity to highway, and thus highway travelers, but there aren’t really many other noteworthy establishments. I did go by The Creamery, which is a really well renovated milk creamery building turned local artist co-op. The gallery spans two large floors and boasts a pretty diverse collection of art from local and regional artists as well as kids who participate in the Art After School program. Quite the standout in what is otherwise a typical, small Colorado town like many that I’ve ridden through recently. What really stood out more than the ‘city center’ was the surrounding landscape of farms, orchards and gardens. The river valley spans a wide distance at this point between mesas on both the north and south sides. The resulting plains in between must be quite fertile and productive to support so much agriculture. While Paonia sat closer to the West Elk Wilderness and Mt. Lamborn the land around Hotchkiss is more open and expansive leading west towards Delta or south towards Crawford and the Black Canyon.

Looking east towrds Paonia and Mt. Lamborn

Apples, ripe for the pickin'

So I made my way to town, wandered around the sites to see in the city. I got my first flat, which is surprising given the miles traveled and crap ridden through in the past week. Other than those events I spent the majority of the afternoon in a park reading and loafing about the place. While capable of taking time to ‘do nothing’ I don’t frequently do it. Even this trip somewhat conspired against that agenda with its day to day itinerary of key mileage points and destinations. Yet it felt good to make time to simply let it pass by and be for a moment in the moment. While I’m sure my knees haven’t recovered enough to not scream at me yet again tomorrow when I get back on the bike I do feel refreshed and relaxed. My spot here tucked back behind the Delta County Fairgrounds towards the river is secluded enough to be quite peaceful given my proximity to the surrounding hub-bub of Hotchkiss. Which is really a round about way of saying this is a pretty quiet spot in an already quiet little town.

Tomorrow I leave the small town valley behind and head towards the ‘big city’ of Grand Junction drawing towards the end of my trip. It will be a pretty long day so hopefully the winds don’t return.

At camp in Hotchkiss