Day 34: Breckenridge to Hartsell - 53 miles

Last night was definitely the coldest night so far. The fact that I was sleeping at about 10,000' didn't help things... At 09:00 it was only 1 degree so it was definitely below 0 when I awoke at 04:00 and decided that more layers were warranted. When I emerged at 07:00 there was ice on the tent. A jogger was out on the trail and asked how was I doing. When I said "cold" she said she was not at all surprised.

I broke camp in record time and hopped on my bike to head into town to find breakfast. Even my seat had a layer of frost on it! I had no luck in finding a place and after circling around headed up through the part of Main Street closed for Oktoberfest. I found the 'Columbine Cafe' was open so the choice was made. I had the waitress bring me a hot chocolate "urgently" and I sat there clutching it looking pathetic while trying to thaw out. When she heard that I had camped out last night she said it was no surprise that I was frozen.

For a change I decided to have something else besides pancakes. They did a nice mixture of vegetables and scrambled eggs, but I think that I'm best off having pancakes. I spoke with the people at the next table and they said that when they first moved to Breckenridge 30 years ago it was a dead town. The local dog used to sleep in the middle of Main Street, only to be interrupted about twice a day. Things are very different now, with lots of trendy restaurants and other eateries, boutiques, etc. The house prices are in the stratosphere, and ironically most of them are vacant for much of the year.

I was lacking enthusiasm for today's ride. I had to climb over Boreas pass which was 11,482' -- the highest climb to date -- and after covering over 200 miles in the last three days, with four major passes, I guess that I had reason to dawdle around town. I went to the local petrol station and had an apple fritter, sitting in the sun watching the locals. Finally I catalysed myself into action and started heading upwards.

As I turned onto Boreas Pass road I was presented with a most unusual train, a photo of which is shown below. The front of the train had the cylindrical object which I couldn't work out the purpose of. I found out later it was a snow plow used to cut its way through the huge drifts on the route.

 

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Fortunately, the Boreas Pass route was along an old narrow gauge railway which meant that the grades were very moderate. I just decided on a speed of 6 mph and headed upwards. The first part of the road was paved and took me past a whole series of posh houses with views to kill for. Eventually we reached the national forest and the road became unpaved. It was narrow in places, winding close to the edge, with mountains all around.

 

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I had been warned at the restaurant that there would be a lot of traffic since it was the peak of aspen season and lots of people were out admiring the trees. This proved to be true, but there were also a lot of cyclist and even some runners doing a race from Como to Breckenridge. The trees were stunning and I often stopped to admire them. There were great lengths where the trees formed a canopy over the road with their golden leaves lighting the way.

 

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I was joined on my cycle by Carolyn who was a nurse from the nearby town of Leadville. As you can probably guess, it was at one stage the home to a major lead mine although now it is just a statellite community to Vail and Breckenridge. She was cycling with her husband John who was the local doctor. He had zoomed ahead while she was happy to take it easier.

We had an enjoyable wide ranging conversation. I was able to ask her if the medical situation was as bad in America as the media reports. She said that, unfortunately, it is. The cost of medical insurance was getting to the point where many businesses were cutting back on coverage for their employees and the poor simply cannot afford health care. It made me appreciate NZ with our socialised medicine which, for all its deficiencies, still offers many advantages over the American 'free market' model.

I found that the altitude was getting to me again and by the time I reached Boreas Pass I was huffing and puffing, even when I was standing at the sign below! I just do not respond well to altitude, but then I've known that for years since my treks in Nepal.

 

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The photo below is of Carolyn and John.

 

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There was a 'Station House' at the top of the pass which was restored from one dating back to the railway's early years. Boreas is the god of snow and this area receives more than its fair share. The station house was the focal point for work gangs who kept the tracks open during the winter, which was a very difficult task. They had photographs of huge snow drifts and of the special train I saw earlier which was used to plow through the drifts. Derailments were common, and they often had to build spur lines to get the gear back on the main track, like the time a train fell 200' down the mountain. It was a harsh life to say the least, and beyond my comprehension. On a sunny day it was a cold, windy place; in the middle of January it must be horrible.

Boreas Pass was (about) Continental Divide crossing #19. I've got to get my maps out and work out the exact number. The views south were of more mountains and forests, and I was looking forward to the downhill run. Particularly as it would take me to lower elevations.

 

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The downhill run was great and I hit speeds of 30+ mph without any problems. Unfortunately, a broken surface came upon me and I was unable to slow down or avoid the rocks so I managed to get a split tube in my rear tyre. I stopped at a lookout point and changed the tube. Even my slimed tubed can't handle a 10 mm gash!

While I was changing the tyre a couple stopped with their child. Warren was an ex-stockbroker from New York now living in Boulder. I said that it was a good time not to be in the business. He was now selling security systems and had decided that was a recession proof business which paid almost as well. However, he was still investing, or at least trying to make sense of the ups and downs of the market. I said that I had just 'parked' all my investments and we'll see how they do for the next few years.

I resumed my downhill run and eventually reached the town of Como where I got a drink and some popcorn as refreshments. From there it was on to route 15 which took me south towards Hartsell. As the photo below shows, it was a winding road which went through desert country. No animals; few trees; lots of scrub.

 

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Fortunately, I had a tailwind for much of the run and except for the fairly frequent hills the cycling was easy. That was until I reached the end of the route and I needed to turn west into the headwind. The cycling would have been difficult enough had there not been a busy road with a 10" shoulder (at best). My speed dropped to 7 mph and I focused on steering a straight line along the edge of the road, not the easiest thing when the wind is gusting at you. After a few miles I turned slightly south which changed the direction of the wind, I now had to lean my bicycle over slightly. This was one of those times when you just count down the distance to the destination and after about 45 minutes I arrived in the thriving metropolis of Hartsell.

I needed a break from the wind so I went into the first cafe I came to (one of three) and had a nice vegetarian hamburger while reading my book. They were not willing to refill my waterbottles (they are only allowed 10 gallons a day) so I then went up to the petrol station and bought a litre of water. It transpired that there was no motel in town so they advised me to ask at Cafe #2 (Doc Holliday's) if I could camp in their lot. Not a problem so I went and pitched my tent before returning to chat with the guys at the cafe.

Don owned the cafe and they specialised in Buffalo and Elk burgers. He indicated that the buffalo are from local ranches and there are about 10,000 in the South Park area. They fetch a higher price than cattle, although they take longer to reach fully grown. His friend Mike was living in a caravan behind the cafe and was originally from Oregon. When he heard that I had come through Wyoming he said that after Nevada it was the worst place in the world. I had to agree.

They had an Internet cafe so I was able to check my e-mail and then work on my journal while they watched the Emmy awards on television. Not watching much TV most of it was lost on me, but they were very keen. When they shut down at 20:00 I moved next door to Cafe #1 and sat in the adjacent bar working on my journal while a wedding party (dressed in kilts!) were in the cafe. After they left the bartended commented on what a bad tipper they were, only $25 on a $300 tab. Seemed like a pretty good price for a wedding party!

Then it was back to the tent for another night in the cold. Tomorrow I'll reach Salida and hopefully get together with Lis in the evening. Looking forward to it with anticipation.

On to the next day ...

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