Today: 67.2 Miles - AVG Speed: 11.2MPH - Top Speed: 30.2MPH
Total: 3,331.10
Out of all the towns in all the world to get marooned in, I had to get marooned in this one.
About 5 miles into the ride I met the acquaintance of another cyclist named Dietmar, an Austrian chap based in San Francisco. He was extremely poetic and effusive in his praise of the landscapes that I was yet to encounter and he also had a very refreshing outlook. "Take your time" was his message. Little was I to know that taking time would be enforced upon me later in the day.
I'm still in The Rockies, and as such, there was more climbing, about 45 miles or so through the course of the day. The first tough ascent was a 2,000 footer over the Dallas Divide set over a series of serpentine switchbacks. I enjoyed this one, it was easy enough to get a good rhythm going and the views of The Rockies were awe-inspiring. The hardest task is maintaining concentration in the midst of so much attention-grabbing, rugged landscape.
The second climb was the 16 mile grind to the town of Telluride where I planned to spend the night and the following day. It was a truly beautiful ride amongst the starkest red rock I've encountered so far whilst, to my right, the San Miguel river - which disappointingly, isn't made of Spanish lager - snaked and rushed in the opposite direction, giving me the strange sensation of feeling like some kind of land salmon.
Arriving in Telluride was like arriving in Disneyland. It was perfect. Perfectly clean, perfectly sunny, perfectly perfect. However, this is dependent on your interpretation of perfection. The lack of grime and grit does lend itself to a very American ideal of what is deemed perfect, and whilst the town is set in the most mind-blowing of locations, there is a sense of a touristic toy-town to it. Deciding to migrate here would be like wilfully erecting a blockade against what we may consider the real world, and I suppose that's the point for many of the residents. Speaking to locals in bars and shops there does is an almost Utopian outlook to life, and of all the towns I've visited so far and had conversations with the residents, this one seems to be the most isolated. The most Stepfordian.
I did have the pleasure of meeting Maddy, an Australian tourist and Lauren, a temporary resident on my day off, and we had a very pleasant day drinking in some local bars before taking the cable car up to the sister town of Mountain Village to watch a free evening concert by Amy Helm. The event didn't really tickle my fancy, in truth. Watching dozens of badly-dressed men in socks, sandals and sports jackets dancing like they were competing for some kind of Embarrassing-Uncle-at-a-Wedding award left me feeling cold, but the views over the Rockies in the background certainly compensated for the excruciating fashion show in the foreground.
I'll level with you, the evening descended into a rather drunken haze, where we spent time with a local stoner named Peter who kept pointing to his bicep whilst saying "Born in the shadow of the statue of liberty, baby. HooHa!" and Owen, an Irish immigrant who was carrying a shepherds staff that was, for seemingly no good reason, fused with a rams horn. It was all very bizarre and when I decided to call it a night I was left trying to piece together exactly what happened in this curious real-life jigsaw puzzle. I fear I may never get the full picture.
Unfortunately, Betty's new wheel won't arrive for another two days, so I have an enforced stopover in this most intriguing of towns. The good news is that the world renowned Telluride Jazz Celebration festival is on this weekend. So, I'm going to enjoy that on Friday whilst the old girl gets some well earned TLC. Nice.
Total: 3,331.10
Out of all the towns in all the world to get marooned in, I had to get marooned in this one.
About 5 miles into the ride I met the acquaintance of another cyclist named Dietmar, an Austrian chap based in San Francisco. He was extremely poetic and effusive in his praise of the landscapes that I was yet to encounter and he also had a very refreshing outlook. "Take your time" was his message. Little was I to know that taking time would be enforced upon me later in the day.
I'm still in The Rockies, and as such, there was more climbing, about 45 miles or so through the course of the day. The first tough ascent was a 2,000 footer over the Dallas Divide set over a series of serpentine switchbacks. I enjoyed this one, it was easy enough to get a good rhythm going and the views of The Rockies were awe-inspiring. The hardest task is maintaining concentration in the midst of so much attention-grabbing, rugged landscape.
The second climb was the 16 mile grind to the town of Telluride where I planned to spend the night and the following day. It was a truly beautiful ride amongst the starkest red rock I've encountered so far whilst, to my right, the San Miguel river - which disappointingly, isn't made of Spanish lager - snaked and rushed in the opposite direction, giving me the strange sensation of feeling like some kind of land salmon.
Arriving in Telluride was like arriving in Disneyland. It was perfect. Perfectly clean, perfectly sunny, perfectly perfect. However, this is dependent on your interpretation of perfection. The lack of grime and grit does lend itself to a very American ideal of what is deemed perfect, and whilst the town is set in the most mind-blowing of locations, there is a sense of a touristic toy-town to it. Deciding to migrate here would be like wilfully erecting a blockade against what we may consider the real world, and I suppose that's the point for many of the residents. Speaking to locals in bars and shops there does is an almost Utopian outlook to life, and of all the towns I've visited so far and had conversations with the residents, this one seems to be the most isolated. The most Stepfordian.
I did have the pleasure of meeting Maddy, an Australian tourist and Lauren, a temporary resident on my day off, and we had a very pleasant day drinking in some local bars before taking the cable car up to the sister town of Mountain Village to watch a free evening concert by Amy Helm. The event didn't really tickle my fancy, in truth. Watching dozens of badly-dressed men in socks, sandals and sports jackets dancing like they were competing for some kind of Embarrassing-Uncle-at-a-Wedding award left me feeling cold, but the views over the Rockies in the background certainly compensated for the excruciating fashion show in the foreground.
I'll level with you, the evening descended into a rather drunken haze, where we spent time with a local stoner named Peter who kept pointing to his bicep whilst saying "Born in the shadow of the statue of liberty, baby. HooHa!" and Owen, an Irish immigrant who was carrying a shepherds staff that was, for seemingly no good reason, fused with a rams horn. It was all very bizarre and when I decided to call it a night I was left trying to piece together exactly what happened in this curious real-life jigsaw puzzle. I fear I may never get the full picture.
Unfortunately, Betty's new wheel won't arrive for another two days, so I have an enforced stopover in this most intriguing of towns. The good news is that the world renowned Telluride Jazz Celebration festival is on this weekend. So, I'm going to enjoy that on Friday whilst the old girl gets some well earned TLC. Nice.
The soothing view on the climb up to the Dallas Divide.
The stunning red rocks get, well, redder.
Today's unintentional euphemism goes to...
Wacky.
Telluride in the shade...
and in the light.
Sunset concert at Mountain Village. Beautiful views, terrible clothes.
Horsing around at sunset.
Owen and his RamStaff.
RSS Feed