After we woke up and repacked, my parents made us a yummy breakfast and we stored all the treats imported from the nearest Trader Joe’s into our backpack and spare space in our bags.... We hauled our bikes down the stairs and said goodbye to them, speeding off down the twisty roads and waving back to their balcony overlooking the valley. We took the bike path through town and eventually peeled off to the right after exiting downtown Steamboat. We passed the Honey Stinger factory and ended up on a small road along a river. We made our way up and stopped for some early lunch at a little general store in a small town called Clark. We got sandwiches and drinks and sat outside in their nice seating area chowing down. We then turned onto a gravel road and started a climb that would take most of the day. We took a wrong turn but quickly realized and had to skirt a gate that told us the road was closed to cars and other traffic besides bikes. The road was alternating between smoothish and quite rocky with large baby head chunks. Nearer the top I had to get off my bike and push for quite a ways before it became bikeable again. I complained quite a bit at the slow progress, even more so when a river of snowmelt seemed to overtake the road and we were trudging through an inch of water. I thought we had reached the top and so did Ziven before he realized his bike computer had split the climb into two sections and we still had 500ft or so to go. Unhappy at this prospect, I crunched up the last bit, not paying attention to the alpine forest and pretty surroundings due to my anger at the road.

We finally reached the top and stopped at the beginning of the descent to eat a Charleston Chew, a novelty 16 inch one from the general store, on a rock and recover from the steeposity. We began to bump down the descent and I started to realize it might be worse than the climb itself. It was filled with rutted sections with secret rocks hiding everywhere and it was all I could do in some places to hang onto the handlebars. One section still exhilarates me to even think about because it was a true miracle that I didn’t crash - I decided to full send a horrendously steep little section, got stuck in a rut filled with rocks, and managed to hang on until the world righted itself and the slope became more doable. I continued to be punished by this bumpiness and had to request aid from Ziven with the pump after realizing I had a flat. This was heartbreaking. We were both worried about dusk and fixing a flat is so much more annoying when you don’t even want to be biking in the first place. Out of laziness, Ziven postulated that our already low tire pressure could mean a rock burped the tire and resulted in a punctureless flat. We tested this theory by simply pumping up the tire and it held! It’s funny how simply not having a flat can make one so damn happy.

Eventually the road smoothed out and we emerged onto a lovely section in an Aspen tree tunnel before shooting out into a large valley that we zoomed through, enjoying the views. We pulled over when we spotted some other bikers and chatted for a few minutes about Brush Mountain lodge, our goal destination for the night, before setting off for the last few miles of twisty rolling hills. We pulled up to the lodge and were relieved to see that there was activity within the fences. Ziven approached and the only person there was speaking Spanish but did not appear to be the owner. Ziven tried to communicate, and did a mediocre job, which resulted in the lady disappearing into the house for a few minutes before returning with the owner. The owner said she was not open for bikers and that she couldn’t answer our questions about where else to stay right now because she was unloading a large amount of groceries from her trip into the nearest town. We offered to help unload their RV and van, which we did happily if only to have a break from riding. We toted large amounts of food and drink for the Tour Dividers who would rush through here going the opposite direction in a few weeks. Eventually we were done and she was very grateful for our help and offered to let us pitch a tent for free in the yard. This was what we were hoping would happen as we didn’t know how much further it would be until we located a campsite.

The other three bikers from the snack stop caught up and were also offered a spot in the backyard so we tried to find the best flat spot. Ziven and I opted for a spot in the front away from the others, who were protected from the wind but not on flat ground. Eventually Dave and Collin the Brits showed up as well and told us that Jeff and Gary had been in Steamboat the night before as well and they had all shared multiple six packs. Jeff and Gary had presumably passed Brush Mountain before the owner returned and had continued to the next RV park on the Wyoming side of the border.

We sat with the Brits and the rest of the folks on the porch as they drank beers and the owner smoked to calm herself down from the stressful day. We eventually started cooking dinner and ate with the Brits who were also cooking ramen noodles and beef sticks, all the while complaining about American food and how you couldn’t find decent backpacking meals anywhere (a fact that is not true, especially coming out of Steamboat Springs). While we ate, I covered my legs with a raincoat to protect myself from the mosquitos, but those nasty buggers bit my butt through the mesh of the deck chairs and I got 15 or so bites that would plague me for a long time, mixing in with saddle sores.