Mood:  a-ok

Because everything was packed last night, I slept in until 5:30 AM.  This still gave me time to have devotions, etc., and still arrive at the Chatterbox Cafe at 6 AM sharp.  Rains were forecast to the south.  There was no word about the wind direction.  Another headwind would be miserable.  The good news is that there were several sizable towns between Tribune and Dighton (sizable means over 500 people, which means a high likelihood of a restaurant.

I hit the road to a beautiful blue sky with wispy clouds.  Soon a rhythm developed to my pedalling.  Miles started going by.  It looked like I was not going to be luck and have a tailwind today, but as I headed east, the light wind came at an angle from the northeast and only slowed me down a little.  Speeds were 11-12 mph.  That would get me to Dighton at a reasonable hour.

Twenty two miles down the road was the town of Leoti.  I had a short stack of pancakes and coffee there, then back on the road, feeling pretty good.

Wait a minute.  Something's wrong.  The wind isn't coming from the northeast anymore.  In the half hour that I was in the restaurant the wind had changed and was now coming from the southeast.  Maybe if it kept going around, it would get behind me and blow me into Dighton.  I don't think so.  Like before, the force and angle of the wind slowed me somewhat but not significantly. 

In another 24 miles was Scott City, and I reached it by noon.  Actually, I lost an hour (or was it a gain?) because at the first county line, I went from MST to CST, so it was now an hour later.  Nevertheless, the ride was going smoothly.  Having said that, Scott City has a bunch of giant stock yard operations  around, and, boy, they really stink.  So the ride was smooth but stinky, around Scott City anyway.

The final 24 miles went great.  That means that, yes, the wind started to shift around so that it was coming from the southwest, and that gave me a boost, speedwise.  I was only going 13 mph, but, being tired, I wasn't pedally nearly so hard.  It was almost relaxing.  If only tomorrow and Friday could be that way.

Tomorrow is a 60 m/l mile ride to Rush Center, then an 80 miler to Little River, to the house that my mother was raised in.  I can't wait.  I hope the weather cooperates and that my body holds up.  The 80 miler will be the seventh straight day of pedalling.  But, I will also be able to relax for a couple of days with relatives. 

For now, I need to get to my motel (I wonder what this one will be like?), shower, eat and sleep.  I need to get up an hour earlier tomorrow to compensate for the time change.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

Today's ride to Tribune, KS, would be 58 miles, and relatively flat.  It looked for all the world like this would be a relatively easy day, if the weather cooperated.  The only potential tricky part is that there would be no services at all between Eads and Tribune.  I still had some food, including one of Joan Mikkelsen's super duper PB&J sandwiches.

To put the odds in my favor, I was packed and ready to go by 6:30 AM, which is the time the cafe opened next door.  A large breakfast later, I set out on the road.  Things were going fine, decent speeds, little traffic. 

Two bicyclers, a father and son team, caught up with me and we chatted, while pedalling.  They were on their way to Delaware.  The son would pedal until dark, typically 120 miles.  The dad would quit at 100, and mom would pick him up.  More power to them, but it didn't sound like much fun.

Two bicyclers (the first of five separate twosomes that day) going in the opposite direction pulled over to talk a bit. They were from Indianapolis.  The next two were from Belgium.  Then Chicago.  The husband of this group competed on the show "The Biggest Loser" and was now a high demand motivational speaker.  He is one of the few cyclists who admitted that riding cross country is difficult.

At any rate, after all of these social stops, the wind had started to pick up, and, unfortunately, it developed into a moderate headwind.  This not only resulted in a reduced speed, averaging 8 mph, but I had to pedal harder than normal just to maintain that pace.  It was terribly fatiguing.

But I am now in Kansas, the home state of my parents, and numerous relatives!  I love Kansas!

After checking into another one my quality motels, I needed food.  A burger, fries and shake later, I headed for the library to update this journal.  It was closed.  Oh, look.  There is a museum!  I love museums, so I went to it.  It was closed. 

The grocery store was open, however.  This was my first real opportunity to fix some high calorie snack foods.  I bought tortilla shells, peanut butter and jelly.  This would become my foil towards the weight reduction that I had been experiencing.  In addition, I bought a cold orange and a 1 1/2 liter bottle of green tea.  The orange was delicious, and I re-hydrated with the tea.

Still hadn't showered yet, but took the time to call Karen.  Afterward, I fell into a deep sleep, waking around 5:30 PM.   The town of Tribune, I'm sure, would have thrown me out if I didn't shower, so shower I did.

This was a somewhat dis-spiriting day because of the slow tiring pace.  Tomorrow, however is another day (where have I heard that before?).  It had better be.  It was a 70 mile ride, ending in a town called Dighton.  Just in case, I decided to leave early.  So I packed everything up and filled all the water containers.  I wanted to be at the cafe at 6 AM tomorrow morning.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

There are two options for the next two days:  Ride a 65 miler today, and a 80 miler Tuesday;  Or ride a 85 miler today and a 60 miler Tuesday.  I had a democratic vote, after getting up, and the majority of voters decided unanimously for option #1.   Listening to the weather reports, it looks like more thunderstorms this afternoon, so an early start will be needed.  

My strategy for today is to eat for breakfast whatever is offered by the motel, then stop again down the road at Hugo, CO, for a second breakfast.  Then try to get to Kit Carson.

The plan seemed to be working splendidly.  A waffle, orange juice and coffee later, I was on the road by 7:15 AM.  Hopefully, I could get nestled in to a room in Kit Carson before the weather got choatic.  Seventeen miles later, I arrive in Hugo, the last town before Kit Carson, and, guess what?  They had a restaurant open!  (This should be a reasonable expectation, but those that have been reading this journal know that, as often as not, things don't work out as expected.)  The waitress asked where I was going today.  I said "Kit Carson."  She questioned whether there would be any rooms available, what with all the road construction going on.  The contractors were taking a large percentage of rooms.  I called a motel from the restaurant, and reserved their last room.  Two eggs, a slice of ham, hash browns, orange juice and coffee later, I was on the road again. 

The road was wide with a huge, smooth shoulder to ride on.  The elevation was still dropping, and I was making surprisingly good time.  That is, until I got to a road construction project 5 miles outside of Kit Carson.  It looked like a long delay, then the supervisor came over and loaded up my bike and gear.  He took me all the way into Kit Carson.  It was a couple of minutes past noon, and I already had 65 miles under my belt.  Maybe this would be the day that I did the 80+ miles.   I'll decide after lunch.  A big lunch.

I decided.  I would press on 20 more miles to the next town, Eads, CO.  If the weather would be nice, then it should not be a problem, and tomorrow would be much more managable.  I cancelled the motel reservation I had made earlier.

Just like before, I was going faster than normal.  To my front left I could see two major thunderstorms dropping their loads.  It looked like I might miss them.  To my right was the weather system of thunderstorms headed my way.  It seemed unlikely that they could get here before I covered the 20 miles.

The most unique thing happened.  Nothing.  That is right!  The thunderstorms stayed a couple of miles to my left, and the storm front to my right took to long to be a factor.  I arrived in Eads at 2:30 PM.  A mileage record!  85 miles (with 5 of them in the back of the contractor's pickup truck) and snuggled into a room by 2:30 PM.  Oh, wouldn't it be nice if this were how it always worked out!

Tomorrow, I cross into Kansas to a town called Tribune.  It is around 60 miles from Eads.  The weather is supposed to be similar to today, then temperatures are supposed to climb into the mid-90's.  All the more reason to start early in the morning.  I'll try to be out of here before 7:30 AM.

Will McMahan

It was a delight for Peggy & Alan Ogden, Joan and I to have dinner with Will twice once in Boulder (7/4/08) and in Castle Pines Village (7/5/08).  It has been 40 years since Alan and I had seen Will.  Alan, Will and I are fraternity brothers--Phi Kappa Psi.

G. Mikkelsen

Mood:  a-ok

Being the expert map readers that we are, Greg Mikkelsen, Al Ogden and I decided that Limon, CO, would be my next stop.  It was only 50 miles east, a nice respite from a hard 72 miler yesterday.

Being the wonderful host and hostess that they were, Greg and Joan gave me a terrific send off.  Joan had laundered my clothing,  cooked a marvelous breakfast and prepared two PB &J's for snacking.  Greg mostly talked (One can see who does the most work in that household!).  Greg escorted me out to the exterior gate (I think he really wanted to make sure that he was rid of me), and then we gave our goodbyes.   The Mikkelsens really were fun and nice and generous and just good people.

The plan today was to get a reasonably early start, attend church on the way, ride a bit, eat lunch, then ride the rest of the way to Limon. 

But first a confession:  I had mentioned earlier about how much I eat.  I eat alot.  I eat almost anything and everything--in quantity.  So it proved to be interesting when I arrived in Estes Park earlier, to find a set of scales in the bathroom.  Since I am a calorie-burning machine, I thought it would be ironic if I ended up weighing more now than when I left Everett.  I stepped on the scales, and stared in disbelief:  I had lost 12 pounds!   I am not sure that I had 12 pounds to lose, but this means that I have to focus on consuming even more calories than I had, primarily during breaks and rest stops.  Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to implement this new strategy yesterday because I had to make my luncheon appointment with Waunita and Stan, and my dinner appointment with the Mikkelsens and Ogdens.  Today, however, was going to be different.   Today I was going to make better use of my breaks and start increasing my caloric input.

First things first.  I wanted to find a place to worship.  The first church that I found having their service would be the one I would stop at (assuming that they had no objections to my bicycling apparel).  The closest town was Castle Rock, and I had to go through it on the way to Limon.  Just inside the city limits, I came across a nice little church called Mt. Zion Lutheran Church, and they were wonderfully welcoming to this oddly-clad stranger.  The pastor, Rev. Zeigler, gave a good sermon. There were treats afterward, and then I was on my way.  

It seems that all towns in Colorado have steep hills on each side to climb.  Castle Rock is no exception (actually it makes sense that the towns were started where the ground was level, and where the streams ran through.  I'm just complaining).  It was a long climb out of town.  Cresting the top I saw another drop, followed by another climb.  Cresting it showed another, and another, forever and ever, seemingly.  It was very slow going.  At noon, I was only 15 miles out of Castle Rock, and I had lunch.  Pulling back onto the road, someone yelled something friendly to me, so I pulled over, and a car followed me to the side.  It was Pastor Zeigler from Mt. Zion Lutheran.  It seems he has not one, but two churches, and he was returning from the second.  We had a nice chat for 15 minutes.  Then back to the road.  

A road sign appeared:   52 miles to Limon, 45 miles to I-70.  So much for our ability to read maps.  Actually, maybe we can read them just fine--its the adding up the mileage that is beyond our abilities.  At any rate, my 50 mile easy day was now going to be somewhere in the low 70's.

As I promised earlier, I was turning a new leaf in terms of eating.  So the first break after lunch, I pulled out half of one of the PB&Js .  Looking eastward, the sky was dark and rainy, so I put rain covers over my ponchos and got my rain jacket and pants ready if needed.  As I rode further east, the dark clouds seemed to move away and it soon became apparent that I had dodged that bullet.

This was going to be a long day.  The climbing was taxing, and the mileage just was adding up very slowly.  After riding for some thirty miles, I noticed, in my bicycle mirrors, darkening clouds to the west.  They were coming my way.

After a while, I took another break.  It lasted two minutes.  Just as I put a handful of Trail Mix in my mouth, I heard the low rumble of thunder, so I jumped on the bike and took off.

The problem is that I had now entered a sort of "no man's land".  There would be no services until I got to I-70.  Therefore, I had to stay ahead of the storm if possible.  Understand, it was not the rain that concerned me.  It was the lightning.  

It became a sort of slow motion race between me and the dark clouds.  I was destined to lose somewhat, but the ground began to get more level, the hills not quite so difficult.  So I became able to bike a bit faster than earlier.  Even so the clouds caught up with me and I started to feel a light rain.  This went on for the next 25 miles.  I was just ahead of the heavy part of the rain.

I made an executive decision: when I got to I-70, I would get a room there instead of going the extra seven miles to Limon.  Besides, I was getting very tired. 

At last, I reached I-70!  It was empty.  There were no services at the interchange.  In fact, there were no roads connecting me to Limon except I-70.  It was only a little after 5 PM, but the dark clouds made it seem like it was night.  Onto I-70 I went.  And I was flying!  20-25 mph average! (I  discovered in the morning that there was an elevation drop as well as a nice tailwind).  Lightning started to dance across the sky.  Two miles from Limon, a side road, paralleling I-70, appeared, and there was no fence btween it and I-70.  I coasted down the grass slope, and onto the road, then lit out for the lights ahead.  It was raining harder, but this was no time to put on my rain jacket.

I took a motel room.  As I unpacked, the heavens opened up, and a deluge of water dropped, amidst lightning and thunderous applause.  Just in time, I made it.  Very tired.  Another 72-73 mile day with lots of climbing. 

Tomorrow, weather permitting, however, should be better.  I double checked the mileage on two maps, and it was 64 miles to a town called Kit Carson (yes, that Kit Carson).  (I found that map reading was more accurate without Greg and Al helping.  Hmm.)  The elevation was decreasing so maybe I could get lucky tomorrow and get there before the projected afternoon thunderstorms arrived.  It depends on how I feel, I guess.  I'll get up early and see how it goes.  For now, I was very tired.  By 9:30 PM, I was asleep.

Will McMahan

After a wonderful, restful interlude at the home of my relatives, George and Kristin Karakehian, I bid my farewells and started, once again, the journey to Raleigh.  It is amazing how, at the rate of 50-70 miles per day, one slowly but surely makes progress.

Today has two goals in mind.  I was to meet my father's cousin, Waunita Berkman, and her husband, Stan, for lunch somewhere.  I also was to end the day at the home of one of my fraternity brothers, Greg Mikkelsen.  (Luckily for Greg, he married a terrific lady, Joan, otherwise who knows how he would have turned out :-).  The total distance was estimated at 60 miles.  The day was supposed to be hot, in the mid to upper 90's.

The oddity about this day and the next three days is that I really had no plan as to how I was going to arrive at Tribune, Kansas, on day five.  It was only the night before, at dinner, that staying at Mikkelsens became a possibility.  So the actual route was not established, unlike the first 37 days of this trip.  This made it difficult to plan a specific time to meet Stan and Waunita for lunch, although they made it easy by driving. 

There was a long climb out of Boulder, followed by other lesser hills.   I was to meet the Berkmans in Morrison, CO.  Little did I know that there was a long climb before Morrison.  It rained briefly, but hard, and then I was in town.  I arrived late, around 12:30 PM.  We had a wonderful lunch, then I had to figure out the best way to get to Greg and Joan's house.

A group of bicyclers deferred to one of their group to give directions, and she directed me to a bike trail which I followed for over 20 miles.  Unfortunately, once I got near the road that lead south to the Mikkelsens, the bike trai changed and headed north.  Also unfortunately, I didn't realize this for a while.  One lesson learned on this trip is don't be afraid to ask for help if it is necessary, so I stopped at a house whose garage doors were open, indicating someone being home.  As I started up to the door, a lady walked out of the garage.  She not only gave me directions but also filled my water bottle and gave me a spare water bottle, which was needed.  The projected 60 miles ended up being 72.

Reservations for dinner were for 6 PM.  I arrived at the Mikkelsens around 6 PM.  They had moved the reservations back to 7 PM, leaving me time to shower and change.  Another fraternity brother, Al Ogden, and his wife, Peggy, showed up, and the five of us went to this beautiful restaurant overlooking the valley, and had the feast of kings.  It was great fun reliving old times and catching up on past schoolmates.

Tomorrow, I will be heading to Limon, CO, which appears to be some 50 miles east.  I will try to worship somewhere this morning.  It will be interesting to see if my bright clothing and bike shorts give any raised eyebrows.

In three days I will be in Kansas.  Tonight, I will be approximately halfway across America.

Will McMahan

Mikkelsens have a beautiful home and I was in bed by

Will:

<> I have enjoyed following your trip.  It is an amazing journey.  I am looking foward to your visit in Manhattan.  Say hello to all the family in Colorado.

Cherie Hodgson 

Mood:  energetic

Today, I ride to Boulder. It will be less than 40 miles and should be mostly downhill.  Unfortunately, you have to climb out of Estes Park first.  It is a 2+ mile climb, but then it is mostly descending.  My plan was to leave by 8 AM, and I hoped to be at the house of my cousin, Kristin, around noon. 

At 7:58 AM, I waved good bye to Dick, and left Estes Park.  The climb out was not unlike countless other climbs that I had made this trip, and the day's rest restored my energy.  Soon I was coasting downhill.

It is said that Boulder is the Bicycle Capital of the United States.  That may be true.  The weather sure cooperates in making it more pleasant to be out pedalling.  I saw an incredible number of bicyclers on the road, none of them touring, all of them getting their exercise in for the day. 

In Lyons, CO, the terrain started to change, but, regardless, this is still a beautiful area.  Following Kristin's directions, I arrived at her house a little after 11 AM.

One critical objective in Boulder is to get my bike checked out and serviced.  With a bike shop 5 blocks away, I rode down there.  As luck would have it, there was a momentary quiet spell, and they were ready, willing and able to check things out.  I also had them install new tires and tubes for the balance of the trip.  The bike checked out fine.  The chain was degreased and re-oiled.  I am ready for the rest of the trip.

My plan is to stay in Boulder through the Fourth of July, then leave on Saturday, July 5th, circumventing Denver to the south, and work my way over about a third of the way up the Kansas border.

My mileage is approaching 1,800  miles.  By Sunday evening, I will, mileage-wise, be halfway to Raleigh.

The body is fully rested.  I am looking forward to seeing Boulder.  On the evening of the 4th, I will be dining with two of my fraternity brothers and their wives (I think the wives are to prevent them from reverting back to their college behavior), and I am looking forward to seeing them.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

All was going according to plan.  I slept well, arose at 4:45 AM, did devotions, packed and was out the door by 5:30 AM.  There are several cafes in Grand Lake that open at 6 AM, but I had forgotten that this was Sunday.

Every place that I stopped at did not open until 7 AM.  They had "Open" signs up, but I guess they were permanent signs, left up all night.  I asked a local who replied that I might try the "Black Bear Cafe".  I did and it was closed.  Turning around, I decided to walk around the lake a bit, and wait until 7 AM.  Hearing a noise behind me, I turned, and the door the the Black Bear Cafe was propped open.  I asked if they were open.  He replied "We are now."  It had not yet been 6 AM when I tried the door.  So I had the perfect breakfast for this assault of Trail Ridge.

At 6:45 AM I entered the National Park.  At 7 AM, I pulled up to the gates.  Even though the park is open 24 hours a day, the gates aren't staffed until 7 AM.  Normal fee is $20.  Bicyclers, I learned, can enter for free. 

I asked the ranger what was the distance to the Visitor's Center, which was near the top.  He said 20 miles.  This is critical information since I like to know how many miles to the top (or at least somewhat close to the top) so that I could check my progress.  I had been told that the first part of the 20 miles would be relatively flat, then the climbing would start somewhere between 7-10 miles past the gate.

The park is beautiful.  Because it was so early there was little traffic, and the elk were active.  I saw a number of them, some close up.  Three males, each with antlers, were on the side of the road when I approached slowly.  They crossed in front and entered the woods.  They were much larger than I had realized.

My strategy for the climb was to just buckle down, averaging 4-4.5 mph, and take a break every hour.  If it worked, I would be at the Visitor's Center in 3-4- hours of climbing, depending on whether it was 10 miles or 13 miles of climbing.  As the miles on the flat section progressed, it became clear that it would be 10 miles, not 13.  Hurray!

The climbing started.  It was going almost exactly as I had hoped.  My legs had felt a bit weak early in the morning, but now felt strong.  At four miles, I took a break.  At 8 miles I took a break.  Still feeling strong.  I broke out of the treeline and could see, way up on the side of the mountain, the visitor's center.  The road curved way off the the left for quite a ways, then made a sharp turn and, still climbing went up to the visitors center.  I passed a sign that said "You are two miles above sea level.  10,560 feet".  Because of the elevation gain needed to get to the top over such a short number of miles, there were no level spots, just climbing:  some steep parts, some not so steep parts.  I continued up the road as it angled left, knowing that it would still be quite some time before arriving at the visitor's center.  I was getting tired but still feeling fine, feeling for the first time the effect of the high altitude.  I reached the hairpin turn leading up to the visitor's center, probably 1/4 to 1/2 mile away, when the roof started to cave in.

A combination of events created alot of consternation on my part, which created physical difficulties.  The traffic, by now, was getting heavy.  When the road angled up to the left, the mountainside was on my right, but as I rounded the hairpin turn to the right, I was, all of a sudden, on the unprotected side of the road.  It was narrow, with a 4 inch shoulder, and a sharp 60-70 degree drop off, with no guard rails.  For the first time, I became scared.  When I go slower than 5 mph,and when I am nervous, I tend to wobble a bit, and several times I wobbled perilously close to the edge of the road.  Traffic was lined up behind me.  I was having a hard time getting the needed amount of oxygen into my lungs.  My stomach was starting to get nauseous.  When I reached the Visitor's Center, I stopped on the side, and walked the bike into the parking lot, which was large and full of cars and people.  My breathing was hard for the 15 minutes that I was there, not back to normal even when I resumed my ride.  There was still more climbing for perhaps another mile or so, I wasn't sure.

My new strategy was to forget about trying to be polite to the cars behind me, and stick close to the center of my lane, a reasonable distance from the sheer drop on the side.  It worked, and not one driver showed displeasure by honking or shouting.  As I reached what I thought was the top, I rounded the corner and the road kept going up, seemingly forever.  At this point I am in sort of an automatic, emergency mode:  just pedalling;  not thinking too clearly;  trying to stay safe.  At least three times, maybe more, I don't even remember, I had to pull over and stop to catch my breath for a couple of minutes.  To go from such strength to such weakness was discouraging and humbling.  But at some point, shortly after a stop for a breather, I started to descend.  Estes Park was 15 miles away.  There was a small climb near the bottom but nothing serious.  My leg strength is gone but I'm safe.  I did Trail Ridge.  And I am only a few miles from the home of my cousin, Dick Cross.  He is waiting for me.

But I made it!  Trail Ridge and all of the other mountain passes and Continental Divides became things of the past.  I lost track of the number of mountain passes-it was more than the 14 I had originally projected.  The Continental Divide was crossed 6-8 times.  Now it will mainly be rolling hills.  The steepness of the hills will increase from southern Illinois into Kentucky, Virginia and North Carolina, but they are a ways off.

Dick, my cousin, was waiting in the driveway when I walked the bike up the hill (my legs had given out on me) and he graciously opened up his refrigerator and prepared a large meal.  I was in bad need of a shower and took care of that next.  Dick's brother, Greg, showed up and the three of us went out for dinner in Estes Park.  Surprisingly I was still hungry.  We had a great time.

Tomorrow will be a rest day in Estes Park.  Dick is going to show me the sights around the area, and his sister, Richelle, and her husband, Dave, would come over for dinner.  Tuesday morning, after a full day's rest, I would depart for Boulder. 

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

As I looked at the map of today's travels, I put together a plan on how I was going to tackle it.  First breakfast in Walden.  There was a town 22 miles up the road called Rand.  It had a restaurant and a grocery.  It might be early to eat again so soon, but even a light meal would help fuel my climb of Willow Creek Pass, 10.5 miles out of Rand.  Then downhill, and eat again in Granby.  Then I would only be 13-14 miles from my stop for the night.

It is a typical morning, like all of the past mornings.  Sunny, clear skies, chilly because it is 7 AM.  I spot Doug Rood as I am returning from the cafe, and we say our goodbyes.  Then it is off, down the road. 

Boy, is it pretty.  This time I saw lots of deer.  Two of them, startled by the bicycle, ran parallel to the road, then jumped the fence crossed the road, then jumped the other fence, and fled to safety.  Later I saw one of those plastic owls on a pole.  Upon turning around and looking closer, it was not plastic at all, but flew off before I was able to look for identifying markings.

The morning's plan is working to perfection, not a common occurance.  I got to Rand a little after 9 AM.   The cafe was only open for dinner.  Plan B, the grocery, had been closed for years.  So off I go.  There was a little tiny Post office at the outskirts of this tiny town, and the postmistress, who was sitting out front, waved at me and asked if I needed any water.  I pulled in.  She was a bicycler and, as such, was always trying to help riders.  I have learned, since I go through water quickly, to not miss a chance to fill up my water bottle when the opportunity arises.

Willow Creek Pass was typical of most of the passes since I left Washington.  Lots of climbing, steep at parts, but my legs must be getting stronger becuase I am going up slopes at a gear or two higher than I would have used at the start of the trip.  Soon I was over the top.   By 1 PM, I was in Granby, wolfing down lunch.  I was very hungry.

Having already gone 56 miles, lunch was supposed to give me back my energy, but someone forgot to tell my body that.  I was okay, but my legs lacked the strength that they had before lunch.  I arrived at my destination around 3 PM.

Finding lodging in Grand Lake, a community at the west entrance of Rocky Mountain National Park, was a big concern.  It would be expensive.  I wasn't sure what day I would arrive.  I didn't know what lodging was available.  So imagine my surprise, when my good friend, Ted Pfeifer (aka Hawk) emailed me with directions to a home in Grand Lake that his relatives owned.  Hawk will be meeting me in North Carolina and may ride with me into Raleigh, so he had been sending copies of my online journal to his brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Paul and Karen Noble.   At some point, they graciously offered their lakefront "cabin" for me to stay in.  It was an incredibly generous and welcomed gesture on their part.  The "cabin" is a level entry home with a daylight basement, 2,800-3,000 square feet.  It was built perfectly for the environment:  modern yet western.  My first function there before even unpacking was to sit out on their deck and unwind.

You know, I might have enough energy to do Trail Ridge tomorrow.  I was tired.  In fact, I was too tired to even ride into town to eat.  I had been carrying around one of those freeze-dried dinners, in this case Beef Stew.  that became dinner and that was plenty to satisfy me. 

With plenty of rest, I should be able to tackle Trail Ridge.  Here is my plan:  I would get up early, at or before 5 AM, pack up, ride into Grand lake, eat breakfast at 6 AM, and enter Rocky National Park around 7 AM.  Sounds good!  Lets get going! 

In terms of dress, I would go back to my winter gear.  Bike pants instead of shorts.  Long sleeved turtleneck shirt.  Thick socks.

I slept well. 

Will McMahan