RALLY AT 12K: COTTONWOOD PASS

I precariously wondered back to my tent just below Cottonwood Summit, 12,156, NW of Gunnison, CO. 

It's a beautiful clear night with feathers of clouds scooting about, bolder ones skirting the high horizon, peppered stars, and a half moon, which I got to view through Golden John's telescope aimed at the satellite, reversed in the lens, the suns shadow coming in from the right. Awesome.

I hear the sirens wail towards downtown, me sitting in the park by the University. I get up and step out on 50 and look towards the sounds and see a group of riders, maybe 20, I don't know? The racers shoot downtown perpendicular to 50, me turning around and seeing that they hung a right and headed towards the school, 2 blocks back. I was too late, but wait, that wasn't all of them, there had to be another group at least. I stash my stuff back on the bike when of course the second wave zipping by. I mean these guys are moving, moving fast. But alas, I missed that wave also, with my back to them me now a block back where Bike is parked.

I talk with a local guy who tells me that the riders are headed to Tayler Lake.  It clicks a flash in my head as I came down the the Cottonwood Pass and ended at the lake. 

'Yeah, their headed up the pass tomorrow.' the dude tells me.

'Cottonwood Pass?', I ask.

'Yeah', and the dude goes back to talking to himself.

Oh, this is sounding familiar.

Come to find out the bike race I tossed aside mentioned from 'Duff' at NAPA, happens to be the 2nd annual US Pro Challenge (I think), 'The Tour de France of the U.S.', Todd later tells me back at the pass. A pretty big deal with pro bicyclists from around the world competing, maybe 175 in total.

I head directly back to Cottonwood Summit, knowing exactly where I was going to set up base, as I was acknowledging the snake winding road the day before after I headed west out of Beauna Vista, CO. The road is dirt, decently maintained Forest Road, but these guys are on road bikes, skinny wheel road bike. I have to see them climb the 12,156' mountain road, a dirt road I remind you. 

I have to see this!

I hop on Bike and head north on 135 knowing I'll be there in 30 miles. Signs announcing the race to vehicles, sheriffs getting on it, flying down the road lights a flashin', and people sitting along the wide shoulders of the road. 

'Did they come this way already I?', I thought to myself.

Nah, couldn't have. They were cruising but not that fast. 

I make Almont and people, city workers, police and more people are milling about. I hang a right and head back towards where I came from yesterday off the pass. 10 miles in we hit dirt and road construction, serious construction. I didn't know if they were tearing up a road or creating one. I hung about 5-10 minutes where a flagger held a stop sign, I took the time and see how far this may go, maybe another 10 miles to the Tin Cup turn off. Oncoming traffic piloted through, we follow the leader. It so happens to be a number of miles and the road is shit, this being the only way to Cottonwood, the riders were going to have to go through this. They were grading and pressing the dirt but it was a wreck. We get through the construction and I pass the Taylor Dam and the lake is just up ahead and the Pass road on the right.

I through on the signal and pull up to 3 Forest Maintenance guys talking with a large sign saying road closed.

'When will the road be opened?', I asked.

'Tomorrow after the riders pass through, 1 pm.' the younger of the 3 said, stepping up to lean on the bed of his truck.

'Mind if I go set up a tent?'.

'Sure, go on up.', he said, me feeling like I scored big.

I haul ass up the dirt road. Decent I said in it's condition, but a road bike seems like it would be squirrly to me. I climb to the top and there's a handful of people. Not what I was expecting, fill side roads at the bottom and the pull outs pack.

Not the issue. These were the same bunch setting up the day before when I crossed the pass. Another score! I climb to the top, thinking I'll work me way down to find a good spot to squat. I'm heading towards the summit, a hundred  yards l ahead, a dude on a bike is pedaling up. I catch up and we say hey and shoot friendly banter, me riding in slowly in front of him, acting like he was being pulled buy draft.

We make summit, introduce ourselves, him going by Todd from Greensboro, NC, who flew in for the event, and was at the previous years, it being the 1st race hoping to remain annual. He was amped and ready for the race, him being a serious rider himself. An easy going approachable fellow, we hit it off and was joined by Jim Brewer. Not THE Jim Brewer. Jim and Todd was digging on Bike and then went into talking of the race and I really think I scored. 

Cool stuff, rally at 12,000 feet.

I head back down the road where I find a spot Bike tucks right off the road/course. I throw up shelter over the hill where I'm eye level with the peaks to the east. I eat some food and start walking towards the summit where I plan to hit the trail to the tip top but down make it. I ran back into Todd, we sat and had great talk. 

He pedals along wearing an Uncle Sam stove pipe as I walk where the dirt and pavement meet, at large parking pull out at the roads summit. I think I may be a mile from there, quite a walk and the thin air, it's different up here. I circulate with Todd, him finding friends he met last year at the 1st challenge. I meet Bruce and Wynona, husband and wife from south of Taos and cool cats, Bruce being a trails rider from way back and still at it. I find out Wynona is from Cloudcroft, NM where I crashed for 5 days. Cool stuff. Sundown is occurring and it's time to walk the mountain rode back to camp before Cold and Dark set in.

On the descent I meet John and Jonathon, father and son from Golden area, observing, Moon, which he shares the experience and there's nothing like being able to see a distant surface pockmarked and lonely yet there all along. They give me great tips on roads to the west and confirm Desert Daves hot spring spots. Good days ahead it sounds and now it's dark. Time to depart cos man, the stars are screaming but it is pitch black up here, me sticking to the inside as opposite awaits sheer drops to the road from the tight hairpin corners.

Farther down on my walk, I run into Nile, who I briefly met on the way up. I hang with him for a good hour and a half, just chillin' and taking in the mountain high, him showing me a spring just across the road I totally missed while walking walking down. There it is, Earth's blood flowing from the source right in front of me. I tell you, come to Colorado and you can visually experience Earth living and breathing, it seems She swells and moves and stretches here. I dig it. 'You can't get fresher than this,' Nile said, 'I'd drink it.'. We stand our ground on the summit road, staring at the stars, wondering if the elevation does something to the visual atmosphere as he witnessed a pulse of light and I'm seeing static tracers dance in Sky, here and there, frolicking with the finger clouds and Half Moon keeping one eye open over her territory, always having to get on to those crazy stars. 

Nile and I talk of the forest and woods, and find ourselves talking of those odd out the place 'homes' you stumble across out here. Nile goes into this story of him and Father backpacking somewhere in the forests of Colorado. They're out all day and come across this 'simple' one room structure. 'No shit,' he tells me, 'We look in the window, it's a dirt floor with 2 objects in the room, and old sofa and an ancient looking baby swing that I swear to go was moving, My Dad saw it first and was freaked and I also saw it!' Before he could get to the end of the part on the baby swing, I knew what he was to say and he picked up also and we're both trying to  laugh quietly and I'm getting chills up my spine on the high-rise were staked on. 'It's like they we're watching you and split when they realized you you two were heading towards the house!' I stammer out in between snorts of suppressed laughter and chills. 'Totally.' he replies whiles reflecting.

I talked with a lineman in B.C. last summer who's job it was to go through a proposed route and mark off sites for power lines or the like. He told me, 'You wouldn't believe how many homesteaders there are out on Federal land claiming squatters rights and living out in the depths of the bush.'. I believe them. On the Forest Roads I've rode, especially the ones that turn literally to nothing, you make a bend and there's a strange abode, pretty simple with a 'Private Property' sign posted when you think you're on Forest Land. I don't question, I turn around. They may be there legally, buying land from the Government, but who am I to question, and if they want to be out in the middle of somewhere, more power to them and I'll see you later, immediately making a louie. Odd things you see out here, especially those trailer homes I especially noticed entering AZ, where there was the most random of stuff and trash strewn 'everywhere', while the trailer resembles a detonated pipe-bomb. I think I see what's going on here. But those weird out of the place simple living structures on the out of the way Forest Roads? There's something about those that gives me the willies and I either keep moving or turning around. I'm not going to knock on the door. They're out there for a reason, I hope it's not for the negative but I'm no judge.

I'm glad I remembered the Lanham Spotlight, through it only cuts a hole that is dwarfed by the black up here on top of the world. I can see how one could become disorientate up here even with a light, it's that dark, but heck, I'm up here doing this! It just keeps getting better and better. I walk where time doesn't seem to matter, being in this pitch your floating, the winrows being my only guiding mark on the inside of the road. Bike headlight flashes at me in the distance on the right when I cast a beam out front. I grab some crackers for snack and whatever other gear that I'll take now, saving me a walk in the morning to the panniers up the small incline. I take advantage, finally, of packs of feet warmers, I've carried these things through the desert and of course I forgot about them. They work as state and my feet are cozy, my toes seem to be the first to get cold and never get too warm, these work. I sleep tight and wake around 8 am. The day is clearing and I guess organizations will start busing spectators here to the top. I plan to keep my spot, making sure Bike is pushed over the slope and watch these guys do their thing, climbing ride on road bikes to the top, then down and up Independence later today.

Today should be interesting once everyone is shuttled, out of their tents partying and anticipating the 15 seconds of witness to the race. Here at least we can run to any of the abundant vista points, (EVERYWHERE!) and watch them wiggle up the road which we can see down and disappearing in the distant valley where mountains conquer view. Good stuff it is. 20 miles of dirt they're about to embark on, decent level at start but the climb starts a mile back at the tree line where the climb begins, back, forth and up. I shall party with the bike gang today, making an ass out of myself when the entourage reaches Bike and I, support car after support motorcycle, all of which were BMW GS's which I noted in Gunnison. Then the first wave, a small group of riders bunched together, I wonder their speed up here? A moment and then another wave, larger and bunched together, this mountain road will provide optimum viewing pleasure.

I hear an older couple observing, Bike. They ask the neighbors about her and he tells them it's the dude down over in the tent. I'd guess the older guy has a couple of Airheads by the sound of his study, the couple aren't sure her make and model,  but digging the bandit set up, nonetheless. It makes me proud to hear their, 'Wow…'. Just like a proud Papa, I keep my silent distance under my shelter and smile.

I'm chillin', wrapped in the bag with the fly open, living a Rocky Mountain High, Some only experience this through photographs, paintings and video which do no justice. This is better than any mall, TV show, amusement park or any of that other junk. This is all I need out here. Nothing! I shouldn't say naught as this is 'SOMETHING'. This is reality, brutal, beautiful and blatantly honest. I find this to be the ultimate amusement, appreciation,  entertainment, living and being. Rocky Mountains.

I wake and take my time, poke my head out of the fly and I really am the only one residing. Everyone literally spit once the race passed. Their thing, most lily following the race towards Independence Pass and ending in Aspen, I think. But this is my thing, right here, by myself, on top of a 12,000 living and breathing behemoth, with we me perched on it's shoulder. I'm doing this and importantly LIVING this! I waller around in the tent, it's brisk outside and I'm in no rush. I turn over and read bait from the Rolling Stone, Jonathon from Golden gave me and it starts to sputter rain. No biggie, I'm inside the shelter and gives me the more reason to hang loose and be. It's steady but light and I move on to the Clancy book and knock out a number of chapters where I stumble upon 'Chapter 30: Dear Lady.' I'm taken back. This brings me back to my talks with 'Arapaho Kincaid', in Riverton, WY who told me the tales of the 'little people' and 'Deer Woman'. I've been running into so many instances of 'little people' or 'Tommyknockers', multiple times and my Brother can back me up on them, as I told him the story and he started picking them out too. No this, be it aint exactly 'DEER WOMAN', but 'Dear Woman' is damn close enough and makes my mind whir in that wonderful way it does, seeing patterns and webs. Zach says in regards to the Indians' tales and occurrences, 'Keep and open mind and see what happens.' I like to think that is definitely possible, if I have a chance meeting with 'little people' or 'Deer Woman', I'd like to think I'd sit down and listen to what they have to say. Deer Woman, from what I gave, is out for blood, though. But I'd feel compelled to ask her what drives her and makes her so negative and try to change her wayward ways. There is a carcass out behind the tent, maybe two, and they could be deer, maybe she will morph from the bones and kick on my shelter and scream a scream that I will only hear. I love giving myself the creeps.

So after the rain subsides on the mountain top, I take chance and gear up for the road. The trip is reading 155 on the odometer. That gives me maybe 10-20 miles till I need to throw on the fuel reserves. Buena Vista, CO is 20 miles east and I think Gunnison, CO is 30 miles west. I should be able to hit up Gunnison and not have to back track to Buena Vista and head back towards my current location. I settle on Gunnison after heading in Buena Vista's direction, this is living and living isn't living if it isn't from the seat of my pants so I turn around.

I mind my speed, keeping the tachometer in between 2-3K, the decent down Cottonwood was smooth, little traffic until I get to the tarmac and see a sign pointing towards Gunnison, 37 miles. Going 5 miles at a steady 30-40MPH and expecting the road construction I witnessed on the way back up the pass 2 days prior, Motor grumbles and lurches, the main fuel is out and I throw on the left side reserve. 30 or more miles to go on reserve. 'Now, this is an adventure.' I tell myself, patting Bikes tank, giving us reassurance I know she and I has after all we have coupled with. I'm doing math in my head, I figure if I keep this slow enough, I should be able to drag 15 miles out of each side of reserve. The Desert Dave comes into mind, him speculating on fuel from the right traversing to the left side and vice versa. Usually, I have 10 miles per side of reserve, I've had it go down in a couple miles each side with the blaring wind of Oklahoma, leaving stranded on the side of W56 with an empty tank at just over 100 miles of travel. I hit the constriction and turn off Bike, roll a smoke and wait about 10 minutes for the pilot truck to show up from escorting vehicles heading the opposite direction. I figure this 8 miles of escort service will aid in fuel consumption, I keep it slow but in high gear to keep the RPM's down, therefore, me thinking less fuel being drank. 8 miles goes by and me wondering how the racers made it through this 8 miles of mess. Pilot truck pulls over after the 8 miles and I carry the parade the remaining 5 or 6 miles to Almont, left reserve still going and I hit S135, 12 miles to Gunnison. I'm still keeping my 40MPH tops, riding the side of the road if a faster motorist approached behind me. I see houses and more 'civilized' stuff and Gunnison comes into the picture and I pull into a gas station at 203 miles and still the right side of reserve! The slow pace is what made it happen but it's good to know I can if necessary. If I ran out, Colorado has left the impression on me that someone would have stopped pretty soon or if I knocked on a door I wouldn't have been ran off.

I fuel up and stock up on provisions: 5 cans of store brand Boyardee, saltines,  toaster pastries, propane, batteries and writing utensils. Next stop is laundry as my pillow/spare cloths; towel, long sleeve shirt and pants got damp during the morning rain. I'm told by the spirits hawker the location of the laundry facility and find it right down the road. 75 cents and 20 minutes later in the dryer, my laundry is finished. It was washed in the rain, better than any bubbles. From there, I go back to the pavilion I hung out 2 days back and charge up the comp, continue reading and dry off the rain fly on a picnic table. The comp seems to take forever to charge even though it's not powered on, and I'm watching the billowing grey clouds in Sky and the wind picks up. After a good two hours at the parks pavilion, I'm sick of waiting for the last 5 minutes of charge and I got the show on the road. 'I know where I'm going.' I tell myself and head the direction I did south of town on the first day I got to Gunnison.  Now I'm getting pelted with rain, I should've just totally waited this out, I see my turn, 'What, this isn't 92?' It's 114 and totally the exact opposite direction I need to be going. Doh, looks like I didn't, no biggie, I head back the 8 miles to town, through town and on. The rain is still hanging around but not hard, persistent but mild. I go 10-15 miles west of town, traffic backing up behind me and I pull to the side to let them pass and come up to a road, A FOREST ROAD, brilliant. I make the right and road 729 (I think) goes a mile and turns into a State Wildlife Reserve where I find a harsh pull off of nasty rocks, park Bike and set up camp before the rain decides to really kick in.

Well, the rain held off, it's still drizzling but I never did get soaked which is good. I got up the shelter and cot in no time, got out of the drizzle, finished the Rolling Stone and Clancy book and here I am going over the day and wondering if I missed anything. If I did, not a big deal as when they decide to come back from my personal repository, I'll have them to cherish. 

It's 11 pm or pushing it, all reading material read, except another book in the boxes that I don't feel like getting, I'm wrapped in a blanket within the bag, ready to turn off my mind and let the dreams flow with what ever whats to dance, be it the little people or the deer woman, I shall shake their hands and join the escape.

Goodnight.

I woke to rain pelting the shelter, still dark. I wake again to rain pelting, sun coming up. I wake to rain pelting and it's 9am and I'm on some wildlife reserve down Forest Road 729, 20 miles or so west of Gunnison off of 50. That's right, 50, transverses the good ol' States, same one 30 miles north of home. Good thoughts come to think this is a one shot ride back if intended, but it's not. I'm still out and ready to go, will be seeing my 5th Full Moon in a few days. A blue Moon is August as John from Golden told me, me left scratching my head.

I got a movin' around 10am, and headed what happened to be 30 miles to the Black Canyon of Gunnison NP. There was a chill all morning, clouds resting on the tops of mountains, keeping them mystical in my eyes. It was a rolling ride, small passes at 8K, with high farms and such. It's a good mild day, resting in the saddle and taking it all in.

I make the NP around 12 or so, and find there's 2 roads to take, one in the canyon and one running the rim. I take the rim first and the first vista is total dreamscape. a 2K deep canyon 8 miles wide, with the Gunnison River continuing to cut it's way deeper after 2 million continuing years. I love this stuff, good stuff, humans impact can not even compare to Natures process, we are merely peons to Earth and I love to feel small around Her wonders. At least her's is positive in some aspects, not counting destructive tornadoes, floods and hurricanes, but that is what She does, we just find ourselves in Her way of purging.

I stopped an almost all of the vistas and opted to see whats at the end. I took a 1.25 hike at roads end and took me to the edge, on the left, farm land mountain valleys, to the right, a large gash cutting through the earth with mountains encompassing it all. It's good to have this accessible to all, this isn't US monuments, this is Earth monuments and I'm glad to have it in my backyard and to offer foreigners our sites. I always make sure to tell them, 'Welcome to the States!' It's cool to see them coming here to see what were all about, not the fastfoods and stripmalls, we have so much more to offer. Get off the interstate and you shall see.

I looped back to the gate a make a left down the canyon, 16% grade and multitudes of switchbacks lined with yellow, orange and green growth flowing down the canyon, I feel ALIVE! I go to the end and I'm stopped by a gate and US Federal Property signs at the gate for the dam. I find a pull off and go to the water, too cold to disturb with my body so I sit and be. I find myself surrounded by life, the water, the growth, people fly fishing and a small snake slithering in the water towards me. I push myself to the side and watch what this creature does, it simply slides to the land and disappears, only it and I know where it went, and I'm not sure.

I ponder a bit, reflecting on the last 4 months and how they've been good irreplaceable time I shall treasure forever. I mount Bike and head back to the gate and make an exit, going a couple miles where the BLM land starts and greets me with a camping spot on the right in the middle of the 'S' turns. I pull in, looking at the road and the spots just off the main drag. I opt for the spots since the rain we had and I'd hate to bog down Bike in the mud with street tires, which later I found out was extremely cakey. I find a spot in the far back, a dog who wants loving and the owner comes up and we say our greetings. I set up, put out a pad of journal that got wet in the sun, walk the space and find animal bones I puzzle with and form a spine on a stick to ward off the Deer Woman. So here I find myself, it's 5ish, plenty of daylight left and I'm just rambling in the area, nothing to do but journal, make contact home and just simply BE. Life is good and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm now under my shelter, the wind has totally picked up and is doing what wind does, howling. The crows were squeaking back and forth to each other along with other sounds that sounded like monkeys? No jungle here that I'm aware. I'm on BLM land, another freebie place to sleep like the Forest Roads. Shit, thunder and I just saw lightning, sounds and feels like I'm going to be in for heck of a show. More lightning and steady thunder. I love it, bring it on. This is what it's about, man I can follow the wind like waves on water it's blowing that hard! Great! Boom old Man, BOOM! I'm cozied up in the tent, got the longjohns on and heavy socks, here's the rain. New book to read which from the back cover, more Clancy-ish international intrigue and espionage. Whatever. The Clancy was decent, but half way through I totally got the idea and totally saw the outcome. It was a book and I read it, got to have something to read in the tent, while chilling in a park or breaking down a road with time to kill. I have a hankering for reading some Thomas, Hunter S. to be precise. But I don't have it, I have what I have, picking up this current book, Lion's Game by Demille and the Clancy at the MOA National for a buck a piece from Gerbing of all places and vendors. Hey, put out a used book trough and people will buy them regardless, those were the only thing I purchased at the Rally. Other than the admission ticket to be a spectator.

Wow, the storm is totally above me, the thunder was on my left and now it's at 2 o' clock. Maybe nothing but I dig this stuff in a tent, vulnerable, with only a bit of nylon, or whatever they make these tents with. I have a good tent and it's been solid over the last 2 years when I decided enough was enough with getting wet in one of these. I purchased it from a notable outdoors outfitter and the sucker has totally been water tight, never have I gotten wet in this shelter. What's best is it's modular, you can use the tent or the rain fly as stand alone or together. Seeing that the zipper went out on the tent, I haven't been using it, just the fly, giving me whatever ground there is, dirt or grass as a floor, but I have shelter, when it rains, you can see my dry footprint when geared up, as with this morning and probably tomorrow morning. This is good sleeping weather anyway, music to my ears and walls a pushin' in on me. Here's the rain. It's cool to live the weather out here, first the wind, then the thunder, more wind and the rain rolls in. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Really the weather is goofy around these Rocky Mountains. Seems you encounter rain, more like expect it, but it's not major downpours, it comes in waves and pretty lightly. It's great knowing that the mountains have a helping hand in  creating this turmoil of weather that keeps us going around and around. It is dry out here like everywhere else. May not seem so with all the green and life, but the visual indicator is the lakes. I passed one today, Mesa Something or the other and it was clearly a hundred yards off from it's markings on the dry grassy shore. We need rain and I say bring it! This may be it though, the thunder is definitely moving off and trying to stir things up.

Time to wrap up in the blanket and bag, grab the book and drift off into sleep most likely of terrorists and spies.

Peace.