A Bike Ride Called America: Purple Mountain Majesty

A local guy told me to avoid of the San Juan river valley as it tends to get hot and humid within at this time of year. But when I woke up in Bluff, the sky was mottled with clouds thankfully filtering the sunlight and making the temperature bearable. I decided to stick to the valley instead of climbing over the hills back to the larger highway.

In Western movies they seem to always hide out in crevices like this

It was a scenic road and far from flat, going up and down a hundred feet or two at a time though the canyon-like valley. I stopped to buy a cold drink at a store in Montezuma Creek and noticed a bunch of informal tents selling food. I jumped at the chance to try native street food — fresh fry bread with grilled lamb and whole sweet chilli pepper. I took it out to a nearby rock outcrop overlooking the river. It was the best lunch I’ve had on this trip.

Best lunch so far!

The muddy San Juan

The road climbed out of the valley as I crossed into Colorado. It was still hot up on these arid and treeless grasslands, and long distances between services. I eventually looped back into the busier US 160 which I left in Kayenta. At one point I propped my bike on a highway marker post and sat down behind its shadow to rest because there was nothing much for miles.

On the approach to Cortez, at Towaoc, there is a native casino complex and the first store I had seen for 60kms. I bought a couple of 24oz cans of iced tea and downed them, and found out there was a campground right behind the casino. It was quite a fancy campground with granite countertops in the air conditioned bathrooms and an indoor pool, and they only charged $15 a night for tents. The cheap eats at the casino was a bonus.

There was a nasty dust storm during the night, the wind howled and deposited a film of fine grime inside my tent. I got off to a slow start in the morning and cruised into Cortez for lunch and checked out a couple of bike shops to see if they might have a spare part for my rack, but no luck. They had a nice city park with nice shady trees so I took a nap and digest my lunch.

Finally some trees to take an afternoon nap under

The road started its long climb up into the mountains, their impressive outlines becoming more intimidating. It was slow going and the shadows were long as I got closer to Durango. Suddenly, the road plunges down into the town, it felt like I was losing all the altitude that I had laboured over for half the day.

Durango is quite touristy, with the commensurate price tag attached to it. I had not slept in a bed for over a week and I searched for an affordable motel. I found one for $70 (equivalent to a $40 one I stayed in elsewhere) but it had a microwave oven and was right across from a supermarket which meant I could make up the cost by having a cheap dinner. I was so hungry I ate three frozen Mexican dinners and drowned them with a shameful three 24oz cans of cheap Keystone light (hey it's local) beer.

I had breakfast in a diner in downtown Durango. The serving of hash browns were so huge I could only eat half of it. I met some kayakers from Chicago who were sitting at the counter and chatted with them for a bit. They wanted to kayak the Ottawa River so we exchanged coordinates.

There's carbing up but this is ridiculous

No matter how you slice it, it’s a climb out of Durango every direction you go. I cranked deeper into the mountains. I stopped for a drink and a burrito midway at Bayfield and felt a bit sluggish. I had been riding up and down between a 7,000 to 8,000 foot elevation — it was possibly the altitude getting to me, yup, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I straggled into Pagosa Springs with the sun setting. I saw a Taco Bell and went straight for it before figuring out where to stay, devouring a few tacos with less than an hour of sunlight left. The closest campground was still 12 km away, and by the time I got there it was dusk. I camped next to another cyclist, Daniel who was riding from upstate New York to Los Angeles. I quickly set up my tent, took a shower and crawled into sleep.

I chatted with Daniel in the morning and gave him some tips on the road ahead of him, and in exchange he described his route through Colorado. It’s always nice to talk to to another cyclist on the road, there is a certain energy and confidence that’s somehow transferred because you know the other guy has just done that route. I’m on the edge of the Continental Divide, and the 10,857 ft Wolf Creek Pass up ahead is one of the choices I have to take.

Knowing how sluggish I was the day before, I knew my body was telling me I needed a rest day. By mid morning I was sure I was not going anywhere, so I booked the campsite for another night. I had such a nice spot by the river, and I thought I might as well drink in this Colorado experience.

That settled, I went on to cobble together my impromptu “spa day”. I had some awesome fish tacos for brunch, and went to ask advice regarding which of the hot springs to go to. I found out that the cheapest place ($11) also did not mix their spring water with river or tap water so I went there and spent a good three hours soaking the hottest pools and the cooler ones alternately. I got out of there smelling like an unlit match stick. I capped my day in the town with some micro brews at the Riff Raff Pub and a truly awesome burger. So my legs feel like jelly and my tummy is full, what more could I ask for?