Yellow Aspens in Crested Butte

It takes more than four hours to get from our place to Crested Butte, so it's not something we do often. In fact, we hadn't been since 2010. But Abbey has a friend whose family has a house in Crested Butte, and somehow we managed to get ourselves invited to spend a three-day weekend with them. We lucked out and had a couple of days of great weather and cycling. This was last Friday and Saturday, the 19th and 20th of September.

I've lost my Garmin 400! I used it on our Monarch Crest Trail ride, and downloaded the data while sitting at our kitchen table. That was apparently the last time anybody saw it. So no more Garmin logs on our trips unless we can find it.

We drove out on Friday morning, arriving around noon, and wasted no time pulling down the bikes and hitting the trail. It was a short distance to some of the resort trails, so we rode up Prospector, Painter Boy, and Primer trails to the top where the bike lifts drop off riders, and then down Upper and Lower Westside trails back to the park.

Getting out of the car and immediately pedaling up Prospector wasn't easy. Look closely and you can see Cindy and Quinn working their way up the switchbacks below.

Coming down Westside was nice, once we were out of the rocks and into the meadow.

This was crazy. Our friends have this old Scrambler in their garage. It's been completely disassembled and rebuilt with a modern fuel-injected engine and newer drivetrain. It's the engine and drivetrain from a Chevy Suburban under a Jeep frame and body. Most importantly, with three rows of seats, it can carry six people and six bikes. That's Quinn's bike strapped on top of the roll cage. 

A view from the inside, with Quinn's bike on top.

We used the Jeep to shuttle part way up the road to the pass where the 401 trail takes off.

From the pass, the initial climb up the 401 was tough. At the top, there was a large congregation of cyclists. Some of them were really annoying.

Outstanding views down the valley from the 401.

It was hot. This is Abbey's "I'm hot and tired" look.

Once we had finished on the trail, our shuttle driver rode up to get his jeep, while the rest of rode back to the house. The Aspens were ridiculous.

Mount Gothic.

After eating a quick lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the house, we split up for the rest of the afternoon. Q and I rode Lupine trail, which starts a little down the road from the resort, and traverses westward down the valley wall north of the town of Crested Butte. It' a newer trail, well-designed, fairly easy, fast and fun.

Lupine left us up the valley from town, so we caught the Upper Lower Loop trail back to town, where we met our girls, picked up some groceries, and headed back to the house. We had logged 28 miles that day, none of them flat, although more of them down than up.

Hall Ranch and Wrist Injury

Hall Ranch is a beautiful Boulder County Park just west of Lyons, CO. We've ridden there a couple of time before, but have avoided the infamous mile-long rock garden ascent on the Bitterbrush Trail. Part of scaq actually have been wanting to try that gnarly ascent, but other have questioned the idea. So on Sunday morning when the c and the a were feeling yucky with the back-to-school cold, the q and the s decided to go play on the rocks. And we loved it. 

He may have loved it, but I think Quinn also found it humbling. He's been feeling perhaps excessively confident these days about his abilities to rock through rock gardens, but the Bitterbrush Trail has enough large boulders to require some power-moves that are really difficult when you're still a half inch shy of 5 feet tall and weigh only 84 pounds. But what he lacks in power he partially makes up for in balance. 

By the time we reached top, at mile two, he was beat. It was tough.

Don't those big tires on his little bike frame make his bike look like a fatty? But look at view out across the Ranch!

The pics end here. After easily reaching the Nelson loop at the top, we flew down the fun sequence of water bars. What a fun ride in magnificent location. But then, somehow while cruising easily through smooth curves in the middle of the park, Quinn's front tire slid out on a sandy corner and he went down hard. From 15 miles per hour to zero in a blink, he landed on his right wrist. I could tell he was hurt pretty badly. We wrapped it with first aid tape so that he could sort of hold on to his handlebar for the slow ride back. Doing the rock garden routr down would have killed him, so we dropped back down the Antelope Trail, rode through Lyons on the road, and then followed blacktop back around to the trailhead where the truck was parked. An x-ray on the following Tuesday showed no broken bones, but even today he's wearing a brace and still feeling the pain.

Monarch Crest Trail

Riding the Monarch Crest Trail had been on our priority list since we came to Colorado, maybe even before that, but until recently we thought it was probably too much for us. It's a big ride, and while it's more downhill than up, it's long and it's high. It was hard to figure out just how difficult we should expect it to be. Some have written that it is moderately technically difficult (suggesting some rocks and roots) but extremely strenuous; others that it is very technically difficult (as in lots of big rocks and steep drops) and extremely strenuous, so it was hard to tell. Either way, it was long. But we decided our time had come, so we put it on the calendar for Labor Day Weekend. 

Saturday morning we loaded up our stuff and drove the nearly three hours south and west from our house to Salida, where we spent the afternoon finding a hotel, swimming in the pool, and eating at the Moonlight Pizza and Brew Pub. The pizza alone was worth the drive. Since everything in Salida closes at 6 p.m., we watched Lord of the Rings movies in the hotel room that evening, while we packed and repacked our packs for our pending adventure.

We had a reservation for an 8 a.m. shuttle up to Monarch Pass on the High Valley Shuttle, so Sunday morning came early. Our breakfast of bananas, yogurt, granola, and coffee from Safeway was consumed in the cab of the truck. And then it was off to Poncha Springs to load our bikes onto the shuttle trailer.

We were not the only people riding up to the pass on the shuttle. There were three trailers full of bikes, plus a few extras, getting hauled to the pass that morning, but High Valley was well-organized, so despite the crowd, we got off with only a slight delay. The shuttle trailers have a series of vertical steel channels running down the center. Each channel accepts a crank arm, and except for a towel to pad and take up space in the channel, there is nothing else holding the bike to the trailer but gravity. It seems to work. We road in the van; our bikes on the trailer.

The drive to Monarch Pass was short. After a quick pee in the visitor center at the top, we were on our bikes and climbing. We had a really nice map of the ride, which was produced by Absolute Bikes in Salida. It had a topo map on one side and turn-by-turn directions on the other, with annotated photos of major intersections. It felt like navigational cheating, but was really helpful in keeping us from burning time trying to work through numerous potentially confusing intersections.

Click here to see the Garmin log and all the stats for the whole ride.

Right from the start the trail began to climb from the pass, officially at 11,312 feet, up to the Continental Divide at almost 12,000 feet. It was a challenge in the rarefied air, but we had agreed from the beginning that we would take our time, enjoy the scenery, and focus on conserving energy for the long ride ahead.

Obviously, with so many cyclists on the shuttle, we were not alone on the trail. At times, we were rather a part of a long line. However, at least half of the other riders were in much more of a hurry than we were, and after a few minutes we never saw them again. Other riders became almost companions as we periodically passed one another on the trail. Notably, many of them were visitors to the U.S. and spoke with thickly accented English. One of them offered to take our picture.

We were all excited about getting above the treeline, but Quinn was insistent that we get above all visible trees before we claimed success. So this isn't it yet. Treeline or not, the trail followed the Divide for miles, giving us incredible views in all directions.

A strong and often chilly wind was blowing across the Divide, but the sun was hot. The combination made for a pleasant temperature balance most of the time.

At this point it was pretty clear that we were above the trees.

                                 
Interestingly, while were riding with a generally slower group of riders, it seemed that many of them were less experienced mountain bikers. We rode many sections of trail that our trail companions chose to walk. Or perhaps they were just conserving energy.

Abbey takes a short break on the downwind side of a small grove of trees. 

And then a big, steep drop down to the saddle with Greens Creek to the north and Agate Creek to the south. Quinn thrives on those gnarly downhills, although he's continuing to have some wrist pain as a result.

Somewhere around mile 10, the glorious alpine singletrack came to an end, and we descended steeply and very quickly down a rocky four wheel drive road. A long sequence of jumps -- or water bars -- made for lots of air time. At the bottom was Marshall Pass, with a parking lot and restrooms. We stopped for the restrooms and then found an out-of-the way spot for a lunch of pretzels and chocolate chip bagels with peanut butter, chocolate, or hazelnut spread. After lunch, we were back on rolling Continental Divide Trail singletrack mixed with some doubletrack for another four miles. Quinn struggled a bit with some tummy issues at this point, but eventually got through it.

We followed the Continental Divide Trail almost straight south for another four miles before finally dropping down the Silver Creek Trail to the east along Silver Creek. At that point, the nature of the trail changed. The sides of Silver Creek canyon are steep and loose. The trail is a narrow line traversing steep scree slopes in several places, while losing 2,000 feet of elevation in five miles.

In picture below, Cindy and Abbey are starting down the trickiest section of trail we'd encountered yet. Just short of 19 miles on the odometer, the trail drops down a very steep and very loose scree slope. The trail surface becomes a coarse gravel or small cobble; it rolled under our tires, turning steering and braking into fuzzy approximations. Quinn and I skied down it, enjoying the precariousness of it. I think Cindy and Abbey found it less amusing.

And then we reached the point where Silver Creek Trail and Silver Creek become one.

The ride in the stream was short, and Cindy did not live up to her (probably false) reputation for falling into creeks. She and Abbey road side-by-side down the creek trail without incident.

Soon we reached the end of Silver Creek Trail and had to make a decision. We could either take the Rainbow Trail for nine more miles of rolling (as in up and down) singletrack, or we could follow a gravel road beside Silver Creek for an easy downhill. The two routes would meet again, but not before their junction at the paved Highway 285. So we snacked and watch the majority of other cyclists who came down the trail opt for the gravel road along Silver Creek. A few brave souls took the Rainbow Trail. Feeling brave, we followed them. At that point, Abbey started to get just a little grumpy.

The Rainbow Trail was really nice in most places. It flowed smoothly along the slope above Silver Creek, often just a narrow ribbon draped across a steep slope. But the flow was punctuated by very steep, rocky ascents, often up moto-shredded, rocky hillsides. Many of those climbs were long off-the-bike pushes for all of us. We were getting tired. It became a test of physical and mental endurance for the kids. And for Cindy and me, too, but it's different for adults -- we're sort of used to the long slow grind.

Once the Rainbow Trail began to descend back to Silver Creek, it did so in a big hurry. This was one of the steepest sustained descents we've ever ridden. Down, down, sometimes with lots of rocks. Quinn took a light spill once.

And then we were on Highway 285 for five fast miles on a wide, paved shoulder to get back to our truck in Poncha Springs. It was tough, as an epic adventure should be, but we did it. And we'll do it again.