Hey NBG Folks!
Thank you for your help and positive thoughts. Yesterday, October 18th, 1998, I rode my
biggest mileage day ever - over 83 miles - to finish my ride in Denver's Confluence Park.
Denver's South Platte trail system is an ideal bike path for entering the heart of Denver
on a bicycle. The South Platte, which I followed ever since leaving Ogallala, meets Cherry
Creek at Confluence park.
A good portion of the Fort Morgan to Denver route rides on Interstate 76. Surprisingly,
many interstate highways in Colorado are bicyclable when no alternative route exists. The
tail-wind produced by passing trucks is unnerving at first, but provides a little forward
boost for cyclists. The wide shoulders and good grades make interstate miles tick off
quite nicely.
Watching the Rocky Mountains rise up from the prairie was a highlight of the day. Longs
Peak and its fellows appeared just west of Wiggins, and presented a changing and welcoming
view throughout the day. I've never come home to Denver quite like this.
The ride has certainly changed me. My first flat tire, three days into the C&O
Canal Trail, was an emotionally traumatic event. But yesterday on the road I knew the
power: Each of my bike-trailer rigs three tires went flat yesterday, and each time I was
able to enjoy each setback as a transient distraction from the pleasure of riding. The
third time, when the trailer tire went flat and used the last of my replacement tubes, I
earlier would have succumbed to despair. As I repaired the flat I realized that I'd left
my Leatherman tool at the last flat-repair spot after using it to pull thorns from my
front tire. Even that didn't bring me down: I just hopped on the bike and hauled my rig
back to find the tool at the last tire-changing spot.
Contrast this with the first two flats I had on the C&O canal trail. For the first
three days of my ride I worried about the trail's gravel damaging my rear tire. The tire
was a tiny, fragile-looking, 20 x 1-3/8 inch, high-pressure, ultra-light Primo tire that
had no place on the C&O, where "Sturdy hiking boots and wide-tired bicycles"
are recommended. When the tire went flat it was almost a relief, as now my fears were
realized, rather than imagined. But the damage was severe: a rock had torn a gash in
the sidewall of the tire and the replacement inner-tube bulged a bit out of the gash.
Foolishly, I had no spare for the 20" tire. I worried that my new-fangled recumbent
road-bike was outclassed by rigors of the C&O. I worried that 20" tires carrying
a heavy load (my weight plus cargo and half the trailer - about 200 pounds!) would always
be prone to snake-bite when taking a big bump. Worries galore blossomed, and I worried
about the wisdom of the entire trip.
I'd passed a bike store in Hancock the day before, so I turned around to get a new
tire. They didn't have the high-pressure tire I thought I needed, but we managed to
squeeze a 1.75" tire into the frame. The tire asked for a maximum of 45 psi, but
seemed to hold 55 psi. Threatening weather, a Pizza Hut and a laundry beckoned me to stay
the night, and I left the next day after asking the bike store to send home 15 pounds of
excess gear.
Forty-five minutes later, just a mile past the spot where I'd had my first flat the day
before, my rear tire went flat again, and again the flock of worries returned to torment
me. I was ready to give up. To give up, though, I needed to repair the tire to move my
gear back to Hancock. As I was completing the repair, a fellow bike-traveler with a Bob
trailer rolled up, and asked where I was headed. "Cumberland is where I was going,
but I'm about to give up and head back to Hancock," I told him. Dan replied simply:
"You just have to fix your tire." He was right, of course, so Dan and I
continued on to camp together that night and to pass through the Paw Paw tunnel and into
Cumberland to catch the 11:30 train to Frostburg the next morning.
Many things go into the power I now feel: experience changing tires, less fatigue from
being in better shape, the knowledge that each problem must and will be resolved. Martins
mantra "Do what you fear and the fear will be overcome" echoes often in my mind.
Most of my worries and fears were unfounded, and I learned eventually to deal only with
real problems, rather than imagined ones. Before I left Martin told me "The hardest
thing about the trip is thinking about it." Bingo.
Seeing friends and family and enjoying the comforts of home now seems to make the whole
trip a little surrealistic, like perhaps it didn't even happen. But all the memories are
there, and the excitement and necessity of building the National Bicycle Greenway are now
learned lessons. Thank you for everybody's help, and let's keep moving!
Scot
