Just back, and much moreso than usual I’m racing to catch up. Life is too short, and I wished we had a week to do the drive home from Crested Butte yesterday. Vacations are supposed to be not only resorative, but give you perspective on home. Metaphysically, of course.

Things started difficulty, with a bouldering session that lasted too long and a work emergency that sucked away all time before bed. Packing did not happen. Grocery shopping did not happen. Sleeping did, and we eventually got underway around 4 Wednesday afternoon. It’s been of enormous benefit that M is a night owl, as right around Kayenta at 9 I became dead to the world. M soldiered bravely onward, and we made it south of Telluride by midnight and camped in the trees.

Thursday was a day of rain, novel for us in Arizona this time of year. Rain that morning eating breakfast (in a restaurant), rain driving over to Ridgeway cloaking Sneffels to the south, rain in town, where we ran into M’s cousin (a part time resident) and Fred and Susan Wilkinson in 10 minutes. We had to have someone to sit and drink hot cocoa with, as the sheets came down. After the first half of the week, I was ok with that. Craig Tuttle had snagged a fantastic campsite out Slate Creek, and I got in an hour ride on the Lower loops before evening set in.

It was cold.

M was not amused, but the contrast to weeks of sleeping on our porch and hiding from the afternoon sun made me very pleased with life. Less so last night, when I realized just how much better I sleep in the cold. We made dinner and fire, avoided plans for Friday, and went to sleep happy.

Friday dawned gorgeous, and I tried to occupy myself constructively in the hour or more when it was myself and the Wilkinson’s dog Max as the sole awake occupants of camp. I had coffee, but Max looked pretty bored. In the end we rallied, and Fred and I headed up the road to sample the Slate d’Huez and 403 before meeting the Other Fred and co. for the 401 experience.
Since the KMC, and really since the KTR, I’ve been taking it easy training; first dwelling in a vortex of demotivation and then putting full focus into knee strengthening and a resurgant interest in climbing. So I’m pretty damn weak compared with this spring, at least going up hill. Fred took mercy on me and spun along as I hiked, chatting.

I then had a very pleasent surprise, the 403 descent. I walked two very steep and loose sections at the top, the rest was a scintillating orgy of technical riding. Right in the zone of hard enough to be interesting and mildly scary at speed, but with nothing that tested my abilities too thoroughly. I was even able to keep within 50 yards of Fred the whole time, an unprecedented happenstance.

The previous two paragraphs were reinforced on 401, and would define my experience during the Classic on Saturday. I was without exception absolute crap climbing and (for me) totally brilliant going down. The only vague exceptions came on Strand, when I clipped an Aspen with my knuckles and slammed a pedal a hundred yards later. The former caused a slight abrasion, the later knocked a bit off my left cleat making it squeak annoyingly for the rest of the day. I also saved enough power hiking up the two track climb to Strand, and was able to clean almost all the short power climbs.

I needed the boost. The first loop climbs went slower than the previous day with Fred and crew, but I was able to shrug that off as “race pace” on the SS. The Deer Creek climb was mere brutality, 6+ hours in with the heat of noon and the flies. Ouch.

The trails at CB end up substituting as a perfect metaphor for life: greater suffering is rewarded in equal proportion. The descent from the high meadow on Deer Creek, the one nasty intermediary descent nonewithstanding, was simple outstanding. Long, skinny track throw meadows, begging for more speed. Twisties through the Aspens, replete with switchbacks, rock gardens, stream crossings, and the occasional log pile. Towards the bottom, alternating foot forward to vary the burn, it occured to me that the top three trails I’ve ridden may well have all been in the last eight hours.

That’s a thought you can rest well on, and with my knees starting to feel sore, that is what I did. After bombing through the steep pavement of Mt. CB for the third time in two days, without touching the brakes, I rolled into the gas station, bought a liter of Canada Dry and an XXL Snickers Ice cream bar, and parked it in my camp chair. M’s “encouragement” to go back out for the last lap fell on already decided ears.

The rest of the evening passed in a sublime state. Lots of pizza, free beer (thank you Dave Ochs!!!) and immense good psyche and company as folks rolled in. Fred M put in a helluva ride, especially given his repeated protestations of being out of shape. Fred W conquered his demon and broke 10 hours with his usual ease. Craig had a very strong day, adding some significant speed to the solidly intelligent pacing that has been his haulmark this year. Tom Purvis suffered, and suffered well, gracing that pretty new Lev with some serious perseverance. Tom, I was hoping to see you again on Deer Creek and discuss the “stunning” hiking on display, but I was just too slow.

In sum, the scene was in effect. Rewardingly.

A highlight was second dinner with Ed, Jenny, and Tom. I can only attribute my alertness so late on such a long day to pleasure. My thanks.

And as always, there is next year. For inspiration I need look no further than the numbers:

My first lap time: 4:16
Ethan Passant’s: 2:53

Wow. I can probably descend a good bit faster, but apparently my climbing needs some vast improvement. The visuals I reserve for slow days at the gym continue to grow. The climb to Gold Bar, the shandies, Potato Hollow, and now the Slate d’Huez.

Yesterday we took the “scenic” route through Paonia, which was underwhelming. Silverton was not, and we may have found a new favoite place. There’s even a lovely little wood house a block off mainstreet for a mere 400k…

As M’s business continues to take off, change is on the horizon. Just what is still in the works.

(Pics may be forthcoming, hopefully Fred M will send some of the great stuff he caught on Friday going through the plant corridors of speed and elation on 401.)

Cheers.