Author Archives: Stephen Jaye

About Stephen Jaye

My name is Stephen Jaye, I currently live in Denver, CO, but have lived in New York, Chicago, Indiana, and Wisconsin. I love the weather, I love getting out, being active, and I love exploring places. In this blog are my travel writings.

Mohawk Lakes, A Moderate Hike in Central Colorado

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Sometimes recreation in Central Colorado can be just plain overwhelming. I remember when I was preparing to move to Colorado, and took a look at a Colorado DeLorme atlas I had just purchased. DeLorme makes an atlas for every state in the country. These atlases are great for those who love outdoor recreation. Not only are features such as campgrounds, hiking trails, waterfalls, and parks labeled on the maps themselves, but each map contains a dozen or so pages in which hot spots are listed. These include key places to camp, fish, hunt, hike, bike, and such, as well as a list of “unique natural features”. When I looked through my Colorado DeLorme atlas, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of options available to me for many of the activities I enjoy. I kept wondering, though, how the heck I would go about something like picking a place to hike when there are so many options. I was actually worried that some days I would end up going nowhere due to analysis paralysis.

The most effective networks, whether they be all of the trail networks in parts of Colorado, or New York City’s network of subways, are overwhelming, and sometimes take awhile to learn. However, the same way any New Yorker can get by without owning a car, due to all of the train lines in the city, a Coloradan can find the right hike for many different situations and many different desired experiences.

Last Friday I had a friend in town from Chicago who does not get to experience mountains on a regular basis. On previous trips I had taken him to Rocky Mountain National Park. This time, I wanted to take him somewhere different to see some different scenery in a different part of the state.

The most talked about hikes in this part of the State tend to be the “14ers” to the South. These hikes tend to be challenging, and, sometimes are just as much about accomplishing something (particularly to some people) as it is about the experience of hiking.

By contrast, the Spruce Creek Trail certainly fits into the “moderate” category for difficulty. The first part of the trail is kind of a mixture of flatter and steeper areas.

Roughly two miles into the hike we encountered this random cabin that still seemed partially functional. With a stove and a ladder that leads to an upstairs area it is reminiscent of the cabins that people purchase as second homes. However, it was kind of in disrepair and there were several holes in the floor. Still, I wonder what this cabin is used for. Do people actually stay here at night from time to time? Did people originally stay here when this place was built? Is it used for some other purpose, like filleting fish, or fleeing storms from time to time? After all, this cabin is fairly close to the first major lake one encounters on this hike- Mayflower Lake.

It is around here that the trail reaches somewhat of a point of inflection. Above this elevation, the trail becomes steeper. I honestly should have expected this type of experience. One thing I note every time I ski at Breckenridge ski resort is the fact that the steeper terrain tends to be on the higher parts of the mountain. If I ski on Peaks 7, 8, or 9, which is the part of the mountain closest to town and the lower part, I notice that any run I chose becomes progressively flatter as I descend. The Mohawk Lakes, and the Spruce Creek Trail are seriously no more than 3 or 4 miles from the boundary of the ski resort. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that one would experience the same kind of terrain.

The trail encounters Continental Falls several times as it switches back and forth across the mountain. The last several hundred feet of climbing up to Lower Mohawk Lake is somewhat of a scramble making it quite different from the smooth and well marked trails that we started out on.

It was already nearly 1 P.M. when we arrived at Lower Mohawk Lake. We stopped to eat lunch and decided to forgo hiking all the way to Upper Mohawk Lake, a decision I eventually came to regret after learning that we would only have had to hike an additional 0.4 miles, and only climb another 250 feet or so.

I have really come to appreciate this time of year; September, early fall. There is a lot of pleasant weather, and many people have even told me this is the best time of year for hiking in Colorado. In the summertime, particularly in August, there is a daily thunderstorm threat associated with the North American Monsoon. This year that threat ended right after Labor Day when the prevailing weather patterns changed ushering in a drier period for Colorado. On Labor Day I got caught in a brief afternoon thunderstorm. There has not been one since. It is almost as if Mother Nature was aware of, and chose to abide by, our society’s labeling of Labor Day as the “end of summer”. In August mid-afternoon would typically bring at least some major cloud formations reminding hikers of the thunderstorm threat. Last Friday the sky remained clear throughout the day.

I actually think I could not have picked a more ideal time for this particular hike. One thing I hear about the Spruce Creek Trail is that it is prone to becoming muddy during periods of heavier precipitation. These types of trails can be problematic in early summer when there is heavier stream flow. The later part of this summer, and now September, has been much drier across Colorado.

The hike ended up being exactly what we had wanted; a moderately challenging hike that brought us to some unique scenery. There are many places, both geographic, and in life, where one cannot just go about finding a trail that matches the desired experience exactly. Whether it be picking a place to hike, chosing a neighborhood to purchase a home, or picking a place of employment, sometimes the option that matches exactly what we want simply is not available at the right time. So, we end up finding something that is pretty good, a decent match, but not exactly 100% the experience we had been looking for. It’s just a part of life. But, here outside of Breckenridge, I found the trail that matched exactly what we wanted, and am thankful for it.

Cool For the Summer

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People define the season of “summer” in various ways. Astronomers first defined summer as the period of time from the Summer Solstice (roughly June 21st) through the Autumnal Equinox (roughly September 21st). Later on, meteorologists developed the term “meteorological summer”, defined as the months of June, July, and August, to refer to the period of time when weather conditions (in the Northern Hemisphere) are typically most consistently warm. Of course, if you are a kid, or a student of any kind, summer clearly runs from the last day of the Spring semester through the first day of the Fall semester. In the United States, many individuals, particularly those in the working world, have arrived on a definition of “summer” as the period between Memorial Day Weekend (the last weekend in May) and Labor Day Weekend (the first weekend in September). In fact, at one of my previous places of employment, “business casual” attire was permitted only during the time period between Memorial Day and Labor Day. No matter where you are in life, if you are in the Northern Hemisphere outside the tropics, summer is coming to an end. Tonight’s (Labor Day) sunset, for many of us, feels like the last sunset of the summer.

I still remember an episode of Saved By the Bell where Zach Morris, the main character, calls in sick on one of the first school days of the year. The entire cast of the show had spent a crazy summer in Hawaii. It was so exhausting, so emotional, and so full of experiences and memories, that he just needed a day to decompress from everything that had gone on over the summer. That is very much what this weekend felt like to me. Although I did not set aside an entire day to do nothing but process events, nor did I physically take a day off from work, school, etc., I definitely dialed it down, and put off some things in order to recuperate and process everything.

For me, 2015 is what I would consider an “Epic Summer”.

As life progresses, I have come to realize that different periods of our lives mean different things. Some years, and some seasons in particular, are just more memorable than others. This does not mean that the other years and seasons are pointless. It is just easier to remember and ponder the significance of certain periods. History books specifically point to the year 1776, when the United States declared its independence from Great Britain, as a memorable year. During the previous centuries, an emerging class known as the Burghers were gradually moving society away from Feudalism and towards Free Markets, creating many of the ideals that lead to the revolution. There are many specific years between 1250 and 1776 that were not memorable, but still important in creating the world of 1776, as well as the world of today.

My life has a series of summers (five total including this one) I would consider “Epic”. I consider a summer to be “Epic” if it meets several basic criterea. First, it has to be memorable. This obviously means experiences that are out of the ordinary.

Second, in order for a time period, or an event to be considered “Epic”, it has to be one that I consider positive, and enjoyable. After all, dealing with cancer, a major injury, or depression is memorable. But, I would not think of it as “Epic”.

Finally, I believe an “Epic” time period must also be productive rather than destructive. After all, someone may go on a binge, or a rampage of some kind, and find it memorable, as well as enjoyable. But, the experience may have been detrimental to their future. So, I try to think of “Epic Summers”, as only the ones I feel like I am better off for having experienced.

The first four times I had what I would consider an “Epic Summer”, I did not realize it was happening until it was over. I later realized that those four summers were time periods I’d think about much more frequently than other times in my life. Sometime this Spring, I looked back at those summers, and realized that many of the conditions that created the other four Epic Summers in my life were also present this year, and, that the summer that was to come could very well end up being one that I remember for the same reasons. Now that summer 2015 has come and gone, I can say that the following conditions are what leads to an Epic Summer.

They are exhausting

You are doing a lot! Otherwise, it would not really be Epic.

2. They involve new experiences

The summer between my Junior and Senior year in College was “Epic” because I brought travel to a new level (for me) that summer. Previously, my travel had primarily been weekend road trips in the area to places like Champaign, Bloomington, or Indianapolis. That summer, an internship brought me to Oklahoma for several weeks and included many more experiences throughout that part of the country. This summer was my first major multi-day bicycle trip, and my first time backpacking.

3. They involve some amount of planning

For many types of adventures, logistics do need to be considered. Where will we stay? How will we coordinate activities? I am not saying anyone can plan their way into an Epic Summer, nor am I saying that everything needs to be planned out. In fact, some spontaneity is also needed. But, many activities do need to be arranged ahead of time, particularly when they involve a significant number of people.

4. They build on advancements we make as a person on both short and long time frames

I would never have gotten to the point where I could complete a bike ride like the one I did in July had I not made steady progress as a cyclist over the years. This includes the training and completion of my first century ride in Illinois back in 2011, another summer I consider Epic. Prior to this summer, I worked on myself, trying to improve some of my habits and personality traits that I consider ineffective. I made continuing to have new and interesting experiences one of my 2015 New Years goals at the start of the year. The same goes for my first Epic Summer, the summer after my High School graduation. That year, I took advantage of the maturity, and improvements in my self confidence that actually began to take place halfway through my Junior year.

5. There is a mix of the familiar and the absurd

In every Epic Summer I have had, there have ben some repeats. Like in previous years here in Denver, I attended the USA Pro Challenge and saw the exciting finish of Colorado’s version of the Tour de France. After attending that race, I witnessed a topless protest on my way to a Weird Al Yankovich concert- quite absurd.

6. There are old friend as well as new friends

One thing about every time period I have ever considered an “Epic Summer”, is that it is partially about a feeling. By that, I mean a feeling that my life is just flowing properly. As a social person, that entails spending time with people that I have known for some time, and become comfortable with, but also continuing to expand my network and make new friends. In each of my Epic Summers, I have had some sort of influx of new people, through work, organizations, or friends of friends in the months preceding the actual summer.

7. They are not without conflict

My first Epic Summer I was always in conflict with my parents. This summer, I have had a lot of conflict at work. It is hard to say why, but when you are out there in the world, and following your true moral compass, you are naturally going to have some people that do not appreciate that.

8. They are often preceded by ruts

I really do not know why this is, at least not in a logical manner, but every single epic summer I have ever had was preceded by some kind of rut. This year, a rainy May in Denver combined with career stagnation actually bored me quite a bit. It feels almost as if the rhythm of life is starting to hint at the need for a much more active period to come.

I come out of the summer of 2015 knowing much more about life, and much more about myself and my own desires than I did beforehand. I have reached this state because of each and every one of the conditions listed above. I am bummed that summer is over, but, when mentally healthy, a person can transition from one amazing experience to the next. When I left college, I was sad, knowing that I had just had an amazing four year experience. But, I avoided dwelling on it, which would have ruined the last few months of that experience. Whatever comes next, in fall, may not be quite as amazing summer was. But, all I can do is take these experiences, and the improvements I have made to myself as a result of them, and use them to help me going forward.

Backpacking in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains

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Lately it feels like nearly every article I read about personal growth mentions something about getting out of your comfort zone. It makes sense, as getting out of our comfort zones forces us to learn new skills, see things in a different light, and keeps us in the habit of expanding our horizons. One thing I had realized, though, is that many of us often equate leaving our comfort zone with trying something new. While they often go hand and hand, they are not completely equivalent. I would argue that, for someone who parties every weekend, trying out a different bar, while a new experience, is not really stepping outside their comfort zone. Likewise, it takes significant courage, and takes one a significant distance outside their comfort zone, to stand up to a boss or an office bully, despite the fact that they are sitting in the same desk they have sat in every day for multiple years.

My first backpacking trip would be my first time in the wilderness, completely away from any buildings or vehicles, with no amenities, and no access to supplies other than what has been packed. Anything forgotten cannot be retrieved. There is no going back to the car to escape inclement weather, and no town to purchase replacements for any camping gear that may malfunction. We are completely on our own!

Because this is my first time backpacking, we kept it simple, doing a loop of only 13-14 total miles up the Comanche Trail, over the ridge, and then back down the Venable trail. I wish to try new things, expand my horizons, and step outside my comfort zone, but I want to do it in a manner that is smart. I am accustomed to carrying little more than an extra layer or two, water, and some snacks when I hike. Carrying a backpack, which probably weighed at least 30 pounds, is significantly more intense. Not leaving some wiggle room in case something goes wrong, could be potentially dangerous.

And, well, something did go wrong. After an exhausting 2600 foot climb from the trailhead to Comanche Lake, where we set up camp for the night, the stove malfunctioned halfway through cooking dinner.

We watched the sun gradually descend below the mountains, shinning only upon the higher terrain toward the end of the evening wondering what we were to do next. Could we subsist the next couple of days, along our planned route, without any more cooked food, using only the cold food we had packed? Would we have to cut any aspect of our trip short? Was my first backpacking trip turning into a disaster?

After reasoning out in our heads that we technically could make it on the remaining cold food we had brought, we luckily found this rusty old pot just sitting there by the lake. This pot saved the day, as we had no qualms putting it directly into a campfire.

Trips like this definitely help us see our lives from a different point of view, and force us to re-evlauate what a “necessity” really is. Case in point, Saturday morning (second day of the trip), we had Zatarains’ Red Beans and Rice, and very much appreciated it. This is a dish I will periodically make at home when cooking something “simple”. When I cook red beans and rice at home, I, by default, add some kind of meat to it, usually sausage. I behave very much as if it were a necessity to “complete the dish”. But, in many parts of the world, where people are poorer and life is simpler, rice and beans is a common dish. Going on trips like this serves to me, as a periodic reminder that many of the things we consider “necessary” for life are not really necessary for life, they are only necessary for the lifestyle we have chosen.

After a late start, we climbed, once again, from our campsite, at an elevation of roughly 11,600′, to the top of Comanche Pass, at roughly 12,800′. Near the top, I suddenly realized that I was in an altered state of mind. It felt almost surreal, and almost as if I had indeed taken some sort of mind-altering drug. But, I hadn’t. Some kind of combination of exhaustion, high altitude, and being outside my comfort zone had put my mind in a place where everything was both clear and blurry at the same time. It’s hard to describe, but I am guessing that is why many yoga classes involve both an exhausting workout, and altered air conditions (heat, humidity), alongside its’ spiritual aspects.

All this made the view at the top, of nearby Comanche Peak, looking Eastward toward the Wet Mountain Valley we hiked in from, and over the mountains toward the Upper San Louis Valley, even more spectacular!

And, after a mile or so with little elevation change, we climbed back up onto the ridge at a place called Venable Pass, where we would complete our loop. Here, we stopped to eat lunch before beginning our descent through an area known as Phantom Terrace.

This descent was tricky enough that my exhaustion, and the altered state of mind associated with it, continued. All sorts of crazy shit was on my mind as we descended towards the Venable Lakes.

Of course, it was on this descent where I saw the highest concentration of my least favorite plant ever. I really do not know what they are called, but they look vicious. They remind me both of the flesh eating plant in the movie Little Shop of Horrors, as well as the plans that try to bite in Mario Brothers. In fact, in my altered state of mind, I actually felt as if these plants were trying to bite me as I walked by. It was freaky. Maybe, despite the Red Beans and Rice, I still did not eat enough, or drink enough, I don’t know.

We camped the second night just below Venable Lakes, as we had to get back down to the tree line for access to firewood. We had become pretty well versed in the process of starting a fire and using it to cook our food using that rusty old pot we found (and kept after the trip).

The next morning, we woke up early to view the sun rise. We also saw some cool wildlife, deer, grouse, and marmots, which we had been viewing on and off for the duration of the trip. However, particularly with deer, first thing in the morning is often the best time for wildlife viewing. We also gazed upon the muddy puddle I had stupidly jumped into the prior afternoon, having wanted to cool off as it got quite warm for elevations in excess of 11,500′.

Before leaving the last campsite of my first ever backpacking excursion, I paid homage to one of my favorite songs out right now Cool for the Summer, as, well, this summer has been awesome, and, is now coming to an end. On the car ride back to Denver, we had a conversation about whether or not songs like this, geared towards high school and college students, apply to people who have graduated, joined the adult world, and no longer have summer break. However, despite the fact that nothing about my job, or my role in life, automatically shifts for summer (to an internship or summer job), I do feel something magical about this season. There are so many things one can do in summer that they cannot in other seasons.

The final descent, back to the trailhead along the Venable Pass Trail, is highlighted by a series of waterfalls, as well as a large number of Aspen trees. At the biggest water fall, Venable Falls, I actually dunked my head into the water to cool off. The lower part of this trail would be an amazing day hike sometime around a month from now, when the leaves on the Aspen trees are changing colors.

In the end, my first backpacking experience was quite the trip, and a memory that will last a lifetime! I came away from this trip confused. Backpacking is a strange activity. It is both simple and complex. It is both exhausting and relaxing. Never had I been farther away from civilization, having interacted with a total of three people prior to the final day of the trip. Having experienced additional complications, I am glad to have chosen something modest, in both size and scope, for my first trip. And, I am glad to have gone with a group large enough to make the experience both efficient and enjoyable, but not too large, as to add additional unnecessary complications.

Back on Top of the World

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Four in the morning is such as strange time of day. It feels almost surreal. Everything around you is so much quieter than we all have become accustomed to seeing it. It is a time when the streets of your home town, even the blocks surrounding your home, feel strange and distant. For many of us, it is the only time that our surroundings appear restful, as nearly every other time of day, the streets are full of people; people in motion, with agendas, and tasks to attend to. It is almost as if you are experiencing a completely different place than the one you experience on a day-to-day basis during normal waking hours.

The few people you do see out and about at this hour have widely differing experiences. There are some for which it is still last night. The parties, after parties, drama, and other events that had been unfolding since the previous evening are still unfolding. They have not transitioned to the next day yet. For others, though, the new day has already begun. They are starting some sort of project that has already carried them into the new day. Basically, although the calendar says Sunday, some people are still on Saturday, while others had moved on to Sunday. It very much reminds me of the International Date Line, which physically separates one day from the next day. Only here, it is much murkier. And having been on both sides of this line, it is definitely a challenge to make sense of everything I see around me.

I woke up at four in the morning in order to climb Quandary Peak, one of Colorado’s “14ers“, located in Summit County, just under two hours from Denver. Climbing “14ers” is one of Colorado’s pastimes, and a rite of passage I first accomplished just over two years ago. Unfortunately for anyone that hates early mornings, those climbing these peaks are generally advised to get an early start for safety reasons, as the weather here can be somewhat chaotic. Sometimes unexpected weather here can lead to horrible results, even on days when inclement weather was not expected. It is recommended that most hikers begin these climbs by 7 A.M. to minimize such risks. So, I woke up at 4, to get ready, and get to the trailhead by 7.

I have only climbed three other 14ers, so I have little experience to compare this particular hike to. But, from the very beginning this hike seemed anomalous. Most hikes, particularly Mount Bierstadt, begin relatively flat, with steeper grades coming farther into the hike, and closer to the top of the mountain. This hike, however, had some fairly intense grades right at the start of the trail.

Still, it felt like we spent a considerable amount of time, 40 minutes or so, hiking before we got above the tree line. There is some variance as to the elevation of the tree line in Colorado. On this hike, it certainly felt like I climbed to nearly 12,000 feet in elevation before getting above the trees.

The other aspect of this particular trail that sets it apart from nearly every hike I have ever undertook is how much of this trail is covered by rocks. The portion of the trail above the tree line, which is most of the trail, is more than half covered by rocks. This is well more rock coverage than I remember from the other 14ers I have climbed.

And then there were the mountain goats. I probably encountered roughly a dozen of them today. Most of them hung out a little bit above the tree line, but there were a couple of them that were actually spotted closer to the summit. I was surprised to encounter the first mountain goat I came across today. I was even more surprised to keep encountering them, sometimes in packs.

Unlike many other mountains, Quandary Peak’s “intimidation factor” actually slowly builds up as one approaches the summit.

While the mountain does appear big from the start, it appears somewhat gentile in nature when compared to some of the other mountains I have hiked. From this vantage point, still below the tree line, it almost feels as if there will be a slow, steady, and merciful climb to this peak.

Just above the tree line the mountain’s summit comes into clear view, appearing significantly less gentile than it did just 30 short minutes ago.

The closer I got to the summit, the more I realized that the last 1000 foot climb would not be gentile at all. In fact, this final stretch resembles any other 14er I have experienced or seen posts about. This final section, leading up to the summit, will be a place where I will trudge to the top, focusing one exhausting step at a time. This is the way it always goes down.

Despite the fact that I have already successfully hiked to the top of a mountain that is technically a few feet taller than this one, it was hard not to feel a sense of accomplishment when reaching this summit. Looking down on the intense terrain I had just navigated, and the mountains that surround me, all of which are below me, I was once again on top of the world. And, once again, I had earned it.

As the day progressed, I saw more and more of two types of people on the trail. First, large groups of either high school or college aged people. But, also, I began to see more people wearing headphones on their hikes. And, unlike the trail runners in headphones I encountered on Bierstadt, the people wearing them were not all trail runners. Or, well, they were not all running. Some were climbing the mountain at a fairly leisurely (for an intense climb like this) pace.

It made me wonder what this experience was about for these particular individuals. How does having music on change the experience of the scenery around you? I can imagine it having a negative impact on the connection one can make with nature at a place like this. I am for certain that it would have a negative impact on one’s ability to share experiences with others.

As was the case with the other 14ers I had climbed a couple of years ago, I was fortunate to have good company with me for the journey. The experience, like many of the others I write about, would not have been the same had I taken them on alone. My friend and I were discussing a mutual acquaintance who was hiking one of these 14ers solo. I know that I would have significantly more trouble motivating myself to get up at the hour of 4 A.M. for a solo excursion. For me, connecting with others plays a significant role in a lot of what I do, and I would have a hard time finding myself wearing headphones at a place like this.

Festival Season

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Several years back, I spent a considerable amount of time fascinated with the question; What makes someone an “interesting person”? I guess it was just the time we were living in (around 2010- but it’s still true now). People had become exponentially more distracted by social media over the past half a decade. Every job posting had 200 applications. To get by in the world suddenly seemed to require the ability to get people’s attention. It suddenly did not feel like enough to just simply be competent and friendly. The most precious resource had suddenly become attention, and the amount of time one had to make an impression on people was ever shrinking.

So I took stock of the people in my life, the people I saw, the people I knew, and even people I had just heard about. I knew that there were some people I found interesting for some reason. I really tried to determine why that was. What was it about some people that made their names come up in conversation more frequently? I went through this quandary in my head about the delicate balance between being “too normal” and not having anything distinct about yourself and being “too weird” and not being able to relate to people.

In true extrovert fashion, I did not really figure out what it was about until I started asking other people about it. I asked my friends what people they found interesting and why. And, I realized what is true for me, as well as everybody else on this planet. Some people find me interesting, and some people don’t, the same way I find some people interesting and others not. I even realized that there are people in my life that I had not necessarily found interesting, but could see how they could be interesting to other, different kinds of people. I actually thought about those people that write those celebrity fashion blogs and report live from award shows. I seriously still can’t think of anything I care less about than who wins the Oscars. But, some people love it, and a lot of people love those blogs.

Nobody bores every single person they meet. Also, nobody captivates everyone they meet. But, some people do manage to find a way to relate to a larger proportion of the population than others. We all know that one person that is always talking about the same things, and doing the same things. And, when we get together with them we know it is going to be the same old same old.

Maybe all they do is work…

Or maybe they’ve got some cause they just won’t ever shut up about….

Or, they just really only have one interest. When that happens, well, you can only relate to people who happen to share that interest. When one cultivates a variety of interests, they are able to relate to a greater subset of the population. Not only are more people going to find them interesting, but they are going to find a way to show genuine interest in the lives of more people.

So, while I love to travel, I realize that it is not for everybody. The average American works 47 hours a week. And the average commute is approaching half an hour each way. Many spend much more than that standard five hours a week in their cars as it is. So, I completely understand why, for many people, the idea of hoping in a car Friday afternoon or Saturday morning, spending several hours in it, and doing the same on Sunday, just simply does not sound appealing. I will always find the allure of new places, different experiences, and different cultures worth the effort, but many want to find activities closer to home.

This does not mean they are not interesting people, and this does not mean that I cannot find them interesting. Last weekend, right here in Denver, I was able to attend three festivals; all within 4 miles of home.

At the Denver Brew Festival, with over 50 different participating breweries, and unlimited drinks for $35, one is pretty much guaranteed to be trying beer they have yet to try before.

At the Underground Music Showcase, countless people get exposed to bands, and even musical stylings that they have never been exposed to before.

And, it is hard to top a free concert downtown with Aloe Blacc and Capital Cities!

But one does not need to even go to crazy festivals to be interesting and open to new experiences. At the end of the weekend, I came to the realization that everything I had done this weekend, everything that seemed new and exciting, is something that I can really do whenever I want. And, I live in a medium-sized city, not New York.

If I want to try a new kind of beer, I can go to a microbrewery I have not been to. I think there is a new one opening up every weekend somewhere in Metro Denver.

Most cities have some sort of a local music scene, with local bands playing at a bar for a $5 or $10 cover. In fact, I have had some amazing nights out going to some of these shows!

And, nothing is stopping us from changing the radio station, finding a new channel on Pandora, or asking those around us to expose us to new music that is already out there.

Every day is the opportunity to experience something new. Taking advantage of more of these opportunities is no guarantee that the next time you meet an attractive stranger, a fun potential friend with an active social circle, or that person with the job opportunity of a lifetime, that that particular person will find you interesting. But, it does make the odds much more favorable.

A Weekend in Texas

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In my last post, I describe my experiences visiting the City of Austin, Texas. Some people describe Austin as being “not really Texas”. And, while that may be a simplification, or exaggeration of the experience there, the general point is that the experience of being in Austin is different than the the experience of being in any other part of Texas. So, while I spent some time in Austin last weekend, I also got the opportunity to experience other places in Texas, and actually get immersed into the culture here.

One of the first places I went to, just 20 miles or so outside of Austin, was the Salt Lick, for some high quality Texas barbecue. I was surprised to see such a large establishment. I had gone to BBQ in places like Oklahoma City and Tulsa in the past, and those experiences usually involved smaller, more side-of-the road type establishments. I had come to, in my head, assume that was the standard BBQ experience, but the Salt Lick is pretty gigantic. And, the first thing I saw when I entered the restaurant was a gigantic barbecue pit. The last time I had seen so much meat in one place was at the World’s Largest Brat Festival in Wisconsin.

Texas style barbecue, of course, includes brisket. In order to experience the full range of barbecue experience, I ordered a combination plate that included brisket, ribs, and sausage. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the restaurant asks their patrons if they want their brisket “lean”, or “moist”. Not being a fan of fatty meats, I chose “lean”, and really enjoyed the entire meal.

In fact, I kind of felt like I spent the entire weekend eating brisket! The other establishments I went to, like the Salt Lick, were sizable establishments. Coopers, in New Braunfels, was big enough to accommodate a group of 16 people without really having to adjust anything from their normal operating experience.

Whenever I was not eating barbecue food, I was eating Mexican food, which is plentiful in Texas due to it’s close proximity to, as well as history of being a part of, Mexico. I visited several Mexican food establishments while in Texas, including a place many of us that live elsewhere should become familiar with: Torchy’s Tacos. Later this year, they will expand beyond the borders of Texas, opening up a location in Denver, Colorado. They may very well expand to some other areas as well.

In Bourne and New Braunfels (and places between), I got to experience a bit of the local culture.

This area is often referred to as “Texas Hill Country”, as, well, unlike most of the Great Plains, it is kind of hilly. Parts of it sort of remind me of the “Driftless Area” of Southwestern Wisconsin, with rolling hills one to several hundred feet tall. Although, the geological history these regions is quite different.

Here I attended a wedding, and took part in another local custom, floating the river. At the wedding, the main thing I noticed about the culture here in Texas was the affinity for line dancing. I had expected the country music line dancing. But, what shocked me was how often people would just naturally form a line while dancing to other songs. When YMCA, and Gangnam Style, came on, people here just naturally formed themselves into a line as if it were second nature.

In Texas, if is quite common for people to go on “floating”, or “tubing” trips. It is basically an outdoorsy activity that is far more relaxing than the ones I usually take part in here in Colorado. It mostly just involves laying in a tube, and gently floating down a river. Many people here own their own tubes to float in, and bring floatable coolers, where they pack beer. I have heard it is quite common for people to get quite intoxicated while taking part in a float trip.

Texas hill country also contains a lot of natural features, some of which have become common family-type tourist destinations. A few miles west of New Braunfels is a place called Natural Bridge Caverns, which, just as the name advertises, is a Natural Bridge above ground with a cavern below ground.

Every time I visit a place like this, I always come away with mixed views regarding the commercialization of these natural features. One one hand, I look at staircases, buildings, and all of these artificial looking features being present, and wonder if we are losing out on some of the experience. But, I also see that having paved roads to get here, walkways through the area, and other comfort related conveniences opens up the experience of viewing these places to many people who otherwise would not have been able to see them.

It was in San Antonio, however, where I learned about the history of Texas. Downtown San Antonio kind of has an odd combination of historical significance. On one end of downtown is The Alamo. Originally a “mission“, the place later became a military post in the war for independence from Mexico, and now a museum, which is also considered a Shrine of Texas Liberty. This place very much celebrates the people of Texas separating from Mexico, and, of course, later joining the United States.

On the other end of downtown is a place called Historic Market Square, a place that celebrates Mexican cultural heritage. In the plaza, I saw T-Shirts for sale that exuded Mexican pride. In fact, with authentic Mexican food and cultural items for sale everywhere, I almost felt like I could have actually been in Mexico.

It just makes me wonder. Is this a City that is in conflict with itself? How do those of Mexican decent here in San Antonio feel about Texas history?

The area between the Alamo and Historic Market Square was also kind of confusing. On the surface, the city looked kind of dreary. I kind of felt like I was in a bad part of Chicago, or any other big city that has a significant amount of blight. But, underneath the surface was San Antonio’s Riverwalk, which is quite lively.

In fact, San Antonio kind of pioneered the idea of riverwalks. And, it appears other cities are trying to copy them.

After reading about Texas history, I kind of had a better understanding of the place. Specifically, at the Alamo, they describe a struggle in Mexican politics. On one side there was a group of people that strongly supported a Federalist type system of government based on a constitution that was modeled after the United States. Under this system, some powers were devolved to the states, of which Texas (or Tejas) was one. On the other side, was a group of centralizers that wanted more control in the hands of the central government in Mexico City. Texans strongly supported the former over the latter, and when the latter won power, they felt their way of life threatened. The successful defense of Texas, establishment of the Lone Star Republic, and later admission to a country whose values more closely resembled their own is viewed as a triumph.

It is without a doubt that many Texans today see a lot of parallels (whether or not they are correct) to today’s political struggles in the United States. Having this history, one in which many people in the state take pride, definitely explains why succession talk would be much more prevalent here than it would be in other states who strongly oppose some aspects of how our Federal government is operating.

There was always some concern over whether I would fit in here in Texas. Anyone that talks to me can clearly hear my Long Island accent. I do not try to hide it. Some people who have lived in Texas told me that it would also be obvious that I am an outsider by the manner in which I conduct myself, and the types of topics I discuss on a regular basis.

But, I took a “leap of faith” of sorts, and just decided to be myself when interacting with people here. And, I was actually received quite warmly here, by people who probably have a significantly different lifestyle and set of values than my own. Everyone was friendly to me, and they were even receptive to the kinds of conversation topics I tend to engage people in.

As I thought through the acceptance I experienced here, as well as the history, the current succession talk and anger, I came to an important realization. Maybe we are not nearly as divided as people make us out to be. Maybe it is really only the most vocal (and angry) among us that display this division. After all, if 1.4 Million people can live in a city which celebrates both it’s Mexican heritage and it’s struggle for independence from Mexico, maybe we can find a way to celebrate what makes everyone unique.

Lone Star Capital

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It is with some amount of hesitation that I visited Austin, Texas. Compared to other cities in the same region, of similar size, and with similar recent economic fortune, it gets talked about a lot in certain circles. I am quite cautious about simply parroting what is said and done by others. I am not a complete hipster. I do take part in some things that are very popular. But, I just want to make sure that whatever I choose to do, particularly with my own time, I do for my own reasons. It is for that reason I never read the Harry Potter books, or watched certain mega-popular television shows.

Additionally, I know a lot of people who care way more deeply about certain hot-button social issues than I do. So, when I hear people talk about Austin instead of San Antonio, Houston, or Dallas, cities in Texas that are also rapidly growing, I can’t help but feel a bit skeptical. I want to visit a place because it is interesting, not because it has people with certain viewpoints on things that others think is important.

What I saw in Austin, Texas, though was that the place is interesting on its own merits. As soon as I landed at the airport, I saw sculptures of guitars displaying Austin’s pivotal live music scene.

The river that runs through the center of town, oddly enough also called the Colorado River (I am accustomed to thinking of the Colorado river as running from Rocky Mountain National Park, through the Grand Canyon and down to Mexico), is a center for all kinds of interesting outdoor activity. Numerous kayaks, stand up paddleboards, and these water bicycle things that I haven’t before seen, could be found on the river at any time of day I rolled past it. Additionally, it is on the Congress Ave. Bridge over this river that one of the largest bat colonies live. Every evening, sometime around dusk, the colony of bats swarms outside for some reason. People line up on this bridge before sundown to watch every day!

The nightlife there is also quite amazing. There are several areas of town that have bars, restaurants, and plenty of youthful, vibrant activity. It felt like everywhere I went, even at times like 10 in the morning, I would hear some kind of live music coming from some direction.

There is certainly no shortage of things to do for fun people. My evening in Austin ended at one of the best dancing bars I have ever been to, a place called Barbarella, which was recommended to me by a co-worker. It is the kind of bar I wish I had in my hometown, a place where a lot of people are dancing, but without the high prices and pretention of some of the clubs one will find in major cities. This bar had a large dance floor, which was periodically infused with fog from a fog machine, some interesting lighting, and affordable drinks. And, on the night that I was there, they were playing nothing but 80s music. It was the kind of crowd where a lot of people were just letting loose and seeing where the night takes them. With the number of college students and recent grads in the area, I could not help but fixate on the high likelihood that at least one person there on the dance floor was “hooking up” with someone to the exact same (80s) song that their own parents first “hooked up” to without even knowing it!

All over town were reminders of youth, and all things youthful. Of course, there is the campus. Last weekend, while I was there, a new student visit weekend was taking place. So, the streets were filled with people, young and energetic, excited about the new chapter of their lives they were preparing to start. Remembering it, there is nothing like this first time you go out on your own, something every 17 or 18 year old wearing those maroon t-shirts were preparing for in less than two months. I could feel the excitement as people explored, formed new bonds, took pictures displaying the Longhorn signal, and just looked forward to what is to come.

Also, while at one of the live music clubs, I accidentally (as in I did not plan this) wandered into a room where one of the scenes in the movie Boyhood had taken place. The movie, released last year, follows the life of a boy growing up from age 6 to age 18, when he goes off to college. I particularly related to the main character in this movie, as he grew up and developed his own set of thoughts and values. In one scene he goes on a rant about how people use facebook that seriously could have matched word for word something I had said a few years earlier! All this served as a reminder of how magical that part of life really is. The hope, the promise, and the excitement of making yourself into what you are to become is one that really cannot be matched.

Oddly enough, in Austin, I may have found a place that shares my values, including the very values that made me hesitant to visit the place in the first place. This poster particularly resonated with me. I just wish I could have gotten a better picture of it. It’s hard to get a picture of a lit up sign like this in Texas, in the sun, in the middle of the day.

The phrase “Stop Being Livestock” is definitely a play on the University’s team name; The Longhorns. But it definitely also depicted how I, and many of us, feel sometimes in the working world. I mean, every large organization has a department called “Human Resources”. Just thinking about that phrase gives me goose bumps sometimes. That person, sitting in the cubical farm, is a “resource”. Maximizing that resources’ output sounds a lot like fattening up a cow, or getting as many eggs from a chicken as possible.

Around town I heard plenty of intellectual discussions like this one. Some locals described Austin as having an uber-sized commitment to individuality. It appeared as if this commitment was genuine, based on everything I had seen around town.

From the intellectual nature of discussions, to the outdoor activities people engage in, as well as all of the bike lanes I saw all over town, it felt like a place that shared my values. I would definitely be more likely to find people that understand me here than in many other places. It is just ironic that these were the values that made me more hesitant to come to Austin in the first place.

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 3: Yellowstone’s Grant Village to Jackson, Wyoming

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What a difference a day makes! After the most exhausting bicycling day of my life, day 3 seemed like a breeze. Everything seemed different, even in subtle ways. Whereas on day 2 I felt like I had to struggle, even on the flatter portions of the ride, certain segments of this day seemed to breeze by. It was almost as if there was some kind of invisible force that had been holding me back on the previous day, but now was helping me along.

We left the Grant Village campground having done none of the activities that are typically associated with camping (other than putting up and tearing down a tent). We did not set up a fire. We did not cook anything. We did not even spend a significant amount of time at the campsite other than sleeping. The next morning, we got some breakfast, and headed South, towards Grand Teton National Park.

The day started with a climb, albeit a very small one, and one that event felt easier than a similar sized climb would have felt the previous day. Only four miles into the ride, we crossed the Continental Divide, and immediately started headed downhill. The next eight miles flew by as we reached our last major stop in Yellowstone National Park; Lewis Falls.

I feel like I got a fairly exhaustive tour of Yellowstone’s waterfalls. And, while I had seen several waterfalls while in Yellowstone, each one was different in characteristics. Undine Falls, which I saw yesterday, was skinny and tall. Lewis Falls is much wider, with a smaller drop. It is shaped much more like Niagara. At this point in my journey, 12 miles in, I was energized! I felt almost as if I could have handled anything on that day. In fact, I am 100% sure that I had more energy at that point in the day than I would have had I been resting over the last several days. There is just something about getting through a really rough day of riding, and then riding downhill.

Until this trip, most of my riding had consisted of day trips. Before moving to Colorado, those trips were pretty much about how many miles I traveled, as Illinois is flat. Since then, I have begun to tackle some climbs. In each of these rides, there is a similar theme, I go up, and then I go down. There is a climb, and it is followed by a “reward”, a chance to go fast. This almost felt like a way more stretched out version of this. I spent an entire day pretty much climbing. The previous day was my climb, and this day of primarily descending was my reward. Therefore, the feeling of guilt that usually passes over me when I descend without having climbed first did not manifest. The whole time I knew that I had earned this day of rapid riding through the exhaustion I had endured on the prior day.

By the time we left Yellowstone National Park, we had already descended a significant amount. That descent was interrupted by the days only climb, in the 6 mile space that separates Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. This is a strange place. Although you are technically in neither National Park, signs posted along the road remind motorists that National Park speed limits and enforcement are still in effect. Also, there is no official entrance into Grand Teton National Park from the north, at least not along US-89. It is pretty much assumed that all motorists (and I guess cyclists too) had already paid to get into Yellowstone and do not need to pay again.

After climbing for a little bit, there is a rapid descent towards Lake Jackson, and the heart of the Grand Tetons.

This lake is gigantic, and one of the defining features of the National Park. And, as one travels farther, into the heart of the Park, one can sometimes get some of the most stunning views of the Tetons from the other side of the lake.

The Grand Tetons are the most photographed location in Wyoming. The primary reason they are so photogenic is that this particular mountain range not only has a prominence (how much higher in elevation the peaks are from the area around them) of over 7,000 feet, but there are no foothills to obstruct one’s view of the mountains.

There really is nothing like experiencing the Tetons, at a nice comfortable pace of 15-20 miles per hour, from the seat of a bicycle, up and down some gentile rolling hills, as the afternoon progresses. As was the case in Yellowstone, I decided not to push myself and hurry through the park. Only this time, on a day that had been mostly downhill, it felt way more comfortable. I wasn’t climbing up a major pass, putting my legs through all of that exhaustion. I was just gliding kinda.

The final part of the trip into Jackson took me on a bike trail, where I encountered the last wildlife of my journey, a coyote.

In the end, I once again rode over 80 mies on the final day of my journey. However, the last part of the ride felt quite a bit different for me on day 3 as it had on day 2. At some point, I came to the realization that on my final day’s ride, it wasn’t the energy I had left in my legs that was limiting the number of miles I felt like I could do, it was other intangibles. It was how my butt felt about getting back on the seat. It was how many times my right fingers had been used to shift gears, as well as the amount of weight I had placed on my forearms in general over the course of many hours on the seat. In this case, I wonder if the strategy of biking a bit faster, but taking more frequent stops to get up and off the seat may be a better strategy for handling these long distance rides.

The last five miles of my ride, on the trail, headed into Jackson were counted off by little markers in the trail; white lines labelled 5.0, 4.5, 4.0 and so on, counting off the distance from Jackson at the end of the trail. These markers countered down, pretty much, the end of my trip. So while I was excited to make it all the way into Jackson, and really anxious to take a shower and have a coca-cola, it still felt bittersweet to me, knowing that this bicycle trip that I had been anticipating for so long was quickly coming to an end.

Two days earlier, at Chico Hot Springs, I had refrained from eating chicken wings, as I was unsure if the choice would negatively impact my bike ride the next day. Now, with no more bike riding ahead of me, it was time to finally fulfill that craving. So, after showering and changing, we went to a place called Local, right in downtown Jackson, and, yes, I had my wings. Oh, and they were amazing. One thing I learned the first time I attempted bike travel, ten years ago, was that wings always taste better on a bike journey.

That evening, we stayed at the Anvil Motel downtown, and watched the 4th of July firework show. As I watched the fireworks light up the night sky, I thought to myself about how I had celebrated our Nation’s independence by traveling through some of the most beautiful places in the country. I cannot think of a better way to honor The United States of America than that.

The only regret I really had was that the haziness of the day had seriously impacted the images I had taken of the Grand Tetons. This regret was remedied, as we spent another day in Jackson before headed home, and got to see some more sights, including different images of the Tetons, under different weather conditions, both Sunday and Monday, as well as the iconic images that one encounters in the famous Mormon Row settlement to the east of the National Park.

By completing this journey, I feel like I have entered a whole new league when it comes to bike riding, and bike travel. Before this trip, I could only speculate as to what rides I would one day love to take on. I could only respond to people’s own bicycle travel stories with statements such as “wow, that seems incredible”, or “good job”. I was not truly belonging to the group. Now, with this trip behind me, I have finally earned the right to consider myself a bike traveler. I have earned the right to actually chime in with my own anecdotes, about biking long distances, road conditions, places to go, pannier setup, and all sorts of other topics bicycle tourists typically discuss. I have reached the pros- sort of.

And, because of this experience, Montana and Wyoming now have a special place in my heart, something that someone born on Long Island, New York would never have expected. I almost feel like Teddy Roosevelt this weekend, New Yorker in attitude and mannerisms through and through, but lover of the West, lover of America’s beauty and lover of the National Parks.

As I rode home Monday, July 6th, it suddenly occurred to me how little I missed my regular life. I think I missed some of the people and some of the socializing. But I really didn’t miss the kind of stuff that many would assume. I had yet to watch a single minute of television, and had yet to use the internet for anything other than looking up the weather and writing a blog entry on this site. I certainly had not looked at the news or anything. I definitely did not miss either TV or the internet at all. As of the time of writing this blog, July 9th, my TV total for the month of July still does not exceed one single hour. And, the odd thing is, I also knew that if I needed to get back on that bike again and ride more distance, I was more than capable of it. Maybe that is the way I truly know I have reached a whole new level with regards to bicycling.

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 2: Chico Hot Springs to Yellowstone’s Grant Villiage

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I was 43 miles into a 100 mile bike ride. I had already climbed over 1,000 feet from my starting location. I knew I had over 2,000 more vertical feet to climb before I would reach the high point of my day. The road mercilessly took a turn downhill. This was vertical height I had already worked hard to climb. I knew that somewhere down the road, I would once again have to climb this several hundred vertical feet that I was now descending. I sped up and continued down the road, already exhausted, knowing that I still had more than half my day left to go, both in terms of milage as well as vertical climb.

That was when I found myself going over a bridge, over the Gardner River. The views in all four directions, including downward were spectacular. Not only was I viewing all of the scenery in all directions, I was smelling it. I was feeling the air around me. It was at this moment that I realized that, despite how exhausted I already was, and despite how agonizing the steep hills I had in front of me were going to be, that all of this was worth it. The effort of pedaling harder than I had ever pedaled before, and enduring hours of pure pain was worth it to experience what I was experiencing on that day.

Miles 44 and 45 would take forever, as I climbed up and out of the river valley and onto the Blacktail Deer Plateau in the Northern part of Yellowstone National Park. Knowing that I still had so much painful climbing left to go, once again “This Summer’s Gonna Hurt” by Maroon 5, a song that I had heard many times this year, and, like most Maroon 5 songs, catches in one’s head quite easily, popped into my head as I pondered the pain that I was enduring, as well as the pain that would come.

That morning, I woke up in Paradise Valley with a strange feeling. I was half worn out from my first day of cycling, but also felt ready to go. It is a feeling that people who cycle long distances probably experience quite frequently, but it was a feeling that I had not truly experienced before. Sure, I had undertaken multi-day tasks before, but never one like this, where in my head I knew I was about to tap into pretty much everything I have, physically, but I also knew that it would make for one of the most exciting days I’ve ever had.

On the way out of Paradise Valley, we encountered the only other cyclist we would encounter that day, an Austrian gentleman headed for the Grand Canyon. He was traveling fully self-contained, with all of his camping gear attached to his bike, and therefore taking it slower.

After turning back onto US-89 South towards Gardiner, we entered an area known as Yankee Jim Canyon. It is here where we started to see some rafters. Over the next few miles, we would wonder who was this “Yankee Jim” that this canyon was named after.

Unfortunately, even the signage along the highway, the signage that eluded to both history and Yankee Jim, did not tell me anything about who Yankee Jim was. After the trip, I did a full web search. Nothing. I still have no idea who was this man they call Yankee Jim. Maybe if I ever go to a Montana History Museum of some kind I’ll find out, but to this day, it remains a mystery.

Luckily, several miles up the road, as we approached Gardiner, there was a distraction. We encountered a place called Devil’s Slide, a uniquely shaped exposed area of red sedimentary rock that appears to lend itself to stupid, and potentially dangerous adolescent ideas. I am quite thankful that nobody turned it into a cheesy touristy site. There are enough overpriced alpine slides elsewhere in the West.

We stopped for Ice Cream just before noon in Gardiner, Montana, and stepped out into much hotter air as we entered Yellowstone National Park.

Back when I lived in Chicago, I never understood why advertisements for Montana tourism would feature images of Yellowstone National Park, which is primarily in Wyoming, with the phrase “Gateway to Yellowstone”. But, apparently, this was the original entrance to the National Park, and, when the park first opened up, the only way to get in. This structure right here, that I found myself riding under, was the first entrance ever created to the first National Park established.

And I knew the climb was coming, the first climb of the day, which would eventually take me past the 45th Parallel, into the State of Wyoming, and up to Mammoth Hot Springs, where I was now roughly 1000 feet higher than Gardiner.

But, it wasn’t just the climbs that made the ride exhausting. It was all of the other rolling hills I was not 100% expecting.

There are very few flat parts of Yellowstone National Park, and even the area between Mammoth Hot Springs and Tower Falls, which starts and ends at a similar elevation had many hills of different sizes. It was around there that I decided that I was in no hurry to get to the campsite. After all, I was in Yellowstone National Park, and in a part of the park I did not get to see the last time I visited. I was gonna see some stuff.

After having to climb back up out of the Gardiner River Valley, I took a look at the Undine Falls.

Unfortunately, I did not feel I had the energy to add a mile of hiking (round trip) to my day, and see the Wraith Falls.

But, I stopped several other times to enjoy the scenery along the Blacktail Deer Plateau, and even got a chance to see a blue-billed duck through some bincoulars.

In the middle of the afternoon, I reached one of Yellowstone’s more breathtaking, but underrated features, Tower Fall.

It was here I took a more lengthy break, as I knew ahead of me I had a climb tougher than any climb I had ever undertaken in my life. After that exhausting 30 mile stretch from Gardiner, up into the park and then over the plateau and all of the rolling hills, I would climb over 2000 feet, to the highest point of any road in Yellowstone; Dunraven Pass. But, it was here that I also realized that not only was I more than halfway through my trip overall (63 miles into today with 61 miles behind me yesterday), but I was now at a higher elevation than where I would end the trip (Jackson, Wyoming is at 6200 feet). In every sense of the phrase, I was more than halfway there.

The climb, 12 miles and almost 2600 feet in elevation gain, took me nearly two hours. It was exhausting, and intense. I pretty much had to stop every mile. Somewhere roughly halfway up the pass, I started to see some beautiful alpine flowers; yellow and purple.

But, signage told me that the presence of these wonderful flowers also signified that I was in Grizzly Bear territory.

So, it should not have been too much of a surprise to me that when I finally got to the top of the pass, after two long hours of huffing and puffing, I saw my first Grizzly Bear!

Just as I had realized 31 miles (and almost 3000 feet of net climbing) ago, when I was going over that breathtaking bridge over the Gardner River, all of the riding, all of the sweat, and all of the pain did have its reward. To be honest, it would have been more than worth all of the physical exertion without even seeing the bear. But, seriously, there was nothing like encountering this animal, so beautiful, so majestic, yet so dangerous and overwhelming, in the manner in which I did; from my bike, out in the open, yet at the top of a pass, knowing that if I needed to outrun it, I could by pedaling as hard as I could on the next downhill stretch.

By then, after hanging out with the bear for a little while, it was nearly 7 P.M. I had neither the energy, nor the remaining daylight to take the walk down to Yellowstone’s iconic Lower Falls. Luckily I saw those last time I was here, so I was glad to have taken the time to see the other waterfalls in the park.

The last real feature I visited that evening was Yellowstone’s Mud Volcano area.

There I stood, with the water bottle I had filled up something like 6 times that day, and I came to the realization of just how geothermal Yellowstone Park is. Like many of the geysers in the park, this “mud volcano” smelled like sulfur. In fact, it smelled kind of yucky. And, while I had spent most of the day looking at waterfalls, scenic river valleys, and finally those yellow and purple flowers, it is these types of features that make Yellowstone National Park unique. We do have waterfalls, canyons, river valleys and the like all over the west, including within an hour or so of home. All of these geothermal features … I cannot think of where else to see them! It almost felt like this park was built on sulfur.

After seeing an elk on the side of the road, near Yellowstone Lake, I reached the campground at Grant Village.

It had been, without a doubt, the toughest day of riding I had ever undertaken. Going into this trip, I knew it would be, so I was prepared. But, I was still pretty much without any residual energy at the end of the day. In fact, I was kind of acting like I was drunk. I guess my body had gone through an experience that some would consider “traumatic”, given how far I pushed myself. But, for me, it is how you grow as an individual, and it is how you gain confidence. I know that soon I will have to return to “regular life”. In “regular life”, there is competition, there is conflict, and there are things that are just plain hard. But, they become easier for those of us that are confident in ourselves. Accomplishments like these simply serve as a reminder to ourselves that we are awesome. In fact, I would love to market a bumper sticker that simply says “Smile, you are you, and you are awesome.” Or, something like that. There is probably a better, and catchier way to phrase that. But the point remains that experiences like these do remind us that we are often capable of more than we believe, and are told, that we are.

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 1: Bozeman to Chico Hot Springs

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There is no feeling like actually beginning something you had set out to do. Lots of people talk about what they would like to do, or think about what they will someday do. And, sure, anticipation is fun. But it certainly does not compare to that feeling you get when you actually start something major. For years I had been thinking about traveling long distances by bicycle. The idea of traveling a significant distance under my own power had always thrilled me. So, I read stories of others who had traveled by bicycle. I looked at bicycle travel routes, particularly from the Adventure Cycling Association. I bought the necessary equipment. I trained. And, finally, I planned an actual trip. Well, I decided to join my friend’s cross-country bike ride for a three day segment, from Bozeman, Montana to Jackson, Wyoming.

When I met up with my friend in Bozeman along his journey, Thursday, July 2nd finally became “Day 1”. They say that the journey of 1000 miles begins with one step. In my case, it begins with one pedal stroke. And, when I started to pedal, headed East out of town, I finally had a “Day 1” of my own. I was finally doing it. I was traveling by bike. What was once just an idea, something on a bucket list, had matured, first into detailed plans, and than into action!

The fact that I was finally on a bicycle journey of my own felt ever more real when I left town. After all, many people bike around town all the time. I had biked around town quite a bit earlier in the day- roughly 10 miles total. And, none of that really felt like I was actually on my way. It was when i departed from town that I truly achieved that “Day 1” feeling.

That feeling soon got complicated with another first, bicycling along an interstate highway. At the REI, I found out that the route I had originally intended on taking was not paved, leaving no other choice but to basically follow I-90 from Bozeman to Livingston; roughly 25 miles. Unfortunately, there is a five mile stretch where I-90 does not have a frontage road. This actually occurs quite frequently in the West, particularly in canyons. In many cases, there are no other roads in which to use to get from one town to another. And, for this reason, many Western states, unlike their Eastern counterparts, permit bicycling on Interstates.

The fact that it was completely legal for me to cycle down I-90 did not make it any less scary. In some sections, the shoulder width was not nearly as wide as they are on typical interstates. It felt like a mere 6 feet of distance separated the edge of the right lane and the guard rails, all on a road with a speed limit of 75! Needless to say, when we were able to exit the highway, I was relieved.

A couple of miles later, I had reached the top of what is referred to as Bozeman Pass, and completed the first climb of my trip. I did not take this climb too seriously. I stayed in my big gear the entire way up. For part of it, I was more concerned with 80 mile per hour traffic. But, when I looked down at what I had just climbed, after reading one of the many Lewis and Clark related information boards along this route, I realized that I had actually climbed a significant amount.

On the other side of the pass, I rapidly descended into Livingston, a town we would not spend too much time in.

We pretty much just took a bathroom break, filled up on water, and headed out, southbound, towards Yellowstone, or at least that is what pretty much all of the signs for Highway 89 south say as one heads out of town.

This road follows the Yellowstone River into an area known as Paradise Valley. This particular area was stunning to travel through. Paradise Valley is a wide river valley surrounded by mountain ranges on both sides. When one travels through this valley, particularly when they cross the Yellowstone and follow the less traveled MT-540/ East River Road, they cannot help but truly feel the solitude that this region offers.

One will often see a lone building, a lone animal, a lone boat on the river, and even a lone cyclist making the journey through the region. It is almost as if every single person, and every single animal came here to experience the solitude that is oh so elusive in their daily lives.

There were a lot of small climbs on East River Road, as the road periodically climbs up to an overlook of the river, only to descend back down towards the level of the river. It was also an overall gradual ascent, as we were headed upriver in the direction of Yellowstone National Park. I felt somewhat exhausted on this part of the ride despite the fact that I would only ride 61 miles on the day (and I had fresh legs). I wondered if I had burned myself out going over Bozeman Pass. Should I have taken it slower up that hill? I knew I had a really challenging day of riding ahead of me. Was I not pacing myself properly?

As the journey continued, and I approached the end of the day, I realized that I was not properly fueled. I had eaten a moderate lunch, as I had recently been trying to avoid unnecessary weight gain, which would have made this journey tougher. I had also not taken my water needs too seriously, not stopping for water too terribly frequently, as I was energized, excited about finally starting my journey, and my mind was filled with anticipation.

When I arrived at Chico Hot Springs resort, I grabbed some of the beef jerky I had with me, and drank a good amount of water. I felt much better for it, and came to the realization that, on bike journeys, you need to take care of your body. On a bike trip, your body is your engine, not your bike. I’d always thought of the bike as being the vehicle that we use to get places when traveling by bike. I went to great lengths to ensure that my bike was properly prepared for this journey. On this day, I learned that our bodies, and particularly our need to be properly fueled and hydrated, probably need to be taken just as seriously.

After some time in the pool, we ate dinner at the resort. It was a bar/pub type of place. Upon being seated, the smell of chicken wings overwhelmed me, as they were being served to someone. I cannot even being to tell you how good that smelled to me after all that cycling today. Still, I restrained myself. This is a bicycle trip. It is not about the food.

I was fortunate enough to spend the evening in a nice cabin, where I would get plenty of rest for the next day, a day when I would take precautions to make sure I am properly fueled and hydrated, but a day where I would also take on the challenge of cycling in Yellowstone National Park.

The Action Story

Learning about the world and about ourselves through travel and experiences

Author Archives: Stephen Jaye

About Stephen Jaye

Mohawk Lakes, A Moderate Hike in Central Colorado

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A Weekend in Texas

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July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 3: Yellowstone’s Grant Village to Jackson, Wyoming

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 2: Chico Hot Springs to Yellowstone’s Grant Villiage

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 1: Bozeman to Chico Hot Springs