Category Archives: Cycling

A Mental Health Day

I feel like I have over 100 things on my mind, all vying for space, all wearing me out. All the changes I see around me. The shocks, the craziness, the idiocy. The selfishness. My personal shortcomings, recent mistakes, how my life’s path ended up where it is and what to do about it. How do we find a balance between order and chaos? All the ways in which the people around me have let me down. All the ways I let the people around me down. How do I keep the benefits of having a smart phone (like being able to take pictures like this, after 28 miles of bicycling, which would have been tough carrying a heavier device) but avoid the pitfalls of mindless scrolling on weekdays when bored? What is my future, and how do I find my niche? What is the future of our society? The mindless violence followed by the sometimes equally idiotic responses to it. Globalization. Trump, Brexit, and the backlash to globalization. But, most of all, the disappointments when experiences do not match expectations.

Simply put, I needed a mental health day. I think we all do from time to time. A day where we get away from jobs, computers, social media, day-to-day responsibilities, pretty much everything that causes us stress, and do something that we enjoy. This, of course is something different for everybody, and it is not up to me to judge what any one person does for their mental health days. Well, unless of course it is something morally reprehensible like murder or theft.

I have a firm belief in, and also a unique take on, the connection between mind, body, and spirit. Over the course of my life, and in observing others, it is almost impossible not to observe the connection between the three. I remember winters in Chicago, and other times when lack of exercise would in turn weigh on my mind and spirit. Overall, improvements in one of the three realms often force improvements in the other two. Likewise, a deterioration in one of the three realms can negatively impact the other two, like the person who develops an eating disorder after a rough breakup.

So, I decided to make my mental health day also a physical health day, with a bike ride to Roxborough State Park. This is a ride I did two years ago. The basic gist is that it is 28 miles each way, goes by Chattfield Reservoir, and is a significant climb over the last five or six miles.

Wednesday’s ride was even more exhausting, as temperatures soared into the 90s and a Southerly wind developed making the last several miles of climbing in harder. Needless to say, I arrived at Roxborough exhausted. In fact, I had to sit inside for about 15 minutes to cool off when I got there.

Still, I decided to do some hiking. Knowing that my legs were exhausted, I decided to stick to moderate trails, but ones where I can still view the essence of the park and what makes it geologically unique.

It was after roughly 1.5 miles of hiking that the ideas suddenly started popping into my head. Ideas about things I could be doing with my life just entered my mind. I could do this, and present it to these people, and achieve fulfillment in this manner. They just kept pouring in, and, for some reason, felt so simplistic to me. Like, the only thing I need to do is just go out and do these things.

These are all things that frustrate the hell out of me day and night. Maybe it is because all of the physical exertion caused my mind to slow down enough for my brain to stop over-thinking things. Maybe it is the freedom from all of the distractions of daily life. It’s strange what I was contemplating. Whenever I am in front of a computer, at an office, in a cube, or in some kind of work-like setting all of the ideas I have seem almost impossible, like a daunting challenge that would take years to attempt and would likely not result in any meaningful success. In a way, there, I feel stuck. Here, not so much. Here, the same exact ideas seem quite possible.

It is here that the conspiracy theorist in me gets activated, so please bare with me, as I am the kind of person that just likes to entertain theories, even if I am not necessarily going to conclude that they are true. I wonder if cubicles, offices, sedentary days and the like are the way “the system” maintains itself. By “the system” I mean what I am observing around me. A whole generation of highly educated people going to work at jobs that are well beneath the skill level they develop through college, and increasingly, post-granulate, education. A whole generation of people submitting to rules, such as a strict 9-5 schedules and dress codes, that are no longer relevant for the kind of work that now predominates in a service sector economy. Is the reason people continue down this path the manner in which a whole day of sitting at a computer connected to the internet and all of its distractions make them feel?

People visit Roxborough State Park, and the geologically similar and more well-known Garden of the Gods, because they are unique. If this place looked like every other place on Earth, people would not make a specific point of coming here. So, maybe the key to being the kind of person people seek after, is to be unique. After all, the person you meet at the party that is exactly like everyone else, is the person you don’t remember. Sorry to be harsh. But, it’s when someone does something unique, or interesting, that you remember that person. Strangely, though, the world of school, and subsequently work, encourages conformity. It encourages people to follow the worn out path and do things the way they are always done. Maybe overcoming that conditioning and doing things our own way is the key to life, both in terms of success and happiness.

When You Don’t Appreciate What You Have

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It’s Memorial Day, and there is a lot on my mind. Part of me feels like I “should be” doing something way more substantial this weekend, as it is one of three big weekends that define summer here in the United States. I can’t stop thinking about all of the sales and shopping going on this weekend. And, then, of course, I end up thinking about the ACTUAL meaning of the holiday; remembering those who have died fighting for my country. Many people in the military, or closely associated with someone in the military, lament what this holiday has become, all about grilling in the park, going to stores, partying, etc.

I “stayed home” this weekend, which for my standards (as an antsy person) means I stayed within the Denver-Boulder-Castle Rock area. I needed to take it easy. My next two months are packed with activities. Also, most places I would go would have been particularly crowded this weekend.

Confluence Park is a mere three miles from my home, and right in the middle of Downtown Denver. In fact, when I worked in Lower Downtown (LoDo), I was able to walk here from my office on lunch hours. I ended up being here at a very unique time of year. The river that runs through the center of town, the South Platte, has its origins in the higher terrain of the Central Rocky Mountains. Above 10,000 feet, snow continues to fall, and temperatures remain chilly through much of Spring. By this time of year, that snow is melting rapidly, swelling rivers like this one with rapidly moving, cold water. It seems like the water levels reach their highest sometime around Memorial Day.

I sat in Confluence Park with my feet in the water for roughly half an hour. I moved around from time to time, from rock to rock, feeling the sensation of the rapid stream flow in varying patterns, with different bumps, and eddies at different spots along the river. I even stood on top of a mini-water fall for a bit.

I thought about all of the people, running around from store to store, looking for something new today. I even thought of myself, and how I am always looking for new places to travel, new experiences, etc.

I even thought of the other activities I took part in this weekend.

Saturday’s brewery tour by bicycle.

Sunday’s hike up Green Mountain, to a place where one can see multiple 14,000 foot peaks in one direction and Denver’s skyline in the other.

None of these activities required traveling a long distance, or buying any fancy equipment. A basic bike, a basic pair of sneakers will due.

Sometimes it seems like we spend way too much time looking for something new, and not enough time appreciating what we already have. After all, whether it be a place to view the skyline from above (something I did not have when I lived in Chicago), or a year old pair of shoes, everything we have was once new, was once exciting, and was once a thing we were happy to obtain. Are we still happy to have it? Are we still enjoying it?

Some of us have more than others. But, no matter how much or how little any one of us has, the one thing each and every one of us has is ourselves. We have our bodies, and what we are capable of doing. We have our minds, the things we think of, the way we reason, etc. And, we have our spirits, our attitudes, what makes us excited for life, what makes us empathize with one another, and what makes us stand up for what we believe in when necessary. This is definitely something we should all learn to appreciate. If we all spent more time appreciating ourselves, maybe we would have a more positive outlook, and a more positive impact on the world around us.

Hitting Goals

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Some people thrive on goals. They are always working towards something, and always working towards something that can specifically be measured. Sometimes it’s something along the lines of a specific marathon time. Other times it is a major life event, such as earning a promotion, or being able to afford a house. Sometimes it’s even something a bit more unusual, like trying every ice cream flavor at a local ice cream shop. But, in all cases, there is a goal, and a clear measurement. At any given time, they know whether or not they have achieved their goal, and, in most cases, how close they are to reaching it.

Sometimes I envy these people. Being driven by reaching specific, tangible benchmarks like this fits quite nicely into our present day results-driven society. Tons of people writing about what makes people effective, or successful, stress the importance of making and achieving goals on a regular basis, both from the standpoint of improving your confidence and demonstrating your ability to achieve to others.

Unfortunately, I tend to be driven by ideas and concepts that are more big-picture and abstract. I am more interested in knowing that I am generally in good health and feeling energetic than reaching a specific weight target. As a person who believes in flexibility and individuality, and shuns rigidity, I will often look at something like wanting to buy a house, and say, wait a second, is there some kind of way I could be just as happy in a condo, given certain circumstances? Do I need to make a specific commitment to some sort of a budget, when circumstances in life often vary, and adhering strictly to a certain number might even cost me opportunities that could go a long way towards some of the most important goals of all, which I see as happiness, purpose, satisfaction and the like?

I do, however, have to acknowledge some of the reasons we operate in this fashion. After all, we do live in a complicated world where we all have thousands of things competing for our attention at any given time. The easiest way to grab someone’s attention is to say something specific. Vail Ski Resort will tell you it has a 3450 foot vertical drop, or that it gets 348 inches of snow per year. They do not try to get your attention by saying that skiing will provide an exhilarating experience that will often improve one’s happiness as well as physical fitness.

In 2015, in addition to my big picture goal to “feel more energized and be in better shape”, I attached a specific goal. I was going to bicycle at least 1500 miles this year. Now, I do understand that this is not that high of a number. The most hard-core cyclists will often ride 10,000 miles in one calendar year. One bike ride across the country is more than 3000 miles. But, 1500 miles would make this my biggest bicycling year yet (2014 was previously my highest at 1385 miles), and it would be an easy number for me to point to as a way to indicate to others how much bicycling I do.

There were a couple of obstacles that got in the way of me reaching this goal. The first was a wet early season. In May, Denver recorded measureable precipitation 19 out of 31 days. This was followed by 13 rainy days in June. Ironically, one of those rainy days included a hailstorm, on bike to work day!

Later on, job/career related issues took some of my attention away from cycling. And, finally, although this one is definitely not a bad thing, during the second half of summer and the first half of fall, a lot of my plans took me places where cycling was simply not possible, including travel, visitors, and social events.

However, despite all of this, on Sunday, November 1^st, 2015, I reached my goal, and pedaled my 1500^th mile of the year. And, I decided to do it in style. I didn’t want to get to this milestone just anywhere, biking on some random road in some neighborhood that doesn’t mean anything to me. I wanted to go somewhere iconic! I wanted to go somewhere appropriate, for both the day’s conditions, as well as a place where I had significant experiences during the first 1478 miles I rode this year. Really, there was only one true choice; Red Rocks amphitheater. At exactly 22 miles from my home, I would hit that 1500 mile mark somewhere along my final ascent to the top of the road. Red Rocks is an iconic place, both beautiful and full of memories for mankind. And, it is a place I have ridden my bike to over half a dozen times on previous rides. One of my favorite half day rides is to go to Red Rocks, and then into Golden for lunch, followed by a nice quick ride on the Clear Creek Trail back to Denver.

Yet, the story of me and my bike in 2015 cannot simply be summarized with a number; 1500, or 1600, or whatever I get to in two months when the year is complete. It is so much more than that. It is the exhausting three day, 230 mile ride through Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. But, it is also the countless treks over the same roads in town, to and from work, and to all of the other places I went to on a regular basis. It’s the improvements I made in climbing, something I am weak at due to living in Chicago for several years, but also all the flat tires I got and had to change.

Outcomes are best communicated to others when they are demonstrated both qualitatively and quantitatively. Behind every story, there is a number, probably multiple numbers. I can say I biked 1500 miles. I can also figure out how many vertical feet I climbed, how many times I biked certain roads and trails, and even how many tires I changed. But to just say the number, without answering that all important question, why I am doing what I am doing, would also not be effective. I bike to improve my health, spend some time outside, visit interesting places, and to save some money on fuel.

More importantly, bicycling contributes to my larger scale goals of being happy, healthy, unique, and true to myself. How much different would it be to have biked 1475 miles vs. 1525 miles? Not too much. The same way a .301 batting average is not too different than a .299 average. So, I guess while I am happy I reached the mark I set out for at the beginning of the year, I still need to recognize that it is not the end all, be all. While it is good to have a goal, or a target, to stay on track, and provide a construct for how far one wants to take a certain activity, we all must keep mindful of the big picture. And, if reaching a certain number would cost us more than it is worth, we should be willing to adjust.

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.

Bozeman, Montana; Where My Journey Begins

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“I had always known that we had the best downtown in all of Montana. And then last year, we were voted the best downtown in all of Montana.” At least that is how Bozeman was described to me by one of the locals, while giving me lunch recommendations. He eventually told me that every place downtown was good, and to only avoid chain restaurants.

The first person I interacted with in Bozeman was the cab driver that drove me from the airport to the REI, where my bicycle had been shipped to, reassembled, and was waiting for me. He described Bozeman as a “town full of expert skiers”. With all of the other observations I had made while in town, and with the other interactions I had with people from Montana, it feels to me as if Bozeman is like a smaller and more extreme version of Denver or Boulder. The cab driver indicated that the town almost shuts down on powder days, as everyone is headed to the mountains. And, the people coming in and out of the bike shops appeared to be people that could ride a fair number of miles in challenging conditions.

Bozeman is only 50-some miles from Big Sky, one of the most famous ski resorts in the country. Locals, however, appeared more proud of their local ski resort, Bridger Bowl, only 16 miles from town, as indicated by this sign. It was also described to me as “the only non-profit ski resort in the Country”.

However, my mind was not on skiing at the time. My mind was on bicycling, as this was the beginning of a 3-day bicycle journey that would take me through some of the country’s most amazing natural features. And, it would be the most challenging ride I have ever attempted.

After picking up my bike, as well as all of the necessary supplies I needed for my trip at the REI, I rode the first 1.3 miles of my journey, to the Bozeman Inn, where I would spend the evening.

Having my bike shipped to the REI and assembled there worked out quite well for me. The price to assemble the bike from the box is $40, and they pretty much made sure that nothing was wrong with the bike, which is something I really wanted for a bicycle journey that would take me through long stretches without bike shops. They even checked the spokes, trued the wheel, and made sure everything else was working. And, when they realized they still had my tire lock key, someone from the shop brought it to me downtown.

It would be nearly 10:00 P.M. before the sun went down that evening. I had already checked into the motel, but was looking for some information about the town, maybe a bike map, or even a restaurant guide for the time I would be in Bozeman. Instead, there was just a bar and grill located adjacent to the motel. “Lights” by Ellie Goulding was playing quite loudly where people were drinking inside. It was a clear reminder of what evenings were like on a normal night during my “normal life”. So, I had the instinct to go inside, drink a little, enjoy the music, and try to meet some locals. But, I knew better. I was on the verge of something special. It would be a challenging ride, and I needed my energy.

I loaded up my bike with all of my supplies packed nicely into the panniers I had carried with me on the flight into Bozeman the previous evening. I looked around me and saw mountains in all directions, reminding me that, yes, I was in for some challenging climbs in the coming days.

Spending the morning, and mid-day, in Bozeman gave me some time to mentally prepare for the challenge I knew I had ahead of me. I decided to check out the attraction I had heard about the most; The Museum of the Rockies.

This museum has somewhat of an interesting local take on geological, biological, and natural history. Like the Field Museum in Chicago, it has an exhibit that displays how life evolved over time, starting with the single celled organisms that dominated the earth for Billions of years prior to the Cambrian explosion, through the time of the Dinosaurs and beyond in chronological order.

This museum’s exhibit was way more dinosaur centric than the other life over time exhibits I’ve been to. Their main attraction is the “Montana T-Rex”, the biggest T-Rex to be discovered inside the State of Montana.

The museum is quite locally focused. The exhibits on geological history contain a lot of information specific to the geographical area around Bozeman. Most of the dinosaur exhibits are displayed along with a map of Montana which show where the bones were dug up.

Seeing some of these specific exhibits actually changed the way I look at scenery. Exhibits like this one, about the Beartooth Mountains, don’t just show how pretty they are, but show what rock formations can be seen, and how and when they developed. The geological history behind all of these processes, from plate tectonics to atmospheric composition changes, and even processes involving air pressure changes and erosion all help explain why everything we observe is the color and shape that it currently is. And, ultimately, for people who study natural history, all of these rock formations that we observe provided clues to Earth’s past, and helped these scientists discover what we now know.

I’ve looked at a lot of mountains, and a lot of natural scenery over the past few years. It occurs to me that the scenery that we observe means something different to everybody. Some people focus on the aesthetic nature of what they see, a beautiful mountain, a beautiful lake, a scenic overlook. Others focus on the adventure. Wow, this mountain would be great to climb, or this river would be crazy to kayak in. But, still others are trying to deduce how this scenic view in front of them came to be. They are the ones that see red rocks and see the process of rusting, which occurred over the course of 2 billion years, as early photosynthetic life gradually increased the oxygen content of the atmosphere, lead to the chemical reactions that made some rocks red, so long as they have had significant above ground exposure. They are the ones that look at the rocks and see as story, a progression of events.

I almost felt bad, walking around the museum in my bicycle clothes, looking kind of like a bad-ass, talking to people about my bike trip, when the truth is, that I had only biked 7 miles so far, from the REI, to my hotel, and then to the museum. It was the guy at the ticket window that had told me that Bozeman’s downtown was the best one in Montana. He informed me that the museum and downtown were the two places to really see in Bozeman, so I decided to ride my bike downtown, get some lunch, and wait for my friend to join me.

I was impressed by the downtown, particularly the bike parking. After eating lunch at a Co-op (the kind of place that looks like a grocery store but sells fresh made lunch food to workers in downtown areas), I had some time to kill. I was excited, getting kind of anxious, and my mind was active! Maybe it was the 10 miles I had already ridden, enough to get my blood moving. Maybe it was knowing what was to come. Or, maybe it was the downtown, the vibrancy, and the unique-ness.

From book stores, to local shops, everywhere I went seemed to put me into an active process of deep thought. For example, I saw a book. It was titled “Faith vs. Fact: Why Science and Religion are incompatible.” I thought to myself how ironic it is. People become attracted to either Science or Religion, but usually do so due to the positive aspects of it; science and it’s intellectual curiosity, religion and the hope and purpose that it brings. Yet, so many people, after choosing to love one or the other, spend more time focusing on the negative aspects of the other one, as opposed to the positive things that brought them to love either science or religion.

Just like that book, everything I saw brought me to some weird intellectual thought pattern. I should go back to Bozeman sometime under different circumstances, and see if this is just the way the town works. Is there something about the energy of this town that makes people just think in unique ways?

Many Montanans refer to Bozeman as “Boze-Angeles”. In this part of the country, I am guessing this is not meant as a compliment. That evening, after riding to Chico Hot Springs (more on that in my next post), a woman from Butte, MT would describe Bozeman as “pretentious”, and the place in Montana where one is most likely to be judged. And, although I did not necessarily feel judged, I definitely sensed the pride here, consistent with what the cab driver, and others told me. Still, I enjoyed the feeling of being adventurous, intellectual, and on the verge of a major adventure that would also be a major challenge, a major accomplishment, and open me up in a whole new way.

A Month Without Sleep

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I guess it would be an exaggeration to say that I, or anyone else for that matter, went a whole month without sleep. But, sometimes life, and the procession of events, activities, changes and emotions, refuses to come at you at a steady and workable pace. One day we find ourselves stagnant and antsy, wondering what is next, and wishing for something significant to happen to us. Then, out of nowhere, we suddenly can’t seem to keep up with all the planning, deadlines, issues, and events. We literally find ourselves unable to spare a single hour out of a crammed week. Sure, we always think to ourselves of ways to avoid both extremes. We think of ways to shift some activities from busier periods to quieter periods. But, it never seems to work out that way. Something always comes up. Some sort of factor we had not previously considered prevents us from utilizing those slow periods when we get antsy. And, these periodic episodes that test our endurance are still going to come.

Both of these images were taken on restless nights during the month of June. Both nights were restless for completely different reasons. And, both photos are beautiful, in a very artistic sort of manner. As I gaze at these pictures, I can’t help but imagine art enthusiasts looking at these images, discussing their settings, their emotions, their significance, all that deep stuff. I wonder how many of these artists would come to conclusions similar to the actual stories behind these pictures. The picture on the left is a sunset picture in the city, taken after a busy and emotional Monday at the office. The photo on the right was taken after a particularly festive Saturday night in Vail that lasted well past sunrise Sunday morning. Both nights I did not get any sleep, but for reasons that could not be any farther apart from one another.

June is a terrible time for any of the drama associated with “regular life”, whether it be moving, career issues, financial problems, or family and relationship issues to come up. There is just way too much fun stuff to do- everywhere! No matter what city you live in, there are festivals all over the place.

It is the peak time of year for Whitewater Rafting in this part of the country.

There is the ongoing severe thunderstorm season.

And, there is also tons of daylight, and pleasant weather up in the mountains.

I have no time for anything else in June. All those “regular life” things that demand my attention just need to wait. There will be plenty of time when the snow reappears on the mountain tops, nights get longer, days get chillier, and opportunities inevitably shrink with the passing of the season, for me to turn my attention to all of that other stuff.

June, for me consisted of a plethora of experiences. Some of them familiar. As I did last year, I went to the GoPro games in Vail June’s first full weekend. Just as I did last year, I went rafting the third weekend of the month. And, as always, I spent some time out on the town, and did some goofy stuff.

But, some things were unique to this particular June. I was lucky to have been joined in Colorado by some of my friends from Chicago, who came for a week to see some sights around the State.

We also experienced copious amounts of rain. Rivers and creeks expanded to cover areas that are typically dry- including bike trails.

On top of all that, career related anxiety, which began months ago, but mercilessly intensified during the month of June, lead me to seek out some places where I typically go to clear my head.

It was not until the final Sunday of June, the 28th, when I finally took a pause, and realized just how intense June had been. It almost felt like my first real day of rest for the entire month. You see, on top of all of the activities I have been involved in, seeking out answers related to my job, and trying to get more involved in some some social groups, I have also been training for, as well as planning out my next epic trip, which will begin in less than 48 hours.

I had always dreamed of traveling long distances by bicycle. In fact, I am a member of the Adventure Cycling Association, and have been following their push to develop cross-country bicycle routes for years. This fourth of July weekend, I will be embarking on the biggest journey by bicycle of my life, a ride from Bozeman, Montana to Jackson, Wyoming.

This three day, roughly 230 mile bike ride will take me through some of this country’s greatest treasures, including Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. On the way into Yellowstone, I will be riding through a region known as Paradise Valley, which includes Chico Hot Springs, and other unique features.

Planning, and training for, this ride definitely added to an already crammed month of June, but I sincerely believe it will be worth it. Just as we have daytime and nighttime on a 24 hour cycle, we have both active and restful periods on a larger scale. And, although July is not looking too much more restful than June for me, there will eventually will come another break in activity, another lull, another time to regroup, and “sleep”. Maybe I’ll even figure out some of that pesky “regular life” stuff too. But one thing is for sure, it will not be as epic as this.

Cycling in Summit County

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The Appropriately named Summit County (Colorado) sits right in the heart of the Central Rocky Mountains. With multiple mountain ranges extending into the County on all sides, anywhere you will travel within the County, you will be pretty much surrounded by mountains in all directions. In fact, Summit County is one of only six counties in the entire nation with a mean elevation of over 10,000 feet.

All six of these Counties are within the State of Colorado. Outside of Colorado, not only are there no counties with mean elevations greater than 9,000 feet (Colorado has a total of 15), but only three counties outside of Colorado have mean elevations exceeding 8,000 feet (Colorado has 24). Those looking to “go to the Mountains”, would be hard pressed to find a more suitable place than this one.

Summit County is probably best known as a skiing destination, with five popular ski resorts, including the incredibly popular Breckenridge and Copper Mountain. However, it may also be one of the best places in the world for high-altitude cycling, which is important for those who train at high altitude to increase lung capacity.

Due in part to a series of rail lines that were created during gold and silver rushes and later abandoned in subsequent bust years, the county has an extensive network of recreational pathways. The re-purposing of abandoned railways as recreational trails is actually the source of some of the nation’s best bicycling trails. For those interested in seeing these rails-to-trails well maintained, and seeing more created, there is an advocacy group called the rails-to-trails conservancy leading this effort.

These recreational paths connect almost all destinations within the county. Within this network of trails, one can find relatively flat rides, as well as intense climbing, all with a variety of amazing scenery. The network is largely centered around the town of Frisco, a town of roughly 2700 people at an elevation just under 9,100 feet. Located just off of Interstate 70, it is a relatively easy place to get to (when there aren’t traffic delays), and as good of a place as any to use as a home base for a weekend of high altitude cycling.

My first ride of the weekend was also the toughest one, from Frisco west to Vail Pass. This ride involves two trails, the Tenmile Canyon trail and the Vail Pass trail. Heading Southwest from Frisco, the first few miles on the Tenmile Canyon trail includes a fairly significant amount of climbing.

Indicative of how recreation-centric this part of the country is, the entire trail network is well marked, with signage indicating which trails lead to which towns, and a significant number of signs like this one, indicating mileage.

This sign denotes the halfway point between Frisco and Copper Mountain. And while the total mileage to Copper is 7.4, a cyclist that has reached this point has already done most of the climbing from Frisco’s 9,100′ elevation to Copper’s 9,800′.

In fact, the final couple of miles of this trail, headed into Copper is pretty much flat. But, even during this flat segment, I knew where I would be headed, which would bring me farther up into the mountains.

With it not being ski season, and there not being an actual town there, there was not much going on in Copper Village. Many places were closed. The most notable thing I encountered while at Copper was a junction with both the Colorado Trail and the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail, which share the same path here. Just the thought that anyone I encounter cycling or hiking could be headed as far as Durango, or the Mexican border, is just incredible! At the West end of Copper Village is the Vail Pass trailhead. Despite what is indicated in the signage, the trek from Copper to Vail Pass is actually only four miles. Not only did I clock this myself, but a cyclist with over twenty years of experience cycling here told me that this sign has been “wrong for over 20 years”.

The Vail Pass trail is kind of a mixed bag. Over four miles, the trail climbs somewhere between 800 and 900 feet. However, it is a mix of some fairly flat segments, and some fairly intense areas with switchbacks and such. I would say there are three sections of this trail that are intense climbing. One fairly shortly after beginning the climb from copper, one right in the middle, or about two miles from Copper (pictured here), and one close to the top.

Strangely, most of this trail is actually in the middle of I-70, between the Eastbound and Westbound lanes, which are farther apart for much of the segment between Copper Mountain (exit 195) and the Vail Pass summit (exit 190). The top of the trail is a rest area that cyclists share with motorists. Here, a connection could be made with the Eagle County tail network, and cyclists could continue West towards Vail Villiage.

However, my plans take my back towards Frisco, where, I not only encountered another sign indicating that the trail is six miles long rather than four, but a speed limit sign. I am not sure if and how this speed limit of 25 is enforced. But, it does provide those concerned with safety with a guideline.

The descent back to Frisco, just over 12 miles in total when one includes getting from the tailhead back to home base (in my case Hotel Frisco on Main St.) went rather rapidly, at a speed that must have averaged fairly close to that assigned speed limit.

After stopping for lunch, in the afternoon, I took on another ride to explore more of the Summit County trail system. This one, a loop around the Dillon Reservoir.

The ride starts out “flat”, as the trail stays at roughly the elevation of the lake. However, “flat” here is a relative term. Even the rides described as flat and easier, here in Summit County, can contain some rolling hills. And, while significantly easier than a “climb”, these trails are nowhere near as flat as a trail one would find in a place like Illinois where there is pretty much no terrain change. There are small rolling hills, as nowhere in Summit County is really flat.

After a fairly “flat” ride on the Dillon Dam recpath and the Snake River recpath, in order to traverse the entire loop around the reservoir, one must climb Swan Mountain, which is actually a 1200′ climb.

After two significant climbs, and nearly 50 miles of exploring this amazing system of trails, I was ready to call it a day.

I did a little more exploring on Sunday, mostly on the easier trails.

I came to really appreciate the portions of these trails that wind through the trees, often with small rolling hills. While getting up to the top of a major climb provided me with a sense of accomplishment, these trail segments were just pleasant and enjoyable to ride through. The smell of the pine trees reminded me of cabins, and camping, and all the things we do in life to get away from our day to day responsibilities. The twists and turns just made me feel like I was on a ride of sorts, almost like a roller coaster in some places. And, there were some other interesting areas, like these bogs. In the end, I am glad I did both the big challenging climbs, and the gentler trail sections.

And, I was also glad to have experienced the town of Frisco a little bit more.

Frisco is somewhat of an interesting place. It has that Western feel that many of these towns have, with a Main Street lined with stores, and mountains in the backdrop. It is somewhat touristy, but not overwhelmingly so. It seems to occupy some kind of middle ground. With bus service to Breckenridge, Copper Mountain, and Keystone ski resorts, they get their fair share of ski related tourism. But, not as much as there is in Breckenridge, or any other town that is actually adjacent to the ski resort. This appears to have created demand for a variety of different hotels and restaurants, but without some of the major crowds, or the dozens of souvenir shops that line the streets of many other tourist destinations.

Over the course of the weekend, I tried five different restaurants in Frisco; Boatyard American Grill, Begalis, Prost, Butterhorn Bakery and Cafe, and Lost Cajun. All were within a block of Hotel Frisco, and each one provided a different experience. Boatyard is a great place to get a burger, or bar type food. Begalis provides a nice moderately upscale Italian dining experience. The sausages at Prost were amazing. Butterhorn is a very popular place for breakfast/ brunch. And, I am particularly impressed by the free samples provided to customers at Lost Cajun prior to ordering. And, I enjoyed the casual Louisiana style experience.

Overall, it is hard for me to imagine a better place for high altitude bicycle training. Right in the middle of the Rocky Mountains, there is a place with an extensive network of recreational paths that connect nearly every community in the area.

The Future of Transportation

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This weekend, I got a glimpse into the future in an unexpected place … Wyoming. Not to say that I have any kind of preconceived notion that Wyoming is backwards in any sort of way. It is just that in mainstream American culture, people tend to look elsewhere for glimpses of the future. More frequently, people will look to the latest gadgets being developed in Silicon Valley, the newest fashion designs coming out of New York, or even a new dance craze coming out of a place like Miami before they look into anything going on in a more remote area of the country.

However, my experience in Wyoming this past weekend felt oddly futuristic, albeit in a more subtle way. As a travel lover, I pay close attention to all issues related to transportation and how we get around. We are a mobile country full of people (such as myself) who love to be in motion. And, regardless of what changes, I sincerely hope we (as a nation) never lose that zest for life and exploration that draws us out of our homes, and out of our day to day lives, to new places, experiences, and adventures.

While many novels and films set in the future immediately focus on some kind of major technological breakthrough that ultimately changes the way we live, the changes we actually observe are typically more gradual. And, while many people are anticipating electric, driver-less cars coming out of Silicon Valley, over the last fifteen years, we have achieved some less high-profile, but still significant changes, such as the proliferation of hybrid cars, incremental efficiency improvements, a general increase in interest in bicycle commuting, and a few new rail lines in some cities. Once again, nothing monumental, but the results of these changes, and how they impact our lives is easy to spot.

These gradual changes were on display this weekend when I, for the first time ever, got to drive on an 80 mile per hour road. Prior to today, the highest speed limit I had ever observed had been 75. In fact, it was just last year that speed limits on interstate highways in many parts of Wyoming increased to 80 miles per hour. Higher speed limits can at least partially be attributed to vehicles becoming both safer and more fuel efficient, as historically these two concerns have prompted many to feel uncomfortable about high speed driving.

When I see the 80 mile per hour speed limit on Interstate 25, I see the future. Growing up in the Midwest, I rarely got to drive on roads with speed limits in excess of 65 miles per hour. I would commonly go 80, but doing so undoubtedly meant the risk of a speeding ticket. The same speed here is not only legal, but almost necessary to keep up with the speed of traffic. Over the years, a significant number of states have decided to allow higher speeds on their interstate highways.

This is not the only transportation trend I observed in Wyoming this weekend. In Wyoming’s largest city, Cheyenne, it is hard not to notice a newly built Greenway system, designed to accommodate the increasing interest in cycling, and the increased use of cycling as a form of transportation.

And, while there are many places (such as Denver, where I live) that have built trail systems like this many years ago, Cheyenne is still ahead of the game. As more people bicycle to get places, I expect to see many more trail systems like this one pop up in smaller to mid sized cities across the country.

Cheyenne is also ahead of the game when it comes to new and innovative road design. On the south side of town, a diverging diamond intersection has been built to handle the large volumes of traffic that occurs when a highway has multiple popular rest stops (truck stops) at one exit.

This particular design is best suited for intersections like this one, where most of the traffic is either turning left or right (in this case entering or exiting the highway). A majority of U.S. States have yet to successfully implement a diverging diamond interchange. Yet, people who live in or travel through this area have seen a significant reduction in congestion at this interchange.

When I see the future of transpiration here in Wyoming, I see a bright one, and also a realistic one. I am not waiting for some pie-in-the-sky innovation that should suddenly fix all of our problems. But, I see incremental improvements, as there is one commonality in all of these developments, the desire to accommodate people. While speed limits are increasing on highways across the country, they are not increasing everywhere. In fact, last year New York City actually decreased its speed limits on surface streets. At first these trends appear to contradict one another, but both are actually helping accommodate more people. Maintaining slower speed limits on surface streets in town is seen as accommodating to pedestrians and cyclists. We are moving towards a world where drivers can drive a fast but comfortable speed and arrive at their destination quicker using limited access highways, meanwhile pedestrians and cyclists feel increasingly comfortable choosing not to drive places as they travel on Greenway-ype trails, and/or surface streets where their safety is at only minimal risk.

Accommodation of different types of people, who live different types of lives, is important beyond just methods of transportation. If we are going to live within a diverse nation like this one, let alone a global society, we must learn to live with those who chose to do things differently than us, and not let these differences lead to violent conflict. Although some people would probably never look to a place like Wyoming for clues as to how the future will unfold, I am quite proud to be the kind of person who can see value anywhere. And that, despite the current political situation in our country, I can go to a place like Wyoming, but also to a place like New York, and enjoy the local culture. It is not that I do not have strong opinions opinions about anything, it is just that I refuse to view everything through the lens of the current red-state blue-state divide that so many people focus on. Those who view all places, ideas, and even people through this lens place unnecessary limitations upon themselves. Recently, at a bar, an acquaintance of mine actually suggested that political affiliations are a strong consideration for potential one night stands. Needless to say my respect for this individual evaporated that evening.

If we can find ways to accommodate one another, such as maintaining both high-speed interstates and safe places to walk and bike, we no longer need to fight with those who do things differently than us. The more we do so in all areas of our lives, the better we will be equipped to handle the diverse world that we have, and the more opportunities for meaningful experiences we will be able to take advantage of.

The Action Story

Learning about the world and about ourselves through travel and experiences

Category Archives: Cycling

A Mental Health Day

When You Don’t Appreciate What You Have

Hitting Goals

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

Bozeman, Montana; Where My Journey Begins

A Month Without Sleep

Cycling in Summit County

The Future of Transportation