Colorado Trail: 10 tales from 10 trails on 10 days while mountain biking solo

Solo adventuring in Colorado's wilderness, whether it be on foot or by bike, can be a freeing experience — one that can relax the soul and heighten the mind.

The adventure can also be rather lonely at times, with unknown challenges, unpredictable weather and second-guesses lurking around the bend. But no matter how much physical and mental preparation you make, the adventure won't always unfold like you planned.

My plan was, in my estimation, a well-thought-out, detail-oriented ride that needed to follow a somewhat regulated schedule. For me, this was going to be a mountain bike trek on the Colorado Trail over a 10-day period, and I had some goals in mind.

Here's what I experienced from that journey:

Day 1, 6:15 a.m., July 22: I turned off the music entering Turkey Creek Canyon shortly after departing Denver at sunrise. Dave Grohl's loud screams from "Monkey Wrench" were distracting my inner-monologue, instead of pumping me up before the day's mountain bike ride.

Rock n' roll music was not the best palliative for calming my nerves.

For the next two hours, the drive was quiet and the prospect of arriving at the Chalk Creek Trailhead (the start of Segment 14 of the Colorado Trail) became more real as each mile passed.

When I turned onto Chalk Creek Drive around 8:30 a.m., I turned Foo Fighters back on to see if then was the right time — it was. Pumped up by 8:45 a.m., I turned off the truck, took a deep breath and hit the trail.

Segment 14's first climb was brutal. A hike-a-bike more than a ride, with loose rocks and steeps for over a mile. I cursed a lot, but I muscled through to the first hill's summit before enjoying the next four miles of flowy single track ride.

I was off to a good start and took my time on the return, plus knowing at day's end the reward was a dip at Mount Princeton Hot Springs. I pedaled slightly harder back up the steeps, thinking about the hot springs later that afternoon, the soak being even more well earned.

It was a great opening ride to start the trip.

Day 2, 8:03 a.m., July 23: I was surprised how cool the air was in Buena Vista that morning. The streets were empty, too, which made for a calming pedal from the Buena Vista Community Center to North Colorado Avenue.

Instead of riding onward toward the Colorado Trail, I decided to "gravel ride" north along the Arkansas River via County Rd 371 — one of the Colorado Trail bypass-detours cyclists take to avoid wilderness areas. Much to my surprise, the ride was rewarding.

I can see why gravel bike riders love county roads, I thought, as I made good time passing through the Midland Tunnels about two miles north of town. It was satisfying to see the river running alongside the road as I chewed up the nine miles out to the bridge crossover at U.S. Highway 24.

The first set of rafters and kayakers were floating downstream in the early-morning sun, hooting and hollering with each rapid's splash, and made for a great moment at the turn around point.

I wondered how fast I could pedal back, after waving to a group of rafters at the bridge. It took all of five minutes to realize I could go at whatever pace I wanted to, I was on a bike trip and the thoughts of sticking to my 'itinerary' were starting to flee.

Even though I meandered back to the truck, the ride gave my body peace of mind before settling down in Salida that night at the hotel.

Day 3, 2:11 p.m., July 24: A long way from nowhere is Sargents Mesa, and a long way from a healthy forest is Sargents Mesa, an area where Segment 16 and 17 connect among this odd location.

I hadn't seen this much beetle kill in a Colorado forest ever, not even in Summit or Grand counites, but I kept pedaling through it regardless. Plus, the unique and oddity that is Soldierstone is on top of Sargents Mesa, and I wanted to see the gray monolith among the gray trees.

Since pedaling through the "demise" was part of the larger mountain bike trip trek, riding past countless stands of eerily dead ponderosas made me loose track of time.

The first signs of rain crept in overhead as I slogged back to the trailhead. I got what I came for, I pedaled through some chunky rocks, but I still wanted to see Soldierstone before lightning could potentially spark the dead trees of Sargents Mesa.

Even though I felt a sense of urgency to get back to my truck, I took the time to view the multiple quotes in languages I cannot read, walk among the military ammo boxes and memorial honoring forgotten soldiers and civilians from the Vietnam War.

Sargents Mesa is filled with melancholy, yet peaceful, even with the sound of a mountain bike hub buzzing among the trees.

Day 4, 12:46 a.m., July 25: I checked my phone inside my tent after being scared awake by one of the loudest noises I had ever heard.

I chose camping spot No. 7 at South Clear Creek Falls campground, 10 miles south of Spring Creek Pass, thinking I was only going to hear the faint noises of a passing car or the gurgling creek nearby.

Nope.

What sounded like a fighter on a bombing run passed over the campground so low you could feel the air pressure change.

I waited for the explosion, but none came.

Seven hours later and feeling beat down from sleep depravation, I found myself out on Segment 22 of the Colorado Trail, west of Spring Creek Pass feeling blah!

Today's ride was supposed to be an overnight excursion deep into the trail system, but thoughts about what the buzzing plane actually was kept my pace slow and mind unfocused on riding.

Standing on the flanks of Jarosa Mesa around Mile 4, I said, "no more, I'm done." Today the bear ate me, and I turned around to regroup at the trailhead.

This day was the first day I felt like the bike trip's flow was completely out of whack. It was the unknown challenge I didn't want to encounter, but did.

Day 5, 9:37 a.m., July 26: I was resting on a knoll, sipping water when I first saw them walking through the trees.

Llamas, nine of them. A small herd was walking near treeline with their teenaged-hiking companions, hiking back to the trailhead at Little Molas Lake on Segment 25. I told the hiker coming up behind me to give the furry creatures a path since there were a lot of them.

My mind placed me in 1480 Peru with thoughts about mountain biking around Machu Picchu.

Not only did this day's ride redeem the prior's day events on Spring Creek Pass, it rejuvenated my spirit and temporarily helped claim the llama as my spirit animal.

I couldn't stop thinking about the llamas. For the remainder of the 10-mile ride, I even turned around early to pass the pack-animals before descending down some of the best single track I had found on the Colorado Trail.

Day 6, 12:14 p.m., July 29: There were eight of them total, just standing there in the early-afternoon wind, with several marmots scoping them out, purveying the scene.

I thought it was overwhelming to see more than just one mountain biker at a time, for I had only passed either solo or duo riders every other day so far.

"Oh, you guys are from Europe? Right on," I asked one of the German men standing atop Blackhawk Pass shortly after summiting the saddle myself. "Where are y'all heading?"

"We just came up from Telluride, left yesterday and camped down at the base (East Fork Trail trailhead on Hwy 145). Now, we're shooting for Purgatory, is that right?" he said, as the last two riders were ascending the loose rocks on the north slope of Blackhawk Mountain, pointing at his friend.

"Ja," the other one said. "Ja, Purgatory."

Segment 26 of the Colorado Trail had brought some foreigners to the San Juans, and this group was very happy to be standing at 11,984 feet. They were organized, too, cheering each other on, like they were some team competing for medals.

I made the courtesy "photo?" gesture to them so they could remember their bike-ride accomplishment with the mountains in the background. They were all smiles.

Then, one by one, they hopped on bikes and began descending the trail in perfect, 20-second increments toward Purgatory.

Day 7, 9:57 a.m., July 30: In honor of Gudy Gaskill — who founded the Colorado Trail in 1984 — I made the bike ride up to Gudy's Rest overlook, about four miles from the terminus of Segment 28 outside Durango.

It was hot that morning, even in the shade by Junction Creek, pedaling over just "the wrong sized rocks" on the arduous climb to the overlook. It really was demoralizing.

But after taking my sweet time ascending, I got to the overlook a couple hours later and sat down to watch more of the morning sun warm the mesa to the south.

Today was the only day where too many people were at one point on the trail, and one group was talking rather loudly, smothering the quietness for the rest.

It was a "get off my lawn" moment, even though I heard them talking about celebrating their last four miles of the entire hike, while I was just visiting for the morning.

I thought maybe I should stop envying their victory and celebrate my victory.

Segment 28 wasn't particularly kind to me, but I still had to downhill to look forward to. I stopped whining about their hooting and hollering and descended, hooting and hollering for them those last four miles.

Day 8, 1:10 p.m., July 31: The plan was to cross Lake Creek and avoid the hike-a-bike section on Upper Twin Lakes Trail near the Willis Gulch Trailhead.

That was supposed to be the plan. The plan did not work.

Even with the hike-a-bike section — and c'mon how hard is a fifth-of-a-mile up 125 vertical feet and then back down anyway — today's ride was still only 605 vertical feet up and back down across 15 miles.

Making the turn down to Lake Creek after enjoying the first 13 miles of a combo ride on Segment 11 and Twin Lakes Trail south of Twin Lakes felt like the right move. There will be a shallow water crossing, skinny enough to not even take off my shoes.

Yeah, right. Even if I didn't mind taking my shoes off, the water was moving too fast and the crossing was too deep for my liking.

What a waste on an extra mile, but the views of La Plata Peak were nice.

Up the steepest hike-a-bike section I went, cussing most of the time. Even the downhill trail to Willis Gulch Trailhead sucked. This was the only time I fell off my bike during the entire Colorado Trail ride.

I was so ticked when I got back to the truck I went for ice cream. That was stupid.

Day 9, 12:37 p.m., Aug. 1: By the second to last day of biking the Colorado Trail, I began feeling in top shape as I'd been riding enough miles every day to notice the difference. Too bad it was ending tomorrow.

But on the pine-needle carpeted trail half a mile from the Tennessee Pass summit, I was still pedaling smooth atop the crushed velvet dirt beneath my tires. An hour earlier I stood at an overlooking, viewing Camp Hale while on Segment 8.

This day's ride was my best from a performance stand point. I wasn't missing pedal strokes, losing momentum or tiring easily from some horrid rock patch or steep pitch. There's something rewarding about being on a great mountain bike, connecting the bike to the trail for several hours.

I kept thinking that every section of the Colorado Trail should be like Segment 8 out of Camp Hale, but if that was the case, the ride would be less interesting. But like all of the rides prior, this one had to end.

Tennessee Pass back to Camp Hale was the fastest and second longest vertical descent of the 10 days. I also reached my highest top speed on the descent back to Camp Hale. At 1:30 p.m., and at 27.6 mph, the dirt and pine needles flung into the air as I topped out my speed and comfort level along the same old railroad grade I had pedaled up not but an hour prior.

Day 10, 10:11 a.m., Aug. 2: At the Gold Hill Trailhead north of Breckenridge I met my co-worker, Denver Gazette videographer Tom Hellauer. He was joining me for my last ride on part of Segment 6 around Georgia Pass.

There ended up being very little riding this day.

I had hiked-a-bike before but never this much. I keep thinking I didn't want to end the bike trip just hiking while trying to summit Georgia Pass, but after yet another very steep and rocky section on County Road 355, Tom and I succumbed to our fate and just hiked.

We got passed by two groups of cyclists struggling about as hard as we were, while talking about the ride. We made some photos and videos for posterity's sake, yet in the end, we were only able to ride a few miles total on the road.

It was only back at the bottom of the segment did we find some flowy dirt to close out the day.

At the Gold Hill Trailhead, I reluctantly placed my bike into the truck bed. Doing so meant it was the end of the trip.

I hadn't planned on finding a euphoric moment on Day 10, that moment had already happened on Blackhawk Pass, but this day's bittersweet close after 10 days on the Colorado Trail left me wanting to go back out next summer and do it again.

About the series