Cycling Season is Here … Want to Go for a Ride?

One of the big factors that lured me to Colorado was the divine road riding. I envisioned miles and miles of open road, surrounded by rocky ledges and ponderosa pines, warmed by the bright Colorado sun. And I was not disappointed.

Coming to Colorado three years ago from Westchester County, NY, where I had to ride 10 miles down the busy Boston Post Road, dodging cars and potholes and waiting at through countless traffic lights, before I arrived at any semblance of “open road,” the Foothills seemed like heaven on earth.

I’ll admit it took a full year and a half and the purchase of a carbon fiber bike with a triple chain ring before I acclimated to the altitude and stopped feeling as though I were drowning when I rode, and before I could finally make it up the three switchbacks to my hilltop home in the Kittredge corner of Evergreen, but it was worth it! The riding here is like nothing I have ever experienced. It’s rare I see more than one traffic light, even on a long ride. Yes, there’s a little congestion in downtown Evergreen, but that half a mile is nothing compared to the challenges I’m accustomed to back east.

The riding is literally heaven on wheels. Out Upper Bear Creek Road, past former vacation lodges that make me reminisce about Evergreen’s resort past as Mt. Evans looms into view. Up Buffalo Park past Alderfer/Three Sisters Park, encountering the sweet surprise of ridge top ranches. Out to the Brook Forest Inn. Twisting and turning on the North and South Turkey Creeks.  Soda Creek. Bear Creek Lake Park. Down the canyon road (74) to Morrison and back up (Ouch! Will the hill ever end?).

A freak hailstorm pelts me. A fast downhill freezes me, a jarring shock after the long, sweaty ascent. An elk jumps onto the road and almost knocks me down. A great blue heron flies beside me along Bear Creek, a twig in its beak. I’ve climbed Kenosha Pass, ridden around part of Turquoise Lake, enjoyed the freedom of the bike trail in Glenwood Canyon, explored Estes Park on two wheels. Once I left a piece of my knee on the bridge at Evergreen Lake (before they replaced it) when my skinny wheel went between two boards and I fell. But despite that mishap, which I considered my “baptism” to riding in Colorado, each ride has been more divine than the one before it.

But I have to admit one thing: I’m lonely. I miss having a partner or two, or four or five, to ride with. Team Evergreen is too intense for me. The Foothills Running & Cycling Club, which I helped found, decided to focus on Golden, leaving me high and dry (literally). I’m amazed that there’s no mid-level riding group in the mountain area for recreational riders like me, who just want to climb a few hills, pedal 10 or 20 or 30 miles or so.

Anyone interested in getting a group together for Saturday morning rides, or maybe Thursday evening, in Evergreen or Conifer or Kittredge or Morrison? Anyone want to sweat together up the big hills, then grab a beer and swap war stories? Anyone want to train for a biathlon or go on a road trip to bag a mountain pass? If so, email Lisa@HammsterMedia.com.  Let’s start a mountain area riding club, or even a multisport club. Join me on the roads — I’m ready to train with some company! Are you?

The Hammster

 

The Swimming Hole and the Castle

On one of those late winter days when the air was unseasonably warm but the ground was still covered with snow, Lexie and I decided to take a walk in the Lair. Lair o’ the Bear, my favorite name for a park. We parked by the road at the western end and strolled down to the trailhead. Lexie was wearing shorts, a light jacket and snow boots. It was one of those Colorado types of days.

Swimming Hole
The Swimming Hole

Suddenly Lexie stopped and gasped.

“Mom!” she exclaimed excitedly. “This is the swimming hole!”

Lexie, 11, and her sister Kyra, 14, had gone to a Bear Creek swimming hole several times last summer with a friend and her mother, who had never been able to describe exactly how to find it.

But sure enough, and the very edge of the park, Bear Creek widened and had a slightly deeper, calm pool. It was flanked by large boulders for sitting on, trees for lolling beneath, and the water was still halfway covered with snow and ice. That didn’t deter a bunch of kids who had discarded their shoes and were splashing around in it while their parents watched, amused. On the third week of March! It was about 65 degrees, but that creek had to be closer to 40 degrees.

Dunafon Castle
Dunafon Castle

“You want to go in?” I asked Lexie. Fortunately, she declined, and we walked on down the trail, alongside cliffs, through deeper woods where the trail was snow-covered and slippery, and suddenly we came upon a wrought-iron fence along the left side of the trail. There was a gate that prevented us from crossing a stone bridge to the left, and across the creek was a small, exquisite stone castle, Dunafon Castle. You might have seen the crest on a flag while driving down Route 74 north of the Lair o’ the Bear entrance.

We stood at the padlocked gate and took in the castle, with its gazebo, sweeping grounds, and fountains, and shared dreams about fantastical other lives, other places, about magic and princesses and unicorns. A workman came around the bend with a couple of huge dogs to abruptly end our trip of fantasy, and we giggled as the canines frolicked with each other enthusiastically.

The whole walk was only about a mile and a half by the time we got back to the car.  But it took us back several centuries, off on flights of fancy, and even back to last summer!

The Hammster

Migration West

A Transplanted New Yorker in Colorado

I moved my family — husband B and daughters K and L — to Evergreen three years ago from the New York City suburb of Mamaroneck, in Westchester County. It was the dawn of the recession, and my husband had lost his job as CIO of a Manhattan Internet startup. We decided to use the job loss as an opportunity to relocate our family to a place that might work better for our daughters, who both have sensory issues. Perhaps living in a fast-moving, competitive cosmopolitan area wasn’t the best environment for them. Perhaps a few ponderosa pines and snow-covered mountains would calm their souls.

For B and me, avid outdoors people chronically frustrated by the necessity of riding our road bikes 10-15 miles through congestion and traffic lights just to find some semblance of an open road, the prospect of quiet mountain roads was enticing. So when I landed a job with a Denver nonprofit, we packed up our boxes, put the house on the market, said goodbye to our wonderful neighbors, and took a leap of faith.

So here we are, in Evergreen! I must confess that I still sorely, painfully miss New York City, and I think I always will. But Colorado has welcomed us with open arms in ways we didn’t even imagine.

Life is different. Is it better? Yes and no. In this blog, I will share the experiences and adventures of wrenching your entire being from the familiar, of plopping yourself down someplace new and trying to navigate a new course. Everybody should do it at least once in their lives, just to discover they can, indeed, land on their feet!

–The Hammster
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