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Leaving Breck, I rode on highway 9 until I figured out that a bike-path was parralleling my travels. At the next available intersection I jumped on the well laid out bike path. I took the bike path all the way to Frisco before I stopped to check out Abbey’s coffee shop in town. With more of a modern set up, I sat down, and enjoyed there El Salvador. It had strong notes of caramel near the end and reminded me of the Boater’s Blend from back home at the Big Bean.

Following the bike path, and not my map, I rode up to Vail Pass on accident. It was all uphill, but the views were unmatched.

After a black & blue burger, followed by a wheeler wheat at the Backcountry Brewery, I headed toward Silverthorne, following the Dillon Resevior.

When I arrived, I shot directly for the big COFFEE sign in the plaza. The Steaming Bean has a casual atmosphere, with lots of couches. The owner makes a tasty mocha, and if you’re looking for a computer to update your blog with, they have two.

After finally convincing myself to ride out of town, I watched the sun set as I rode to green mtn resevoir.

I stopped in Heeney and wandered into the campground a couple miles past town. The whole area was extremely buggy. I wandered until I met a woman setting up her campsite aside her airstream. She had seen me riding on the highway earlier that evening, and offered me the tent she had stored in the back of her truck.

She helped me set up her Marmot tent and we conversed late into the evening. She introduced me to a new brewing company out in Durango, CO. I especially enjoyed the Modus Hoperandi. It was an IPA, but sweeter and cleaner.

In the morning, I packed up the tent and rode the remaining rim of green mtn resevior.

I was stopped by an officer for the same reason I was in southern Illinois. Some truckers had seen my wobble and called the local dispatcher claiming I was unstable and out of control. Both times though, the officer sees me and sees that I am actually very much in control of my vehicle.

I rode into Kremmling only to find cyclists that I already know. Some riding the great divide, following a different route and others following the same route as myself.

From Kremmling to Hot Sulfur Springs, I rode through Beaver Canyon and over the Colorado River. We stopped and grabbed grub at the local restaurant, The Depot. I had green-chili cheese fries. Delicious.

The last 11 miles of my ride for the day was scenic and followed the Colorado River. I got into Granby only to find out that I was in the town that this guy whom rebelled against the local government lived. He destroyed many government buildings in his armored catapillar before falling thru some foundation and killing himself. I had heard about it when it happened. I was sitting in a new library because the last one had been destroyed by this same guy.

After a delicious an hardy breakfast burrito laden with green chilis, I cut thru the zoo and followed a bike path to pueblo lake state park. It was a very hot, dry afternoon. When I arrived I did about 12 extra miles in efforts to find the camp site my riding companions were having a BBQ at. About to find the campsite, they come rolling down the hill in a friend’s jeeper. I follow them to the swim beach and we set up the festivities. Before the grub is done Sharon, Barb and I go for a dip. It’s so hot and dry, you don’t need a towel to dry off.

We head back to the campsite, full of burgers and assorted other grub. The family responsible for all the food sadly departs, but leaves us with the remaining ice. We all chew the fat and enjoy a harmonica concert imparted by the dutchman. The sun sets, and we all retire. I sleep under the stars, as does Edwyn, a new addition to our group, riding the western express this year.

In the morning, we all rode out about the same time. It was a beautiful morning. Overcast, with the mountains getting closer and closer. We rode into Wetmore, where the crew was seperated into two. Sharon, Barb and Edwyn were to take the western express to California, and the Dutch guys and I were to follow the Trans Am proper to Oregon. But before the Gosse and Klaas could get anywhere, a flat needed to be fixed.

It was hard to say goodbye, but some fudge at the local general store made it a bit easier. We rode on to Florence and stopped for burgers. I was first to leave, but didn’t get far. I had to stop at the PourHouse, and get a cup o’ Jo.

Finishing up the last miles into Cañon City, I had my priorities in front of me. I needed to find the local bike shop and get my cycle computer fixed. I found Spencer Sports, but they were closed for the day and I wasn’t planning to stay in town for the evening.

I was directed to Coyote’s Coffee Den. They made me a delicioous frozen drink, and their atmosphere was full of crafts and a loft upstairs full of couches. I couldn’t be happier. I even stayed a couple hours, and made some skype calls. Afterward, I collected some food for the climb up Highway 9 and made it to the rafting center before I was told that a brush fire had closed off all activity ahead of me. I sought the location of the dutchman and was told they were just up the hill.

I hung out for the evening, enjoyed yet another meal with the boys, and some rafting guides showed up. They came for water, and stayed for conversation. I had a great opportunity to get to know the Dutchman further. Eventually the two raft guides turned into 15 raft guides as they were also evacuated from the river to the same campsite. They brought beer, so I enjoyed a couple and retired early.

When we rose the next morning, the fire was under control and we were able to cycle on. I was gifted a shower by a friendly camp attendent, and rode uphill for 24 miles before stopping early for the day to stay at a beautiful hostel. I spent the afternoon napping, to make up for lost sleep from the previous evening. As did the Dutchman; Gosse was especially in need of rest as he hit the bars with the raft guides and didn’t get to sleep till after 2 am.

In the morning the Dutchman decided to stay for another day and I moved on. I intend to catch back up to them in Wyoming after a stay in Cheyenne. The scenery was amazing at the hostel, but it only got more stunning as I rode along. As soon as I passed over current creek pass I saw the white capped 14ers all around me. When I arrived in Hartzel, I met some racers on there 14th day out racing the great divide.

I had lunch with them at Dorthy’s Homade Tamales. I had a black cherry shake and a green chile smothered breakfast burrito. I <3 green chiles!! They were to be on the food network the following week and I was happy to experience such a delight.

I continued to make my ascent to 11,000ft. I stopped in fairplay for an italian soda and the Al-mart of Alma, CO. The highest town in North America. After Alma I made my ascent up Hoosier Pass to the highest altitude in the entire trans-am of 11,542ft. I smoked that hill. I was at the top in 23 minutes, keeping up a pace of 10 mph the whole way. Boo-yah! I met two cyclists at the top, in town for a networking conference. There names are Drew and Kaden. Drew ha an extra hotel bed for me to crash on. Awesome! The ride was beautiful and a shock to my body, but I had plenty of time to take pictures of the descent decent into Breckenridge, CO.

It's a small little town catering to bikers and skiers alike. Bike lanes were everywhere, and I rode straight into the first bike shop I found. Alpine sports set me up with a new Serfas Cycle Computer and I could finally regulate my pace once again. After setting up my computer, I met up with Drew and Kaden after their second pass over Hoosier. I followed them back to the Lodge and caught a shower. We nearly immedeately headed out and got dinner at Mi Casa, a mexican restaurant.

I had the tamales. They were very spicy, yet delicious. I got to know Drew over dinner and found he is also quite an outdoor enthusiast. He hopes to do some cycle touring in the near future, so we had plenty to talk about. After dinner, the group and I searched for the elusive 3 ft trout that lives in the stream flowing through town. We found no such fish.

We headed back to the room and I sorted my pictures. Sleep time.

I’ve now ridden over 2,000 miles on one wheel. My body is tired, my mind is tired. But I’m having a good time. Early this morning, a storm rolled through. I was cowboy camping, so I moved my gear under this gazebo. The rain, and worse, the wind still battered one side of me. I should have got in my bivy at the moment’s notice of rain. But instead, I just layed there and waited for it to pass. I moved to the entrance way of the men’s room in the city park, and caught a few more minutes of sleep. Would have prefered a few hours. I packed up my gear; everything was soaked. So I went into town to see what was open. I found Daylight Donuts. They are strong competition to my beloved Donut Shack in Severna Park, MD. Yeast rissen donuts always make my day.

Leaving town, I stopped for one of 4 newspaper interviews in that 24 hour period. When I got goin’, I rode 12 miles to a little highway rest stop before catching a breather. I had some poptarts, and moved on. But in that small window of time, the winds had picked up in speed. I fought the winds all the way into the next town.

I grew a little unsettled ——> me loosing concentration ——> me falling 4 times in the middle of town —–> scrapes on my arms and legs ——-> Break time to get a hold of myself.

One of my previous riding partners showed up and made my day with her smile and similar weariness created by the wind. I helped her pump up her tire to something ride able. I’d taken to this riding position where my body is cocked left, acting like a sail, increasing resistance, but making balancing easier.

Not long after, I hit the Colorado Border and set my clock back an hour. Just then I start riding toward this tall, wide cumulo nimbus cloud. Lightning is striking exactly where I need to go. I ride under this dark cloud, the wind getting steadily stronger, and it starts to rain with very large drops. The wind gets so turbulant that attempting to unicycle is risky. I happen to be riding by this church in Chavington, so I run over and the door is open. I call inside to see if anyone is around, but no response. After walking into the main room, I see dime sized hail falling everywhere through the window. I’m glad I took the chance of finding shelter. The storm blew through in about 20 min, and I went on my way with no more than a cool breeze and a slight drizzle.

I stop and grab some pizza in Eads at a bar because the only other restaurant in town had closed for maintenance. Talked to some older men, and got an idea of what I was in for this evening. 110 miles in, I could’ve stopped and slept at the park. They were calling for 80+ mph winds all along the Front Range of eastern Colorado. I pushed on regardless. The sunset was beautiful, and later that night, in the middle of nowhere, the stars were spectacular and plentiful.

I made it through the night. The wind got real cold and at some point I made a windbreaker out of my trash bag pack-liner. At some point early in the morning, I found myself huddled in an alleyway trying to stay warm and out of the wind.

In the morning, I saw my first glimpse of the Sangre de Cristos Mountain Range. It was just a faint line above the horizon. After 220 miles, I slept on a park bench, and rode into downtown to find the post office. I stopped in Great Divide Ski, Bike and Hike, to use the phone and get info on the area. First I stopped at Shammrock’s to try a local brew. To no avail; my NC ID wouldn’t cut it. I hope to consume another micro-brew before I make it to Oregon. We’ll see. I found The Daily Grind Cafe, and consumed a delicious latte. The staff was upbeat and the furnishing and art appealing.

Before I left, I got to meet another street unicyclist, and I got picked up from Pueblo by Lauren Marino, the girl who used to live across the street from me as a kid. The sunset on the ride to Colorado Springs was beautiful. I stayed with her, her husband Steve and their two beautiful children.

After some well deserved sleep, we went for a hike in Cheyenne Cañon in the morning. Its nice to back in the mountains, and the Rockies at that.

Landmarks:

new personal record: 220 miles
new time zone
new state
rocky mountains
Half-way mark

Soon after leaving Newton, I ride South a half-mile into Buhler. The first thing I notice is a coffee shop. Who would think to find such a nice coffee shop in such a small, Kansas town. I entered the Mustard Seed Cafe, and the first thing I notice is their espresso machine. It is glowing blue and is lever operated. I’m impressed. I enjoy a latte and a very hardy cinnimon roll. The atmosphere is very modern with an old west kind of flare to it. They have an awesome tea room seperated from the rest of the establishment full of equally beautiful ceramics.

I ride into Sterling, my intended destination for the evening, and walk straight into the cafe for a bite to eat. I have some key lime pie. I then ponder in front of the closed library as to my next plan of action, and eventually head to the city lake.

I take a shower at the public pool and watch all the ducks wondering around the lake. One runs right past me, skwaking and hobbling frantically toward its children. I take an afternoon nap, and get some ice cream and other provisions for the following morning. As it is Sunday, every likes to close in Kansas.

In the evening, I am struck with some of the fearcist weather so far. I was under a picnic shelter, but the rain was still battering me from one side. Lightning was striking everywhere, including in the city park I was trying to sleep in. Whenever the wind would let up, I would try to get some shot of all the lightning. This is apparently the second time I’ve come within 15 miles of a tornado touching down.

In the morning, I was greeted with more storms, AND more ducks. They were also fleeing the rain in this “natural” cover. I procrastinated for a little while as it rained, took another warm shower, and then got breakfast because by that time they were open. The rain died off within an hour of me leaving town. This stretch was the 60 mile stretch of nothing I mentioned in my last post. So, when I got near the town of Seward, I figured I would make a detour. This was supposed to be all paved and only an extra 2 miles to find food. Not only did I find no food, but also 3 mile of muddy sand roads.

I rode to Larned and when I arrived I tried to check in with the Police Station to stay at the City Park. When I mentioned I might try to stay with a friend of a friend in Newton, they also tried to contact Racheal on my behalf. Nothing like trying to meet someone for the first time through the protocol dominant speech of the police. I end up trying to kill some time at the city theater, and she finds me there before I have the chance to pay for my ticket.

I stay with the Gaeddert’s and sleep on their waterbed in the basement. I end up sleeping in, once again missing my good riding window. I visit Fort Larned on the way out of town, take a break and say “Hi.” to my host at her workplace as she makes friendship bracelets in a park ranger uniform.

I continue on to Alexander where I pick up my next map to Pueblo, CO. I attempt to make contact with Elaine of Elaine’s Bicycle Oasis in Bazine to no avail and wonder over to Ness City.

When I arrive, I go straight to Good Eats at the reccomendation of someone earlier that day. I get a loaded potato and BOY is it loaded. Delicious. I then seek the city park to set up camp in. What I find is the cyclists that I met in Eureka. We catch up and the Dutchman feed me another dinner and a beer.

When everyone is about to retire, the town Unicyclist, Keith Burditt, shows up to say hello. We vibe for a little bit and he invites me back to his house to stay in his basement and check out HIS unicycle collection. We go for a ride and I go to sleep.

I had left the house by 4:30am. Realizing that the Ben & Jerry’s I had procured the day before lay unopened, still in the freezer, I decided it would make a hardy breakfast. I also then realized the true function of my touring bar, to hold a pint of ice cream. My Ice Cream only lasted 4 miles before it was gone. Riding an hour in the dark, I then had the chance to watch the sunrise. It was incredible. The open landscape created the perfect foreground.

When I showed up in Rosalia, the only restaurant in town was still closed from the previous evening. So I kept on riding all the way to Cassoday, another 17 miles. Most of this town was closed permanantly, but one truck-stop was still open. I consumed what I believe to be the first REAL Biscuits and Gravy of this entire trip. Upon finishing, I grabbed some provisions, and headed toward Newton. For the first 30 miles I was riding under these Cumulus clouds running in straight lines from south to north. As I passed beneath them I would watch my shadow disappear and reappear.

I had been seeing alot of these oil pumps, which are common in the area as supplemental income for farmers/land owners. Apparently there was a car show going on, because this particular morning, I saw about 5 of these old fashioned cars.

Upon arriving in Newton, I had completed 76 miles of riding, and before noon. Awesome. I beat the heat and wind for the most part and still managed an above average day. I was riding down Main St Newton, and instinctively I decided to stop at this gourmet market called Prairie Harvest. When I entered, apparently the wife of the only bike shop in town was watching the shop. She provided me with some information about the town and a phone to call my couchsurfing host. As it turns out, my host is employed at a coffee/book shop called Pages in the same building. He makes me a delicious Latte, and we head back to his place.

Another touring cyclist named Mason, happened to have stayed the previous evening. He is riding from California to Maine. We visited the only bike shop in town, which was really John Hobbs’ Garage. He did called multiple people and eventually found me some steel tire levers. A lot packed into a small place. I hadn’t gotten much real sleep the evening before, so I passed out for a few hours.

When I woke, everyone was ready to head out to the Red Dawg Saloon. It was college night with $5 pitchers of PBR. They had been going every Thursday for the last couple months. I was inclined to join. We all had good conversation, and lots of PBR. They made last call before midnight, and we all went back to the house. Person after person would decide to go to sleep and by 3 in the morning it was just Me, Mason, and Kelsey. I decide to retire.

Waking up around 11:00 in the morning, I decided to find food. There’s this traditional German place called the Bread Basket on Main St. I had the Beirock with Chicken Borscht. This was amazing, I might go back for another.

We’re now watching High Fidelity back at the house. Apparently its there third time this week.

Following a brief stop in Toronto, a town of less than a thousand, I stopped at a deli at the local junction called Lizard Lips. I heard from a local, stopping to get gas at the deli, that I was in for quite a storm. When I left, I started hearing thunder off in the distance. Then I started riding under this huge dark cloud. Lightning was jumping to the sky all around me. I almost hid beneath a bridge on multiple occations, but instead decided to press on. I kept up an 18mph pace, all the way to Eureka. Then it started pouring, I quickly found my way to the residence of my hosts, The Schmidts. I kept storming all through the night; had I hid beneath a bridge, I would have been stuck there for the night.

When I made it to the house, I was quickly ushered in by Betsy, one of the older daughters in the family. I took a shower and finally had a chance to calm down. I get to meet the rest of the family and decide to take my day off in Eureka. I wander around town a little, and try a double Lo-Mar. This 16oz burger prepared by a local robbie was mammoth. I had to keep it in the wrapper so it would escape my hands. The Cherry Limeade was also superb.

After the library, my host tells me that some other bikers are arriving. They show up almost immeadiately, and are two friendly older women, travelling with 3 other cyclists who decided to camp out in the city park. We sat around, got to know eachother, and the Schmidts made burgers. The others showed up and before you know it, its dark. Biker-Bed-Time. I’ll be waking up early tomorrow, to beat the heat, so sleep well everyone.

He was a local youth pastor named Matt and I asked him where to find some coffee/food. He pointed me in the direction of the Main Street Cafe. I sat down, recieved good service, but soggy bread, and the jalepeños that I had requested not be added, had been removed last minute. It was obvious as my lips still burned and a couple peppers still lingered on my plate.

Then Matt gave me a call, he told me that he had talked to his pastor, and I could sleep on the bed in the storage room of the church he attends. Wow! Awesome! I was expecting to sleep In the city park an get rained on again. He picked me up and took me over to the church and I promptly went to sleep as I was expecting to rise at 4 and get an early start.

I end up sleeping through my alarm that is muffled between me and the bed. I wake up at 7 and can make the excuse to go find breakfast in town. I order the Sunriser at the Grain Bin. It’s a Slippery Slope. Afterward, I’m directed toward the safari museam by the library. They don’t open till 9:30, so that has given me just enough time to write this post. Cheers! I’ll be on my way soon.

I headed toward Girard, ended up going off route onto a gravel road for 5 miles, but because of the grid-like road systems in Kansas, I did no extra miles. When I arrived, I wondered around trying to find the City Park. When I eventually did, I still had an hour of sunlight and I was next to a public pool, so I went for a dip. Afterward, Instead of staying in the park as planned, Rob the local swim instructor/lifegaurd put me on his couch for the evening. I was happy to wake up indoors when I saw it pouring rain this morning. I got breakfast at the Peppermill Cafe and now I’m in the library killing time till the lightning subsides.

“People with a common iron deficiency develop a habit of chewing on ice, as its easier to chew crushed then cubed ice, restaurants that use crushed ice tend to foster more business.”

The story behind Danny’s truck in the following picture entails a grandfather restoring this beautiful Ford and giving it to his grandson. The grandson scoffed and rejected it. So Danny picked up this pearl cheap after winning a couple grand in Vegas (vegas baby, vegas!).

We stopped to say “Hi” to Lloyd, and try his delicious oatmeal cookies.

Then we went to Sunshine Bike Shop, run by Kay and her daughters, and she hooked me up with a water bottle and some energy products.

We stopped at Mueller’s Brewing Company; a company that started out doing steel work, and makes beautiful stainless fermentation vessels.

We hit up another bar near the bike trail in town. They had cruisers made by Fat Tire up on their walls.

We visited Artisan’s Oven, a local bakery and picked up a loaf of Challa.

We toured the bike shops of the area, and I got interviewed by the local ABC News Channel KSPR.

I got to visit another coffee shop called Hebrew’s Coffee. The Barista, Shelby, made me one of my favorite Lattes on this trip so far. The cheese cake was also delicious. The airy texture of the filling made me want another slice.

I had been dreaming for the longest time of purchasing a Benchmade Balisong. The outfitter in town had number 82 out of 100 of these damascus/carbonfiber balisongs. This knife he is holding is worth 600.00usd retail. Maybe another time..

While I was in Springfield, I had the chance to meet James Allen. He rode a Penny Farthing or High Wheel Bike across the country a few years back. He’s been collecting old/special bikes for the longest time. He has a ware house full of them including a 12-person-tandem, about 20 penny-farthings, a few crankshaft bikes, and many w/ wooden rims. He intends to open the Springfield Bike Museum in North Springfield.

We randomly met two girls on the bike trail and talked to them.

Afterward, with a low camera battery we explored the Friday nightlife and ate at the Farmer’s Gastro-PUB. Good food, but the waiter was on his second day, kinda disoriented.

In the morning, Gary and his buddy Pete rode me out of town paralleling the Frisco Highline Trail. We said our final goodbyes, and I was on my way. Thank you Gary, that has been some of the best days thus far!

Riding alone now, I saw something on one of the final hills in Missouri. It was a broken trike and two cross country cyclists. So I parked my Uni at the top of the hill with the other trike and went to go see if I could help out. We parked it at the top of the hill and apparently their chain had split and fell off. So after a little while, two eastbound cyclists ride up(what are the chances??), and one has a spare chain. So another hour goes by and the chain is finally sketchily back together. I continue on, only to see them again in Golden City.

The Triker’s names are Jen and Ken, and they are riding across country to raise awareness for organ donation. Jen is going to visit the recipient of her daughter’s heart in Oregon. They have a website located on blogspot and a profile on Crazy Guy on a Bike.

So, I’ve crossed into Kansas finally, and after 3 hours of writing in Asylum Anime, I’m going to get some Italian food. Cheers!