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Part
16: Bicycle Coast to Coast Across America - By Frosty Wooldridge
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“Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself.” ~ Edward Abbey
(Small park on Berthoud Pass featuring a mountain man from the 1800s. Frosty taking a rest from the arduous climb over 11,318 feet of pedaling.)
Many people stand in amazement that we travel by bicycle and prefer camping to a motel. If you look at the quote by Abbey above, you may understand our choices much better.
Most of us enjoy a home, apartment and shower every night of our lives. We live in extreme comfort with air conditioning or heat. By camping in the wilds by a lake, stream, river or the deep woods or even a desert—we enjoy maximum coalescence with the Natural World. A profound meshing of our spirits keeps us in touch with our primordial beings. To stare into a campfire beats staring into a television. To gaze up into the night sky beats looking up at a ceiling. To lay your head down into Nature’s pillow beats the boredom of clean sheets and a “Sleep Number” bed.
If you look at how comfortable Americans maintain their lives, you see rampant obesity, drug use and pills to stave off every kind of malady under the sun. I can’t help but think a week in the wilderness re-invigorates anyone’s biorhythms to the heartbeat of nature.
For example: if you walk down the middle of Las Vegas, you receive enormous chaotic energy from the people, traffic noise and street hawkers. How long can you take it? Most people get their fill of Las Vegas within three or four days. I’ve fled that town saying, “That’s a crazy place. I can’t take anymore of it.”
If you camp out in the woods, you enjoy profound peace sitting by a campfire and lake, you want to stay forever. You re-harmonize your vibrations to the harmonies of Nature.
That’s why I love pedaling a bike and camping out. Keeps me tuned into my spiritual being and balanced in the rhythms of life.
(Climbing Berthoud Pass causes all sorts of celebration in a bicyclist. Frosty raising his hands near the top and enjoying the stupdendous views.)
John Muir said, “Tell me what you will of the benefactions of city civilization, of the sweet security of streets—all as part of the natural up-growth of man towards the high destiny we hear so much about. I know that our bodies were made to thrive only in pure air, and the scenes in which pure air is found. If the death exhalations that brood the broad towns in which we so fondly compact ourselves were made visible, we should flee as from a plague. All are more or less sick; there is not a perfectly sane man in San Francisco.”
Or New York, Chicago, LA, Atlanta, Detroit or any other mega compacted city in America!
We coasted down hill off Muddy Pass toward Kremmling about 27 miles away. Beautiful riding along the river! Still on Route 40, we picked up some food in Kremmeling at the City Market.
We rolled into Granby. Small town surrounded by mountains with the Continental Divide south of it.
“Let’s try to make it over Berthoud Pass,” Wayne said.
“Yeah, and camp at the bottom,” said Howard.
“I’m game,” I said.
We pedaled over a river on the south side of Granby headed south on Route 40. The road climbed a steep grade. We busted our humps up that incline until we coasted into the tiny village of Tabernash.
Soon after, we pedaled into Winter Park, Colorado, a famous ski resort. After watering up and buying a few groceries, we headed southward into a long canyon with mountain cliffs on both sides of us. Really stunning beauty all around us! The Continental Divide swept upward from green trees into the 12,000-foot treeline that faded into green tundra and gray rock. The scenery mesmerized us with its raw power. A blue sky made for magical traveling.
“The road cuts upward around that bend,” said Wayne. “Crunch time boys,” said Howard. “We’ve got about 3,000 vertical feet to climb.” “Piece of cake at 6 percent grade,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
For the next 2.5 hours, we hammered the pedals higher and higher around dozens of curves and switchbacks. The higher we climbed the more incredible the scenery. Big, deep couloirs still held snowfields. Blooming wildflowers lined the highway. Spring green struck captivating beauty from the pine-covered mountainsides.
I can’t begin to say in words the extraordinary wonder we pedaled through.
John Muir said it best, “This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.”
We reached the top at Berthoud Pass where a sign read, “Continental Divide, East and West Watershed, 11, 318 feet.”
“Hey bro,” said Howard. “Let’s camp here tonight. I want to see a few shooting stars and the constellations.”
“Sounds great,” said Wayne.
That night, we camped closer to the stars than most people falling asleep in a bed. As the campfire burned, we devoured succulent stew and hot chocolate. Nothing like dipping our bread into bubbling broth.
“Whoa,” said Howard. “Shooting star! That’s so cool.”
“Way too cool brother,” I said. “What’s even more cool, you walked Misty up over this pass on your cross continent journey. Must have been a hell of a feeling.”
“Almost killed both of us,” Howard said. “We had never been over such a high mountain. I walked Misty up and down the pass because it was too hard on her to carry me.”
“PETA would applaud you,” said Wayne.
(Love sitting by a campfire.)
We sat around the
campfire |
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