Days 6 and 7: Continental Divide

I pitch my tent on Kenosha Pass. I have gotten pretty well acclimated
to 7,000 feet, but at 10,000 I am winded by the smallest activity. My
legs are totally shot, aching and wobbly. I take a rest day. I left my
car parked on the pass the week before, so I have fresh supplies and
clean clothes. I drive down into Fairplay and load the cooler up with
ice and BEvERages, and have a hamburger for lunch at a roadside bar.
It's sublime. Dinner is macaroni and cheese -- no more of that freeze-
dried backpacker **** for me. I'm living large. I celebrate with a
huge campfire and lots of cold beer.

The next day is the last leg of the trip, up to the Continental Divide
at Georgia Pass. I have decided not to do the descent into Frisco, but
instead do the pass as an out-and-back. I leave the trailer behind. On
paper, the stats for the trail to Georgia Pass are pretty
intimidating: 25 miles round-trip and 4,000 feet of climbing, all at
altitudes where pilots are required to use supplemental oxygen. (Or,
in JD-speak, "a hoot".) But I am hugely fit now. Without the trailer,
the bike is light as a feather, and I climb through the Aspens and
descend across the grassy valley in the early morning sun without a
care in the world. I take the climb carefully, stopping regularly to
eat. I know how quickly things can go from wonderful to dire above
10,000 feet, and I am taking no chances. But everything is smooth and
wonderful. The climb is challenging, pretty technical in places, and
as I ascend above 11,000 feet, the snow begins to thicken and finally
congeals into a mass, blocking the trail about two miles below the
pass.

This is the end of the road. 134 miles point-to-point from Denver. I
turn around and let it rip on the descent back to Kenosha, sailing
through the aspens on the smooth, twisty singletrack like Luke
Skywalker. I return to camp, and prepare for the drive home.

Sweet.