Day 46: Cold Sulphur Springs

58.77 miles (Total: 2480.08) Avg Speed: 11.7mph Max Speed: 38mph

After leaving the nice lodge we continued on a busy SR9, it was a cool morning so the wind-breakers were donned. I glided past a really sweet looking knife on the side of the road and wished I had picked it up for bear protection. I then realised Terry would DEFINITELY pick it up when he went by. Sure enough I stopped a little further down the road and waited for him, when he caught up he brandished it. The knife was etched with ‘Ozark Trail’, appropriate, it should be useful around camp.

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Morning at the lodge.

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At one point SR9 left the route although it seemed to make sense to stay on it. The country road the maps directed us onto seemed to go up into the hills and right around the lake. After deciding not to dissobey the map in fear of missing something special we crawled up hill after hill looking down on the cars flying along the nice and flat SR9. There were some nice views of the reseviour but nothing that could have been had from SR9, thanks Adventure cycling for adding 3 miles and unnecessary hills.

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We did get to ride across the dam, although when I stopped in the middle of it to take a picture the security guy rolled up straight away and told me to move. I guess he had nothing better to do seen as how there wasn’t a car went past on this road. I said OK before proceeding to take the picture I felt the extra leg work was worth anyway. He didn’t look impressed.

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The Dam

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Howdy

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Once we arrived in Kremmling I opted straight for a Shake ‘n’ Burger. Calories stocked, I felt good to push onto the next town and so did Terry. So we set out once again this time for Hot Sulphur Springs. I was absolutely cruising around 17mph when a women pulled up slowly alongside me and asked for directions to Denver! I said I didn’t have a clue but she continued to ask me if the current road went towards Denver, I don’t no! The ride then took us alongside the Colorado River before bending into a stunning and rather unexpected canyon. I rolled through the last 10 miles amazed at the fascinating rock face I was housed between.

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Thinking of trading the bike in…

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Hot Sulphur Springs

After reaching Hot Sulpher springs we scouted out the city park that offered free camping. It was a nice place resembling more of a private campground than a free one, with individual tree shaded sites alongside the river. They have hot springs here which they charge you $18 to use which seems crazy for a natural phenomenon, so we passed and settled for the river. Mosquito’s were out in force, the first time its been noticable on the trip at least. After lathering myself in Terry’s tropical strength repellent I got the fire going to smoke them out of the place. Terry had went to the shop and asked when my birthday was, I said November. He handed me the shopping bag and said “that’s your early birthday present then”. It was a pack of Newcastle Brown Ale to sup over dinner. We cooked up some pasta and sat by the roaring fire until dark.

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Winner.

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I went to bed in a t-shirt and boxers neglecting the fact this is the highest elevation we had camped at. The fire had fooled me into thinking it was a warm night, I could soon see my own breath and began to shake. I put a few more layers on then zipped myself up to the throat in my sleeping bag and pull the hood over my head. It was like being back at Uni with heating strictly turned off in the Newcastle winter, I can deal with this.

We left the lodge on a busy, cool SR9, windbreakers zipped up against the morning chill. Somewhere along the shoulder I rolled past a genuinely good-looking knife lying in the gravel and spent half a mile regretting not stopping for it — bear protection, I told myself, purely practical. I already knew Terry would pick it up the second he passed it, so I waited a little further down the road, and sure enough he came rolling up brandishing it like a trophy. Etched into the handle: Ozark Trail. Fitting. It would earn its keep around camp.

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Morning at the lodge.

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At some point SR9 peeled away from our route, and rather than defy the map and risk missing something, we followed the backroad up into the hills and around the lake instead — which meant hill after hill while the cars below sailed along the flat highway without us. The reservoir views were pleasant enough, I suppose, though nothing you couldn’t have had from SR9 at sea level. Thanks for the extra three miles, Adventure Cycling.

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We did get to ride across the dam, for what it was worth. I stopped in the middle to take a photo and a security guard materialised within seconds to move me along, despite there being, as far as I could tell, not another vehicle on the road that morning. I said okay, took the picture anyway, and decided the extra legwork had been worth it. He did not look amused.

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The Dam

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Howdy

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In Kremmling I went straight for a Shake ‘n’ Burger, calories restocked and ready to push on, and Terry felt the same, so we set off again for Hot Sulphur Springs. Cruising along at a steady seventeen miles an hour, a woman pulled her car alongside and asked, with total sincerity, whether I could point her toward Denver. I told her I hadn’t the faintest idea — she kept asking whether the road we were on went there, and I kept telling her I genuinely didn’t know. The route carried us alongside the Colorado River before bending, unexpectedly, into a canyon so striking I spent the final ten miles just staring at the rock walls closing in on either side.

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Thinking of trading the bike in…

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Hot Sulphur Springs

The city park in Hot Sulphur Springs offered free camping that felt more like a private site than a public one — individual tree-shaded pitches strung right along the river. There were genuine hot springs in town too, but eighteen dollars to soak in a natural phenomenon seemed like a principle worth standing on, so we settled for the river instead, having covered nearly fifty-nine miles by then. The mosquitoes were the first real swarm of the trip, and I doused myself in Terry’s tropical-strength repellent before building a fire mostly to smoke them out of the place. Terry came back from the shop having asked when my birthday was — November, I told him — and handed over the shopping bag anyway. “Early birthday present,” he said. Inside was a pack of Newcastle Brown Ale. We cooked up some pasta and sat by the fire until the dark took over.

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Winner.

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I went to bed in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, forgetting entirely that we’d just made camp at the highest elevation of the trip so far. The fire had lied to me about the night ahead. Within the hour I could see my own breath and was shaking, pulling on every layer I owned before zipping the sleeping bag up to my chin and the hood over my head — back, suddenly, to a heating-free Newcastle winter. I could deal with that too.

3 comments from 2010

mum12 July 2010

Hi Rye, great pics,that was nice of terry to get you early birthday pressie can just imagine you sat round that camp fire eating your supper & drinking newcastle brown ale, enjoy luv mum xxx

Aaron12 July 2010

Sights you've captured on the trip so far look sweet man, bet it was nice to be treated to a bottle of newcy broon' too!

keith13 July 2010

Hiya rye,Nice shot of the dam,ya should'a Thrown mr jobsworth over it.Stay cool man.

Day 46: Cold Sulphur Springs

73 days, one line across the country

3 comments from 2010