74.45 miles (Total: 2554.53) Avg Speed: 10.6mph Max Speed: 37mph

Today had the first genuine low point of the trip, it started badly and proceeded to get worse. I rolled out of my tent around 7am to the freezing cold, the inside of my tent had condensed so badly it dripped from the roof if I shook it. Me and Terry stood in the sunlight the second it rose among the trees to get warm. Having only a splash in the river last night for a wash I wasn’t feeling particularly clean, the porta-loo on camp wasn’t either. We went into town in search of breakfast to find everything shut down. The liquor store Terry went to last night was the only thing open. It seemed bizarre as it was a nice town which cleary had some tourist pull with the canyon and hot springs, there were at least 3-4 motels.

After wasting about an hour riding around town for food we realised our only option was to ride 3.5 miles off route to Granby, in total a 7 mile detour. On empty stomachs we rode on when only a few miles down the road a white pick-up came roaring past us sounding his horn violently. These occasions have been pretty rare all trip so we didn’t think anything of it, just another driver who feels cyclists have no right to be on the road. We see him pull in just ahead of us so I brace myself with one of those furrowed brow type aggressive chav face’s to show I’m angry and mean business. I roll past his truck without incident, he is on the phone. Me and Terry carry on bewildered but a further mile up the road we see a police car sirens blaring signalling for us to pull over with the white truck driver just behind him.

He steps out with the usual artillery strapped around his waist and comes strutting over. The pick up driver is about to join him when he shouts back to stay in his vehicle. He then informs us of the complaint put forward by the driver that we were cycling in the middle of the road, whereas we were as usual hugging the right hand side as much as possible trying to avoid the glass and debris on the edge of the road. He tells us the citation is all he needs to right us up a ticket which we would then have to defend in court. This is insane, he is threatening us with this based on one crazy drivers say so. The guy tries to walk over again and the cop tells him to back away, apparently he had to be calmed down several times as he was so angry about us riding on the road.

Once the cop gets our identification and realises this could be more hassle for him than its worth he goes to talk to the guy and then returns again. At that point I predict to Terry exactly how this will play out.The truck driver wanted to demonstrate some power and will now back down as to look like the good guy in the situation ‘letting us off’. I tell the cop I’m willing to apologise to the guy so he is then summoned. Me and Terry then have to grovel to the maniac who nearly just ran us down before he finally does as expected and says he is willing to let us go. The cop with a smug grin thinks he’s done a good job resolving the situation and we have to swallow any pride and ‘thank’ him for the cooperation. Its going to take weeks to shower the slime of my skin.

The whole ordeal takes about and hour and a half, at this point we have barely got going and are starving. After reaching Granby we grab gas station breakfast and push on. We entered the station for one entrance and blindly left it from the other which lead us onto the wrong road. It looked so similar we didn’t realise till about 4 miles up when the expected turn wasn’t coming. We head back to Granby in foul moods. This is the first wrong turn I’ve taken all trip. After getting back to the route we have done around 15 miles without even starting the days ride and its midday.

To make matters worse this was going to be a taxing day anyway with lots of climbing and then another pass. We wound our way up into the mountains again still furious with the morning. Some of the scenery was magnificent but I was barely looking at it. After plodding up to the peak we finally felt some accomplishment for the day and readily looked forward to what promised to be a gentle 30 mile downhill towards Walden. The elevation profile lied, after one initial downhill we had to climb back up again and this continued for a few more climbs before it eventually levelled out. It still seemed like tough work though and it wasn’t helped by the expansion cracks in the road every few feet which meant we had to almost break and crawl over each one. Whenever we stopped for just a few seconds a swarm of mosquito’s attacked so we just had to ride on. It was at this point when my head dropped and I had negative thoughts for the first time in the trip. Terry could tell something was up and asked if I was feeling alright.

The miles crawled up as we averaged around 8mph limping towards Walden, I thought it was never going to come. Finally we see the sign and I let out a groan of relief. The city park offers camping but we both know its going to be a motel night so we get booked in at the first one we see, it has a laundrette and a hot tub. Much deserved. Finally cleansed and able to laugh off the events earlier in the day I’m amazed at how quickly things can turn around. 30 minutes ago I was cursing to the sky having the worst ride yet, now I’m happy as Larry. We treat ourselves further to a nice restaurant meal in town then I crash out asleep at the motel whilst Terry blogs away into the night. Today could only make us stronger for the rest of the trip.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

44.22 miles (Total: 2421.31) Avg Speed: 11.2mph Max Speed: 37.5mph

After a snug nights sleep I wandered downstairs to probably the best continental breakfast I had ate all trip. I started with cereal, then moved onto eggs, sausage and omelette followed by watermelon and banana all sandwiched between several glasses of fresh orange and coffee. It was July 4th, the USA’s birthday. A humbling experience seeing as how they were celebrating the independence from defeating the British, I sat and pondered how different things could have been for us if the French weren’t involved, but soon resolved I wouldn’t change a thing.

The big breakfast was essential as only 10 miles into the ride this morning we would be hitting Hoosier Pass. People walked around with smiles wishing each other a good day. Being a Sunday and a national holiday the roads were busy but leaving town we had a bike path all the way to the foot of the climb.

I could see the road snaking up the mountain to the pass, this is it, 4 miles of bottom gear climbing and I will have reached the highest point on the Transamerica Trail. I begin fast and just focussing on my breathing, it seems as though no matter how hard I breathe my lungs still feel empty. 2 miles up I stop for a few brief pictures then hook up the iPod to take me over the pass. I need something to get me in the zone, I opt for some Phoenix and one of their more ambient tunes.

This was it, just me an the mountain. If I can do this I can do anything, I watch the digits on my cyclometer notch up one by one, the scenery is breathtaking. I see a bend in the road up ahead, I eak my way around to see the Hoosier Pass sign and I almost laugh. Is that it? Is that all you got! Piece of cake, the Appalachian’s are a beast not to be underestimated but the Rockies as everyone says are gradual and not all that bad to be honest. At the top I have a look around, people are driving up in their cars, getting out to have their picture taken with the sign then driving off. Seems a little hollow, but I guess we can’t all take months off to ride bikes. I have time to eat a Cliff bar and people watch for a while longer before seeing Terry’s head slowly edge up to the pass.

After the early leg work it was time for the fun part, we would be descending for the next day or two so I warned my breaks in advance. After flying back down the other side we made it to the happening town of Breckenridge. This was the kind of Colorado town I had envisioned before the trip. Super fit people cruising about on their carbon fiber bikes. Nice town, nice shops, nice food joints. We stopped and had some thai food for lunch. From Breckenridge right through Silverthorne there is a dedicated bike path away from the busy highway. Unfortunately as it was the holidays every man and his dog were making use of it so I ended up going around 9mph for the most part trying not to ride into the back of babies in bob trailers.

The campsites were all full around the lake due to July 4th fireworks displays scheduled for the evening. This left us in a pickle, we knew of a hostel/lodge from the maps in the neighbouring town of Silverthorne but after going there we found a current resident who said the owners were out fishing on the lake and wouldn’t be back till 6pm. We checked in with the police to see if it was ok to camp at the city park, the recreational area had the usual toilets, showers and pavilion. They were happy for us to camp but said they couldn’t let us because the nearby residents would phone in and complain if they saw tents. After procrastinating for some time we returned to the Riverside Lodge & Hostel to find a guy outside unloading his car. “Are you the owner?” I asked and he immediately replied “need a place to stay?”. The lodge was owned by a few people and mainly housed people on short term contract work. BBQ was already on the go as the owners family were using the place for their July 4th celebrations, $20 each for a room, shower, beer and food. DONE!

The food was amazing, the meat literally fell off the bone and disolved in your mouth, pasta, potato salad and chocolate brownies for dessert. One of the other residents sat with us drinking a bottle of Yukon Jack whiskey, he was french-canadian and talked to me an Terry about rugby, football and hockey before repeating himself with the exact same stories. It was funny and ended the night with a few laughs. I retired to a double bed all to myself, today was a great day. Life is good.

68.39 miles (Total: 2377.09) Avg Speed: 10.4mph Max Speed: 37mph

After some gentle stuff yesterday the real climbing would begin today, starting the morning at around 6000ft and finish at 10,000ft. We rolled out of the campsite after a light breakfast, Terry making me some oats and a cup of tea as usual, cheers cobba. The grades got steep pretty quick but I simply geared down low and spinned my way up. Terry in Pueblo had talked to a cycling coach from the USA Olympic Team. After explaining my recent spoke issues the guy asked if I like to stand alot whilst I ride, which I do regularly! Apparently this is a major cause of broken spokes especially when carrying a load. So now I’m ‘spinning for spokes sake’ in my lowest gears over any uphills. It has slowed me down a touch but I don’t mind if it solves the problem.

There were a few nasty pinches early on but for the most part I found them easier than the Appalachians in Virginia as expected. The hard thing to stomach in Virginia was that any climbing you did was almost immediately lost with big downhill and you had to start all over again. Getting into the Rockies you gain elevation but don’t lose any, it just levels out at parts than goes up some more. The landscape was fast becoming grand and epic, the air was thinning but it was fresher than anything I remember inhaling before. At 22 miles we took a detour to the small town of Guffey, a known TransAm cycle stop. A 70 year old dutch couple were in the Bull Moose Restaurant we went to for lunch, they had started a few weeks before us and taking fairly short days, their in no hurry for anybody.

This afternoon we rolled inbetween two storms either side of us but somehow managed in avoiding them both, they seem to crop up in the afternoon so it may be an idea to start riding a little earlier. Over a few more ridges an I finally got my first glimpse of some snow capped peaks. I couldn’t take my eyes of them for the rest of the riding down to Hartsel. This was a whacky area of Colorado, joint with the next town of Fairplay where we would be staying it made up the area known as South Park, as in the setting for the TV show. Accomodation for the night was the Hand Hotel, an old building that had been restored with a really cosy finish. I was expecting a fairly rural town but what we found was a busy tourist town with plenty of bars and a few restaurants. Tomorrow is July 4th so everybody was in jolly mood, me and Terry headed over to the steakhouse where I got the the steak salad, perfect. At 10,000ft I thought I felt slightly nauseous but it was probably all in my head. One thing I did notice however is that just running up the hotel stairs had me panting for breath, Hoosier pass tomorrow will take us a further 1,500ft higher and its the highest point on the Transamerica Trail. Bring it on.

60.41 miles (Total: 2308.70) Avg Speed: 11.8mph Max Speed: 35mph

Me and Joe woke and had our final early morning netbook session. Today was the day Joe left us but first we had 30 more miles of riding until the big split at Wetmore. We went across to Subway for breakfast, Joe destroyed the men’s but he blamed somebody else. So bad I had to sneak into the women’s, nobody was about.

Immediately after leaving Pueblo the scenery changed, it was like riding another planet. Strange rock formations and new shrubs cropped up on the sides of the road. There was a storm brewing in the mountains up ahead, they are notorious for cropping up suddenly out of nowhere. Before long we started climbing heading straight for it and soon enough we began to get blasted with strong rain that turned briefly to hail. Thunder started to rumble followed by a few flashes of lightening. At this point I could see Joe near the top of the climb about to head round the corner, Terry was a way behind me. I waited for the next flash to count how far the thunder was but was then jolted when a huge crack deafened me. The lightening had just struck the road right infront of me. I almost crapped my pants, riding a chunk of metal through a storm is nerve racking. I remember Terry saying he had to take shelter under his tent in a previous storm. So I hopped of my bike, lent it against the guard rail with the water now gushing downhill from the rain covering my feet. I jog down the hill to Terry, Joe has disappeared in the distance, he leave his bike by the road too and we take cover under his tent on the grass until it eases up.

We get back on the road as the edge of the storm passes over, when I get back to my bike I see the water still gushing downhill tangling any weeds it carries inbetween my wheels. After making it to the top of the climb we cruise down to Wetmore to find Joe waiting for us at the point in which he turns off. We were all rocked by what just happened. Joe said his arms we tingling whilst Terry said he felt the lightening strike like a physical blow when it hit the ground. Safe and sound, it was time for goodbyes. I was sad to be losing Joe but because I’m hard as nails didn’t show it. Over the past month or so we had reduced each other to tears of laughter several times, usually in busy restaurants. Our humour seemed to match up perfectly and it made any strenuous riding negligible. I have no doubts we will meet and ride again some day.

After departing me and Terry enjoyed a 12 mile downhill cruise to Florence, CO for a much needed lunch stop. We laid our things out to dry infront of the restaurant much to the bemusement of onlookers, I didn’t care. The afternoon from here would see us climbing gradually as we start to enter the Rockies. First stop was Canon City. After skirting round town for a while looking for a grocery store to get supplies for dinner we couldn’t find one so settled for YET ANOTHER SUBWAY :(.

Terry had managed to get us a spot at a campsite that usually require a minimum 3 night stay on holiday weekends but it was still on the pricey side at $30, a heated pool and wifi helped the situation. It was nested amongst several other popular tourist sites as it sat right above Royal George state park. After climbing this afternoon the elevation meant tonight was actually going to be cool enough for me to finally get into my sleeping bag. Probably the comfiest I have been in my tent all trip. I wonder where Joe is? and Cooper! It strange to get my head around the fact they are both still riding somewhere. Sleep.

We take the bikes down to Great Divide bike shop in Pueblo. The staff as always with cross country tourers are extremely accomodating despite been fully booked up with work. Within minutes of handing the bike over I see the mechanic in the workshop get cracking straight away. Me and Joe head to a coffee shop for a relax and wifi session to update blogs. After sitting drinking smoothies and eating wraps for a while we get a call to say our bikes are all fixed up and ready to go. I give Cooper a call to see what he was up too. He is back on the trail after the wedding and was just about to enter Kansas, so probably the 8-9 days behind us he had anticipated being.

After returning to the motel with the bikes we all crashed out and had a half hour nap, my muscles didn’t no what was going on. First no bike ride now midday sleeping, it was heaven. Later we returned to the Shamrock Brewing Company again for dinner, I ordered the Buffalo Burger this time expecting a gamey taste but it pretty much tasted like a normal burger. We sipped some more brews an talked about the trip so far, Tomorrow me an Terry will be splitting from Joe has he detours onto the western express trail whilst me and Terry head north on the TransAm. We have known this day was coming for a while but now it was happening and nobody could hide their dissapointment. I had considered the Western Express but decided against it, I’ve already seen that part of the country and I wanted to do the classic and originial Transamerica trail. Joe is pressed for time and really keen to go across Utah and Nevada so the Western Express was ideal as it is around 10 days shorter in riding.

A quick note about comments: I can’t tell you how much it makes my day to find fresh comments awaiting approval (I have to do that to avoid spam) after a long days slog. Especially from those people who I don’t even know, just because I’m cycling across a continent it doesn’t mean anybody should care, so I really appreciate it. Keep them coming and I will try to keep my end of the bargain by updating this thing, it tends to be a few days behind where I actually am.

91.45 miles (Total: 2248.29) Avg Speed: 10.9mph Max Speed: 23mph

Two other eastbounders turned up to Haswell late last night after we had gone to bed, we talked for a while then went for another gas station breakfast. Today was Pueblo or bust for all of us. As we got going I did everything I could to make it a smooth ride for my bike, distributing my weight over any bumps and keep my gears low and wheels spinning nicely.

Me an Joe kept each other amused as usual but they were nervous laughs. Can I really go 90+miles further to Pueblo missing two rear spokes? Eastern Colorado is desolate and baron. It seems as though nothing moves or breathes, complete silence. All that can be heard is each others chains slowly turning over each tooth in the crank. The miles clock up an before long were halfway with Pueblo seeming tangible. We stop at a service station and check over the bikes, Joe looking increasingly concerned with his other tyre. What happened next was astonishing. We go in to pick up some Gatorade and guess who is right there, ROD! Whats more, he has his bike in his car and offers Joe the other tyre because he just got two new ones. We sit and laughed with Rod some more and encourage him to take the ride bike to South Carolina again once he is finished.

Back on the road, we all start to get excited about not only putting our bikes in for a service but the fact we plan on taking a rest day in Pueblo because its been two weeks since our last. After taking a wrong turn and having to turn back we realised we had been cruising on a tailwind because now it was in our faces. Despite been so close my moral started to dip, everything hurt and I was mentally exhausted from concentrating so hard on the riding all day and listening for any unwelcome pings or snaps. Finally we made the city limit. Pueblo as the name may suggest has a very hispanic feel to it. It looked like it had more character than Carbondale so should make for an interesting day tomorrow. We found a motel and dumped our gear rejoicing in the unlikeness of making it on our wounded bikes.

After cleaning up Joe found us a nice place to eat and drink online, The Shamrock Brewing Company & Restaurant. We strolled into town all smiles and my day was made when I found the days special was all you can eat fish and chips. The brews were great and the food just as good, we hobbled back to the motel with swollen bellies and crashed out knowing we don’t have to sit in the saddle all day tomorrow.

51.40 miles (Total: 2156.84) Avg Speed: 9.2mph Max Speed: 15.5mph

I woke, ate, packed, then went immediatley across to the auto repair store in town with my spare spokes. I walk up to an old guy and explain the situation and what I need doing to my spokes. A bizarre request maybe but he just takes the spokes and leads me to his workshop outback. He gives me a pen an I draw a simple illustration of what I want. At this point he has barely spoken a word to me and just whistles to himself. He knocks the head off then takes a blow torch to loosen the metal before bending it perfectly and dunking it in cold water for the temper. It looks amazing, I take it back to my wheel and we thread it through the back-end without taking off the cassette. It would have worked perfect except it barely screws in at the other end, just a little too short. I go back and have the spokes blow torched and twisted again, we can only manage one bend to have the necessary length. I thank him, but he simply goes back to laying underneath a truck with his tool box.

The spokes hook on and screw in, we check to see if the wheel spins straight and its pretty good! After finally heading out we only make it a couple of miles and I hear one of them has came out, the other is still in. Its a shame they weren’t quite long enough with the original S-bend because I’m pretty sure I could have went to Oregon on them. The other just about stays in and we make it Eads. I’m riding very slowly and cautiously so were not making good mileage. We find two dutch women biking the TransAm then a guy from Virginia, alas none of them have the tools to fix a driveside spoke either, nobody does.

We head out of town only another few miles and come across Tom. He was born in Iowa, where he is cycling too but lives in Hawaii and is a cycling accessory vending machine. Every gizmo, gadget and spare you could think of. We attempt to remove my cassette with his special lockring tool, but the thing is on so tight it basically just breaks it. Then two fellow englishmen turn up heading east, they ask how we are but are reluctant to head over and join the roadside workshop. Eventually one of them comes over, they don’t have a chainwhip but have another lockring. So we try again, 6 guys at this point with wrenches, lockrings & rags everywhere, nobody can get the thing off. “Somebodies bloody swung on that thing is what they’ve done” said the other guy still stood across on his bike in a cornish accent.

I end up buying two fiber fix spokes from Tom, essentially a piece of string that hooks round and screws in to add tension and stability to the wheel. The English guys look on sheepishly and tell me I should head back to Eads and try fix it. Eads population, 12. Where am I going to take it, the invisible bike shop? I didn’t respond in this way but they are very different riders from us. They ride in matching monogram jerseys, they don’t have a single story to tell becuase they are too busy concentraing completing each map panel and all they did was moan about the wind in Wyoming. They would go back to Eads, not me, I need to get to the bike shop in Pueblo tomorrow so will push on towards Haswell tonight.

I’m not sure how much of it was pshycological, but having what felt like a full set of spokes on the back wheel gave me confidence and we made it to Haswell. Ordway was the original destination but this is what we were dealt, a basic city park without an open store in sight. We setup tent and ate the last few scraps of tuna and bread we were carrying, breakfast could be had in the morning when the store opens. Its 90 more miles to Pueblo, I think I can make it. I figure its a reasonable size city with most of the traffic from now on heading that way so if something does go wrong I will just have to stick my bike in somebodies pick-up and hitch in. To end the night I spot a jagged outline on the horizon, I tell the others. It was out first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains and it got us all ready for some exciting dreams in bed.

77.91 miles (Total: 2105.44) Avg Speed: 11.4mph Max Speed: 19.5mph

Now happy with his new front tyre, Joe is horrified to find his other tyre is now showing signs of bulge. Its a stronger walled tyre however and doesn’t look terrible so should last him to Pueblo. We leave our shoes outside the motel rooms because they smell rancid. Joe’s sorry start to the morning worsens when he finds one of his shoes is missing. A local guy tells him a dog that wanders round the motel probably took it. Cycling shoes are not cheap and he is not a happy chappy. We walk through some streets aimlessly to try find it without luck. He will have to ride in his sandals on his spd pedals, not ideal.

After eventually setting off we make steady progress through the endless wheat fields that have started to make the ride taxing mentally. Kansas is an endless stretch of crops and farmland, it can become a boring slog so I’ve started to rock more tuneage to provide a soundtrack to the scenery.

At a gas stop we come across Jerry, an old hippie riding from California to Illinois. Some kids in the last town snapped and broke his gears and cables. The guy was stuck in his lowest gear, didn’t seem like he had much money and was many many miles away from a bike shop. This is finally our chance to repay the cycling gods for the help we have had.

Me an Joe assess the situation, we can’t simply fix the gear by replacing his cable. The only option is to remove his front deraillier which will allow him to manually put his chain on to whatever crank he wants. This essentially gives him 3 options for gears. He tries it out and its a big improvement, he will be fine on his middle chainring right through Kansas. I give him my bike multi-tool, I can use Joe’s till we get to the next cycle store. He replies “Serious! Far-out man.”

We continue on knowing Terry is waiting for us in the next town from which we will push on to Sheridan Lake in Colorado. Just as we feel pleased about being able to help somebody else my rear wheel goes “Piiing!”. Another broke spoke, not again. Its rear driveside again, which means I need a wrench, lock-ring, and chain-whip. I considered picking these up when I broke my last one, but there is a reason nobody carries the tools, they are expensive, big and heavy. Added to that the fact the cassette which is the part that needs removing actually tightens slightly on every crank, so to remove one from a touring bike that has covered thousands of miles is tough by the roadside even with those tools.

The wheel remains fairly true and we make it to meet Terry without further problems. He tells us on arrival that he has had two flats today and is now out of spare tubes and riding on a patched one. Its as if our bikes no they are within 2 days of a full service in Pueblo, we will be limping or hitching our way at this rate.

We have another 30 miles to Sheridan Lake and I press on cautiously whilst Joe goes over the physics again of missing one spoke. We make it 15 miles without further issues and see the Colorado state sign, its a huge moment. Colorado signifies the start of the West for me and apart from passing through Denver airport I have never been. We are all excited about the states to come after hauling through the east and mid-west.

Right then it happened, “Ping!”. Another, two spokes down put a hole in Joe’s theories. I feared they may begin to drop like flies. Out of options, all I can do is ride the bike. The 15 miles to Sheridan Lake is like walking on wafer thin ice, to make matters worse, the roads in eastern Colorado have cracks every few feet which you can’t help but hit. I’m taking it very slowly and eventually we crawl into town just at sunset to find the pastor and his wife who invite us into the church to sleep for the night. They advise us to sleep in the nursery area as it has double padded floors and offer us full use of the kitchen and food.

I find a method online to replace spokes without removing the cassette, it involves bending an S-shape into the end of the spoke after cutting the head off. It seems good, in the morning I will take one of my spares over to the auto repair shop and see what they can do. For some reason despite our individual problems everybody is happy and laughing. Joe openly admits he wanted to encounter problems, it would be too easy otherwise!

55.55 miles (Total: 2027.53) Avg Speed: 11.2mph Max Speed: 18.3mph

I could barely contain my excitement this morning in anticipation of the England Germany game. What I then witnessed was a humiliating display with a defence reminiscent of Newcastle’s during our relegation season that left me empty and sore inside. Lampard, Barry, Johnson and Upson should be ashamed at how FAT and SLOW they were! World Cup over lets get back to whats important, the ride.

Joe was tense, his tyre was a great concern we can only see how far it gets him. The early riding he continued to live with the constant thud from the patch that shocked his shoulders on each revolution. Starting late after the game and riding slowly meant we were in for a long day. Terry had dropped by the motel early but pressed on as usual to beat the heat. He has worked and lived out in the desert of Australia but seems to struggle with it more than we do.

We stopped regularly to check how it was holding up, bad news. The patch didn’t look to bad but other areas had worn through and scratched the tube causing it to leak. Joe put a new tube in using his dollar bill trick between tube and tyre to provide extra insurance. Just as I’m offering to setup up Joe Meyer Needs A Tyre Dot Com a white pick up pulls up alongside asking if were ok. Joe sheepishly replies he needs a new tyre. The guys name was Rod and they exchange numbers before he drove away saying he might be able to help. Potential saviour, “Options” as Joe likes to say.

We stop for lunch in Dighton, another Frigid Cream lunch. Again the diet may seem disgusting to you, but when your riding all day your pretty much hungry the second you get back on the bike. Joe gets a call from Rod confirming tyre size and he again makes no promises but its sounding good, he will call back again soon.

As we approach Scott City Joe gets another call, its Rod. “I’ve got you a tyre, meet me at the Lazy R Motel. Joe has a smile as wide as Kansas and he suddenly ignores the thump he has lived with all day and we power into town. Rod is stood outside waiting, he gives Joe a tyre from his bike that he drove to Denver to pick up in his car. Its the exact same tyre Joe has too, incredible.

Terry has us a room booked across the street and Rod comes over to join us. Terry had tried to buy beer but when he presented it at the counter was told you weren’t allowed to buy alcohol on a sunday! Rod had another trick up his sleeve, he slipped out and returned in seconds with a crate of Corona. Turns out Rod is from South Carolina and is just up here helping out with the wheat harvest. He’s a keen biker who is hoping to ride his bike back home once he has finished.

We all went out to dinner and Rod covered the bill insisting his boss had been paying for his all week. He claims we have inspired him to do the ride which he was still unsure of. We all hope he does.