Day 49: Steamboat Springs, Colorado: "Boundaires of Life"

A lot of life has been lived between Boulder and Steamboat Springs, dear readers. We've cut through the mighty Rockies and I'm a new man. There's much to discuss. I'm certain you'll understand if this entry is...immense.

Our morning out of Boulder marked a major milestone. Leaving the rolling fields of America's Heartland behind us, it was time to finally start climbing the Rockies, and roll across the ceiling of America. We were all naturally a little nervous. No matter how much prep work you do you're never going to be *entirely* ready to cross these mountains. But we were all very excited. The Flatirons, looming over our heads, would be made our playground by the day's end.

Aunt Kate and Uncle Dave were kind enough to not only wake up early to see me off, but prepared an AMAZING lunch for the entire team, to give us warrior's strength for the day ahead. Faces lit up with excitement at the idea that we would get a break from peanut butter to enjoy, among other things, turkey, roast beef, pesto, roasted vegetables, and ridiculously good bread. We loaded it all in the trailer, did our morning routine of bike-cleaning, cheering, and '80s dancing, and then hopped on the bikes before anyone had the time to think of what was about to happen. Jesse and I rolled out of town together and said our goodbyes to Boulder, the indomitable mountain of granola, and proceeded Westward and upward.

My first great surprise of the day was seeing Kate and Dave one more time. They had parked the van right at the foot of the mountain to wish one final round of good luck. Hugs were exchanged and I left them with a little bit of my sweat as a memento. I then kicked Fritzelicious into gear and began the climb, undoubtedly looking a little wild and crazy, hooting and hollering as I hammered up the hill.

Three and a half states of Flat had made my legs grow complacent. To my muscles mountain climbing was some antiquated concern from ages past. And then out of nowhere we cut into the Rockies?! They were more than a little...upset. I kept going, though, breaking when I needed to and focusing on working one muscle group at a time: push with the right, push with the left, pull with the right, pull with the left.

By mile 10 I was already exhausted, but the view was nothing short of absolutely breathtaking as we climbed. The morning sun reflected off the red sandstone to fill the entire countryside with a warm orange glow. The scent of pine was in the air. Canyon-like walls of carved rock jetted up on wither side. Flowers of blue and yellow were strewn along the roadside. I soaked in the fresh air and admire how close I was to the clouds. Tired, but reminded in an instant of what makes a good climb so rewarding.

And it was like that for the next 10 miles or so. I slowly but surely pushed up, passing the occasional mountain town and enjoying the scenery. I was alone most of that morning, and enjoyed the solitude and quiet splendor of these mighty mighty mountains. And I knew this was only the beginning, the "footmountains", if one will allow. I was just cutting in and already mesmerized.

Right before the top of the second climb which would put us on Peak to Peak Road I stopped and saw a woman on the side of the road with her bike flipped over. I asked if she needed help and as it turns out she needed a lot. Turns out her tire was flat and she had no idea how to change her tube. Turns out I was more than qualified to help with that.

Oh how the tables have turned.

A mere 50 feet afterwards I was on Peak to Peak. The road flattened out and I felt great about life as I coasted for the first time in about 2 hours. Just around the corner was lunch and I went to town on the spread that Kate and Dave made for us. Two sandwiches, both impressive in their own right, along with fresh cantelope, hard-boiled eggs, and some Gatorade to wash it all down. Those of us at the lunch stop gushed over the meal and the scenery. We were really earning it all that day.

From lunch the ride was much easier. Peak to Peak is an awesome road, featuring just about every iconic image of Colorado you can imagine. Huge red rock walls, colorful flowers, eagles overhead, sun-soaked valleys off to the side and, off in the distance, the first of the serious mountains, where the peaks are bare and covered in a permanent blanket of snow.

Rolling through a town along the road we saw another group of college-aged bikers and naturally stopped to see what the deal was. As it turns out there's another cross-country biking NPO, 4K for Cancer, and one of their routes was to overlap with ours for the next few days. I rode for a while with an older member of their team named Abhishek, who studied economics at Johns Hopkins and was going to start his first classes as a fledgling professor in the fall. We swapped stories and information about our programs and routes, and it was fascinating to hear about another group of go-getter college kids biking around the country to do some good. It was also wild imagining how different and similar thigns would be if, say, I'd discovered 4K instead of Bike & Build. And of course that got me thinking about fate. But I'm getting ahead of myself a little bit.

The ride along Peak to Peak ended in the most fun descent of the entire trip; about 5 miles of totally unbroken downhill, leading into Estes Park, the town we'd settle in for the night. Rolling out of the mountains and into that valley I was, for like the hundredth time that day, feeling great about life, soaring down that mountain and allowing the view of the mountains west of Estes Park to take my breath away. Still riding solo, I rolled to our host sight, which was about 3 miles away from the actual town.

I didn't know what to make of Eagle Rock school at first. For starters, our hosts told us that once we actually arrived on campus, we were not to leave the gym we were sleeping in. The ride in itself also had this feeling of seclusion and isolation. Their driveway alone was a good mile and a half, over foothill and along a ridge which overlooked a stunning desert valley and, of course, Eagle's Rock itself, a majestic pillar of sandstone which seemed to stand in the sunlight almost in defiance against the elements and their erosive forces. When I finally caught my first glimpses of the school things started making more sense. There were buildings which were obviously intended to be dorms, though they were much cozier-looking than the word "dorm" implies. In the gym where we were to stay was a very impressive rock-wall, several colorful murals, and, my personal favorite part, a wall of tiles which, from what I could tell, was a sort of graduation board. Each individual student painted/decorated their own tile and it was placed into the wall, creating a mosaic of hopes and dreams, as it were. I started picking up good vibrations from the place, and, as an aspiring teacher, I hoped to learn more when we met our hosts at dinner.

The teacher who ate with us, Ryan, didn't disappoint in the least. He was a friendly-looking twenty something with a pony tail, chacos, and a Bon Iver shirt, i.e., someone I could easily get along with. When we started asking questions about the school Ryan opened up and explained Eagle Rock to us, and it's all kinds of good. As it turns out the school is funded by Honda (yes, the car company), and their mission is to provide a free, high-quality education for engaged-but-troubled students. The students there have fantastic potential but for whatever reason, be it financial, psychological, behavioral, etc., they are unable to get a sufficient high school education where they live. Many of them are held back or drop out, and Eagle Rock makes it their mission to help them finish with a high school degree. Many go off to college, and all are put through a curriculum which stresses developing the students as good citizens. There are traditional classes taught alongside a service learning curriculum, as well as any random class a teacher might want to give. For example, Ryan teaches a class on gardening.

So, to sum it up, small, engaged community. Alternative curriculum with a stress on service and citizenship. Offered for free to students in need. And it's in Colorado.

You might be thinking "Will, this sounds perfect for you!" and you are not alone in this thinking. The entire team is convinced at this point that I was, on some level, meant to find Eagle Rock, and I'm excited enough to entertain this idea. I probed Ryan for information on their fellowship program and certainly plan to keep it on the radar. The future is so exciting!

There was much to think about that night but I knew sleep was important. That next day promised to be the most brutal of the entire trip. That day, however, wound up being one of the best of my very life. Gather round and I'll tell you the tale:

So I reluctantly rolled out of bed and stuffed my face full of leftover burritos and granola. The morning conversations were a mix of anxiety and excitement for the ride, and anticipation for the Prom which the team had been planning, which would be waiting for us on the other side. Knowing I needed something to look forward to and feeling the timing was perfect I snuck off, plucked a mountain flower, and busted out a poem I wrote in front of the whole group, asking Kristen, consistently recognized as the most adorable and nice girl on the team, to be my prom date.

Before I reprint my poem I want you to understand what I was competing with. The team went all out. Sharif wrote a giant note in chalk on our ride to St. Francis for Heather, complete with the "Check yes or no". Britt asked the team to sing "Sweet Caroline" to Caroline. Sarah got asked out right as we crossed into her home state. Noah picked a bouquet of flowers and left it next to Emily's bike. This was my competition, and so I knew if I was going to ask someone to prom, I'd have to make it good or just go stag. So I did some brain massaging. I sat down with my notebook, channeled the medal-winning writer Will Paradis of my highschool years, and produced this...

"You're attention please, Ms. Kristen Dyke,
Before you leave to ride your bike,
I have a very modest request
An my sincere hope is that you'll say yes.
As I'm sure you're well aware
The scent of Prom is in the air!
Tonight we'll dance and get our thrills
With outfits purchased from Good Will.
(Team laughed here)
And with the whole team in a fuss
It's sure to be ridiculous.
So, I know I'm asking late
But, to be blunt, I need a date.
(Team laughed here)
And you'd be a fine date, it's easy to see
You're fun and cute and super sweet,
And though it might seem like I'm rolling the dice,
You won't reject me because you're too nice.
(Big laugh from the team here)
So I know this poem's a little dumb,
But I'll make up for it by being fun
And so I ask, Ms. Kristen Dyke
Will you be my date tonight?"

Thunderous applause from the women-folk of the team. Derrick compared the move to something Michael Buble would do. Kristen happily said yes. It was great for the ego.

And then the ride. This was the gist of our ride to Granby: We would wake up at 5, pack up, roll out, and work into the Rocky Mountain National Park. We would then head west and follow Trail Ridge road, the highest continually paved road in the entire United States. Our climb would get steeper and steeper until it peaked at approximately 12,500 feet above sea-level, and we would then coast down the mountain into Granby. 70 miles, about 4500 feet of mountain to climb, and the weather report said the peaks were likely to have tempertures as low as 40 degrees.

Best believe I was terrified, and I woke up that morning with my head spinning. Was I gonna make it? It had the promise of being one of the hardest things I've done in my entire life. but the beauty of being on Bike and Build is that we have no time for hesitation. You wake up, you pack up, you eat and then you ride before you allow yourself the chance to call it quits. I knew I had to do it, and I knew that, no matter the outcome, I would be proud if I just tried my hardest.

The morning consisted of 20 miles of straight ascension. It was tough, but the ride was actually much easier than that to Estes Park. My muscles were beginning to remember how to climb. I was mingling with good friends and making pans with my prom date. And the scenery was stunning. It's definitely not just coincidence that the native Americans took such a liking to these mountains. They pulsate with the raw power and energy of the Earth, and all the colors, the yellow grass, the red and gray stone, the green trees and white snow, the blue sky, mingles in a way so beautiful that it borders on the surreal. With all this in consideration instead of feeling winded I felt invigorated, and worked my way up the trail ridge, past the snow line, up where the winds whipped. Soon enough we past a sign that marked us being 2 miles over sea level. We stopped, took pictures, and chatted it up with a park ranger named Don who bragged about having the most beautiful office in the country. I have to agree. We turned a corner and finally saw the peak, still about 2000 more feet of climbing. Up there the wind started beating down on us and, unfortunately, while Trail Ridge is supposed to be the highest continually paved road in America, it was under construction, so the roads were rough and the dust blasted in our faces. I was determined at this stage, though. I was 10500 feet above sea level, what was another 2000? I gritted my teeth, yelped and hollered, and pushed myself up as the Fourth of July traffic whizzed past me effortlessly. I biked past a herd of elk and admired them as the powerful animals they are. 300 feet from the top Sharif was dancing on the hill to the right of me, banging the team drum and yelping like a native American shaman. The breathtaking splendor of the distant peaks all around me kept my spirits high and, cresting that peak, finally, I felt a surge of accomplishment rarely experienced before.

I stopped and looked all around me, admiring the Rockies. They truly are one of the most awe-inspiring sights in nature, their scope, size and splendor radiating the power of the Earth itself. I reflected on this power, on the glory of these mountains, and then on the fact that I'd conquered one. I can't describe the transformative effect this has had on me. I've never felt so proud of myself in my life. With enough time and determination I can, in fact, move a mountain under my wheels. I am on the same level as these mighty giants. I am a mountain. A mountain man.

Dwelling on these thoughts I started the coast back down to Earth, and rolled into the lunch stop, about 500 feet below me, with so much emotional energy that all i could do was yell for about five minutes. I jumped off my bike, faced the peaks, and, despite the thin air, roared a mighty haka. We danced to the music from the van. The Killers, Sandstorm, "Take On Me", and a rendition of the Beatles "Let It Be" that reduced my to tears of pure joy. I had broken through a boundary, one placed there by my own mind, and one torn down by my very spirit. I was literally higher than the edge of life itself as it's known on our planet. I felt mighty.

And when I rolled down I belted Jimi Hendrix's "Voodoo Chile" as the wind whipped past me and I effortlessly flirted with forty mph

"Well I'm standin' next to a mountain
I'll chop it down with the edge of my hand"

Riding high on the day's accomplishments our night in Granby was nothing short of epic. Prom was one giant hilarious blur of tacky outfits, Gatorade, and giddiness. At one stage we all took the blinkers off of our bikes, went up on on the school stage, and all stepped behind the curtain where they stored all the gym mats during the summer. With our blinkers making a mind-numbing strobe effect the whole team bounced around the mats to Lady Gaga and Flo-rida. All of us were exhausted by midnight thanks to our biological clocks. The night ended with some slow-dancing to Bob Marley and then Kristen and I took our sleeping bags outside to admire the stars and celebrate the day. Truly a Day. One of the most challenging, rewarding, and memorable days of my entire life.

We all slept in 'til 11. Prom will take that our of you, for starters, but we also only had a 26 mile ride, our shortest of the entire trip. Jeff, my old counselor, joined up with us for the ride and brought his amazing mountable video camera to get shots of the ride and interviews from the team. The ride to Kremmling was all downhill. There was admittedly a nasty headwind but it was, pardon the pun, a breeze in relation to Trail Ridge.

And Kremmling, population 1200, is where we spent the Fourth of July. We camped (our first time on the entire trip) outside of town at a trailer park, where I met a 65 year old man named Tom who was actually also on a cross-country biking trip with his wife. I hope I'm that awesome when I'm 65. We strolled downtown at around 9 and the town put on a great fireworks show, shooting enough off the cliffs to the north of town to light up the entire town in a sea of colors. The tream played with sparklers, huddled in the cold, and as I watched the fireworks I realized I've never been more proud to be an American. I'm a witness to the generosity of these people, the stunning beauty of the countryside, and the amazing things people do here every day. So Happy Birthday, America.

After a quick stop at the gas station for late-night post-fireworks snacks we walked bak to the rv park and I, once again, camped out under the stars. There was frost on my pillow the next morning but I felt free, refreshed, and pleased with life in general.

Yesterday's ride across Rabbit Ears Trail was as beautiful as the rest of Colorado, and I surprised myself with how nonchalantly I climbed and descended that mountain, but it was only a 1000-foot climb or so. No big deal.

And today we're in Steamboat Springs, our base of operations of our second day off. I'll save all that we've done here so far for the next blog update. For now I'm going to knock back a cup of Joe and then go exploring. I've an insatiable appetite for adventure after all we've gotten up to, and it's time for a little R&R on my terms.