Day 51: Vernal, Utah: "Cowboys and Dinosaurs"

Our day off in Steamboat Springs gave me a chance to catch up on some work and give myself a little peace of mind, which has been very handy for the last few days. After the last blog entry I stocked up on some bike stuff, namely tires and degreaser, and simultaneously admired the Orange Peel, the local bike shop, a modest establishment in a wild teepee-shaped building. After that I got a grip on my things and sent a handful of items home in the post to make room in my bag. It was tough. A few of the women-folk were on hand to make sure I was thorough, and when I couldn't bare to part with something they were unforgiving in their insistence. It's allowed me to have to worry about less Stuff, which is awesome, since a reason I wanted to do Bike & Build in the first place was to get over my pack-rat tendencies and learn how to live a simpler lifestyle.

I can only be responsible for so long, though. After I made my trip to the post-office the team had dinner and the real day off finally began with a trip to Steamboat's fabled Strawberry Hot Springs, famous for their luxurious swimming pools and "clothing-optional" policy after dark. Several of us hopped in the van and Sharif ferried us over the mountains. One thing that I found remarkable of Strawberry Hot Springs was how secluded it was. The roads leading to it were poorly paved at best, and took a good 20 to 30 minutes to traverse. We listened to Beatles songs as we admired the afternoon turning to dusk along the edge of the aspen-covered mountains. A truly beautiful, little-disturbed piece of nature. When we finally arrived at the Hot Springs we were greeted by a manager who, based on the delivery of the spiel he gave us, had been working there for at least four decades. After being warned to not sneak in bottles, or leave our stuff unattended for college students to steal, we frolicked down to the waters.

At Strawberry the Hot Springs meet up with a cold stream of melt water. These pools mingle to provide a wide selection of temperatures ranging from boiling hot to freezing cold. It was a facility that rewarded exploration and experimentation. The pools themselves were fit from local stones, and the water, fresh from the stream, was dark green from the sulpher and other minerals. Lining up on an especially cozy piece of stone wall, I threw my arms over the side, kicked my head back, and let the water work its magic. I calem my mind, reflected on the trip, and allowed myself, after a day of errands, to let the day off catch up with me. We mingled and played in the pools well into the sunset, and several of us got a kick from alternating between the hottest pool and the coldest. I've been told this method gets the most blood pumping to your muscles and helps clear the toxins out of your body. However it worked, I felt pure, refreshed, and invigorated, my muscles totally cleansed after 2000+ miles of hard work.

Lo and behold just around sunset the clothing-optional policy came into effect. A man who was easily 60 years old came running from the edge of the pools, naked as a jay-bird, and cannon-balled into the warmest one. Not so much out of prudeness but out of readiness to sleep a handful of the team strolled back to the van for the journey back to our church. Sidenote: Fleet Foxes is pretty much the ideal music for driving through a forest at night. The echoes and harmonies add to the eeriness of the scenery in a very beautiful way.

I crashed on the couch I claimed at the beginning of our stay in Steamboat and fell asleep listening to a mix on my iPod. Sleep was absolutely grand. In fact, perhaps too grand, because I found myself pulled right out of REM sleep the next morning and couldn't have felt groggier if I tried.

Since the previous day had been spent being responsible I was pretty much the first person ready to roll out of Steamboat and on to Maybell. I hopped on a gravy train with Jen, Kathryn and Heather but wound up being to antsy to ride at their speed. Fortunately, the Fast People came right by as this thought occurred to me, and I excitedly latched on to them, making a game out of keeping up with them.

The thing about it is if I wasn't much of a cyclist before, I am out of sheer necessity, and it's becoming more rewarding to push myself. I've grown a lot on this trip for sure, but I fear becoming complacent. As soon as I do, it means I've stopped growing, which means I find myself often these days proactively pushing myself out of my comfort zone.That morning I did my best to keep up with the Fasties, and did a good job with it for the most part. Something that really blows me away concerning Mark's technique is the fact that he in fact *speeds up* when he hits hills. Instead of kicking back he makes an effort to climb as fast as possible, which took the breath out of me to say the least. I lasted for about 20 miles with them before I felt the need to stretch, so I stopped to do that and just hopped on with the next train to roll through, which was still traveling at a healthy pace and full of folks that I don't ride with often.

We hit up lunch in a ghost town and I removed my base layers, now that we were getting out of the mountains and the sun was finally starting to warm up the land. The afternoon, from the standpoint of scenery, was much the same. It was obvious that we were on the other side of the Colorado Rockies at this stage, and it was starting to look a lot more like Western Kansas, with its rolling green pastures and big sky. About 4 miles outside of Maybell Raleigh and Andy flagged a few more of us down for a swim in the Yampa River and, warm as it was at that time, we happily obliged. So we played in the mountain water, skipping stones, splashing around, cracking jokes, and marveling at the fact that anything, let alone crabs, could live in those cold Yampa waters.

Crossing that river really did radically change the scenery almost instantly as well. Out of no where, we were in a Sergio Leone film, and Jen and I rode together to Maybell, fantasizing about all the Western cliches we might be lucky enough to come across. We hoped for a shoot-out, an Indian raid, or at least a saloon.

That night we made our home in the town of Maybell, population 70. It featured a Sinclair station, which we hit up for Gatorade, and a modest diner called Lou's, where a sweet old waitress served me the most epic post-ride meal ever: a local, grass-fed rib eye, fries, texas toast, and a root beer float. Afterwards we meandered to our campsite and I slept for 2 hours in the sun.

I was only woken abruptly later on to the talk of rain possibly coming in. Seeing that everyone's stuff was strewn about the campsite, and that everyone was off doing their own thing, and that there was in fact an omninous looking cloud rolling in from the West, I sprang up and got to work securing the camp for the down pour. Joe and I tried to make a lean-to for the team coking dinner. It last all of 5 minutes due to the duct tape failing under the immense power of the desert wind, but it was worth a try. Instead we threw as many things, and then as much of Dinner Crew, into the trailer as possible and then used the tarps to cover the bikes. At this stage the wind was getting wild, and it took 5 of us just to hold the tarp down over the bikes long enough to bungee it to the trees, fence, rocks, playground equipment, and bikes themselves.

We all migrated over to the bathrooms to take shelter from the wind and cold, and the team did, in fact, eat all of dinner in the women's room of this campsite. Dinner was laid out in pots over the sinks and, all lined up with plates in hand, we worked past the stalls and filled up on hearty bowls of Leftover Stew, which was a serious adventure in itself. Dinner Crew, in an effort to clear the coolers, had basically poured everything canned into one pot. There were peas, carrots, corn, potatoes, noodles, onions, peppers, and chicken breast to name only a handful of the ingredients. Derrick insisted on adding in yellow and dijon mustard for flavor. It was certainly...different, but surprisingly good. Really at this stage we're pleased to get any calories we can. We all ate our fill under the bathroom awning. A park ranger came by and told us it rarely ever rains in the desert. Just our luck.

After the rain cleared and we had our fill we all climbed in our tents at hit the hay. We all expected a cold night and a long day today, and really, there was nothing that excited us all more than the idea of sleep.

I did in fact sleep in a tent this time and, while I'm partially disappointed in myself for not braving the elements, I must admit that I slept like a baby in relation to Kremmling. Things like a dry floor and human body heat do wonders for my sleep cycle. It made getting out of bed this morning almost impossible, but it's what we do. I have to move with the current.

this morning we hopped out of bed at 5am. Well, I say that, but it took a good 15 minutes of playing "just one more minute" with my brain before I finally hopped out to face the day. We dressed in the heated bathrooms, had cold bagels and peanut butter for breakfast, and were ready to bounce by 7.

Today was a long day at 91 miles, but it wa *stunningly* beautiful. The area along the Utah-Colorado border is literally exactly like the backdrop of a Clint Eastwood movie, and I soaked in the sights and sounds of the desert, which is rare for me indeed. Back East I'm used to everything in the summer being a very lush green, which is beautiful in its own right, but the gradient of colors out here is spectacular. The soil, mostly sand, is a deep golden hue, and it peers out of the fields and hills from among the thickets of desert shrubs, which range from a deep blue-green to purple when their leaves have dried away. Off in the distance, seemingly no matter where you are, are stunning mountain ridges, their layers exposed to the elements and the history of the valley tucked away among the lines of gray and burnt orange. The ridges cut across a wide blue sky, filled with lazy clouds. The dryness leaves everything looking clean, almost bleached in color, and the quiet of it is probably exactly what made cowboys so stoic. I may or may not have whistled the Good, The Bad, and The Ugly theme a few times, as I soaked in the sights, riding solo, fantasizing about being the cowboy modern society would never let me be.

First lunch was right along the road, overlooking a vast desert plain which ended, abruptly, with a beautiful red ridge, standing in opposition like a wall, against what I'm uncertain. The scene was further enhanced by Sharif's selection of Rodrigo y Gabriela, a spanish guitar duo with immense talent. After I was satisfied with my meal I rode out alone, inspired by the music, wishing the rest of the team a safe journey and, as I rode out into the West, yipping and firing an imaginary gun into the air. Today was a great day to solo and I enjoyed it for an extended period of time. Eventually the cold started to wear off so I removed my layers, and was caught by Andy and Kristen, but I was ready for company at that stage. Kristen and I discussed "Ishmael", a book she and Jen insisted I start reading back in Steamboat. without giving to much away I will say that I've appreciated it deeply for its presentation, its frank criticism of civilization, and the author's earnest desire to enlighten readers and inspire people to save the world. It made for a good talk along the road at the very least.

Around this time we started seeing signs for the Dinosaur National Monument, which had been on the team's mind all morning. Apparently we are biking right through fossil central, and the surrounding towns ejoy banking on these finds. there is, in fact, a Dinosaur, Colorado right on the border and Jesse and I got great pictures of the mega-cheesy dino-sculptures in town, right of "Brontosaurus Boulevard" if I'm not mistaken. We stopped by the Dino-Monument information center and were crushed to learn that the park's museum was closed because it was, ironically enough, built on unsturdy Earth which eventually caused the entire building to collapse. Jesse, who had been dreaming of seeing this museum since the age of 3, was especially crushed, but we got good pictures.

Moving on we enjoyed lunch number 2 right at the border into Utah. Their state sign wins. It has an Allosaur imposed over the phrase "Welcome to Utah", and we have an amazing picture of Derrick riding the Allosaur wearing an American flag cape.

Crossing the border into Utah I noticed right away that it seemed devoid of color in relation to Colorado. the scenery was still stunning, but everything seems just more bright and white out here. Beautiful nonetheless, in that surreal Georgia O'Keefe sort of way. I definitely got a kick out of the dried-out giant rock formations jetting out of the sand like shark-fins.

And so we worked through the desert into Vernal, the self-titled "Dinosaur Capitol of the World". A 30-foot tall cartoonish pink brontosaur with moving eyes greets you as you roll into town, which is pretty great, and there were advertisements for the Dinosaur Rodeo all over town today, though sadly we were too exhausted and underprepared to check into it, and we've just enjoyed a quiet evening at the church.

It's late now and I should be asleep. We bike Flaming Gorge tomorrow! It's supposed to be very tough but very, very pretty. I'm excited as always. I'm just livin' the dream out here.