Karen McKee and I departed on July 12. The plan was to get to Colorado early so we could get in some mountain training. We arrived in Colorado on July 13 and set up camp at Golden Canyon State Park just west of Denver. Our first ride in Colorado was short (about 15 miles) but included a 3-mile stretch of 19% grade. We kept it short because the next day we were going to tackle Mount Evans. Mount Evans is a 14126ft peak, that is the highest paved road in the United States. The starting elevation is around 7,000 ft. and the climb is 27.5 miles to the top. Most days you can not even make it to the top because of unpredictable weather. July 14 looked like it was going to be a great day to tackle Mount Evans. We arrived at the starting point early. There was a local cyclist there who would join us for our trek to the top. He had been out the day before, but was forced to turn around because of bad weather. He gave us some pointers on dress and off we went. After the first 13 miles we re-grouped at Echo Lake and decided it was clear enough to try for the top. The first 13 miles was hard enough but the next 14.5 miles would prove to be a real challenge. We were already starting to shiver but as long as we were going up we could stay warm. Karen and our cycling friend immediately opened a gap and I fell off the back. I had one goal and that was to make to the top so I settled into a comfortable rhythm and watch as they disappeared around the corner and became smaller and smaller each time they reappeared. Soon we reached the tree line and then the snow line, it would drizzle and then the sun would shine and each mile we rode it got colder and colder. As we neared the top Karen and the other cyclist looked like ants scaling the next mountain range. By now the terrain had under gone a dramatic change there was not much more than bare rocks, shear cliffs and switchback after switchback. When I was 1/2 mile from the top I met Karen coming down, she turned around and rode with me to the top. I stopped long enough to put on my windbreaker and look at the benchmark (14,126).

As we headed down I immediately realized that we were under-dressed. The road was wet, the wind was in our faces and the temperature was 42 degrees. What were beautiful mountain roads on the way up turned into single track on the way down. I struggled with both brakes applied to keep my speed down as I hugged the centerline. There were no guardrails and riding anywhere near the side of the road would give an Albatross vertigo. Besides I was shivering uncontrollably and my hands were so numb that I had to check every five seconds to make sure my fingers were still on the brakes. Karen was fairing no better she was riding ahead of me and had to stop every so often or risk losing control of her body and bike. We rode this way in and out of rain until we reached Echo Lake about half way down. At this point it started to warm up a bit and we regained some control over our bodies. The remaining 13 miles was very cold but bearable to a point that it was almost fun. Ten minutes after we had reached the bottom our body temperatures were back to normal but the memory of the extreme conditions and the beauty of the mountain will stay with us for a long time to come. As we headed out of Idaho Springs to Telluride we both agreed that Mount Evans was probably the toughest ride we had ever done. But in a sense it was also one of the best rides.

We camped overnight somewhere in central Colorado, got up early and arrived in Telluride Friday morning. As we were driving into town we saw Gary Mesnard heading out for a ride. We located the campgrounds, got settled in and headed out for a ride. Since the BCT would take us Northwest out of Telluride we decided to ride to the Southwest towards a town called Rico. It was a very challenging ride but since we were still tired from Mount Evans we did not go very far. By the time we got back to the campsite we had logged 30 tough miles. We saw Gary coming back from his ride and we decided to go together to pick up Dave Komives at the airport. When we got to the airport Gerry Davis was there, all we lacked was Dave. His plane was a 1/2 hr. late, but we finally managed to round up Dave and his luggage and head back to Telluride. It was late in the evening and raining. Don’t ever let anybody tell you that Colorado is high and dry. Dave checked into his condo (that's Dave's idea of camping) and we all went out to get a bite to eat and a few beers.

Saturday July 17th we got up early got a bite to eat and headed out to Lizard Head Pass. Karen, Gary and myself felt fine but Gerry and Dave were not feeling to good. Dave was not acclimated to the altitude and Gerry had not recovered from his Portland training. Gerry and Dave turned around and we head out to Lizard Head Pass (10,222). When we got back we all got cleaned up and head to the High School to sign in and get our packages for the tour. We all went out for one last night on the town before the real pain started on Sunday.

Day 1 looked to be an easy day, but as we were to find out there are no easy days in the mountains. We started with a 15-mile descent into Placerville. The road was in bad shape so we had to keep our speed low and our eyes glued to the road. Gary had a problem with his front wheel vibrating and almost lost control at 30 plus mph. The first accent was 2,000 ft. over 13 miles to the Dallas Divide. Karen, Dave and myself settled into a pace that we all felt comfortable with and we rode to the top together. Gerry and Gary were somewhere behind us. The descent was great, but since we did not know the road conditions we kept our speed in the middle to high 40's. There was a little flat section where we picked up 6 or 8 other riders, but the last 6 miles were uphill and after about a mile into the uphill it was Karen, Dave and myself again. Dave cranked it up towards the top and we all finished close together, huffing and puffing as we entered the camp.

The campsite was a pretty location with a shear rock cliff rising up behind us and tall grass and trees everywhere. Our first order of business was to secure a campsite for everyone. After a little discussion we finally settled on a spot and started looking for our bags. One person had to stay at the camp site at all times until the tents were up to make sure nobody tried to steal our spot. Not only do the first people in get the best campsites; they also get to shower without having to wait in line. By the time we got our tents up the showers line was 20 to 30 people deep, we would not get to shower for another 8 hrs.

The campsite was 2 miles from town and although they had a shuttle running every 1/2 hr., we decided to walk to town to help loosen up the legs. The town of Ouray is about twice the size of Grand Rapids. They are about 6 or 8 restaurants and about the same number of bars. As we walked around, in no particular hurry, looking for a place to eat the town was slowly filling up. There were 1,600 cyclist plus volunteers and personal sags. By the time we decided on a place to eat it was almost too late. Half the menu items had been scratched through because they had run out food. As we found out later nobody from BTC had notified the town that we were coming and they were not prepared. It was like a scene out of a movie. The locust descend from the sky and in a matter of hours the wheat fields for as far as the eye can see are stripped clean. We finished the day off with a few beers and some pool at one of the pubs. As we headed back to the campsite our thoughts were on tomorrow's ride, the toughest ride of the tour. We made it back to the camp just in time to duck into our tents and listen to the rain fall all night long.

Day 2 the rain had finally stopped, but everything was soaked. We trampled through the mud and grass and got everything rolled up and loaded on the trucks. By the time we were ready to roll at 6:30 a.m. half the campsite was empty. But we knew the score now, we would have to ride hard and fast to claim the best campsite, shower and eat before the locusts got to the next town. We figured to fare well on this ride because it was long and tough and we had no intentions of going at a touring pace. What we did not figure was the hellish weather we were heading into. We were all dressed the same, short pants and arm warmers to start and wind breakers stuffed in our jerseys. Gary had left earlier and when Karen, Dave, Gerry and myself headed out of town it looked like it was going to be a good day.

The first 14 miles was a climb from 7,600 ft. to 11,008 ft. to Red Mountain Pass, the 2nd highest Pass on the Tour. Gerry dropped off early and we settled into a fast pace, taking turns at the front. We were passing people at a furious pace. It was really funny watching the guys react to having a girl pass them. They would jump on our wheel for about a 100 yards and then fade off into the distance. This scenario would repeat itself dozens of times over the rest of the Tour with the same results. I was felling pretty good, so with about 3 miles to go I picked up the pace and reached the top a little in front of Dave and Karen. We stopped long enough to regroup, put on our wind breakers and grab a bite to eat. Before we headed down I checked my computer; we had covered the 14 miles in 1:26 at a pace of 10.2 mph.

It was 39 degrees when we started our descent into Silverton. The rain started not long after we started our descent and by the time we covered the 10 miles to Silverton we were soak and shivering uncontrollably. We pulled into a store to warm up and discuss our game plan for the next 50 miles. Dave immediately went to the back of the store and bought the last 3 pairs of cotton work gloves and a jar of Vaseline. As we were smearing Vaseline on our legs I looked over to Karen to see how she was doing. Her lips were purple and she was still shivering. She wanted to bag the ride and Dave was leaning in that direction, but I wanted to go on. We had 2 more major passes in front of us and I figured as long as we were going uphill we could stay warm. I thought maybe the rain would stop and it would turn out to be a nice day. As we were preparing to leave the store Gerry rides up, makes it to the doorway and collapses in a mound of shivering flesh. Not only is he going to bag that day, he is talking about bagging the whole Tour. We all felt bad for Gerry, but there was nothing we could do. So we left him in the warmth of the store and headed out for the next pass.

The next Pass was Molas Divide (10,910). It covered 6 miles at an altitude gain of about 2,000ft. It was not long before we were feeling better, but the worst was yet too come. As we climbed we passed fewer and fewer riders. The rain was getting worse and it began to thunder. We buzzed passed the next Aid Station at the top of Molas Divide and headed downhill again. We were just about half when we reached the start of the last climb, Coal Bank Pass (10,600). By now not even the effort of a 3-mile climb could keep us warm. Karen and Dave forged ahead and made it to the top of the Pass well in front of me. Karen stopped to see if she could get a sag into Durango and was told that all the sags were busy shuttling people up the first Pass. I was too cold to stop so I buzzed pass the Aid Station.

The last 30 miles into Durango were downhill into, at times, a driving rain. It was not long before Dave caught up with me and we rode most of the rest of the way together. We did not see Karen again until we were about a mile from the campsite. We saw this lone figure walking on side of the road, as we got closer we realized it was Karen. She had just about given up hope when she decided to stick her thumb out as she was riding downhill. Luck was on her side; she immediately hitched a ride and rode in relative comfort for 12 miles into town. But no sooner had she got back on her bike to cover the last couple of miles than she got a flat (payback for sagging). That is where we crossed her path again. Nobody was in any condition to change a flat. We were all completely spent and frozen. I hadn't eaten much and was ready to collapse. While I tried to get something to eat, Karen managed to get her tire disassembled but was have trouble getting it back together. Dave to the rescue, just as Karen was ready give up and walk the last mile, Dave with a burst of energy managed to get the tire fixed. We rode the last mile to the campsite together.

When we reached the campsite there was hardly anybody there. We would later learn that we had just made it through the passes before the State Police had closed all the passes to bicycle traffic. Most of the people had to be sagged in from Silverton. We heard that 100 out of 1600 people finished that stage. Gerry was sagged in and Gary made it looking rather fresh, but he was the only one dressed for the conditions.

We did get the best campsite, a warm shower and something to eat before the locusts arrived. But we spent most of the rest of the day at the laundromat washing and drying our clothes. They had been unloaded and left to sit in the rain for hours. We reviewed Day 3 ride, a relatively easy 55 miles from Durango to Pagosa Springs. As we went to bed under perfect skies we all hoped for better weather for Day 3.

Day 3 was cold but the skies were perfect. The course looked like an easy ride, but after Day 2 everybody was pretty fried and anything looked tough. Whenever you have more the 1 MVW riding, it's never easy. Gary started out early and we got our usual 6:30 start. We pushed hard for the first 37 miles past the highest point of the day (7,600ft). We picked up several riders along the way, but by the time we reached the 2nd Aid Station it was Karen, Dave, myself and a rider that I had recognized from last year’s Tour de Toona. His name was Ray, he is a very strong rider and could have dropped us at anytime, but it was obvious he was on vacation and had no interest in racing. As we left the 2nd Aid Station for the last 20 miles we picked up 2 other riders Steve and Leslie. They were both very strong riders and we welcomed them in our pace line. That is until Dave and I realize that the presence of this other female rider really got Karen's competitive juices flowing. Karen can hold her own with just about any guy in the hills, but pair her with another female and she can really make things unbearable. Dave and I barely hung on as Karen and Steve jockeyed for the lead and pushed the pace. Again we were all exhausted as we pulled into Pagosa Springs.

We were among the first 10 riders to reach the campsite, so again we got our choice of campsites. After we gathered everybody’s luggage, set up tents, cleaned up and got a bite to eat, we headed out to town to suck down a few beers. We found the seediest bar we could find and parked ourselves at the bar. After about 6 or 8 beers Dave lost a pool game to a fellow cyclist and had to set up his tent for the rest of the Tour. Luckily he would not see him again. Our partying was cut short by storm that was rolling in. We hurried back to the camp and made it to the school cafeteria just as the skies opened up. After about 2 hours of heavy rain and wind we cautiously approached our tents and were surprised to find them still standing and dry. We crawled into our tents wondering if our legs could standup to 4 more days of mountains.

Day 4 weather was clear and cold. The stage was 65 miles from Pagosa Springs to Creede. The first 16 miles were rolling hills with an altitude gain of 1,000 ft. Karen, Dave, Gerry and myself started out together. It was not long before we picked up the usual pace line behind us. It was a rare occasion that somebody offered to help, but that was all right with us, this Tour was all about climbing and it would not be long before we would be back to three. As we approached the first Aid Station I glanced around and noticed that we were indeed alone again. The next 8 miles we would gain 2,800 ft. before we reached Wolf Creek Pass (10,850 ft.) the highest Pass of the day. Karen set the pace as we pushed for the top. Again and again we were challenged by testosterone-on-wheels and again and again they would fade off the back. We reached the top together and started an 18-mile descent through a beautiful canyon. The last 21 miles was a gentle climb into a head wind. We picked up another rider, Doug, who actually helped as we took 1-mile pulls till we reached Creede. It was during this stretch that we were passed for the first time. Two seniors caught us, rode for a while in our pace line and then jumped. They beat us to town by 1/2 mile or so. Gerry arrived in time to setup his own tent, while Gary's timing was perfect; everything was setup for him. I think he's got this figured out.

Creede was probably the most interesting town of the Tour. It was an old mining town that still retained a lot of the character of the old west. Everybody was very friendly and the police allowed open containers. Camping space was at a premium and when the word got out to the town folk, it was hard to find a front yard that did not have at least one tent pitched in it. We even heard that some people allowed the cyclists to stay in their homes. The Mayor rode around town in an old fire truck, shuffling cyclists to the different attractions. It was almost a circus-like atmosphere. We soaked in some of the festivities and beer, then headed back to our campsite to, you guessed it, duck into our king size tent, play poker and, listen to the rain.

Day 5, from Creede to Gunnison, was the longest of the Tour, 107 miles and contained the highest peak, Slumgullian Pass (11,361 ft.). The exodus from Creede had started early, by the time we headed out at 6:45am there were only a handful of tents standing. The first 17 miles were rolling hills and we immediately settled into a 19 to 20 mph pace. As we were steadily forging past cyclist after cyclist we slowly came up to a lone cyclist. I was pulling and as I came up behind him. I could tell he was a strong rider, but he was going just a bit slower than our pace, so I passed on the left. He let me pass than immediately stood up and hammered pass me waving bye as he sped by. I did not notice his snub, but Dave did. We continued at our pace and about 5 miles up the road we caught him again. This time Dave took the lead, pulled up along side of him and glared at him as he passed. Again he let us pass and again he stood up and hammered pass us. We continue riding and pretty much forgot about the whole incident. It was not long after we started our climb to Slumgullian Pass that we came up behind him again. He let us pass then pulled up along beside us and started running his mouth. He asked Dave if he found out what he wanted to know, that is, that his powerful burst of speed had impressed us. Dave answered by telling him the only thing he found out was that he liked to ride alone. He continued to run his mouth trying to get us to acknowledge that we were trying to race him and that he was just too fast. He finally gave up his verbal sparring and pressed on up the hill. After he had opened about a forty-yard gap, Dave asked Karen to chase him down. In a matter of minutes Karen had closed the gap and passed him, he had no response. Within 5 minutes Dave and I had bridged the gap and as we passed him he mumbled something about saving himself for a time trial he had coming up. That was the last we saw of him.

Karen maintained her gap and led us to the top of the Pass (mile 38). We stopped briefly to bundle up and snack, and headed out for 10 miles of steep downhill and 20 miles of rolling hills. Although we still had 40 miles and 2 challenging climbs after our descent we could not resist the rolling hills. We kept the pace in the mid to high twenties. We picked up several riders as we steamed toward the 68-mile Aid Station. We were about 6 or 8 miles from the Aid Station on a slight decline and the wind at our backs. Dave and I pushed it to the limit as we as we took turns at the front and pushed the pace to 28 to 30 mph. It was really fun going that fast for that long and everybody thanked us for a great pull as we pulled into the Aid Station.

We fueled up and got started on the last 40 miles of the stage. By now just about everybody recognized the blue and red MVW jersey. We always made a point to have at least one of us wear a MVW jersey. Dave and Karen pressed ahead and had to slow for me at the top of the last 2 climbs. We rode together the last 25 miles into Gunnison.

There were probably 20 to 25 people already there when we pulled into the campsite. I 'm sure some of those were sagged in. We heard later that day that only about 300 people made the whole 107 miles. Again all 5 MVW made it. Gerry came in not long after we arrived and Gary was not long after, even though he had 3 flats. Soon as we got the tents up Dave headed out for beer. We relaxed and downed a 12 pack before heading out for a bite to eat. After we hit the town, and made it back just as the rain began. I think everybody slept a little easier that night. The hardest part of the tour was behind us and the easiest day was next.

Day 6 was mostly downhill. We would start at about 7,700 ft. and finish at 6,000 ft., but there would be two 1,000ft climbs during the 62 mile Stage. Gary started out early and Karen, Dave, Gerry and myself followed shortly after. The first 25 miles were pretty flat and we had a wind at our backs. We got up to about 23 to 24 mph and maintain that speed as our pace line grew longer and longer. After about 12 miles we were stopped by road construction. After sitting there for about 10 minutes there were at least 80 riders behind us. I think that kind of crowd would make anybody nervous. When we got the ok to go, Dave took off nearly dropping everybody including the rest of the MVW. We settled back down, but still had a pretty good line behind us. I pulled around and headed down a short downhill. I got it up to about 34 mph and figured I would hammer the uphill in my big chain ring. I barely made the top as Karen was pulling around me; I had to tell her to ease up. As we made the top I glanced around, we were down to 6 riders. We rode that way for the next 10 miles, until Karen got a flat and everyone we had worked so hard to drop, passed us. We were nearing our first climb and after about a 1-mile we were down to 3 riders. Karen, Dave and myself rode to the top of the first climb, and descended 8 miles into the 2nd Aid Station. We had 5 more miles of uphill and 14 miles of downhill into Montrose. We regrouped and headed out for the last climb of the day. Dave and Karen pushed ahead, but as we neared the top I closed the gap and we started the descent together. The descent was fairly steep and the roads were good. I have never topped 50 mph on a bike and this was probably my last chance. I waited till we got to a straight section, pedaled for all I was worth, tucked and made it to 50.2 mph. Karen was in my draft and made it to 51.5 mph. We coasted into Montrose, where we were surprised to see Gary waiting for us. He had picked a good campsite, but unfortunately he did not have time to setup our tents.

We all showered, hopped on a bus and headed out to Black Canyon. Black Canyon is a miniature Grand Canyon, but much more spectacular. The views were breathtaking and well worth the ride. We made it back to town and headed out to an Italian restaurant to carbo load. Afterwards we found a local water hole, drank beer, played pool and waited for the Tour de France. The place was packed with cyclists, but when the Tour came on you could have heard a pin drop. We made it back to the campsite and for the first time on the Tour it did not rain. So we sat round our tents and chewed the fat until our zipper-nazi neighbors could tolerate no more and forced us into our tents.

Day 7 was 64 miles from Montrose to Telluride. It was mostly uphill except for 13 miles of downhill after the highest climb of the day, Dallas Divide (9,000 ft.). With sore legs and weary minds this looked to be a very tough day. The first 18 miles were uphill with a climb of about 1,200ft. into a strong head wind. Karen, Dave and myself headed out at about 15 to 17 mph. We pickup a good master rider who helped us for the next 15 miles or so. About 6 miles from the first Aid Station a tandem with 2 guys came barreling by towing a string of riders. We managed to grab their wheel and they pulled us into the first Aid Station. The next 18 miles covered 8 miles of rolling hills and then a 10 miles with a 2,000ft. climb to the Dallas Divide. The ride with the tandem was a little dicey so we headed out before they could regroup. We hooked up with Steve and Leslie from Day 5 and got a good pace line going for the next 8 miles. When we reached the start of the climb Leslie and the master rider dropped off and it was Steve, Karen, Dave and myself. Steve has the build of John Koury but little smaller. You can tell he would be good in the mountains, but up to this point he always waited for Leslie. Today was the last day and I think he was determined to ride the last big climb at his pace. He dropped back to check on Leslie and about 15 minutes later came barreling by us like we had barreled by so many other riders during the Tour. Nobody had any desire to follow so we rode to the top together. There we waited for Gerry before descending 13 miles into Placerville. All that remained was 15 miles uphill to Telluride. Gerry fell off after the start of the climb and we picked up another rider and trudged uphill. Karen, Dave and myself took turns pulling while the other cyclist stayed on the back. With about 5 miles to go he finally offered to help at which point it got a little steeper and he disappeared off the back. The final 2 miles got really steep and I thought about using my 39 x 27 for the first time of the Tour. Pride prevented me as I pushed on in my 24. Karen must have been feeling pretty good because she picked up the pace and left Dave and me behind. Karen reached the top first followed by Dave then me. We made a beeline for our cars and then into Telluride. Just after we got our luggage packed away and got cleaned up it started, you'll never guess, raining. Since it was raining we spent the last night in Dave's "camp" (a condo) with a few beers and just in time for the final time trial of the real Tour.

After 11 days (Karen and I rode 4 days prior to the start of the Tour) and 615 miles through the mountains of Colorado it was really nice to be a Flatlander (our team name) and headed home.