Well, the temperature plummeted as a cold fron moved in, and poor Lee couldn't sleep without a decent sleeping bag. I think he got up around six, and I got up shortly after. We said our goodbyes and he hit the road (he says riding is the only thing that warms him up when the temperature gets that low.

I broke camp and started pedaling through a weird mist. I knew I was in the mountains, but it was hard to see the hills around me. The haze gradually burned off as I climbed higher into the mountains, and the ease of the climb made my summit of Currant Creek - at 9,404 feet -- seem anticlimactic.

I became more excited when the sun emerged from the clouds and I was able to see the snowcapped peaks of the Rockies looming in the distance. Still, it was a while before the temperature rose enough to shed my cold-weather gear. So Day 52 was the first time I needed to wear my polypro tights. Glad I didn't carry those pants across 5 states for nothing.


Here's a good shot of the view I enjoyed as I pedaled down from the pass:

I stopped in the small town of Hartsel for lunch -- a huge "Gold Medal" hamburger that collapsed after the first bite -- and made some phone calls. Hartsel wasn't much of a town -- a gas station, a restaurant, a mobile home where you could buy homemade tamales, and a bison farm. For a price, the owner will let you walk out into his field, where the bison stand still for you, and blow one away. I don't know if you get to keep the meat or just the head. Pretty pathetic, huh?

I stopped for a snack at this stream and listened to the water play over the rocks. I made a few calls to people at work, just to rub it in.

Lee had given me a contact in Fairplay, my destination for the night. Once in town -- an easy climb, though the city rests at 10,000 feet -- I called Monte Lowrance, who turned out to be one of the most gracious hosts I've met. A few years ago Monte got an idea into his head about biking through all 48 states -- even though he barely nicked my beloved Louisiana. 11,800 miles and 10 months later, with what I assume was the sorest ass in the world, Monte accomplished his goal and returned to Fairplay.

When I rolled up, Monte was working in his yard on a busted water main. He showed me where I could crash for the night, then gave me a beer and went back to work. Since the water was off, I just had a drink and checked out his recently published book about his trip. After a while a second biker showed up -- Jim, an engineer from North Carolina. Jim is in his early 40s, and I don't think he's enjoying the road that much. He won't give up the trip, but he's killing himself to make good time, and doesn't seem to enjoy the day-to-day experience of travelling across the country. It was a bit of a weird dynamic -- Monte and I talked about the everyday joys of the road, but Jim kept focussing on other aspects of his life. Jim's focusses on the destination, while I find the journey to be the best part of the trip.

So anyway, I plowed through Monte's beer supply (but restocked it later), and we all retired for the night. Jim asked if I wanted to attack Hoosier Pass together in the morning, and after securing a promise for a late start, I agreed. Here's a shot of Jim (left) and Monte (the laid-back guy on the right).