Monsoon season in Colorado--or how I survived a second grand tour

A week ago I was sitting in my hotel room in Salt Lake City, and tonight I am sitting in a Doubletree in Denver. Working two back-to-back grand tours in the US is no laughing matter. The days are long, the transfers stretch forever, the meals are shitty, and there's always too much booze because you feel entitled to have a second beer (or third) because you worked so hard.

Ominous clouds move in--monsoon season in the Rockies

The inaugural 2017 Colorado Classic (Inaugural? Kinda--Red Zinger, Coors Classic, and the US Pro Challenge were precursors of this race, which was reborn after last year's Pro Challenge was cancelled because of lacking funds) was a four-stage affair that started last Thursday in Colorado Spring and ended today in Denver.

The Purple People Healer, as the CC's race doctor's vehicle was called

OK, let me say it: Despite its UCI designation of 2.HC this race was not able to rival last week's Tour of Utah in many aspects. For one, the stages were relatively short, with none coming even close to 100 miles. The atmosphere at the starts (and finishes) was not what had been bench-marked in Utah: Dave Towle, as probably the US' best field-of-play announcer, simply cannot be replaced by two female announcers whose shrill voices just don't rile up the masses as does Dave's baritone. I'm glad to see female announcers trying to break the glass ceiling of this metier, but Dave is simply better. And the crowds didn't really compare to what Utah dished up. And neither did other aspects of the race.

On the way from Breckenridge to Denver, the only time I really got to see the mountains

But not so for the actual racing. It was exciting stuff to witness, with GC changing hands daily and riders taking chances and risks to further their position. There were none of those epic, long stages; rather, two exciting circuit races and two long loops with finish circuits provided spectators with exciting racing.

Media--top--and spectators with a micro-brewery's hardware in the background. Please don't notice the crowds.

After the Tour of Utah had finished, I had left the Ritchey and its case with Fred and Candi, my assistants. They were also going to work Colorado, so it made only sense to leave the bike with them in their RV. We reunited last Wednesday in Colorado Springs (after I had had a brief 36 hours at home in Lubbock), and over the course of this short, four-stage race, I still managed to go out every day and ride a total of 73 miles. None of it was as scenic as my riding had been in Utah, but it was certainly better than nothing. The weather in Colorada Springs, where I stayed for three nights, was fall-like, with cool temperatures and low clouds in the mornings. Denver, where I spent another three nights, was better and I had enjoyable rides through the new suburban areas of Stapleton. I never got close to the mountains, at least not to ride. Only on stage two, we left Colorado Springs in the morning, headed for the finish in Breckenridge, and then drove another two hours to our hotel in Denver. That was a really long day, but the drive was gorgeous.

Colorado Springs summer weather

Now I am done with races for at least two weeks and I'm heading home for some R&R. These past three weeks have been tough, with quite a bit of work. It'll be nice to be around the house, cook meals, have wine with friends, and just take it easy for a while.

Sunday morning ride in Denver's suburb of Stapelton

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Help! I think I'm turning into a Mormon!

The 2017 Tour of Utah wound its way around this lake on the way to Snowbasin Resort

Or so you would think, with my now having traveled to Utah twice in less than three months. But fear not, even though Utah's scenery is up there with the best of them, the draft beer is still watered down and there is that eerie feeling of being just a step away from being absorbed into the beehive, so I think I'll continue to just visit this fine state from time to time.

Once again, the Ritchey was my faithful companion on 277 miles of great riding

For nine days I was part of the 2017 Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah, an event that proudly calls itself "America's Toughest Stage Race." With more than 600 miles of racing in seven days and something like 36,500 feet of total elevation gain, this is truly one of the premier bike racing events in the Americas. This year's route saw most stages relatively close to Salt Lake City and the Ogden area; still, there were enough transfers so that I drove almost 700 miles during the week.

Panoramic view of Bear Lake, where I crossed over into Idaho for my first visit of that state

Because most stages started relatively early in the day (several times before 9:00 a.m.) I was able to finish my work earlier than usual, leaving me with enough time to ride a total of 277 miles on the Ritchey. At times it took a bit of convincing to get me on the bike, because I did work a lot and certainly suffered a bit of sleep deprivation, but once I was rolling I enjoyed my excursions.

Just a few scenes from various stage starts

Even before the event started properly with the Team Managers' Meeting on Sunday afternoon, I had put in 44 miles at Bear Lake, a beautiful body of water that is nestled between several mountain ranges. In winter it probably gets pretty damn cold up there, but in the summer it is paradisaical. The area serves as a bird sanctuary with hundreds of different species that can be found here. As a matter of fact, I was surprised by how how many wetlands I encountered on my rides. There always seemed to be some water that added a special touch to the beautiful scenery.

In the flat farmlands west of the Jordan River, north of Salt Lake City

While we were in Ogden I took a long ride up Blacksmith Canyon, a 50-miler that winds its way into the Wasatch range. Gorgeous! For the entire race, the weather was hot and dry (not easy for the riders, that's for sure, but better than wet and cold), and I enjoyed my rides day after day. Finding routes was not too difficult, and I recorded my rides with Strava so I can go back and ride them next time I'm in the area. One late afternoon, while we were in Layton, I rode the causeway out to Antelope Island, which is situated in the Great Salt Lake. Wow, was that a strange ride--totally flat on a beautifully smooth, wide road with hardly any traffic, and views of the mountains in the background while the salt lake with its population of wild birds stretched on toward nothingness in the other direction. The smell was brackish and even a bit sulfurous, and whenever I stopped to take a photo nasty black-flies would descend upon me.

Antelope Island causeway: straight, smooth, and empty

Antelope Island, mirrored in the brackish waters of the Great Salt Lake

Sunset coming to the Great Salt Lake

In the greater Salt Lake City area I rode three times on bike trails: twice on the Provo/Jordan River Parkway and the other time on the D&RWG Rail Trail. While the former is curvy as hell, following every bend of the rather small Jordan River for more than 45 miles, the rails-to-trails path is straight as an arrow. Both provide cyclists, joggers, in-line skaters, and mothers with baby strollers with a safe environment away from traffic to exercise. Really, really cool. I only wish that the Parkway featured a little bit of signage to make it easier to stay on the main trail. There are lots of intersections and branches into the neighborhoods, and unless you're a local you'll find yourself spit out into the streets again, having to backtrack. I talked to two local users of the paths, and they expressed the same sentiments.

Provo/Jordan River Parkway

D&RWG Rail Trail

Steve and Amy Wasmund arrive at the finish of stage 6, in Snowbird

And then, there was of course the race--after all, I was in Utah to work. It was a sweet reunion with Fred and Candi, the owners of the RV that served as my office for the week. We had seen each other last a few years back at the US Pro Challenge in Colorado. We worked well together, and on our last evening they invited me over to the RV park where they were staying just outside of Salt Lake City. We had a relaxed barbecue and great non-work-related conversation. That same day, at Snowbird, I got to see again--after all those years!--my old friend Steve Wasmund who, with his wife, Amy, had ridden the CoMotion tandem that I had sold him eons ago all the way to the stage finish. We had been in contact thanks to Facebook, and I was able to use his help in my work. Next time I hope we'll have a bit more time to socialize.

Wetlands in Idaho

North end of Bear Lake

The entrance to Blacksmith Canyon

I have to say that this is probably my favorite of the four "grand tours" that I have worked in North America: The Tour of California wears you out because of the many, many long transfer miles; Alberta was a bit too much like West Texas; and the former Tour of Colorado/US Pro Challenge was spectacular but not always blessed with decent weather. The 2017 Tour of Utah was a total pleasure to work, and I hope that I'll get a chance to go back out to the beehive in the near future--but I don't think that I'll apply to become a Mormon just yet.

Hold on a minute ...

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