Of thin air and avalanche chutes

Family Mac, the road bike, and I have been in Colorado since Tuesday, first in Denver, now in Summit County. I have ridden every day since we arrived. The altitude hasn't hindered me as much as I had expected, and I have been stronger than expected on the numerous ascents. Indeed, the biggest obstacles have not been lack of oxygen or steep climbs, but howling wind and the remnants of winter in the high country. The wind up here has been monstrous and inconsistent, often changing directions. But worse has been the snow and ice on the roads and bike paths. The high mountain roads are simply too sketchy this time of year for road biking. Everything below 10,000 feet has been clear for the most part, but occasional rock slides and piles of snow and ice force one to keep one's hands near the brakes.

That's all in a day's work. But yesterday I encountered a new obstacle, one I had never met in all my time riding here in Colorado. Climbing up Ten Mile Canyon, which had been plowed clear, I suddenly saw in front of me a wall of snow. As I surveyed the wall, trying to discern what it was and how to deal with it, a cyclist appeared over the top of it carrying her road bike. She was on her way back from Copper Mountain and she assured me that the way was clear all the way, except for this avalanche slide. Indeed, it was clear over Vail Pass and all the way to Vail, if I wanted to go that far. I thanked her and began climbing the remains of the avalanche, tricky business in cycling cleats. The rest of the was more or less clear, just as she had reported, and I had a terrific descent on the way back, other than stopping to climb back over the slide.

I will save this anecdote, and add all proportionate embellishments, so that someday when they are old enough to appreciate it, I can tell my kids that I conquered an avalanche slide during a road ride.