And you know what that means. I mean besides this ^
This. The Tour de France.
Which for me means a month of lying on the couch for 4 – 5 hours a day watching a bunch of incredibly fit dudes ride bikes up ridiculously big mountains on TV while I work on getting my heart rate as far from theirs, the dudes riding up the mountains, as possible.
Then it occurred to me. I’ve got some ridiculously big mountains just out my front door. I could be doing this too!
In fact, there’s one road in particular, Cottonwood Pass, that was used several times in the U.S.A. Pro Challenge race, back when that was a thing. Cottonwood Pass crosses the Continental Divide between Buena Vista and Taylor Reservoir. It’s a good road for cycling because it’s not a thru-highway. The road ends at Taylor reservoir, which is miles from a town of any size, so vehicle traffic is relatively low. In the summer the only people that go over it are tourists looking for camping, sightseeing or fishing adventures; it’s closed in the winter. From the BV side Cottonwood is a 20 mile climb with approximately 4,200 feet of vertical. That’s nearly Alps-level vertical at a much higher altitude.
Back when I was a kid, Cottonwood Pass was a dirt road and I can remember riding over it in my dad’s Scout to go fishing at Taylor Reservoir. The BV side was paved many years ago but the western side remained gravel until 2017. Now it’s the second highest paved road over the Continental Divide, making it ideal for a scenic trip on skinny tires.
The ride starts as a gentle climb west out of Buena Vista.
After a couple of miles, the canyon starts to narrow and the road steepens.
Harvard City stables, sort of a strange name since that’s Mt. Yale directly behind.
A full house at the Denny Creek trailhead. You can see the road steepening just past the parking area. This was the steepest part of the climb. No sign indicating the grade but from the burning in my quads in first gear, I’d guess it’s around 8%.
About halfway up.
Approaching the first switchback.
The Continental Divide comes into view.
Entering the upper basin at timberline with the last two switchbacks coming up.
On the last ramp, approaching the top.
Top of the pass, 12,126 feet. The climb took me 2 hrs. 13 min. counting time to stop and take pictures. It’s definitely doable in under two hours.
And as you might expect, the scenery from the top is spectacular.
The Three Apostles with Mt. Huron just peeking into view over the shoulder of North Apostle on the right.
My original plan for the day was to continue over the pass to Taylor Reservoir and then climb back up to return to BV. But not being sure how the legs would handle 20 miles of climbing I was giving myself the option to turn around at the top. While I was contemplating my plan I realized I had made the rookie mistake of not bringing any food. The thought of riding an additional 24 miles and climbing another 2,800 feet on an empty stomach seemed like a good way to bonk all alone in the backcountry. A generally bad idea. I decided to exercise my option and turn around here.
Now I’ve been riding and racing for 25 years but I’ll tell you, none of that prepares you for the descent off a big mountain pass. Everyone who watches the Tour is amazed at the power the riders exhibit on the climbs but I’m here to tell you what is truly incredible are the cojones it takes to go as fast as they do on the descents.
I pointed the bike downhill, gave a couple of spins on the pedals and within seconds I’m at 35 mph. At which point the first switchback comes up. Brake hard. Lean into corner. Try not to sideswipe the camper coming up in the other lane. Off the brakes, back up to 40 mph. Here comes the next curve. Brake!
It’s terrifying. Clearly something that takes practice. Practice I’ve never had riding in the rolling hills of Texas. I was good up to about 45 mph, but above that I’d lose my nerve and have to grab some brake. And I’m still running old-school rim brakes. Disk brakes on road bikes? They used to seem stupid and unnecessary but in Colorado, they make perfect sense.
Stop overlooking Rainbow Lake to catch my breath and let my hands de-claw from the death grip I had on the handle bars.
I made it back to BV in three hours flat. So 2 hrs., 13 min. to climb; 47 min. to descend. 40 miles round trip.
There’s something very satisfying about climbing a mountain on a road bike. I think because you can do the road in a car you get a sense of the difficulty. To do that same road under your own power, to go from civilization to the high alpine by nothing more than pedaling feels amazing. And of course, there’s the added bonus satisfaction of not dying on the descent.