Trans Am 2017 Day 9: Cowdrey, CO to Alma, CO — 164 Miles, +9,055 ft

14 min readNov 4, 2017

Home sweet home. This stretch should have been a breeze for me and a lot of fun, but I woke up at 8:30 am after an extremely late night and a little over 2 hours sleep and knew that it would be a “hold the fucking wheel” day. Fortunately, it was that kind of day for everyone.

My family has a place 10 miles north of Silverthorne on Highway 9 (about 115 miles south of Cowdrey), and the Trans Am route, along with the Tour Divide, goes right in front of the drive way (we get a lot of Warmshowers guests — come through!). I’d also spent much of the previous year living there, so consider it as much home as anywhere. I have a lot of friends in the area and obviously spend a lot of time biking there, so I was stoked for this section of familiar roads and to bike right past our house.

I got a call from my sister Hannah wondering what the heck was up right after I left Cowdrey with Luke, and I learned that my tracker had gone out a couple miles from Riverside and showed me still up there. I told her where I was, and she was relieved. We chatted on the way into Walden and Luke and I grabbed breakfast and fuel for Willow Pass at the gas station there. He was anxious to move, so left a few minutes before I did while I chilled for five minutes more and used the bathroom. The wind was picking up when I left town and got stronger as I made my way up the valley. This is one of the most beautiful valleys you’ll find, and I remembered how shocked I’d been when coming through for the first time the previous year. It’s a massively wide valley, and you can see a number of different mountain ranges on all sides, with Rocky Mountain National Park to the east.

I was pedaling pretty well despite the wind but had no sign of Luke ahead. The wind was a pain, but I made my way into Rand, by the Rand Yacht Club (coolest closed establishment of all time), and had my sights set on the Willow Creek Pass. Just out of town, I ran into a police block. There was an accident and debris was all over the road. I worried for a moment that Luke had been involved (he was quite tired) and asked the cop if a cyclist had been in the crash. Fortunately the answer was no, but the accident still looked bad and I felt a little sick. We were diverted onto a ranch road around the crash for a mile or two and I had to walk my bike across the rocky road for a lot of it. I was annoyed at all the slowdowns, but not much you can do about it. Just before rejoining the highway I caught up to Luke, who was looking pretty deflated walking alongside his bike. We chatted for a few and I hopped on my bike before he did, and I knew that he would probably not keep up on the climb. He didn’t, and I felt pretty guilty for being glad to drop him (sorry Luke), but as they say, there are no friends in pro cycling! And I guess no friends in super amateur cycling either.

I was strong up the hill despite the headwind, though forgot how many ups and downs there are to the top. Willow from the north side is not a sustained climb, but a series of climbs and short drops and it frustrates the fuck out of you. I’d done the other side of the pass in the middle of the night a few weeks before as training, but had forgotten what this side was like so was pretty grumpy when I got to the top. The grumpiness was not forgotten on the descent either, since there is about 2 miles of actual descent before you just meander down a slight grade along the creek. With a decent headwind in my face, I wasn’t very stoked.

I was excited to be cruising through this familiar stretch, though, and stopped at the same campground that Amy and I had stayed at on the first night of our trip and to used the cleanest campground bathrooms in the game (what up Denver Creek Campground!). I thought Luke would catch me, but it turned out that he was still near the top of the climb, hurting pretty bad. I was making up ground on guys like Donncha and Jose, and holding a good gap on the others, so felt pretty stoked. The only surprise was Pim, who I hadn’t realized was anywhere near us (his tracker had been messed up the first couple days), and I was shocked that he was making up ground on everyone. I thought I was the one making moves here! He caught Luke around Willow and wasn’t too far behind. Pim had stayed with my family through Warmshowers a few years back when he was riding the Tour Divide route and I had been pumped to see a familiar name on the roster. I definitely didn’t want to get caught by someone I knew, especially someone near my age, so I was extra motivated to stay ahead of him.

The wind to Kremmling sucked and I was pretty pissed when I rolled into town, but got a massive boost when I checked the tracker. I’d already caught Richard, and Donncha and Jose were not far ahead and were moving hella slow. People were getting wrecked by the altitude and climbing and I would literally find Richard splayed out on the side of the road up by Green Mountain Reservoir. Everyone was shattered. The Blue River Valley is my home turf, and I felt great despite my previous fatigue while pedaling up the massive shoulder of Highway 9 and chatting with my mom on the phone, the headwind now a light cross.

I zoomed up to the turn to Heeney, knowing that the guys in front of me hadn’t moved much. All of the sudden, I saw a Trans Am bike on the side of the road next to a rider sitting/laying on the ground. I roll up and see the same rider that we’d spent the night with at the post office in Cowdrey. At this point I thought it was Jose, since I hadn’t really gotten a good look at him back in Wyoming and forgot what Jose looked like. But as soon as we start chatting and I hear his accent and he tells me he’s from Poland, I realize that it’s Richard. He is in bad shape, and I want to leave him behind, but he employs what I would soon learn is one of his savvy veteran moves: the Stop and Chat. I try to continue on but he keeps talking and asking questions, and soon he’s back up and on his bike and we are both pedaling.

I take pictures of the Most Beautiful View Ever of the Gore Range across the reservoir, and Richard is pedaling along next to me. Richard frustrated me in this way the entire race. He absolutely refuses to get passed, and pedals really hard whenever he is near another racer. So, he starts going ham and I’m like, yo dude go ahead and do your thing and leave me be. I know that I’ll be stopping out front of our family place to take a quick picture in a couple miles, so don’t mind being behind him. He’s also clearly suffering and in need of food and water, so I know he’s not gonna blow me away.

The Gore Range, the most bad ass mountain range in Colorado, also our backyard.

The stretch by Heeney is super rolling and slow, but beautiful. A friend who lives nearby had hosted a BBQ earlier in the day and invited me to roll through and I planned to, but I had been too late after the wind and slow morning. I’d had dreams of chugging a beer and shooting something before heading out, but I was too tired and focused to deviate much even if it was still an option. I’d only arranged one meet up with a friend in town and was looking forward to meeting Matt to pedal with me from Dillon up towards Hoosier.

Home! Yes, it is beautiful and all cyclists passing through on the Trans Am route should stay with us!

I stopped for 30 seconds to take a quick photo of my bike in front of the gate to our house and continued on before I could get too sentimental. I was excited at how green everything was in the area after the snow had melted and before the summer dryness set it.

I hit the Kum and Go in Silverthorne and saw Richard’s bike out front. He was still hurting and we discussed plans while we snacked. I was meeting a friend so I told Richard he was welcome to ride with us, and that I planned to stop no sooner than Alma. He agreed, then all of the sudden this skinny AF dude rolled up. Pim! Holy shit he was flying. We chatted for a hot second and he was pretty tired and was looking for a hotel in town. Thank god, I could keep some distance! Richard and I left the gas station together and navigated the bike paths of Summit County.

My friend was waiting for us on the switchbacks up the dam, and I was stoked to see him. I was really, really tired and felt not like myself for the first time on the race. I wasn’t drowsy, but my head was in another world after my couple nights of bad sleep. I think this is just what happens after a week and part of what makes the length of the Trans Am so friggin hard. It was a long way up Hoosier and I was glad to have a friend to help keep me awake. The sun was just going down and Richard was doing his thing where he pedals super hard, so I was glad to let him go ahead. I shot the shit with Matt and apologized that I was a shell of a human at the point, and he filmed me saying some funny things.

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I was wrecked, but was determined to Hold the Fucking Wheel and make it to Alma. I wasn’t losing any ground but wasn’t pedaling very fast at this point. I wanted to make it in a straight shot to Alma, but knew I would need some coffee in Breckenridge before I set off up the pass.

Just after Frisco, Matt’s light started to fade and we realized that he would have to turn around since he couldn’t see shit in the approaching darkness. That was OK, I could throw in some tunes and keep myself going until I got the coffee in Breck. I said bye to Matt and thanked him for coming out. The support was massive and gave me a boost, so I was sad to see him go but got into a rhythm on the bike path to Breck.

Back in 2016 when I was living in Colorado full time, I spent a couple months working at a bike shop in Breckenridge, so the 28 miles from our ranch to the bike shop was at one point my commute. When I knew I was going to be doing the Trans Am, I always wondered what it would be like to bike through this area on the race, and here I was! It felt weird, mostly, and I was super out of it already, so it was not the glorious return I’d hoped for.

I stopped at the 7/11 at the beginning of town and devoured food while chugging coffee. I kept chugging coffee until I felt that buzz and then finally set out. I wasn’t moving fast, but Richard and Donncha were just up the road so I wasn’t off the pace. I got pedaling through town and felt like my eyelids had been glued open. The caffeine high was STRONG, and I knew that I was a ticking time bomb. I had to get over the pass before I crashed, otherwise it could be a long, cold struggle. There was one lodge 4 miles from the summit that I once had to hide in on my first 50+ mile bike ride the previous year when it started dumping snow, but that would be a pretty bad result. If I was going to put in this time and dig deep, I needed to get over the pass. The riders behind me wouldn’t get over that night, and I had to Hold the Fucking Wheel to stick with the bunch I was just starting to creep up on.

Other than the bike shop, Breck is a miserable, crowded town full of brutal tourists and I was glad to zip through on a quiet night. I threw in the go to music — Khalid’s album “American Teen” — a banger of an R&B album that was right for any situation. Biking, making out, driving, or sleeping. I started it off with my favorite song and was cooking. Khalid is from El Paso and super dope. To stay awake, I knew I needed to keep my heart rate up, so I was hammering. I was climbing out of breath for the first time in the race, and enjoying it. My eyelids were glued open and in the quiet night, the familiar road was flying by. I was too tired to think much.

A quick note on Hoosier Pass. If you look at the elevation profile of the whole route, Hoosier looks like this monster mountain that rises above the rest of the route. In reality, that mountain is a sustained uphill that begins in Lander and is, for the most part, no more steep than most of the route. Colorado is well known for big valleys and big mountains, so you really get some nice sustained, low grades in between passes, unlike the insanity that is Kentucky and Virginia. People who have never done Hoosier hype it up like crazy and think that just because it’s the highest point, it’s this massive pass. In reality, it’s not even close to the top 5 toughest passes on the route, and maybe not even top 10. You have 9.5 miles once you leave Breck to the top of the pass, and the first 5.5 are a rolling, uphill grade that you can keep a pretty good pace on and isn’t much different from any other 5.5 mile stretch. You’ll hit a sign at one point that says “4 Miles to Summit”, and that’s when you actually start climbing. Even then, the grades are mild and you get a couple of switchbacks that keep it low key. Of the climbs in Summit County Colorado, it’s one of the weakest.

So, I ripped through the first 5.5 miles with caffeine lighting up my veins and Khalid blasting in my ear. The road is not in good shape, but there were no cars on the road so I could stay out of the choppy shoulder and occupy the smoother lane. I got to the base of the actual climb, and felt like five minutes had passed since I left town. I started to see a flashing red light in front of me and couldn’t believe that I’d caught one of the guys in front. I got closer and could see that the rider was swerving all over the road, and I was a little worried about whoever it was. I caught up and found Richard, who was hardly able to speak from the altitude and the effort, and thought immediately that he didn’t have much longer in the race. He was utterly wrecked, and I knew he had been all day. He had no voice and definitely no power, and I hoped that he could even make it to the top of the climb. Ohhhh how little I knew Richard then, the tough fucker! I passed him, encouraging him that there was only a mile or so to the top but focused on tackling it myself. I’ve done Hoosier a lot, and I went so hard that my time from Breck to the top wasn’t too far off my normal workout pace. Caffeine is a wonderful thing.

I got to the top and layered up, taking the extra time to put on leg warmers for the 7 mile descent to Alma. Just as I was leaving, Richard rolled up and started the Stop and Chat tactic. I fell for it again, a little worried about him. I felt good and considered going past Alma where a couple guys were stopped and making moves for Fairplay, where I could hit a 24 hour gas station and get ahead a couple miles. I kept trying to leave, but he asked me to take a photo, then like five others while he put his jacket on. Fooled again, Maxwell! We rolled down the hill together and I kept my speed pretty low as my light was fading and I definitely didn’t need a crash on this mountain pass.

My photo of Richard. Midnight on Hoosier!

Richard not looking too hot, huh? Here is a more flattering pic from when we went shoe shopping for him in Yorktown after the race.

Richard was just in front of me as we got to town and we rolled up to the post office. I thought about going on, but knew that I’d be fading quickly pretty soon and didn’t want to suffer. I forgot Fairplay is only 5 quick miles away and probably should have gone, but sleep ASAP would be a good idea. Rolling up to the post office, I was greeted by Donncha standing in the doorway, waiting to give me a massive hug with a big smile on his face. I hadn’t seen him since day one, and I think he was excited to see me laying it out and going past the mileage goals that I had told him I had. I was really pumped to see him as well, and it was definitely a highlight and major validation of my effort over the previous 9 days. Bo was in there too, and Richard and I found our respective corners and knocked out. It was only a little after midnight, but Bo had been there a while and was about to head out. I knew I needed real sleep and planned for 5 hours or so. Inconsistent sleep patterns like I was rocking are not the way to success, and I hoped to steady myself after the couple days of big moves. I’d caught some big dudes, dropped some others, and was feeling great as I dozed off in Alma.