TransAm Day #31 Pueblo, CO

TransAm Day #31 Pueblo, CO - Guffey, CO

TransAm Day #31

June 25, 2018

Pueblo, CO - Guffey, CO

84 Miles

Ride Time 7:56 Hours

Tour Total Miles 2348

details at: https://cyclemeter.com/4b2d99e24f1383f2/Cycle-20180625-0618-39204

I slept really well last night at the Courtyard Marriott in Pueblo. I had an amazing shower, shave, and laundry, and then Steve and I decided to get something to eat. We went to Brues Alehouse, located in an old police station and jail. It was close to our hotel, and the area was really nice. It’s located on a canal (that locals refer to as a river) which featured boat rides. We enjoyed our lunch and then the #Transgang showed up, along with Eileen’s friend Rollie from Denver, and Scott’s parents from Philadelphia. Kyle had Instagram friends there as well. We drank beer and other libations and had ourselves a festive time. Steve was in a hurry to get to a dispensary so he ran ran his errand while I stayed behind with the others. When Steve got back we decided to go to the Shamrock Brewing Co. where I began ordering margaritas. Steve was drinking gin, and we all had ourselves a blast.

The #Transgang has a group chat on WhatsApp that I was invited to join, making me an official member. I got intel from the west that it’s a seven hour ride to Guffey, the last town with food before the Hoosier Pass. I decided to get up early to get a good start. Steve needed to go to the bike shop, which didn’t open until 9:30am.

I got up a little after 5am was out the door by 6. It was a beautiful morning, and was supposed to get hot later. Pueblo is a really nice town. It‘s an oasis in the middle of the desert. There are so many water features- canals, rivers, fountains. It’s lush and verdant. Much of the architecture is Spanish influenced.

Heading west on highway 96 my familiar highway no longer seem the same. She began to twist and turn, and I had my first climb since Missouri. I found myself surrounded by picturesque bluffs and rock formations. I was now in the west.

I met a cyclist who was doing a morning ride out of Pueblo and back. His name was Chris and he told me about conditions to expect up ahead, including possible headwinds on the pass towards Guffey. He said I was lucky to be getting our Pueblo before the 105° temperatures hit later in the week. They hadn’t gotten much rain and the rivers in the mountains were low.

My first major climb was about 1000 feet up to Wetmore. I looked back and could see the flat plains behind me. It reminded me of when I came out of the Appalachian Mountains and into the the flats of Kentucky

I really needed to mail my stolen property from the Missouri Pacific railroad back to the New York team. It was heavy loot and would be ridiculous to haul over Hoosier Pass. I hadn't wanted to wait for the Pueblo post office to open at 9am, so I elected to stop in Wetmore, thirty miles down the road. I got there ten minutes before they were supposed to open, and I noticed a woman sitting in her pickup truck out front. I went into the lobby and got my box and packing supplies. I pulled out all my plunder and carefully wrapped it. Perfect timing! It was opening time. At this point the woman tells me that she runs the post office, and that she’s locked herself out. She was waiting for someone to bring her an extra set of keys. I made good use of my time, organizing my things and talking with Charlotte. An hour later the woman was in, and I was able to mail my package.

After the post office I took a left on highway 67 and said my goodbye to highway 96. I’m now headed north towards Wyoming. Goodbye Highway 96! I’ve been with you since Rush Center, KS. We were together 321 miles. Two miles down the road I was attacked by grasshoppers who were all over the highway. They jumped up onto my legs and attached themselves to me.

Wetmore had a post office, but no food. I had to ride an additional eleven miles to get breakfast, but by that time it was lunch. I went to the Aspen leaf café in Florence, recommended by the postal employee. I passed a federal prison on the way into Florence and then a state penitentiary on the way out. After Florence I took highway 115 to Cañon City, where there were many antique and western themed shops.

Out of Cañon City, I was on a four-lane divided highway, that wasn’t very nice. At least the grades were within reason. I passed billboards and signs for white water rafting and helicopter rides at Royal Gorge and Bridge Park. I deliberated going, but it was four miles off route which would put me into Guffey after dark. I opted not to go.

I took a right onto State Route 9, which took me north up into the mountains. I climbed to over 8000’ and was fortunate to be aided by a tailwind. Chris‘s warning didn’t come to pass. The white line on highway 9 hums. I wonder if one of my smart friends back home could figure out a way to embed musical tracks for cyclists into the white line. I think it would work.

Five miles into Guffey I ran into eastbound TransAm cyclist, Keith whom I’m going to presume by his accent was Canadian. He didn’t care much care for his headwind but told me that earlier he had a great tailwind, so I deserved it on the uphill. He was headed to Royal Gorge for the evening. I zoomed 44 miles an hour down a hill before the turn-off for Guffey. I’ve climbed up and out of the scrub of the foothills. I'm now in Alpine territory. There are pine trees and Aspens.

I knew Guffey was going to be eccentric. Eastbound cyclist Robby had told me about it back in Missouri. This is a Matt Blackwell / Gene Pool / Ned Solway paradise. There are antiques, skulls, and old cars. Local character Bill runs the place, and my cabin is absolutely charming. There's no WiFi or internet. There is no electricity. The outhouse is next to the old Studebaker.

Tomorrow I will climb Hoosier Pass, the highest pass on the TransAm. I am now halfway finished with my tour. I am closer to the Pacific than the Atlantic. The tour’s end is closer than the start.