Day 2: Almont -> Near Lake City

Jeremy and Laura were late arrivals to camp last nite and have officially joined the 1st annual BBT. Rode the 10 miles to Gunnison ("It's sunnier in Gunnier") to the famous "W" Cafe and had a killer greasy breakfast we didn't yet deserve.



I saw George Sibley saunter in to be greeted by a fellow of unusually unkempt hirsuteness and I immediately recognized him as Mountain Gazette's very own M. John Fayhee. I was star-struck. Two of my favorite writers only 20 feet away. The 1st BBT was definitely getting off to a good start. I went over to introduce myself, nervous as hell, but thought what's the worse that could happen? They could mistake me for the bus boy and ask me to refill their waters? I felt the risk worth the effort, so off I went. Made small talk with George, something along the lines of "You write real good". Then to George, "Is that John Fayhee?", and immediately noticing how extremely stupid that must have sounded from John's perspective. Introductions aside, it took John and George exactly 30 seconds to turn the conversation to beer drinking which was only apropos since it was Tuesday and it was after 8am.

It's Laura's and Jeremy's first bicycle tour. They got a grocery crate bolted on the top of their back racks with dry bags stuffed in them. It's working and you've got the give them an "A" for effort. Good for them for making due with the materials at hand.

Ran in to Peachtree Jim at Blue Mesa who was cleaning the outhouse at the bridge crossing. He was a gem. The "last hippy to hitchhike on the interstate". Headed for Cali and ended up in Gunnison. Was a past 9-foot Bubba Bear mascot up on the ski resort in Crested Butte. He showered us with more koan and insight in 10 minutes than whole books might supply.

Made our way toward Lake City before turing off at the Powerhorn turnoff. Quicky snuck up on 3 beautiful elk who bounded over the 4 foot fence like it was a curb.

Lunch on a Merry-Go-Round at the Powderhorn community center. Reminded me of the 360-degree restaurant that was at the top of where my Dad worked as a banker that we'd go to once in a blue moon and order water. I'll have to admit, the views here we much more precious although we still drank water.


Rains came. Soaked and miserable riding ensued. We, laughingly now, ended up taking a break, literally beaten, only about 200 yards from the campground we were planning to stay at, but at that time, we just needed a break from the rain and mud and there were some nice big trees offering "shelter" and Kiki yelling like she was manning the life boats on the Titanic: "We should hunker down here for a bit, it's not getting any better", nobody argued.

Found out that our tent (freshly seam sealed no less), leaks. Lucky for us we have inherited some Sham-Wow's (check 'em out on youtube) and have found that, statigically placed, they can stave off the drips. Camped in the Cebolla Creek SWA. In the tent by 4:30pm and don't emerge until morning. Colorado has had rain off and on for the last three weeks. People in Crested Butte are saying "Whoa, that was a short summer". Colorado is the new Washington.