As it got late in Silverton, we started asking around where one might camp. On our way to one of the suggested spots, I spied this hill pretty much in downtown Silverton that looked like the prefect tent pitching spot. It was kinda humorous getting our fully-loaded bikes up the 30 yard singletrack that led to the top of the hill. It was very steep and we kept on slipping and sliding. Determined, I finally made it but I'm not sure why I didn't just take my panniers off like Kiki did. Once atop our "loft", we had commanding views of Silverton.
We fell asleep to the patter of rain on our tent that didn't let up all night. So in the morning, we just rolled over for the requisite extra hour of sleep that rain on the tent necessitates (scientifically proven to cause it to stop raining). Didn't work. We packed up inside the tent what we could and then popped our heads out only to be greeted, much to our chagrin, by SNOW not rain! Oh boy. That was not expected (and we're from Crested Butte).
Packing up the tent was truly an unpleasant experience. I lost feeling in my hands almost immediately as it was the kind of wet/cold that makes you curse all things mountainous. We then saddled up and coasted the 250 yards the Brown Bear Cafe and by the time we arrive, I am not kidding you, we were shivering worse than members of Ernest Shackleton's Antarctica adventure. And as we entered the cafe' we got moans of sympathy from the waitresses, we looked so pitiful. I didn't have the heart to tell them we'd only been on our bikes a total of 2 minutes. And get this, my feet were already soaked from walking the tall grass out of camp even though I had baggies (obviously holey baggies) of my feet.
So the morning was not off to a bright start (except for the fire and coffee at the Brown Bear). And I started to feel trapped. Think about it. There are only two ways out of Silverton and both are UP into worse weather! Yikes. We considered our options. A) Go for it come what may, B) Shack up in the hostel C) Refill yer coffee hon? Why yes thank you! D) Hitchhike up and over Red mountain pass to Ouray to hopefully better weather. After choosing option "C" about 7 times, we decided that it would only be at most 23 miles of misery (11 up and 12 down) to get to Ouray and if we were completely disoriented from the frostbite, we'd go to the hot spring and thaw out. So we put it all on an headed out into the elements. It made me think of Mark Twain's quote, "The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco". I pondered, had Mr Clemens ever been to Silverton?? But there was an opening in the gauntlet which gave us just enough time to get out of town. Of course this road sign did little to alleviate our apprehensions. Nothing like slick tires and icy roads keep the day exciting! 
The worse thing about bicycling in weather like this is that with all your gear on, you get overheated and with nothing on, you get hypothermic. There is a very small window of comfort which is practically impossible to obtain. You actually want it to be be colder so you can just be comfortable.
Finally, we made it to Red Mountain pass, 11 miles away (elev. 11, 300) and the sun was actually beginning to make an appearance (that's me on the pass). This elated us because the downhills can actually be way more uncomfortable if it's nasty cold and wet out than the uphills. I was happy to be out of Silverton as that "trapped" feeling was not to my liking. It was off to better weather from here on out as no more major passes stood between us and our destination, Palisade Bluegrass Festival, which is near Grand Junction, still 175 miles away.
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