CTR: A journey of subtle and not so subtle mistakes

Day 7: 

This is it.  I don't hurry out in the morning. What's the point?  My stomach is still a mess. Keeping the TP close I pack up camp and get a granola bar down. And here I go up and over.  The trail is smoother here. The pushing not quite so steep and the downhills actually fun.  I smile as I descend- this is why I'm out here- to ride my bike.  I stop and talk to a hunter spotting Elk for the upcoming season.  He's impressed- he can't believe a girl would be out here alone.  He offers me a ride out, but I carry on. But only after asking where Stoney Pass is.  "let's see this is Maggie gulch, so you go up and over to Minnie gulch and then up and over to Stoney Pass.  See that big mountain way over there, that's where you are headed". "oh, I thought it was just around the corner..."  I carry on.  I"m feeling a bit better and my mind starts to play with me about continuing on. I wonder how far the last segment is.  Could I do it in a day and a half? I tell myself if I can't make it to Silverton by noon then I have no business going on, reminding myself that my legs are not actually going to help pedal up Molas Pass (or Bolam, or Blackhawk, or Kennibek).  But this noon deadline does nothing to increase my pace up these last few mountains. I see a truck struggling up the road- this is it!  I push my bike up half the road and then manage to pedal over the top to save face in front of some ATVers.  I snap a picture- this is it. Downhill to Silverton, the end of my road. I glance at my watch.  Noon. There. Done.  The road down is the craziest road I have ever seen.  The pass is at 12,650 and within several miles I'll be at 9,000 ft.  It's steep, gravel, windy.  I am on the brakes.  Seeking the best line, using the road liberally, looking for oncoming traffic. I actually have to take breaks on the way down to let my hands recover.  The flowers are amazing. Water, mine ruins, more downhill.  I pass a jeep. And then four miles of flat road into a headwind into Silverton.  The town is overflowing as the train just let out.  The circus stands in stark contrast to where I have been. I stop and ask for a payphone.  The restauranteur doesn't think there is one in town anymore, but if there is, it is around the corner by the post office.  In front of the postoffice I see a Superfly atop a car at the end of the block.  It looks like Jarrals.  I pass the parked cars to investigate.  It's on a green subaru like Jarral's. The car has a Western State bumper sticker.  I stop in the street and cry, "Jarral!?!?!" like you would in a movie.  I leave my bike in front of the car where they will see it if they try to leave.  Where would they be?  I shuffle back to the main road and look in windows of ice cream shops. Nothing.  My excitement abates.  I have no way to call them.  There is no pay phone.  I need food.  So I leave a note and head off to find a burger. And find them on a bench in front of the restaurant I meant to eat at!  Hugs, tears (hey, I haven't eaten much) and an assurance that I can be squished in between the carseats and taken home.  We discuss it- the way to Durango is difficult and I would be hard pressed to do it in a day.  Jarral took 20 hours and well, he finished 4th, so I stick with my original (I contend non-emotional) decision to go home.  I call Dan and Mom.  Eat. Begin packing the car. and then I spot the Brits.  I ride the two blocks to them- indecision strikes me momentarily as Andy assures me, "we'll grab food, ride until 9pm and then finish tomorrow"  I don't fall for it.  I hug them, wish them well and return to the Ryters.  I change into a set of Anne's clothes and climb inbetween the kiddos. I'm in a car. That's it. Done. Over.

Prologue:

It's Tuesday morning and I'm still watching for the Brits to finish. Which makes me feel a little better about my decision, though my stomach is basically back, my mouth is less sore, and my legs feel pretty good, which makes me wonder.  And while around Sargent's Mesa I declared, "you'd have to give me a frontal lobotomy to get me to do this again", I think I can. Maybe I will. After all, only four women have ever completed it.