CTR: A journey of subtle and not so subtle mistakes

Day 6:

We awake at 5am with frost on our gear. Andy has slept in his clothes and I struggle into mine in my sleeping bag, not wanting to meet the inevitable cold. Spinning down the road in the early morning light, with light just beginning to frost the hill tops is amazing. 

 We pass Jill still asleep in her bivy, and then Forest who is awake, but not wanting to get out of his bag.  Apparently we inspire him, as he quickly gains us. We pick up Jonathan as well who broke the wheel on his derailer and somehow has fixed it with a ziptie.  Forest moves ahead leaving Andy, Jonathan and I to tackle the highway together.  I'm disappointed when I don't find an icecream truck waiting for me.  I won't mention any names, but someone led me to believe there would be one :) It's apparently a British thing, which I wish we Americans would adopt. We begin the climb from Spring creek together but the Brits stop for afternoon tea.  I continue on and find Forest in the tundra sitting on a rock. 

 I snap a picture of him smiling, but he then informs me that he is out and feels the full emotion of it.  I stumble for what to say to encourage him on, meanwhile having an internal freakout.  If this strong man, who has done the Tour Divide, who just this morning was talking about being finished in seven days, is finished, what the heck am I thinking?  I don't say enough, shake his hand, and leave him on his rock. The tundra is almost impossible to ride on.  It's rocky and my knee refuses to do more than spin a bike, I can't really apply pressure to get the bike moving and rolling over the rocks, so I bounce along until I fall off and push the bike for a while and then try again.  The climbs go over 13,000 ft. multiple times. The pushes are hard, but I am thankful that I live at altitude.  I pass through a flock of sheep.  I climb again and again.  I can see a huge stretch of trail behind me, but no Brits.  My heart sinks convinced that they have rejected this lunacy and have joined Forest for beers in Lake City.  Suddenly I feel very alone.  At each hilltop I look for them, nothing.  I climb on, into the biggest landscape you can imagine, mountains stretching as far as you can see, with no signs of humanity save the occasional old mine road and some tire tread in front of me. I am small and alone. Somehow I lift myself and my bike over a 4 ft cliff band in the middle of a climb.  I fall coming down towards the pole creek drainage.  It's not a bad fall, but a slow motion one with spinning and flipping, kind of like dancing underwater with your bike.  We come out whole, but I am shaken realizing with no one behind me I better be more careful.  And then two bikers are coming up the road and one declares, "it's Becky!".  Mark and Joellen Fonken, a couple I know from Gunnison, are out for a day ride. I burst into tears (hmmmm- when's the last I've eaten?) we chat for a while, they suggest campsites (oh did I mention I didn't bring the data book, so I have no clue how many passes I have to overcome before descending to Silverton? BIG Mistake). Fortunately, it doesn't really occur to me until after we had said goodbye, that they could have taken me home :) I use the last of the light to climb out of the pole creek drainage (moose below & and I can hear elk buggleing) and regain sunshine on the western slope.  I push up Cuba gulch and then set up a hasty camp at 12,500 clearing the ground of rocks between some willows.  I manage to eat a little, but my stomach as been doing flipflops for a while now.  I try to fall asleep, but my stomach is creating a rukus and soon I stumble out of my bag to be sick. Climbing back in my bag shivering I am soon rack with uncontrollable convulsions.  I don't really feel that cold, but my body won't stop shaking.  I guess it's trying to warm itself and I've given it no food to use.  This is when I decide I need to be done.  I didn't make it to Silverton tonight, which I calculate pushes off my finish at least 2 more days.  I feel sick. How will I keep going if I can't eat again?  I miss my friends.  I only have one more week in Gunnison before I leave them all for Steamboat and a new job.  I have things to do.  Who's watering my garden while I'm away? I forgot to ask anyone... My legs have been like lead for days as I push my bike up things I should be able to ride.  Why would I do the Silverton-Durango section which should actually be good riding as a masochistic downhiller pushing up each incline and hoping not to die on each descent? I should come back later when I can enjoy it.  I consider going back and taking Pole Creek into Lake City, but Silverton seems like a nice round goal, and Stoney Pass must be just around the corner anyway....