Riders in the Sky

Day Five
Trail Ridge Road
Grandby to Estes Park
64 miles
14 June 2012


I learned about Ride the Rockies while living in Estes Park for eight years and working for the newspaper there. I was assigned to cover the event when it came to our town in 1993.

I shot photos, on black and white 35 mm film, I might add, of riders climbing in soup-thick fog up Many Parks Curve in Rocky Mountain National Park. I have wanted to ride Trail Ridge Road ever since.

Today I lived that dream.


Two weeks ago today, we received our rider manuals via email. A few route changes were described, and the National Park Service, which prohibits commercial vendors and commercial vehicles, had imposed cut-off times to protect riders from thunderstorms that typically begin building just before noon over the highest peaks this time of year.


I knew going into this week I would have to leave before the sun came up today to get through the RNMP gate before 8 a.m. cut-off and to have any hope of reaching the 12,183 summit by what I thought was the 11:30 a.m. cut-off. I knew I would have to carry my own food because water and animal crackers to be provided by RtR wouldn't get me up the mountain.


I left our tent just after 4:30 a.m. and was perhaps the second rider on the road until the sky lightened enough to render headlights unnecessary. By the time the sun came up, I was about the 500th rider on the road. But again, this is not a race. It doesn't matter which place I hold, only that I make it all the way up and over.

I deliberately didn't look at any clocks while I rode until I reached Medicine Bow Curve, the final switchback before the summit. One of three park rangers stationed there to direct traffic and literally keep impatient powerful riders in line announced we had 1.3 miles to go. I scrolled through settings on my cyclocomputer until I reached the clock. The time was 11:14. Adrenaline surged.




"Are we in danger of being cut off?" I asked the ranger as I wheeled by, slowing to await an answer.

Clouds were forming but seemed to be eager to give a few more riders the opportunity to complete the ride.

"No," the ranger replied, "you're fine. You're all doing great. You'll make it. Keep going!"

Relief washed over me. I knew I wasn't out of the woods yet, even though I had reached timberline and was above the trees. The storm was building. Even if the Park Service gave us an additional hour, we would still need to keep an eye on the clouds. No time to doddle. I was going to make it.






I reached the summit at 11:42. Turns out the cut-off was 12:30, so I made it with time to spare, and full SAG buses and bike trailers continuously passed me throughout my descent.


When I looked down to see from whence I’d come,
I thought the SAG wagons were coming to collect us.
But it was just the potty trucks.
When I thought I had missed the cut-off time by 12 minutes, I told myself I should have gotten up a few minutes earlier, stopped to breathe less and not taken pictures of my bike in the snow. I'm thankful I had an hour more than I thought I did, and I'm so excited I beat the time, but the real reason I made it is because the clouds were tardy. I got slapped in the face by graupel on my descent, but lightning never materialized while I was on the road. I made it!

Now I just had to make it to Estes Park in time to attend the cycling seminar with Davis Phinney and Connie Carpenter. All downhill. No problem!


”Chasing Legends” is just about the best cycling movie ever made,
and, no, I’m not getting paid to say that.
The soundtrack by Haik Naltchayan can’t be beat, either.
I arrived at the high school before 2:30, so had plenty of time to shower and eat before listening to a trio of my cycling heroes.

I often talk about meeting Olympian Nelson Vails during my first Ride the Rockies and Olympian Alison Dunlap during my 2010 Ride the Rockies, and I neglect to remember there's another superhero cyclist in there, too, on all four of my Ride the Rockies trips, and I even bought a bike from him.




Ron Kiefel has been arranging seminar speakers for Ride the Rockies for something like 17 years, so I've been able to enjoy his mini speeches and humor on many occasions. His dad started Wheat Ridge Cyclery in the Denver Metro nearly 35 years ago with a $10,000 investment that now has turned into one of the most profitable bike shops in Colorado. Ron rode the Giro and the Tour and was a co-team member of Team 7-Eleven with Davis Phinney. Ron was the first American to wear the Giro's pink jersey, and only three American riders have achieved that honor to date.

Third in the pink jersey race for America is Davis and Connie's son Taylor, whom they spoke about during the seminar. Taylor claimed the maglia rosa (leader’s jersey) this year on Day 1 of the Giro! Taylor expected to learn the following day if he qualified for this year's Olympics. (HE QUALIFIED!!!!!)

We've always been supporters of the Davis Phinney Foundation, which benefits research and treatment for people with Parkinson's, and I've had Davis' book, "The Happiness of Pursuit" on my Amazon wishlist ever since it was released. As a result of hearing Davis and Connie talk about their son and the Foundation tonight, we now are proud owners of an autographed copy of the book.

Go Taylor!!!

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Mount Chiquita

20 August 2005

We got up at 4, drove up to Chapin Pass Trailhead and then took a half-hour nap before heading up the trail. Bluebird skies slowly turned into full overcast by the end of the day, but we arrived back at our car before the storms hit. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful hike.

I was able to carry my pack the entire route. I wasn’t always pain-free, but this was my best hike so far since surgery in November. Best of all, I didn’t have to let The Lizard rescue me and carry my pack for me. Maybe I’m finally beginning to heal.

Mount Chiquita is the lowest named 13er in Rocky Mountain National Park. It rises 283 vertical feet above its connecting saddle with nearby Mount Ypsilon, so technically it is not a mountain but a sub-summit. To people who adhere to the 300-foot rule. I am not one of those. A mountain is a mountain, and if your feet (or bicycle, unicycle, skateboard, etc.) went up it, you certainly may claim it. If your car drove up it, I’m sorry, you did not climb that mountain. Your car did.

Mount Ypsilon, in contrast with its neighbor, is the second highest summit of the Mummy Range, the fifth-highest peak in Rocky Mountain National Park and one of Colorado's 300 highest summits. Two distinct couloirs form a large Y on its east face, prompting Frederick Hastings Chapin’s wife to call it Ypsilon, a misspelling of the Greek letter of the alphabet.

Chapin, a member of the Appalachian Mountain Club, was not the first historical photographer and writer to venture into Rocky Mountain National Park, but his popularization of hikes there left his name upon a mountain summit (on the other side of Chiquita), the aforementioned mountain pass and the creek below.

This was my first time returning to this particular trailhead since about 2001. My children and I frequented Rocky Mountain National Park on weekends during the school year and every chance we got during the summer when they were still young. This hike, however, bears special memories. It was the first hike I took with my son, although he wasn’t my son then. His adoption took five long years, and he wasn’t allowed to call me his mom that whole time until the adoption was finalized. Crazy rules!!!

He was about seven years old when I decided this would be a fun summer outing for him. We made it up to the Chapin/Chiquita saddle, where he joyously sat right on the edge and innocently swung his feet, completely oblivious to my fear of heights and pleadings to get away from there. Only by coaxing him upward on Mount Chapin, which does not have a sheer cliff face, was I able to distract him long enough to squelch his hunger for danger!

As The Lizard and I made our way up this same saddle so many years later, I visualized my son’s expression as he beheld the entire Estes Valley below him. And then I remembered him rushing ahead on the descent and somehow losing me. I found him, whimpering in the trees about 45 minutes later, thoroughly convinced he’d been abandoned, even though he was the one who took off without warning. He threw his arms around me and promised never to leave my side again.

Needless to say, that was not a promise he kept. Kids grow up. Or at least move on.

Now, in that same spot with my newly acquired husband, I could experience the visual, mental and physical joy of climbing in the Mummy Range again. The views are outstanding. The tundra is addictive. Wildflowers and wildlife might be plentiful, or they might not. The trail is never as crowded as Longs Peak on the other end of RNMP, and it’s easier to get a feel of wilderness.

I lost my hair scrunchie in the first half hour or so of our hike. The Lizard made jokes about cow elk confiscating it for a “barn dance” next month. He also tiptoed and made tiny bird wing motions along the trail a couple of times, like dancing. (He swears he does not dance or sing. If my camera had a video function, I’d have proof to the contrary.) We both had the words and tune of the song “Chiquitita” by Abba on our minds as we climbed Chiquita. The Lizard chanted the banana song, as well as “Copacabana”, I guess because it rhymes with banana.

I made it only up and down Chiquita. The Lizard did Chiquita, Ypsilon, Chiquita and Chapin. Quite a big day, in my book. Doing these and two other nearby peaks in a day is referred to as Mummy Madness.

My goal was Ypsilon, but by the time I reached the summit of Chiquita, I knew there was no way I could do another peak, too. I did try to make each upward spurt a little longer than the previous one, but I had to stop to let my heart slow down far too many times. It’s been way too long since I’ve been at altitude.

After the hike, we traveled the initial section of Stillwater Pass, looking for moose. Came up empty-handed. We drove to Grand Lake for a caramel apple (with cinnamon!) and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Then we made our way back through Rocky Mountain National Park, once again searching for moose, and once again empty camera-ed.

In his trip report, The Lizard wrote that he went hiking with his favorite person. I find it simply remarkable that he still finds time and opportunities to express romance, fondness and warmth, even though we have morphed from the dating stage to the hitched stage. I couldn’t have picked a better mate!

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