Hi Gram,
Another beautiful day in the mountains! I was a little sore this morning and objected when my alarm went off, but I got up and did my morning routine anyway. After breakfast, Mark and I decided to the the bikes out for another ride. We stopped by the local deli to grab sandwiches for later, but found they weren’t yet open. Undeterred, we soldiered on with plans to rely on some trail mix and protein bars to stave off the hunger. We followed a path out of the neighborhood and found ourselves on a smooth dirt road with a gentle incline. Note that my opinion that this was a gentle incline on the way up will be important later in the story. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, and we pedaled on as the road got a little bumpier.

After a mile or two of this climb, I looked down and saw my battery indicator had dropped from nearly full to nearly empty. It made me nervous, but I reassured myself that I wouldn’t need the battery on the way down as I could let gravity help me along if I was too tired. My main reason for getting an electric bike in the first place was so that I could have more confidence on long bike rides. Years ago, I was on a ride where I just kept going, enthralled by the beauty. Once I finally turned around, my personal gas gauge was already near empty and I still had miles to get back home. I ended up stopping to just sit by the side of the road and recover a little energy multiple times on that ride, too tired to keep pedaling. When I got home, I swore that I would never ride that far again. When electric bikes were introduced, I was freed to explore beyond my neighborhood again, knowing the battery and electric motor could get me home.

So seeing the battery gauge near empty gave me a bit of a panic today and I just hoped that I was right about downhill getting me back to the house later. We saw a few trucks on their way up the hill and some people unloading dirt bikes from their trailers. I went back and forth between having the motor assist me on the steep parts to going without the assist on flatter or more gradual parts to try saving some battery for later. Mark would get ahead of me for a while, then I’d kick in the motor and catch up.

The road and a river came close together, so we parked the bikes and walked over to a nice shaded spot to watch the water rush by while we hydrated and ate our protein bars. It was so peaceful, just sitting there on a rock and listening to the white noise of the river.

Recharged, we mounted the bikes again and charged forth. After some more breathtaking scenery and passing a few cabins where I would have loved to spend a lifetime reading books and breathing fresh mountain air, we got to a trailhead with paths for motorbikes and pedestrians. Mark was telling me that the bikers start at a trailhead further up the mountain, then ride down this trail full of switchbacks and narrow, challenging trails. He and I walked up the trail a little to some more astounding water features, then unlocked the bikes and started our way back to the house.

I was glad to be heading back down, conserving some battery and enjoying the wind blowing. Soon, though, the gorgeous scenery and wind in my face were accompanied by the road getting a little less smooth. Remember when I said that I was looking forward to gravity helping on the return trip? Well, it really wanted to help! I learned a trick watching Mark where I stood on the pedals to let my legs absorb a little of the jolting delivered from the rocks and bumps in the road. Mark’s bike has shock absorbers and fat tires to soften the blow a little. My bike, sadly, has neither of those.

I spent the ride back down going from joyful riding to terror-filled dashes. It felt like my front tire left the road quite a few times, although I also felt every bump and jolt of the road when I thought I was airborne, multiplying my panic. Despite the fear and trepidation, I saw some beautiful views that I somehow missed on the way up and we soon returned to flatter ground and the path leading into the neighborhood.

We stopped at the deli where we’d tried grabbing sandwiches on the way out, and were not disappointed at the service or flavor. While we sat and ate our sandwiches, Mark pointed out what some of the buildings contained, showed me a house that he and Marge had considered, and told me about a brewery they were planning to build in the next year. We talked about some other commercial and residential development while we finished lunch, then headed to the house where we got cleaned up and decided to take the bus to town for some sushi. My friend Tara moved here a few years ago, got married, and decided to run a few restaurants. We walked over to the bus and headed to Izakaya Cabin for their happy hour. They were just opening, so we quickly found a seat out on the patio and watched the kid from the bike shop next door assemble a bike. There was more of the same small town charm as people greeted each other, walked in and out of shops, and went on their way. Dinner was delicious and Tara was able to break free of the kitchen for a few minutes to come say hi. I think everywhere in the country is short staffed right now, and ski town restaurants, especially in the summer, are no exception. It was great to catch up with her and see her little slice of happiness before she headed back to roll some more sushi and help keep the place humming along. Sadly, I forgot to get a picture with her while I was there, so I can’t prove any of this… We had a little time before the bus arrived, so Mark humored me as I stopped in a few shops and found a sticker and can coozy to commemorate my visit. Exhausted, we headed back to the house, having put a perfect cap on my visit to Crested Butte!