Dear Mom and Dad,
I’m staying in Colorado. I’ve decided that biking across the country is stupid, and I’m going to settle down in the Rocky Mountains, living in my hammock and catching fish in the river to eat. Or something. I think I’m going to need a warmer hammock, though.
Today, we went from Steamboat Springs, a touristy town with some amazing hosts (shoutout to Dan and Sam for their delicious breakfasts and help fixing flats, cleaning bikes, and general awesomeness), to Maybell. There is nothing in Maybell except for one of those middle-of-nowhere general stores that somehow manages to have everything you could possibly need: spicy bean dip, chocolate milk, gummy worms, etc. in about ten square feet of space. Like all good country stores, this one was manned by a persnickety old dude with a beat up baseball cap. He was pretty nice, though. We’re camped in a park that has WiFi (the future is now), and Matt, Kate, and I got in at about 2:00 in the afternoon. So life is pretty good.
You will be pleased to know that I have replaced my disgusting neon jersey with a slick and fashionable Colorado jersey I purchased at a tiny store in Loveland. I feel faster already.
The ride today was pretty nice; we cruised through 41 miles in a little over 2 hours, which is fast. Then the wind picked up and we slowed down, but we attempted a pace line with some success. I showered today, which was also nice. Somehow, we managed to lose the tent poles somewhere in the Rockies, so Lisa had to rush to Walmart and buy us a whole new tent so nobody had to sleep outside. We’re still looking for those poles. If you happen to be cruising through Roosevelt National Forest and notice a gray bag with some sad, beat-up tent poles, it is ours. We want it back.
It’s 5:04 in the afternoon, which is roughly my bedtime, so I’m probably going to bed now. Here are some pictures to satisfy your desire for actual concrete proof that I am still alive. I’m having a good time. Colorado is nice.
Love,
Delia
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