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Should Denver Host the Olympics? 30 August 2011

Posted by magicdufflepud in Colorado.
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Denver, as you may know, holds the ignominious distinction of being the only city, ever, to turn down the Olympics.  True story. After receiving the nod from the IOC in 1972, for the ’76 games, the state  turned out en masse to reject the idea, on the grounds that Coloradans’ tax dollars were best spent on… well, nothing at all for the most part. If however Gov. Hickenlooper and Denver mayor Michael Hancock arrive at a decision to pursue another Olympics bid—and the Denver Post is reporting they might— the city and state may receive another chance, and a shot at redemption.

Although I unabashedly support the idea of world-harmonizing sporting events coming to my city, an unscientific perusal of the comments on the article and its complementary appearance on the Post’s Facebook feed seems to suggest that Coloradans still really, really hate the Olympics. This in turn strikes me as shortsighted or curmudgeonly, and more likely, both, since the Olympics haters largely contend that 1)we can’t afford a to waste money on infrastructure for the games and that 2)hosting the Olympics in Denver might incite more people to move to the state.

Now, if you’ve never lived in Colorado, or if you’ve experienced life in a brain-drain state in particular, (2) is a real head scratcher, but Coloradans, like Montanans and Idahoans I gather, maintain the curious mentality that whoever arrives here last needs to close the door behind him. When these old timers or their forebears arrived, Colorado greeted them in its most perfect manifestation, an unspoilt state where man and beast alike could roam free. Then, the story goes, everyone else showed up and it all went to hell. That’s the narrative as essentially every curmudgeonly Coloradan tells it: Colorado was a great place when I first showed up, but then they kept letting all the other folks in, so now it’s a disaster. Also, the illegals.

That this line of argument appears in concert with “The Olympics will be a waste of money” only makes it more troubling, and more accurately, intellectually dishonest. By and large, the Front Range attracts a crowd of college-educated, highly skilled workers, who come for the outdoor lifestyle and, circularly, the large crowd of college-educated, highly skilled workers. It’s this exact pattern of growth that nearly every metropolitan area in the country seeks to emulate, and it’s exactly the sort of growth the Olympics could drive as the games place Denver in the global spotlight, yet where that vast majority of localities would see enormous opportunity, the curmudgeons would have us build a wall.

It’s true that the Olympics have extracted humongous tolls from their host cities—Montreal is still paying off more than two billion in debt—but the costs and benefits of an undertaking lie not only with the actuaries’ tables and tabulations. As a city on the cusp of nationwide importance, Denver can make the most of global exposure to begin weaving the complex web of business and cultural connections that bring so much life (and economic activity) to places like San Francisco, Seattle and Atlanta. If, as every mayoral hopeful seems to suggest, we want Denver to become a world-class city, we must demonstrate that it is capable of a world-class undertaking. The Pro Cycling Challenge represented a start, certainly, yet is a long trek from here to 2022, so while Denver can absolutely make the journey, the question remains, are Coloradans on board?

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Cycling Fremont Pass 25 August 2011

Posted by magicdufflepud in Colorado Passes, Cycling.
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Key Stats

– Start location: Copper Mountain, CO

– End location: Copper Mountain, CO

– Route type: Out and back

– Directions: Take Colorado 91 south from Copper Mountain. Turn around in Leadville.

– Vertical: 2776′

– Distance: 40-ish miles round trip

– Average grade: 1.3% (This is a little misleading since it includes flats)

– Steepest sustained grade: 8%

– Surface type/condition: Varied. Some new pavement. Potholes and fissures in old pavement. Gravel/debris in places.

-Other notes: Ride early and pack rain/cold weather gear

First of all, if you haven’t been watching the USA Pro Cycling Challenge, you should be. Or at least you should be recording it on your DVR so you can see it when you get home from work. It’s on Versus. Or here. That’s your homework for the week.

Your other assignment is to bike Fremont Pass, though maybe it’s better to say “brave Fremont Pass.” It’s kinda scary but generally worth it.

So here’s the thing, if cycling were all about discovering Colorado mining history, every guide would list riding Fremont as the state’s best ride. This pass counts four mining towns–three of them extinct–one truly enormous excavation, and all the hallmarks of an extractive industry boom. You’ll also run across three 14ers, a couple mountain lakes and more traffic than you can stand. With the generally crappy road added to the mix, it all makes for a bittersweet cycling experience, at least on the weekend. This is the sort of ride that makes you dream of flying along a fresh strip of asphalt on a quiet Tuesday morning.

If only it were so.

Anyway, if you’re planning to bike Fremont, here’s what you need to know: compared to other Colorado passes, this one’s fairly easy, but the rides on either side couldn’t be more different. From Leadville heading north, the road slopes gently to its summit, only really gaining elevation on the final ramp. From Copper Mountain heading south, the route climbs a healthy 1,750′ over 6.5 miles, topping out at an eight percent grade.

Click for full size.

Let’s take a look at the details.

Your best bet will be to exit from I-70 at Copper Mountain and park in the lot that’s a half mile or so down the road on the left hand side–across from the golf course. Leaving the parking lot, take a left, south, on Colorado 91. You’ll get about a mile or so to warm up, and to assess your comfort level with all the traffic. It gets no better. (As an aside,  a drunk woman in a Dillon brew-pub told me she’d never bike CO 91 because there were, she said, too many tourists gawking at scenery and driving all over the damn place. She’d never do it, she concluded. Of course, I don’t know if she’d every really bike anything–and she was drunk–but you’ve been warned.)

After the first mile, the gradient increases, hitting an average of 3.9 percent for then next several miles, but if that seems a little weak sauce, it’s not. At times, the road turns upward, climbing at better than 8 percent. And it never really seems to back off in the way sections of Lookout Mountain do. Along the way, you’ll catch glimpses of Ten Mile Creek, which cuts from the left, the runs under the road and appears again as a more expansive valley opens up to the east.

It’s here, about four miles in, that you’ll catch the first signs that something is amiss. Gates block roads leading off to the right, each of them bearing ominous “No Trespassing” signs. Then, the tailings ponds, with quaint names like “Mayflower” and “Robinson.” If they look unnatural, it’s because they are.

Essentially everything in the valley to your right is the result of molybdenum mining, and these tailings ponds imprison the byproducts of that process. Unlike the gold and silver that brought most folks to the mountains early on, molybdenum appeared on the scene because of its industrial applications. You probably know it from old bikes; that “chromoly” is a form of steel, hardened with molybdenum. But before it became popular for bikes, most molybdenum went into production as America entered World War I. As world demand for the ore has ebbed and flowed, the Climax mine higher up the hill has operated in fits and starts. At one point, though, it shipped 75 percent of all the molybdenum on earth. It’s closed now, but a recent Denver Post article suggests the production will begin again. Soon.

About three miles from the true summit, the hard climbing ends and the rollers begin. The first takes you down, almost level with a reservoir that offers a view toward the back of the Ten Mile Range. From here the road rises and falls slightly, and just before the final ascent the summit, the route provides a pull-out with views toward Mount of the Holy Cross. A few signs describe the area’s gold mining history, including the expansion and desertion of a few mining towns, and suggest that the Climax mine is doing its best to restore the valley to its original state, bulldozers, backhoes and denuded earth not withstanding. From here the road eventually winds up in front of the Climax mine itself. Curiously, the 11,318′ summit lacks the standard sign indicating the accomplishment, but not to worry, you’ll find something better: old mine cars and a dude selling elk jerky. To the north is the mine, a colossal affair that has dispatched with most of the visible hillside behind it.

Descending from the summit, the road improves significantly, and you’ll ride happy on new pavement. If you climb passes for the heart-pounding descents, though, the south side of Fremont will disappoint. It’s pedal pushing all the way into Leadville, although the road does meander alongside a pleasant creek for most of the way, and to the east you might catch the scenic railroad winding its way along the slopes. The highway pitches up again just before entering Leadville, and the first junction offers a chance to complete the second leg of the Copper Triangle, a breezy 35-mile ride into Minturn. But for now, stay the course and enjoy a snack or lunch in Colorado’s could-have-been capital.

I’m still figuring out when I want to write my Leadville post, but it’s still not now. Suffice it to say, you should skip the Golden Burro Cafe (all the time) since it hates cyclists, and try the Tennessee Pass Cafe instead. Its reasonably priced food from every standard ethnicity—including Indian—gets most everything right. There’s beer on tap, too, if you’d like, but don’t count on speedy service.

Heading back to Copper Mountain, there’s not much to say about the ride north. Compared to the north aspect, this side of the the pass seems essentially flat until the final ramp up to the mine, then prepare for a screaming descent into Copper. I’d suggest erring toward the shoulder to avoid the cracks, potholes and outright fissures that crisscross the lane. But by the time you read this, it may have been repaved, and if so, then by all means, try to set a new max speed. It’s a nearly a straight line into the starting parking lot.

And that’s it. Cross Fremont off the list. Then come back next weekend to give Tennessee Pass a try.

Bottom Line: Fremont is a Colorado essential, but one best attempted on a weekday. Completely repaved, it ought to be a dream.

Hiking the Wind Rivers: The Wilderness Paradox 16 August 2011

Posted by magicdufflepud in Travel.
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There was everything I thought I knew about Wyoming. And then there were the Wind Rivers. This isn’t, though—or won’t be—the glowing trip report you’re thinking those first two sentences might suggest. The Winds defied my expectations in a good way, yes: they offered unmatched beauty. But I can’t help but call the north end of this range anything other than “overrun.” Even as a Coloradan, I can say that.

These mountains offer glacially-carved bliss an an almost inconceivable scale. Only the Alps present a superior demonstration of the interplay between rock and ice. Each peak, arete, col and horn evinces a glacial past. How else to explain a tower of rock soaring 3,000′, straight up, from the valley below? What else could scatter these thousand tarns? The rolling mounds of Colorado’s Sawatch look positively benign by comparison. And yet, naturally, it is these features which draw so many to the range. The Winds may well be the Times Square of the American backpacking world, lack of lounge chairs notwithstanding.

So I’m just not sure what to make of that, particularly as a Coloradan who has grown used to, if not accepting of, crowds in the backcountry. On the one hand, greater use most likely leads to greater and wider appreciation of wilderness in the legal sense. In the Winds, three federally-designated wilderness areas—the Bridger, Fitzpatrick and Popo Agie—preserve the range’s remote qualities by banning mechanical travel, and each comes with its own trail-side sign to remind visitors that they’ve entered a wilder place.

Whether that reminder translates into support of continued or expanded federal protection once hikers return home, I’m not sure, but I suspect it does. Let’s say it does. So these crowds are a mixed blessing of sorts: necessary as constituents making the case for wilderness, but painful as traffic jams pile up on the trail. That’s what national parks are for. You can find solitude elsewhere.

But I guess the lack of solitude’s more our problem, really, and not a black mark on the Winds’ reputation for incomparable grandeur. Except that it is. Although the 1964 Wilderness Act takes care to define wilderness in a particular way to preserve its original character, it was written at a time when fewer Americans followed in the steps of men like Jim Bridger. Critically, I think,  it came into being because of a few great men, not a mass movement. Car camping existed then, certainly. But only recently has backpacking gear become sufficiently light and the American population sufficiently enamored of the outdoors, to create the sort of challenge facing the Winds and other popular wilderness areas today.The presence of each additional group detracts from the wilderness experience, particularly when the other parties comprise adventuring church youth groups, not a few rough and tumble mountain men like Bridger.

So therein lies the “wilderness paradox.” Places like the Winds inspire people to take up arms and cry, “Protect this place!” They have that effect on people, and we need the Winds—or more specifically, lots of people visiting them—for that very reason. But the number of visitors needed for support runs counter to the numbers needed to keep a place “wild.” Too many visitors, and the Jolly Rancher wrappers, fire rings, and even the trails, multiply. Where we’ve arrived is a sort of equilibrium in which a few wild places like the Winds, or the wilderness areas in Colorado, receive an outsized proportion of backcountry enthusiasts, while the others remain more less pristine. It’s a balance that seems to be working, but boy, how amazing it would be to explore the Winds alone.

Wind River Photo Post 15 August 2011

Posted by magicdufflepud in Travel, Wyoming.
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Hey, so I’m working on a more complete post about the Winds, due up this week, but in the meantime, here’s a photo post to get your started.

Photos, nom nom nom nom!

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