Back in March of about 1982, when I was about 24, I was suffering from a broken heart. The girl I was convinced was going to be my future wife had unceremoniously dumped me. Seems she wasn't quite as convinced as I was.

I was really into bicycling at the time. I also felt the need to get away. Combining the two seemed like a good idea, so I bought some panniers (which are packs for your bike), loaded up with some essentials and hit the road. I blew off buying a tent, instead opting for a tarp I could sling over both my bike and myself. Something about proving I could travel with a minimum of luxuries. More on the effects of that decision later.

Leaving Colorado

I remember leaving Castle Rock on a crisp, sunny day. By the time I made Pueblo my seriously overweight bike needed a new rear rim. That took a day or so, but the guys at the shop there did a great job. That new rim lasted the rest of the trip. I also mailed home a bunch of stuff to lighten my load.

New Mexico

A few days later I was pedaling up Cimarron Pass in a snowstorm. By the time I reached Taos I resembled a snowman, riding a packed down bike with the derailleurs frozen in my highest gear. I remember walking into a coffee shop. The waitress didn't say a word, just brought me a pot of steaming hot coffee. Coffee never tasted so good.

I thawed myself and the bike out at a hostel, and had a memorable trip to the Pueblo with a couple of stoned Indians. Then I was back on the road, only to be snowed in again in the small village of Ojo Cliente. There is a hot springs spa there, although back then it was much more primitive. For 3 days I would soak in the hot pools of water, then crawl under my tarp at night and wait for the snow to stop.

Finally it did and off I went, through Santa Fe and Albuquerque, to Gallup, where I remember sitting in a Burger King watching yet another storm blow in. That night I slept in a rest area, where I would go into the bathroom to warm myself under the hot air of the hand dryer.

In Gallup I had been warned to watch out for the Papago Indians, through whose reservation I would be pedaling. Seems they weren't considered to be always welcoming, and had a propensity to drink while driving. Instead I found the friendliest people. Sometimes a truck jammed with fat locals (Papagos mostly seemed pretty heavy), all waving and smiling, would pass me. The women on Sunday wore the most amazing jewelry, with huge chunks of turquoise. I would also see huge piles of broken beer and whiskey bottles at intersections, so I don't doubt the drinking part. It was beautiful country, though.

Into Arizona

By the time I hit Arizona I was ready for warm weather. Pedaling out of Globe, over the pass and down into the desert was unforgettable. Cold was replaced with warm, and the flowers were in bloom. After battling cold and snowstorms, Arizona was pure magic.

I stayed about a month in Arizona, pedaling all over. In Why I walked into a bar of drunken native Americans. I was the only white guy. That was scary. Fortunately a local fellow about my age came to the rescue. Never one to leave a cold beer, I quickly finished mine and got out of there.

At the Grand Canyon campground I met a couple, also traveling by bike. He had lost an arm in a logging accident in Montana. They had ridden down from there the summer before, spent the winter, and were now pedaling north again. Try riding your bike one handed for a while. It can be tiring. Then imagine doing that with your panniers loaded down and going cross-country for about a thousand miles. That guy impressed the heck out of me.

To California

I took old Route 66 to Needles, over to Barstow, then pointed to Los Angeles. In the Mojave Desert I stopped at an out of the way pub. The older lady behind the bar warned me about the rattlesnakes: "Better watch out for them Mojave Greens. They'll crawl right into your sleeping bag, and they are mean!" That night I slept on top of a picnic table, a la Snoopy on his dog house.

I became totally lost in L.A. I was actually pulled over by a cop, who advised me he would never pedal a bike where I was pointed. He got me on the right track, and eventually I popped out at Venice Beach. The ocean! I had made it! I celebrated with a beer at a seaside pub in Malibu with the most beautiful waitresses I have ever seen. I wonder how many of them were future movie stars.

Up the Coast

If I ever pedal the California coast again I am starting north and going south. The wind seemed to be constantly in my face. I did meet some other cyclists, and it was fun to have company. Highway 1 was closed due to mudslides, so we had it all to ourselves. That was cool.

Just before San Francisco I became very sick, and a buddy from High School who lived in the Bay area came and picked me up. I was staying at a neat hostel in an old lighthouse at the time, but I don't remember much about it.

Time for a tent!

I stayed at my buddy's place for about a week. My original plan had been to arrive there and look for a job on a freighter headed out to sea, but I found I really just wanted to keep pedaling. I also really wanted a tent. I was tired of sleeping on or under my tarp. A few days earlier I had awoken to find a huge tick embedded into my scalp. Enough of that.

Before I left I took the BART over to Oakland, where I found the Sierra Designs shop. At that time they were a pretty small outfit, and I bought one of their new, ultralight tents. My first night in it I felt like I was at a 5 star hotel! It was awesome. I also bought a new Brooks leather saddle, as my old seat was pretty worn out. More on that later.

Inland and up to Oregon

After crossing the Golden Gate Bridge I pedaled up through Napa and the wine country. The roads there were much less busy then. I continued north, to Crater Lake and Bend, where I turned back east. I really liked eastern Oregon. I remember watching a Golden Eagle nail a snake as I pedaled by. That was pretty amazing.

Idaho and more hot springs

As I crossed into Idaho I came upon an old truck with a huge load of potatoes. On top of the load sat some migrant workers. They cheered as I raced them up a hill. That was fun.

By the time I hit Boise my butt was seriously sore. Brooks saddles are great when they are broken in, but mine wasn't and it hurt. Idaho is full of hot springs, and the first one I got to I pulled off that saddle and soaked it for a couple of hours until it softened up a bit, then put it back on my bike and kept pedaling. That helped a lot. I also had the best pancakes of my trip at a small restaurant just before I went over Teton Pass.

Wyoming and home

I hit Jackson Hole on the 4 th of July. I remember that because somebody threw a firecracker out of a pick-up truck at me. I was starting to get a little homesick by then. I remember camping by the Green River one night with the thickest swarm of mosquitos I have ever experienced. Thank goodness for that tent.

The last four days of my journey I went 5oo miles, all the way to Glenwood Springs. I was in incredible shape. A friend who lived in Silt was leaving for Denver the next day. He offered me a ride and I accepted. To this day I wish I had finished it out on my bike, but I was ready to be done at that point. I threw my bike into his VW microbus and away we went. From Denver the next day I pedaled myself home via Santa Fe Drive back to Castle Rock.

Conclusion

I was gone 4 months and pedaled about 3000 miles. My budget was $10.00 a day. Along the way I met a huge variety of people and experienced the West like never before or since. That trip was in many ways one of the turning points of my life. The feeling of having everything I needed reduced to about 40 pounds (10 pounds+ of which was camera equipment) on my bicycle was great. I have never felt so free, either before or since.

It was truly the greatest adventure of my life, so far.