Anton Krupicka: Farewell to Winter

According to the popular adage, the ride should be about the journey not the destination. However, with traces of winter snowfall still blanketing Boulder’s iconic Flatirons and still more signs of the lingering winter season holding onto the high peaks, a recent overnight trip to a local hot spring proved to be about both the journey and the destination too.

For my partner, Anton Krupicka, and myself, the journey provided two longer days of riding to season our legs for the forthcoming demands of Spring and Summer rides. Split across the weekend, our 145-mile (233km) round-trip route clocked in plenty of climbing (16,000ft/5,000m) and took us from our doorstep in Boulder, Colorado to the state’s original gold rush town of Idaho Springs. Our destination – a small hot spring at a quaint historic hotel – provided ample motivation to brave higher elevations and enforce two consecutive full-days on the bike.

The route opened with bucolic miles out of Boulder with the accessibility of low-traffic gravel routes being one of the area’s greatest gifts to cyclists. The foothills that border Boulder to the west and compose the Front Range are riven with canyons of varying grades and, even though it is the longest continuous local climb, Lefthand Canyon offers one of the more modest grades, averaging around 4% for the full 18-miles required to reach the Peak-to-Peak Highway.

True to the forecast, we were greeted by a stiff western breeze, which then turned to punctuated gusts low down in the canyon. Fortunately, the close canyon walls soon acted as a shelter, rather than a funnel, and we were heartened by our progress as we soon found ourselves on the final steep pitches through the small community of Ward, without much worry paid to the wind.

The climb took us to the Peak-to-Peak Highway – an iconic, undulating bi-way that boasts sweeping corners and impressive views of the Indian Peaks range. In warmer seasons, you’d be hard pressed to pass any stretch of this classic road without spotting other riders, but today in late winter, we covered the 12 miles (19km) into Nederland without seeing any moving vehicles. Nederland sits at 8,200ft (2500m), versus Boulder’s temperate 5,300-foot (1600m) and we were glad to stop at cafe Salto for hot sandwiches, soup, and coffee.

We rode out the 20 remaining miles to reach Central City with our heads mostly down due to a fierce wind. We took the descents much slower than usual, and I spied Anton unclip a foot on a couple of the corners, lest a powerful gust initiate a spill. The sun was already obscured by the surrounding peaks as we reached Central City and the last climb of the day. An 1,800-foot rise took us out of town, from pavement back to gravel, and to the aptly named descent down Oh My God Road which, with its slinking s-curves and unobstructed views of Mount Evans, is indeed divine.

Once the sun had disappeared, though, we could have cared less about the divinity of the OMG descent as we reached our hard-earned destination of Idaho Springs. Teeth near-chattering, we hit the first gas station in town and immediately downed a hot chocolate, while holding our hands over the hot dog roller. In short order, we made it to the hotel, had a pizza delivered, and were soon pruned-skinned and thoroughly warmed by our stint in the tub—a luxurious end to an invigorating day on the bike.

We started day two with an incredible breakfast at the Main Street Restaurant, a lowkey diner that serves up eye-popping plates, such as our three-egg omelets, slab of hash browns, and two slices of banana bread (which we pocketed for later). Well-fueled, we started up Little Bear Creek Rd— an addition to our route which would add a 3,500ft (1,050m) climb and earn us views of the high mountains strung along the Continental Divide enchainment. Ice-crusted roads turned to clean snowpack higher up and we cruised the serpentine corners talking casually while enjoying the muffled crunch of our tires on the surface beneath.

Rolling at around 11,200ft (3,400m), we had reached the literal and psycho-emotional high point of the trip, where we pointed out the familiar profiles of known peaks—Evans being the closest, of course, and then, in the receding distance, Grays, the pyramidal Torres, James and Arapahoe Peaks, and furthest still Longs Peak, perhaps the most iconic of the Front Range and—at 40 miles from Boulder—our “local” mountain.

At Echo Lake, we turned back northeast for the 15-mile (25km) return descent to Idaho Springs. While the wind so far had been non-existent and the sun was shining high, the sub-freezing air temperature made the downhill into town painful. Being nearly nauseous with the cold, we opted for a second round of coffees at the Frothy Cup. Afterall, if you can’t stop for a second cup in Winter, when can you?

Fortunately, the rest of the day was warm, and our spirits high. Our return ride included much of the same roads we had taken to arrive. A sweat-inducing climb up Oh My God Rd brought us back to Central City and from here we opted for an unsealed shortcut back to the Peak-to-Peak Highway. Whilst this stretch had a hefty grade, it was low traffic and offered a backroads feel that we both appreciated.

A blustery western cross breeze characterized the next 12-mile stretch until we eagerly turned east, making our foe a friend in the form of a tail wind through the rollers of the downward-trending Magnolia Road. Aside from some unexpected slush lingering on Magnolia’s shaded, infamously-steep corners, the rest of the ride passed without incident. Rolling back into town in the early evening, it felt like we had pulled one over on Old Man Winter by sneaking up to 11k’ and were thereby gifted the motivational lift that summer would be here before we knew it.

Caravan: Anton Krupicka

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