You Can’t Blame it on the Altitude (Silverton Style)
May 17, 2013
Green Spears of Death!!
June 14, 2013
This is an essay that I got published in the local newspaper yesterday. As usual here’s hoping you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it.
Word Count: 724
A Different Type of
Spinning your Wheels
Last weekend I found myself not volunteering to help out with the premier Memorial Day event here in Silverton, the “Iron Horse Bicycle Race”. My regular duties as a hotel manager kept me glued to the front desk most of the morning. Wanting to take advantage of the beautiful weather though, I decided to take a break late that morning and ended up wandering aimlessly about town. Since I’ve nurtured this practice into a finely tuned mis-ability, I ended up doing a great deal of thinking while walking around.
Watching all the contestants rip up the street on their high tech bicycles that cost the equivalent of some people’s monthly mortgage payments, made me think that riding a bicycle here in Silverton has always been a bit of a challenge. Since we only have one paved street, I was often forced to bring the bicycle out of winter storage a month or two later than I would’ve liked. Of course Mother Nature in her usual schizophrenic fashion often ensured this.
We’d get a beautiful sunny day in March and my sisters and I would anxiously pull the bikes out. Sure enough three days after we’ve brought the two wheeled transportation instruments out, a low-pressure system would move through our valley. Complete with blizzard speed wind gusts and a deposit of white stuff totaling eight to ten inches. You don’t want to keep skiing and instead would rather ride the bike, but you can’t. What did a ten-year-old kid in this town do other than fight with his sisters, or go back inside and watch Silverton’s one and only television station. Spring would eventually get here, and pretty soon you’re cruising back down the street.
Pedaled contraptions back in the 70’s weren’t really made for unpaved roads. My Schwinn 10-speed roadster was no exception. Many was the time I’d play mind tricks with myself by cruising the back streets and dodging pot holes as I pedaled. If it was right after a big storm, there were lots of them and sometimes the mud puddles out numbered the dry spots at least 10 to 1. Keep pedaling and hope the wheel guards prevent your backside from turning into too much of a mud encrusted avant-garde fashion statement.
Then summer would hit and my favorite thing to do was cruising to the southern outskirts of town late in the day. Specifically to take in advantage of our stunning mountain views as I rode my bike north towards Ouray. Moments like that made me truly appreciate the simple pleasures of riding a bicycle in Silverton and summer sunsets.
Then riding various wheeled contraptions got even more interesting. Mom and dad bought us unicycles one year at Christmas and we learned how to ride the one-wheeled wonders in what used to be the back room of the American Legion. Relatives who worked there, as well as an unused pool table aided in this endeavor. By the time winter had finally loosened its vice-like grip on things, we somewhat gracefully pedaled our way down the street. Lots of folks positively encouraged our efforts and life was good in these moments.
Riding a bicycle on anything that wasn’t covered in asphalt much less a one-wheeled unicycle wasn’t much fun until the advent of the mountain bike. All of a sudden previously unavailable environments for cruising around town on my bike were opened up to me. These fat tire equipped pedaling machines are made for riding on unpaved surfaces, and when they first came out I totally took advantage of that fact.
In some instances you could even practice your air sucking efforts by pedaling the mountains around town. Going up the hill you’re fighting for every square inch forward. Moving in the opposite direction you’re hoping the brakes are good enough to delicately get you back down the hill.
These days my mountain bike has become my main mode of transportation for a large part of the year. I’m even considering the purchase of a huge fat tire mountain bike that allows you to ride through super deep snow in the dead of winter. Appropriate since one of my sisters often refers to our town as “Siberia South.” Not always an easy place to ride a bicycle around.
