trail angel in a blue jeep

once i broke the bonds of breckinridge, the long climb up boreas pass began. it is a 12-mile slog up the abandoned railroad bed of the denver, south park, and pacific railroad, which schlepped 60-years worth of the privileged, the tired, and the destitute between denver and leadville. some found fame and fortune, most saw their dreams and hopes dashed.

for bikepackers on the divide, it is one of the iconic climbs, bringing you from the snoot of breckinridge to it’s summit at just over 11,400 feet.

as an abandoned railroad bed, the gradient is favorable for a bicycle, but 12-miles “up” is still a challenging slog on a loaded bike.

when you leave breckinridge, you take a series of hairpin turns that stream by the new construction of million dollar homes whose presence in a coniferous forest on 30% slopes in an historic fire-ridden landscape seems suspect.

the sounds of nail guns and compressors accompanied my rhythmic pedaling for a while but then, it was just me, the gravel, and up.

with 3/4’s of the ride over, i heard a bike come up and then pass me. we said our “hi’s” and then she was gone. most of my climbs are like that…passed by youth but still undefeated.

the closer i got to the summit, the more ominous the clouds rolling in from the south looked, but you get what the divide gives you, be they moral, physical, spiritual, or atmospheric challenges.

at the summit, i reconnected with the woman cyclist, zadoria or “z”, and had one of those “divide” conversations filled with wonder, optimism, and “atta boy/girl” stuff.

you don’t know how heartening that type of contact can be.

with rain imminent, we engaged in our separate descents and z was gone.

the rain started hard, with a little hail and i found a sheltered area beneath a bough-heavy spruce to gather my thoughts and throw on my goretex and gloves. i checked my phone for route information, ate some jerky and began the most recent, downhill portion of my life.

without any pedaling, hypothermia is just a downshift away on the divide. i clinched my arms and bounced over chunk, but otherwise enjoyed my wet, gravity-enabled ride.

twelve miles later, i turned onto elkhorn road, took a pulse on my bike and gear and holy shit…

…my phone was gone!!!

the elation of the downhill, of being in the final phase of my journey had been taken. i was crushed; emotionally devastated because without my phone, i couldn’t navigate the divide, find route resources, communicate with scott or the kids.

earlier on this journey, someone told me the divide is where things go wrong and you are forced to find a solution, even though it may not be an ideal solution.

in an instant, i had lost my connection to everything but then, what was an acceptable outcome?

i could:

ride on to salida and buy a new phone; or, i could ride back up to the summit of boreas pass, a 2,000 foot, 12-mile ascent from the south and hope i would find my phone.

either option was nauseating and yet, making the climb was the most logical, even though it put me outside the food and daylight window into hartsel, and even though it could jeopardize my layover in salida.

i turned around and started the climb. when a vehicle approached from off the pass, i flagged it down, asking if they had come off the pass and if they had seen a phone. no one gave me the answer i needed. same story with the next car and the next car.

each car placed me closer to the brutal reality of a second trip up boreal pass.

two miles up the road and already engaged in the climb, a blue jeep approached and i waved my arm in the universally-accepted signal of “i am a dumb phuck…i lost my phone, can you help?”

the driver pulled over, her dogs barked at the crazy person in lycra, she listened to my story and said “let’s go find your phone.”

she pointed her vehicle up the pass, i ditched my bike in the sage brush and we headed up boreas pass to look for my phone.

i cannot tell you of the profound emotions i felt, having already been enabled by the divide’s trail angels during my journey. they appear and ask for nothing, only for acceptance of their/our humanity.

it is pure. it is a gift.

we traveled slowly. shana listening to my lament, her dogs still unsettled about the front seat passenger.

the rain had stopped and at least, vehicle traffic was minimal. i told her of my brief shelter stop and that it had occurred within a half-mile of the top.

flat rocks looked like dozens of otter cases. light created rectangular shadows. my hopes raised and the dropped. we got closer to the summit, shana slowed down and said “there it is.”

i got out, dashed to the phone and was emotionally overwhelmed. my phone was intact, my trip salvaged.

there was joy and celebration during our ride back to my bike. i was still overcome with emotion, but i had again experienced the worst case scenario with a best case result, because of someone else.

in the end i made it to hartsel, albeit in the dark and rain. the cyclist only camp site is behind a bar and is literally, a dump but the goodness demonstrated by another outweighs any other deficits of my journey.

in increments, i am reconnecting with the goodness of people and see hope for humanity, especially if i take it one trail angel at a time.

thank you shana.