End of the Trail


I feel like that warrior in the sculpture End of the Trail. Fought the good battle but lost the war.

The last day’s climb set me back on my heels to let me know that I’ll never be a bike climber and that what you do in life has consequences.

Once in Guffey I could hardly walk a block and have to stop and catch my byreath. I had told Bill of the Guffey Garage Gang that I might need a lift out if I wasn’t doing better the next day.

Then I do something stupid and fall hitting my head pretty hard. And having Bill patch me up. The head strike was a good solid blow and I had no idea what the internal damage might be. I decided that if there was a chance of serious injury I didn’t want to be in Guffey.

So I walked back up to the Garage and asked Bill if he knew of someone that could haul me to Canon City. He called Holly and without any hesitation on her part said she said she would do it.

Holly is an angel and drove me and my gear to Canon City. She wanted to take me to the emergency room and sit with me. I have a thing about emergency rooms and would rather make sure there is a real emergency first.

After a few hours I do have a large welt but no other negative signs. Morning should make things clearer I hope.

If I feel okay I’ll rent a car and drive home.

How I fell.

I had put my helmet in a rear pannier as I moving everything a block or so and just packed up eveything quick like. When I swung my leg to mount the bike I got hung up on that rear pannier and fell.


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