It wasn't so shocking that John was leaving multiple, berating voicemails to get me out to his place in Colorado to do some riding and relaxing. After all, he's been harassing me about everything since the fourth grade, when my first not-so-friendly encounter with him on a field trip resulted in my sweet 80's comb in the back pocket being thrown deep into the woods. And Doug in San Francisco calling me to meet him at John's is an annual occurrence, so no surprise there.
But my wife Heather urging me to go with weekly phone calls and inquiries? In retrospect, kinda suspect. She's cool about me going on trips given our obligations to nurture our up and coming young cycling team, but to take the initiative and, well, sort of nag me about it? But with days often moving a million miles an hour, I sometimes process zero, and so I didn't suspect a thing. I had no intention on going out this time as I had been rehabbing a screwed up leg for some time, and riding, when possible, was minimal. I didn't want to risk flying out there, only to sit and drink good beer and enjoy beautiful scenery while my friends rode some epic trails. Then again, would it have been that bad?
Fast-forward two weeks before Doug was to arrive in Denver. My wife called from work saying she was about to pull the trigger on airfare for me to join them, but she wanted to make sure I could ride. She confessed that for the last two months, she had been conspiring with the guys to make this year's birthday something memorable, but that my injury was putting these plans in jeopardy. I had to make a decision right then and I was all in, leg or no leg. A very nice surprise, for sure, and for the next two weeks, I snuck in as many hilly road rides on the Peg that I could manage. A couple more would have been beneficial...
So the start of my vacation came, and Heather had arranged for Doug and I to fly into DIA at the same time so John could make a single 75 mile drive through the Rockies to retrieve us. From there, they made plans to go and see our good friends Mark and Mel in Boulder, check out the city and their coffee roastery by bike path and brew pub, and spend the evening laughing over a ridiculously great dinner. I did pass on the 3 a.m. bongo and cribbage session, however. After all, it's all about pacing yourself.
Next morning, which came all too soon, we drove up to Nederland to meet an LBS owner and friend of Mark and Mel's to do a tour of the Ned stash. A group of about ten riders was waiting for our slightly damaged bodies to arrive at the shop, and welcomed us with smiles, laughter, and just great vibes. We headed out of town, climbed a beautiful road with miles and miles of endless switchbacks until we got to the access road - and climbed miles and miles of switchbacks until we got to the singletrack and spectacular views. We rode all day, which is a rare luxury for me, and something we repeated over the next couple of days. Post ride, we said bye to friends old and new, and headed to Frisco.
The following morning we headed to Copper Mountain to start the Three Pass Ride. After a short access road climb, we got to the Colorado Trail and started our first loooong climb to Searle Pass. The ride through the trees was gorgeous with meadows full of wildflowers, and as we climbed above tree line, the views just kept coming from every direction you let your oxygen-starved head turn. After crossing snow fields, streams and a short hike-a-bike, we reached the pass. There were some big sustained winds and the threat of thunderstorms (not good above the trees), so we headed to our next goal, Kokomo Pass, before bombing back down below treeline via miles of a beautiful, serpentine ribbon of Colorado Trail perfection.
Arriving at Camp Heale somewhat exhausted, the commitment had already been made. We had to climb Resolution Road, an increasingly steep jeep road that climbed forever to get to Ptarmigan Pass. It was a sufferfest, in a good way, with sun beating down, hail beating down, and knowing you had to get back above treeline, but it never looked like it would happen. There were always trees - everywhere. Eventually, we reached Ptarmigan and finished the ride with a fast descent with many small stream crossings. A big day no doubt.
With another friend, Byron, along for the fun, we decided on a change of pace for the next day. It was a backyard Frisco day, starting with the Peaks Trail, and then hitting what seemed like every hidden gem in the area. This area has been a favorite of mine, a combo of buff and flowy and also twisty, tight and technical, occasionally popping out into a ten-mile range vista before ducking back in the trees for a big climb or ripping descent. Top it off with a post-ride sail on Lake Dillon, a sake-filled dinner, beer and pool at John's house, a late-night no-lights hike into the wilderness, and the day was pretty perfect.
This went down as being such a memorable trip that I got to spend with friends of 30 years, I'm still smiling recounting all of this. I am seriously grateful that my wife and friends made it happen. Yeah, it's a long-winded blog. But for those that know me, I type like I talk. 
If you're not completely exhausted, more pics are here: