Midwest Cyclery LLC

🚴‍♀️ Life is better on two wheels! ☀️

Whether you're cruising the neighborhood, tackling the trails, or commuting to work, Midwest Cyclery is here to keep you rolling.

We're open 6 days a week and offer repairs on ALMOST every bike out there—electric or not! ⚡🚲

From tune-ups and flat fixes to more extensive repairs, our experienced team is ready to help get you back on the road.

Stop by, say hello, and let's make this your best cycling season yet!

📍 Midwest Cyclery

🔧 Repairs • Service • Cycling Fun

We’ve had many calls asking for bike riding classes.

Here is your opportunity!

This will be the final post of the 1976 Bikecentennial ride.

I’ve enjoyed it so much. I hope you have too.

Part 4 & 5.

Part Four – Bluegrass

Wednesday, July 7

The fourth section began with a small ferry crossing over the Mississippi River, bringing us into the eighth state of our trip, Illinois. We no longer had route books because Guus was going to meet us in Carbondale. Instead, we followed a highway route, which was less interesting and was interrupted by another flat tire for Nico.

Near Murphysboro, where we had arranged to meet Guus, the countryside became beautifully hilly. From there we rejoined the Bikecentennial route. Several stretches followed gravel roads, and I picked up two punctures one after another and also broke another spoke in my front wheel. I didn't notice one of the punctures until later, and the others hadn't seen it either. Via the Fern Clyffe State Park, a very scenic route, I finally arrived in Eddyville after dark.

The next day Nico and I followed the bike route over gravel roads through the Shawnee Forest, a beautiful area with primitive little bridges crossing streams. Habro preferred to stay ahead of us because he rode on smooth paved roads. Of course, later he got another flat tire!

The road was terrible. Later it turned back into pavement leading to Cave-in-Rock, where we had to cross the Ohio River. We expected the others to be waiting there, but they had already gone. The gravel had cost us too much time, and they had taken the main road instead.

Here too we crossed by ferry into the ninth state, Kentucky.

Nico wasn't feeling well, and we rested for a while on a bench in the shade, but eventually we had to continue. The terrain remained very hilly, and there were to***co fields here as well.

Via Marion we arrived in Sebree, where there was also a Bike Inn. Because Nico was still not feeling well, we wanted to stay there. However, the Bike Inn was in poor condition. We hadn't brought our sleeping bags, so we decided to continue to that day's destination, Falls of Rough, another 100 kilometers away.

We arrived there in the dark. Only 45 people lived there. The Bike Inn was a large open barn with no windows or lights. Animals—and especially insects—could wander in freely. There were a number of beds, and you could imagine what condition they were in.

We decided not to use them, much to the disappointment of a young woman who came to look in. She turned out to be the Bike Inn keeper. She found us strange Dutchmen because all previous travelers had thought the place wonderfully romantic. She burst into tears, which made us feel rather guilty, but we still went looking for a motel a few kilometers farther on.

Fortunately, we found one in a recreation area along the Rough River State Park.

We slept late and didn't leave until ten o'clock on Friday morning.

First we passed a large lake of the Rough River. At an isolated store in Madrid, and later via Elizabethtown, we reached Bardstown, a fairly large town with about 6,000 inhabitants.

Next to the Bike Inn was a fire station, and around ten to one a fire broke out somewhere. A siren began blaring with a deafening sound. Everyone who was asleep was immediately wide awake.

Because of the heat, we were all up by five the next morning and were on our bikes by half past six, before the heat arrived.

The gently rolling landscape continued.

In Berea I got another flat tire—my fourth of the trip and, fortunately, the last.

Here the Bluegrass Route ended after 789 kilometers.

Our destination that day was Booneville, another 91 kilometers away. The Bike Inn there was a large, dilapidated house that, according to me, should have been condemned. It had far too few rooms, and I had to sleep on the floor.

During the night I suffered stomach cramps and had to vomit several times. I think all the ice-cold drinks from the soda machines had finally taken their toll.

Chris, Cor, and Kees were also very exhausted, and it seemed the following day would be difficult for all of us.

Over the past four days we had averaged 220 kilometers per day.

Total distance ridden so far: 5,672 kilometers in 27 days, an average of 212 kilometers per day.

Hein van Woudenberg, Diemen.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Part Five – Appalachians
Sunday, July 11

The 28th day of cycling was to become a black day for Nico van Gent and me.

We left again at half past six. I was still very emotional, just like the others who had just said goodbye to us. Nico was feeling much better after getting up and looked fit. We had to climb right away and after less than a kilometer I had to get off and push because the gradient was too steep. Then there was another climb, where my chain broke completely. Never in my life had I had such bad luck. Arie and I took a wrong turn and ended up at the Buckhorn Dam and a large reservoir. The road climbed steadily, becoming steeper and steeper. It was a slope to be ashamed of. On the way back, on a steep descent, I took the bend too wide and ended up in the left ditch. Luckily I landed in the grass. There was no oncoming traffic, otherwise things could have ended badly. It happened around 11:00 a.m. I was so exhausted that I no longer had control over myself. I had already covered 43 km that day and 767 km in total.

It was a great pity that we had to stop, but I simply couldn't go any farther. This was finally decided when Guus caught up with us and told me that Nico had ridden into a ditch on a descent and had crashed. An ambulance arrived and took him to a hospital in Hazard. I got in too. It turned out Guus had broken his collarbone. He had some skin abrasions on his shoulder and several small cuts in his forehead, stitched with a few stitches. After a few hours he was allowed to continue with a bandage over his shoulder. We drove with the car to Elkhorn City, where the group was waiting. That same day, despite temperatures approaching 40°C, the group managed to complete the stage. The next day they did the same because it had been decided that Guus would take us to Wytheville, the next meeting point. There was no connection eastward. We had to use highways because the car was too heavily loaded with us and the bicycles.

After a 10 km drive through the mountains we arrived in Wytheville. We checked into the motel where we would stay until Friday morning and went to the Greyhound bus station to find out how we could continue. There was a bus at 3:00 p.m., but then we would have had to spend the night on the way. There was another one the next morning at 10:00 a.m., which would get us to Norfolk the same day, where the airfield from which we would depart was located.

That evening in Wytheville the whole group ate at a self-service restaurant. You could eat as much as you wanted for only $2; especially the chicken was delicious. My stomach was in bad shape for another two days.

Tuesday, July 13

Guus left again and Nico and I continued by Greyhound bus with air conditioning and a toilet in the back. We drove through beautiful country, with forest, but couldn't see much because the windows were tinted and reflected. There were certainly many more beautiful cycling roads than we had ridden. At Roanoke we had to transfer to another bus that went directly to Norfolk. We traveled via Richmond, a very large city, to Hampton on the Atlantic coast. We had reached our goal: coast to coast. Unfortunately not by bicycle. We missed the last 1,000 km.

A large bay had to be crossed, first by bridge, then through a long tunnel, and so we arrived in Norfolk around 7:00 p.m., at the largest naval harbor in the world. At the bus station Guus picked us up. He had pointed us to the YMCA building, where rooms were available. With taxi, I had also brought our bicycles, which had remained at the bus station. There were showers and toilets. We stayed there for two nights, costing $18, very cheap. We also took the bicycles to the room. There were vending machines with food and drinks, including an apparatus for heating meat sandwiches—very convenient! The manager turned out to be Dutch and had once been a naval officer.

The next day we explored Norfolk and bought some souvenirs.

Thursday, July 15

On the 32nd day the boys reached Yorktown, the finish. Looking at the route booklet, I saw there was a nature reserve only 30 km before Yorktown. I had expected we would have stayed there with the whole group, as had happened before. I spoke to the YMCA manager and we were welcome to leave our luggage there. We wanted to notify the arrival group of this. But first we had to store the bicycles and the large luggage by taxi at the airport. There was no baggage depot, only lockers into which the suitcases just fit and could then be locked. I kept the key.

The question now was: where should we leave the bicycles? Fortunately we were able to lock them with a chain in a corner of the departure hall.

Then we took the bus through the tunnel and over the bridge to Williamsburg, where the oldest part had been restored, but everything looked very touristy.

By taxi we went to the camp, and it was even worse than I feared. In the middle of a forest, about half an hour by car from civilization. At the entrance to the Bicentennial, a wooden log cabin, was the first thing we saw: a girl with a Bicentennial sticker. I thought the Dutch cyclists were there already, but it turned out she had received the sticker from the Kroon group, who had arrived there a week earlier. The camp was further away than expected, over amusement park rides built by Bertus Hulsman, porter of the Kroon group, who had completed the entire Berea–Yorktown route. I worked at Heineken and each of our group had received three Heineken shirts and three caps before departure, of which I was very proud. There were about ten two-person tents set up in the camp, all ready.

The disappointment about the accommodation was great. We had only been there about three-quarters of an hour when Guus arrived by car, accompanied shortly afterward by Warner. A little later Dirk Buur arrived as well, as did the others. Everyone grumbled about the conditions and wanted to leave immediately. We all got back in and the decision to leave was made. Taking everything with us, although unimaginable at departure, had succeeded. Coast to coast, 6,800 km in 32 days, a new record had been established! The Champion newspaper made much of it.

There was nothing available there, so we decided to go to Williamsburg by car. Guus ordered taxis. Just before they arrived, the rain began to pour. Water ran straight through the tents. Despite the bad weather, the taxis arrived on time. We ate in a beautiful restaurant. We had been on the road for 30 days, and the man paid! We said goodbye to Guus, who was leaving for Missouri the next morning. He had to drive all day to Liberty.

We had had a wonderful time with him. He was just a second father to us. We were very grateful to the Champion newspaper, which made all this possible. The company from Amsterdam had arranged the accommodation and reservation materials, despite the fact that there were only ten of us in the group.

For the first time in the restaurant I saw Heineken beer on the menu: $1.25 or $1.40. We drank one because it was a free drink! We then went into the city and spent the evening in a discotheque. Beer came in a large jug with three or four liter glasses alongside it, so you drank as much as you wanted. We had experienced that more often where they served on tap. Usually you also got snacks in restaurants.

Late that night we returned to the camp around the last night. The Bicentennials had not been too bad on the final three cycling days. We had met many of the boys who were also in Mineral. Passing Lexington, the Blue Ridge Parkway was particularly beautiful, especially at Vesuvius with very steep climbs.

Friday morning

After saying goodbye to Guus, the whole group went by bus with trailer for the bicycles to the YMCA building in Norfolk, now familiar territory for Nico and me, where we still had two days to spend before departure.

That afternoon we went to the harbor, because the Dutch sailing ship Eendracht, well known to us, was there. Anyone who signed up there could sail along to the next vacation destination and cycle across America. On Saturday we had been to Virginia Beach, but it was just like all the other seaside resorts in the world: a crowded beach and a boulevard lined with hotels, restaurants and souvenir shops. On our return we also saw the departure of the Eendracht. Magnificent! In the evening some of the boys went to the large fair in Ocean View, where there was, among other things, a giant roller coaster. It was a wonderful experience to ride it. Unfortunately I was not able to join them.

Sunday, July 18

Until noon we were allowed to stay in the hotel. Our flight departed at 4:35 p.m. The boys cycled to the airport, while Nico and I took a taxi with all the luggage. The driver remarked that his truck was. At the airport we immediately checked whether our two bicycles were still there. They were not, which worried me greatly. I searched everywhere I could think of. I was told to ask at the airport police. There they turned out to be in a basement with the lost property.

I simply told the story of Nico's bad luck and that we had had to leave the bicycles behind for so long. After signing a form, we got them back. Fortunately! The bicycles all had to be packed in special bicycle boxes, costing $5 per box. It was much better than at Schiphol, where they were loaded loosely for transport home.

It was a one-hour flight to New York, a huge airport where we had to walk to another departure hall where KLM was located. There was a strict inspection of hand luggage; every bag had to be opened. At 7:15 p.m. our Jumbo Jet departed. We had plenty of time because we had arrived so early, but still had to stand in line. Incredible! Fortunately the night passed quickly, as they showed a long exciting movie. Around 2:00 a.m. we even got breakfast.

Exactly at 7:15 the next morning we landed at Schiphol. The welcoming committee stood there with flowers. Nico had even received a jeep from Mr. Ströber and his wife (Presto), and Geu de Jong, our chairman of De Champion. The Trans America Trail was over!

Hein van Woudenberg, Diemen.

Part 3.

I will condense these to 4 parts. As part 4 is only 1 page long.

Part Three – Plains and Ozark’s

Wednesday, June 30 (Day 17)

We left the University of Pueblo, first riding on the wrong side of the road. We soon noticed and turned around, continuing in the right direction. We rode back over flat roads toward Boone City, where we stopped at a store to buy supplies. We heard that since the Bikecentennial, the store's sales had quadrupled. What would next year bring for them!
In Sugar City we saw the first tall white grain elevators, which appeared in every town after that. They were usually next to the railroad, because grain was loaded onto trains there. It often took dozens of kilometers before reaching the next town. We crossed an endless plain with no houses or trees for three days. There was a strong headwind, so we constantly had to battle the wind.
Nico van Gent and I were at the back and only received extra shelter from Aad Frankfoort and Arie Overgaauw. Normally there is a west wind here and it is sweltering hot. Now the wind came from the east. I don't know which is worse: the heat or this wind that drove you crazy. Sometimes I wanted to shout, "Headwind, stop already!"
There were cornfields everywhere, although most had already been harvested, making the landscape incredibly monotonous, broken only by the occasional small village.
In Haswell there was a store where cyclists could get free coffee or iced tea. We stopped there, and behind the store was a room where we enjoyed our coffee. Of course we also had something to eat. On the restroom door was the word "Herr'n." I asked the shopkeeper if she was of German descent. She said no. I told her it was a German word, and she didn't know that either.
After this pleasant surprise, it was still another 34 km to Eads. Thunderstorms rumbled in the distance, but we only caught a little rain.
The next day looked much the same: the plain still around 1,200 meters above sea level, the wind, and villages with populations of 10, 35, 86, and 75. In America, the place names are always displayed. In the mountains, you also notice the elevation.
After Towner we entered our sixth state: Kansas. For me it will always be remembered as boring and windy. There is little to tell about the 260 km stretch to Utica. Utica was a neat little town inhabited mainly by people of German descent.
The stage to Sterling was the same as the previous one, now 224 km long. It certainly is a long country! The final part was prettier, with attractive farms and trees. You suddenly noticed them. Here too there was a lot of oil, because every few kilometers there seemed to be an oil pump standing in the fields.
Saturday, July 3
We faced the longest stage yet: 310 km to Chanute.
It rained when we left, but fortunately not for long. Near Nickerson (Wisdom) we had to ride a little on a gravel road. I no longer minded gravel in the rain, and then we headed straight through to Hutchinson, a large city. From there we followed the shoulder of Highway 50 to Newton, another city of about 15,000 inhabitants.
We would meet everyone again there, but I couldn't find the others. They had stopped somewhere to eat in a hamburger tent. Later, near Guus, I found another group that had taken a wrong turn.
In Eureka, the eight of us ate dinner in a restaurant around six o'clock. It took far too long, and we didn't leave until 7:30. Hans van den Broek ("Habro"), Dirk Buur, and Coz de Rijk sped ahead like real racers. We still had another 95 km to ride. They reached Chanute and spent the night in a motel.
Aad Frankfoort, Nico van Gent, Arie Overgaauw, Jan Veldt, and I kept riding until it became dark, which made the busy road dangerous. We were about 15 km from the nearest town and wanted to find a motel.
At an isolated gas station there happened to be a bus parked. I said, "Let's ask if we can sleep there."
The people thought it was a great idea. There was also a small shop, so we bought bread, cheese, and milk for breakfast. Unfortunately the bus was empty. The seats had been removed except for the driver's seat, where I slept. The others slept on the floor in their clothes and without sleeping bags.
The next morning everyone laughed about it. We had also bought beer! Jan Veldt thought it was especially hilarious.
"You don't feel a thing when you switch off before the turn," they joked.
At first light, around five o'clock, we got back on the road. It was a cold morning, of course. I liked the night very much.
We cycled almost all the way to Chanute without seeing anyone from the group.
The route to Chanute began with gravel until we reached a flooded section. Jan Veldt rode into it first, and it became deeper and deeper. We returned to the main road.
Later we rejoined the Bike Route. In Pittsburg I broke a spoke in my front wheel at a railroad crossing. Those crossings are always terribly uneven. Fortunately Jan Veldt knew how to repair spokes, and he fixed it.
After Pittsburg we entered the state of Missouri, Guus's home state.
The third day was free because his wife and children were going to meet him in Ash Grove. Eight of us aimed for Golden City to enjoy a leisurely ride.
The road passed through an area full of large ponds. It was flooded by a river. We found a sign with the beautiful text:
"Welcome to Missouri."
A, B, and C—so much for that! Fortunately we understood they had driven through it. We also didn't feel like making a detour, so Jan Veldt went first while we carefully followed with our bicycles on our shoulders.
The deepest point was about one meter. We could follow the road by watching the tops of the fence posts until it rose again. It all went well. We came out of the water and immediately found another flooded section.
This time it was shallower. Nico got wet up to his navel and the smaller riders, such as Nico, up to their armpits. He could barely carry his bicycle.
You felt like the early pioneers crossing rivers with ox carts.
Everything went well afterward. Later we heard it had actually been very dangerous because there were poisonous snakes in the water and we could easily have become lost.
Still, this was the most beautiful experience of the entire trip for me.
We had lost about an hour and were therefore behind schedule.
After Golden City the countryside became hillier and prettier. We had now reached the Springfield Plateau. It was already getting dark, and on the steep descents I didn't dare go fast. We wanted to reach Ash Grove that day but ended up riding the last hour in darkness.
No one from our group was there; they had apparently already eaten. The Habro group was also there.
We also met Mrs. Baanders, John, and their daughter.
Monday, July 5
John rode with us in the morning while Mrs. Baanders and their daughter followed by car. John immediately joined Dirk Buur's lead group.
There were steep hills here, but not long climbs. I preferred this to endless climbs.
Nico again had stomach trouble but kept going.
In Marshfield we ate in a restaurant and said goodbye to the Baanders family. Guus rode with us again.
We were now in the Ozark Plateau, a beautiful, densely populated region.
In Summersville, 32 km before Eminence, our destination for the day, it was getting dark again. Nico and I decided to stay there because the Bike Inn and campground would probably be full.
We asked at a gas station about a motel, but there wasn't one. Across the street was a café, but it was closed. They called the owners, who came over by car. They rented us a room for the children. There was a shower, and it cost us only $2.50 per person. We were very pleased.
Especially the next morning, when we left at six and faced steep hills, we were glad we hadn't had to ride in the dark.
After Alley Springs, a tourist attraction, we arrived in Eminence. The wagon train of Lucien Schipper was there.
We went to a restaurant for breakfast, and everyone we met was there.
After Eminence we encountered very steep climbs and descents.
At Ellington we left the Ozarks, a pleasant region that also remained beautiful in Johnson's Shut-Ins State Park, although we did get lost there.
Guus was no longer with us, and somewhere along the way Nico, Arie, and I ate.
Kees Lansbergen and Luc also joined us later.
Before Pilot K**b we met Guus again, who had accidentally taken the wrong road. He had missed Highway W.
The roads in Missouri are marked with letters instead of numbers.
Via Farmington we rode to Ste. Genevieve, founded in 1735 and the oldest city west of the Mississippi River.
That evening we ate in the old Brick House, an old stone building where we had an excellent meal.
The Bike Inn was an old office building with small rooms, stretchers for beds, and only two water taps.
The third section totaled 1,665 km, averaging 238 km per day, considerably more than the previous two sections.
By then we had ridden 4,844 km in 23 days, averaging 210½ km per day.
The schedule had still been maintained, and the entire group was still together.

Who would have thought that?

Hein van Woudenberg, Diemen

Reminder!

Please have a safe and relaxing weekend!

Happy 250th birthday to the 🇺🇸!

Part 2 (there appears to be 5 Journal entries)

Trans America Trail 1976
Part Two – Rocky Mountains
Monday, June 21

The eighth day of cycling began with a visit to the headquarters of the Bikecentennial organization. We had to pick up new route books there. While waiting, I had my first flat tire. Most of the others hadn't had a single one yet!
We had to wait quite a long time, so I used the opportunity to repair the tire. Cor de Rijk had once again broken spokes in his front wheel, just as Ton Spitzer had already experienced many problems with his rear wheel.
We didn't leave until about 10:30 a.m., first riding toward Lolo, the town we had come from the day before.
Cor de Rijk left much later than the rest of us after having picked something up in Lolo. He mistakenly rode all the way to Lolo Pass, an unnecessary detour of 125 km (78 miles). We didn't see him again that day.
Near Wisdom, our destination after 248 km (154 miles), Nico van Gent and I were riding together at the back of the group after having covered 373 km (232 miles). It was almost dark by the time we arrived.
After a fairly flat ride to Sula (136 km), we began a 12½-kilometer climb to Lost Trail Pass (2,100 meters / 6,890 feet), followed by a steep descent and another climb to Chief Joseph Pass (2,170 meters / 7,120 feet).
From the descent we came onto an enormous grassy plateau. Mountains were visible far in the distance. Thirty-five kilometers later we reached Wisdom, where the Bike Inn was a motel, and we split ourselves among three rooms.
The restaurant there was very pleasant, and for the first time I ate chili, a kind of brown bean soup that was extremely spicy.
It rained during the night, and it was still raining in the morning. To make matters worse, the road turned into 13 kilometers of unpaved gravel. Because of the rain it had become almost impassable—a muddy road full of stones. Whenever a car drove by, you were sprayed with mud. At one point I thought I had put on sunglasses, but they were actually completely brown from the mud splashes.
Both we and our bicycles looked awful—but fortunately this all happened early in the day!
Just before Jackson, we reached pavement again.
At a roadside ditch I stopped without thinking and simply wheeled my bicycle into the water. It came out looking almost brand new. The mud didn't stay on it.
Later that day my front wheel started squeaking, but a little oil fixed the problem. A few days later my bottom bracket began creaking as well. That evening Guus took it apart and packed it with fresh grease—there was still plenty inside, fortunately.
Interestingly, Arie Overgauw, who was riding with me, had done the same maintenance and never experienced any problems afterward.
After Jackson we rode 72 kilometers through empty country with no houses, climbing to Big Hole Pass (2,200 meters / 7,220 feet). This was followed by a 10-kilometer descent, then another 8-kilometer climb to Badger Pass (2,000 meters / 6,560 feet).
We crossed a high plateau through Dillon.
Nevada City was an incredible experience. It had been completely restored to look exactly as it had in the days of the Old West. Old trains were still standing there.
Two kilometers farther was Virginia City, also beautifully restored. Everything was built of wood, including the sidewalks.
After the dreadful beginning of the day, it turned into a wonderful ride of 196 kilometers (122 miles).
Leaving Virginia City, we immediately faced another steep climb, which wasn't much fun when your muscles were still stiff.
In Cameron, where only ten people lived, we signed our names in the store's guest book—a tradition for all cyclists passing through.
Near Madison, there had once been a major earthquake. The river had changed course, and the tops of an entire forest were still sticking out above the water. The road had also been rebuilt farther to the left.
At places like this, Americans always built information displays, complete with excellent free public restrooms, which were extremely convenient.
We passed a large lake, with the snow-covered peaks of the Rocky Mountains visible on the opposite shore.
Full of anticipation, we approached Yellowstone National Park, entering through what looked like a customs station and paying an entrance fee of $1.50.
Large warning signs warned us about bears. Much to our disappointment, we didn't see a single one.
We passed several beautiful lakes until we noticed great white clouds rising from the ground in the distance.
They turned out to be geysers.
Wooden boardwalks had been built all around them so visitors could get very close. You could see the boiling brown water bubbling up, and there was a strong smell of sulfur.
A little farther on was Old Faithful, the famous geyser that erupts around 2:00 p.m., shooting water about 30 meters (100 feet) into the air—an impressive sight.
There stood a huge wooden hotel. Inside, the lobby looked almost like a cathedral because of its tremendous height, constructed entirely from massive tree trunks.
We couldn't imagine that this was where the Bike Inn would be, but surprisingly, it was.
Behind the hotel were numerous cabins, and we were assigned three of them.
That night it was extremely cold, and it was still cold the next morning.
For the first time, we put on our wool hats and gloves.

Trans America Trail 1976
Part Two – Rocky Mountains (Page 2)
Later, when the sun became warmer, we were able to take off our wool hats and gloves again. The climbs now consisted of short, steep hills.
We crossed the Continental Divide several times, where some rivers flow toward the Atlantic Ocean and others toward the Pacific Ocean. The highest point we crossed here was 2,500 meters (8,200 feet). We passed Isa Lake, which drains into both oceans.

Leaving Yellowstone, we entered Grand Teton National Park, with its magnificent lakes and snow-covered mountains rising to nearly 3,000 meters (9,800 feet). I actually found this even more beautiful than Yellowstone, and admission here was free as well.

After Moran, we climbed again over Togwotee Pass (2,900 meters / 9,500 feet). Since we had already been riding at high elevations for several days, it didn't seem nearly as difficult anymore.

There was still one more mountain pass to climb that was even higher, but we wouldn't reach it for another four days.

Our reward was a 40-kilometer descent, bringing us to Dubois, our destination for the eleventh day.

The following day we again rode across a high plateau where vast herds of buffalo had once roamed. After Lander came a gradual 50-kilometer climb to the Beaver Divide, followed by another high plateau. For the most part, the Rockies were now behind us—or at least the roads we followed stayed on the plateaus. In the distance, both left and right, you could always see high mountains, but there were no roads there because nobody lived in those areas.

Passing through the Sweetwater Valley, we reached Jeffrey City. Large deposits of uranium and oil had recently been discovered there, and it was expected that the town would change dramatically in the near future.

That day we had a relentless headwind. Even riding in my 52 × 14 gear, I could barely make progress. I heard that riders coming from the east had waited there that day because they simply couldn't ride into the wind.

Crossing the plateaus, on the thirteenth day we stopped at one of Guus's support breaks. There we spotted a jackal (or coyote) and, farther on, a deer, which our photographer eagerly tried to capture.

Just before Rawlins, we turned left and, for the first time, rode onto a major highway—Interstate 80. It had a wide shoulder where bicycles were allowed. There was heavy traffic, but fortunately only for 33 kilometers, after which we turned onto quieter roads again.

In Saratoga there was a natural hot spring where most of the boys went for a soak. Arie Overgauw and I rode on and arrived first at Encampment, where the Bike Inn was a youth hostel. We slept in the attic.

The town had once been home to extensive copper mines and about 2,000 residents. Now perhaps only 200 people remained.

Sunday, June 27
First we rode back a short distance to Riverside, then turned right. The road rose and fell continuously, and we were still riding at around 2,400 meters (7,900 feet) above sea level.
We left Wyoming and entered Colorado.

North Park had once been full of bison, where the Ute Indians had lived. When the bison were nearly exterminated by white settlers, the same fate befell the Ute people.

The highest point of the day was Muddy Pass (2,600 meters / 8,530 feet), after which we descended into Kremmling.

Even so, we covered 175 kilometers (109 miles) that day.

The Highest Pass
Today we were to cross the highest pass of the entire journey: Hoosier Pass, at 3,460 meters (11,350 feet).
None of us had ever ridden a bicycle at such an altitude before. In Europe you simply can't reach those elevations by bike.

The evening before, everyone was joking about who would be the first to reach the summit. In the end, that competition didn't really happen because most of the riders stopped for coffee in Breckenridge.

Aad Frankfort skipped the coffee and therefore reached the summit first.

At first I was riding second, but after my coffee break I was overtaken by Kees Lansbergen and Luc Schipper. Then Dirk Buur and Ton Spitzer passed me as well.

The climb itself was 16 kilometers long with about 450 meters (1,480 feet) of elevation gain. It actually wasn't that difficult—the road was wide and in excellent condition.

At the summit the weather was beautiful: bright sunshine and crystal-clear skies. We all stayed there for quite a while taking lots of photographs.

From there came a 16-kilometer descent into Fairplay.

It was an easy day overall—only 118 kilometers (73 miles), the shortest stage of the entire trip.

The Bike Inn in Fairplay turned out to be an excellent hotel with comfortable beds and a very good restaurant.

For once we arrived early enough that I had time to do laundry.

Doing laundry in America was surprisingly easy. You simply walked into a laundromat where nobody was present. There were rows of washing machines and dryers. You inserted 35 cents, started the machine, and washed your clothes. You did have to bring your own detergent, but Guus had some in the support vehicle.

Tuesday, June 29
After our comfortable hotel stay, we set off on another long stage of 210 kilometers (130 miles).
We were still riding above 3,000 meters (9,800 feet), gradually descending toward Pueblo, which sits around 1,400 meters (4,600 feet).

After Hartsel, we encountered another 17 kilometers of gravel road, including some steep climbs such as Currant Creek Pass (2,900 meters / 9,500 feet).

The gravel required careful descending, and here it was actually easier to climb than to go downhill.

Fortunately

Part Two – Rocky Mountains (Page 3)
We continued into southern Colorado.
Pueblo was one of the largest cities we had encountered so far, with 102,500 inhabitants.
On the opposite side of the city, about 5 kilometers outside town, the university was situated on a hill. There we were assigned two people to a room.
That evening a special Bikecentennial film was shown just for us. It was our first real opportunity to relax. There were comfortable seats, and we thoroughly enjoyed it.
Pueblo marked the end of the second section of our journey, covering 1,733 kilometers (1,077 miles) through the Rocky Mountains, averaging 192½ kilometers (120 miles) per day.
After 16 days, we had now completed a total of 3,179 kilometers (1,975 miles)—almost 200 kilometers (124 miles) per day on average.
During the next stages, those daily averages would have to become even higher.
The entire group was still together, and we continued to follow our planned schedule very closely.

Hein van Woudenberg
Diemen, Netherlands