The 401 in Crested Butte

Rode all the way up on the 401 Trail, a Colorado classic.

The view: gorgeous. The trail: thin singletrack, tall wildflowers just past their flourish of color and beauty. The pitch toward the end: wicked steep. The pain: tremendous. The riding time: around five hours.

That night’s sleep: ocean deep.

The quick scene, w/dialogue: A guy on his way down stopped and pulled off the track. He nodded his head, smiled, said “Yeah, dude. Get some.”

I got some.


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