A while back I decided that riding my bike to each of the states that border Colorado from my house seemed like a good idea.  Last fall I knocked off Wyoming in one day with the trip culminating in a car ride home courtesy of my wife Kristy. This time I decided I was going to step it up a notch. This time it was to Nebraska… and back.

So, with my bike fully loaded with camping gear I headed in a northeasterly direction. My goal for the day was the Pawnee National Grasslands near Briggsdale CO. To get there I rode the back way from Boulder to Loveland and then headed east toward Greeley. (Random trivia: I’m loosely related to Horace Greeley. Go West Young Man!)

Between Boulder and Berthoud

Google Maps has a biking option and when I plugged in where I wanted to go it gave me an option for a section on the Poudre River Trail between Windsor and Greeley. It sounded like a good option but when I rolled up there was an orange cone with a tired sign that said “trail closed”. That didn’t seem very serious so I decided that I could make it through. I could see where the river had gone up over the path, but it looked like the water had receded. As I pedaled further there were some puddles and then some running water across the path, but I was still cruising. Until I rounded a corner and the water kept getting deeper and deeper. Before I knew it I was carrying my bike and fjording a stream with water nearly to my knees.  I had to save the stuff in my bags. I made it through the first deep section, rode for a while and then came to another section.  It was time to give up and turn around. I back tracked and went to plan B.

Flooded Bike Path

Grain Silos

As the day wore on the landscape became more rural and I began to see more and more trucks. Both oil and pickup. I rolled into Briggsdale at 5:15. Unfortunately that was 15 minutes after the market closed. So I rested for a bit scrounged $.75 for a soda and then found a newly opened youth center (this is a very small town with dirt streets) and filled up all of my water bottles. After a few phone calls for work I headed north into the Pawnee National Grasslands. After nine more miles of quiet beautiful riding I got creative and found a campsite out of site of the road. I was bushed. It had been a 96 mile ride on my fully loaded bike on the hottest day of the year.

Briggsdale Market

Grassland Camp Site

Treading lightly

View from the tent

I never sleep well on the first night in the tent but my tossing and turning was aided by a cow that was unusually noisy. I didn’t know that cows growled.  It sounded right next to me but in the morning the cows were just as I left them at least four hundred yards away in a field.

In the morning I headed out towards the Nebraska border with the small town of Grover as a stopover. The little store was hopping on Saturday morning and I watched the local ranchers come in for ice. After a while I made a break for the border. On the map it looked to be 24 miles or so. I knew the winds were against me but what I didn’t know was that it was dirt roads the whole way.

High Plains Windmill

Desolate Dirt Roads

I was surprised that even on a Saturday the oil trucks were busy, even on these dirt roads. I had the good sense to lighten my load by hiding some of my camping gear near Grover so I had that going for me.

Pawnee Buttes

Last Stretch to Nebraska

High Point Bison Ranch

It would be nice if the Nebraska tourist board had a welcome center, but out here there wasn’t even a sign. My only clue was a random “Weld County” sign facing the other way. I checked my phone and saw the blue navigation dot on the north side of the border. Straddling the border is a bison ranch that has a drive through tour where you can pay $3 per head to see the bison in their native habitat. Unfortunately no bikes or hikers were allowed. After a few sips of water, an apple and a few shots of a few of the bison, I headed back to Grover. A funny note about the bison. The animals up here were used to trucks but not bikes. So all day cows, antelope and horses were spooked when they saw me coming. Antelope would run a quarter mile and then see if I was chasing, I moved a whole herd of hustling cow and a beautiful paint horse and her pony turned and ran full speed. But when the bison saw me they came running at me! I’m thankful that the ranch had a nice strong fence in place.

High Point Bison

After making it back to Grover and having the lunch special in the Market/Grill I headed to the city park to rest awhile in the shade. I wasn’t in too much of a hurry to get back in the saddle and it was only 3 o’clock. As I was napping in the grass I realized that there was something big going on next door. A rodeo. Cars were everywhere and every once in awhile I could hear the crowd.  After a much needed rest I roused myself to see what was happening.  Needless to say, I was the only one commuting to the rodeo by bike.

This was a classic small town rodeo with free admission, plenty of dust, and crowds of people from the surrounding ranches.  I gathered that there were a bunch of people from the city who were playing cowboy for the day.  Unfortunately I arrived just in time to see the last bull rider leave the shoot and ride the steer for about 1.5 seconds.  I heard a guy in the stands say “bulls win”.  I didn’t have time to stay for the dance but I did take some photos.  I’d love to come back to the rodeo sometime.  It’s every Father’s Day weekend.

Grover Rodeo

Talking it Over

I headed out of town at 5:30 and rode towards the Crow Valley Campground. The flags in the photo above were blowing from the east, but by the time I headed out they had shifted from the south. Oh well!  I made it to the campground and found that it was closed.  I didn’t have any options so I rolled through the pedestrian gate and to the back of the campground. It was closed due to high water but most of the sites were in good shape. There was a number of tents near the front of the campground but as I rolled through I didn’t see a soul. I set up camp and had some dinner.  I did talk to some people later and gathered that the campers were volunteers who were doing some cleanup.  I didn’t bother anyone, left my site cleaner than I found it and rolled out before 6 am, thankful for a good night sleep. I had ridden 74 miles, much of that on dirt roads.

Crow Valley Campground

The next day was all about getting home. I left camp early and after a beautiful morning ride I was in Ault Colorado for a second breakfast at Grey’s Cafe. The day went well but it was hot again and I kept pushing the pedals. I stopped again to rest and refuel in Loveland but after awhile I gathered my gumption and made the last 30 mile push home.

I thought it was interesting that as I rode that last stretch I probably got passed by 15 to 20 other bikers. One slowed down to ask me what I was up to, one other said a quick hello and the rest went past without any acknowledgement.  I know I was riding slowly, smelled badly and wasn’t wearing a lick of lycra, but I was a bit disappointed by the friendliness of my hometown. We’re all on two wheels.
I made it home before 3 pm. Just in time to clean myself up (there were no initial hugs) and pick up my dad for a Father’s Day dinner.  A great way to end a weekend adventure.  In the end I rode 255 miles in three days and completed stage two of my micro-adventure goal of biking to all seven states that border Colorado.

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