Sometimes you really can’t get there from here.
I’m putting the finishing touches on details of our daily routes, and I hit a significant snag. I’m blaming technology. It’s better for household harmony than blaming Becky, especially since she had nothing to do with it.
I actually worked out the general layouts several weeks ago using a the bicycle route function of a program called Google Maps. I’ve used it a lot, and it’s been fairly reliable. So I’ve come to trust it.
Trust. Technology. You see where this is going?
Actually, everything worked well until I got to the last full day of the ride in rural southern Colorado between Pueblo and Trinidad. Google Maps traced a nice 105-mile blue line along county roads. A century ride to finish our week-long tour. Perfect.
Perfect, until I zoomed in and noticed that one of those county roads appeared to be gravel. With a sinking sensation in my gut, I checked the others. Sure enough, this cool technology had provided a really nice route consisting almost entirely of unpaved roads.
Stupid software! Good thing I checked ahead of time. Now I just had to find alternates. That’s when I discovered why the program provided an inappropriate route.
There are no alternates.
Aside from an Interstate, there’s literally no paved route between these two cities. If you’re riding a bike and want to go from one to the other, you have to go somewhere else first.
I don’t like that answer. In biking, and in life, I want the direct route. I’m certain I know where I need to go and how I need to get there. And as I tap out those words I can almost hear God chuckling.
So often, in my rush to get from Point A to point B, I’ve bypassed important steps, skipped essential lessons. I’ve hurried past experiences that might have added richness and texture to my journey. I’ve insisted on shortcuts that created unnecessary pain and heartache.
Turns out there is a direct bike route between Pueblo and Trinidad—if you’re desperate enough to use it. Colorado actually allows cycling on that stretch of I-25. We could even shorten the ride by a few miles, if we just put our heads down and ignore the traffic and the noise.
Might be more efficient, but it doesn’t sound like much fun. What’s the point of touring if the goal becomes getting it done no matter now miserable or unsafe?
Or—we could ride 50 miles on a quiet road and stop in Rocky Ford (B) for lunch. Some folks at a church there are kind of excited about meeting us and hearing about our trip. Then we could all pile in the SAG vehicles, shuttle about 35 miles to Delhi (C), and ride the last 50 miles into Trinidad.
It’s not direct or efficient. But it’s pretty obvious which option offers opportunities for the sort of memories we want to create.
I get frustrated by detours. I’ll bet you do as well.
Maybe they’re not detours at all. Maybe the detour is really directing us somewhere we need to go toward something we need to learn.
Are you a hurry-up-and-get-there person? Ever felt the nudge to consider a few more side trips?
Please leave a comment here.
