Reportage

Aspen Ridge Bikepacking: No Sleep ‘Til Salida

How far would you travel for a bikepacking trip with new friends? Framebuilder and bladesmith Thomas Callahan of Horse Cycles drove from New York to Colorado for a summertime multi-day ride with Krysten Kohn and Sean Greene. Join Thomas on an unforgettable trip to Aspen Ridge…

I drove 3,500 miles and spent four days on the road to ride with my friends, and I’d do it all again at the drop of a hat.

I made my friend Krysten Koehn a custom bike for some bikepacking adventures she had in mind for the upcoming summer. Krysten, a former painter at Mosaic Cycles and long-time ambassador for Pas Normal Studios (and more recently Arc’teryx), is a super strong cyclist and generally an awesome person, so I was stoked to be working with her, to say the least.

She planned these bikepacking trips with friend and Colorado photographer Sean Greene, for whom I was also building a bike. After chatting a couple of times with them both on the phone, they invited me to join them on one of their trips. Summertime is pretty great in the Catskills of New York, but I was hooked on the idea of getting out west and into the Rocky Mountains.

Two days after the Horse Gravy Days gravel ride, I hit the road and drove 26 hours out to the front range of Colorado and weaved my way into the mountains to meet up in the little town of Salida. That night, after some fly fishing just south of Leadville, I met Sean in person for the first time over a dinner of fresh-caught trout. We all packed our bikes and hit the sack at a local BLM campground just outside of town.

The next morning, we loaded up and crossed the Arkansas River and some rolling hay fields on the outskirts of Salida to start our 19-mile climb up to Aspen Ridge. The rain clouds looming over the Sawatch Range held off for the time being and the sun shone through spots of clear sky. I was fully captivated by the changing terrain, the color of the dirt, and the copious summer flowers as we wove between patches of open cow pasture and dense chalk-colored aspen trunks.

The climb was long and challenging, but consistent, which I could appreciate coming from the punchy rolling hills out east. As I approached the top of Aspen Ridge on chunky double track, Krysten and Sean, knowing the challenge of the climb for me at altitude, cheered me on, up and over the ridge, adding energy and gratitude to my simple feeling of accomplishment and relief.

For the next few hours, we traversed the high plateau toward our rough camping location. We settled on a flattish cow patty-speckled group of aspen trees where we could set up a few tarps in case the rain clouds decided to join us… which they did.

The stoke was high, as it usually is on such trips. And just as we got camp set up and finished our Jetboil-cooked Indian food bliss, the rain began to fall. We realized our water quantities were low to non-existent, and with no water sources to be found to filter and the thought of no coffee in the morning, we began to collect water off the tarps as we huddled under our shelter. About three liters later, after a brief sunset that poked through the storm, it was bivy time. It rained most of the night, but I was told that rain of this magnitude was rare for a Colorado summer. Either way, I was so happy to be outside, in the mountains, with friends, with a great feeling of calm.

The following day was just as incredible with views and weather and patches of varied landscape and terrain. Right before our last long climb at Whitehorn, we were pelted by a hail storm. I have to say: the last climb on the tail of the hailstorm, which turned into a cold rain, was the best moment of the trip. Something about being soaked in your surroundings while pushing yourself up and over a climb in isolation. Somehow at the top of that last climb, I had all the feels of joy and gratitude.

The next 20 miles were the longest single descent I have ever experienced. As we coasted along a winding road back toward the Arkansas River (the boundary separating the mountains from the valley), the sun came out and we all stopped by an old train depot about a mile from where our cars were parked, as if to say: We know our little adventure is close to over, but let’s hold onto these good feelings just as long as we can.

Something about the trip allowed us all to feel a super connection. Not just to the landscape and to the adventure, but to each other. My words can’t explain, but Krysten and Sean are some amazing people. For the next 24 hours, we hung out, ate all the food, and dipped our bodies into the hot springs down the road. We spent one last night camping and, after a superb breakfast burrito in Buena Vista, said our last goodbyes.