Rockies: tapped.

That John Denver was not full of shit. The Rockies are rocky, mountainous, and high.

We finally reached the great divide, which means we are now watching water flow east to the Mississippi and the Gulf of Mexico, much like ourselves for the next month and a half--at least in terms of moving east. From Gunnison, highway 50 winds east up a valley before making a sudden increase in grade, which continues for a little more than 7 miles before reaching the summit at Monarch Pass. The average grade for this pass is a mere 6.5%, but pushing roughly 100 pounds of bike at such high altitudes made even the strongest of us feel drained by the top. As we reached the last mile, a few shouts of encouragement from passing cars helped feed adrenaline into the voids of our muscles. Once upon the summit, wet with sweat and shivering in the cold bursts of wind, we answered the gamut of questions ranging from our psychological wellbeing to where we would be heading next. No, we do not have mental health issues, we will be going down next, and no thanks, I brought my own beer.

Our interactions with people at the summit were encouraging to my general feeling about sharing the road. Typically, we don't interact with many motorists because of the physical separation between car windows and speed. So talking to people who've passed us, and hearing their excitement for our journey leaves a positive taste in my mouth for coexistence.