Day 39, Angel of Shaveno, 12 miles (hiking uphill!)

For the first time, we set an alarm, and duely woke up at 6am. By 7am, we had packed up our kit, secured it outside our hosts' RV, and were proceeding on-foot. It was a novel change to embark on a journey without the bikes; liberating but increasingly hard work on the old legs. From our campsite, the trudge up the Mt Shaveno was ever-changing but consistently beautiful. We ducked under secluded Aspen forrests and up through pine forrests  with fallen giants from the recent inclement weather. Entire ancient root systems have been wrenched from the rocky earth.

Up and up, finally we reached the ridge above the tree line to reveal an epic view of the surrounding mountains. The woodland path disappeared into rocky hill-side, requiring all hands on deck to clambor onwards. Perhaps it was the altitude (we were already beyond 11,000 feet after 3 hours of hiking)-or maybe its' a case of puny biking legs 'don't climb'...   Either way, we had to admire Buddy and Pattis' passing comment of how they had often 'walked' this mountain!

After some wind-swept scrambing up-hill, we reached the boulder-strewn summit. I was happy to call Shaveno conquered, but obviously Matt spurred us up and over the pile of rocks to the absolute tip of the summit. Just below the mountain top, we met 3 college kids sheltering themselves from the wind. Victorious, and after a chat and photo-call with our fellow mountaineers, we stumbled back down with varying levels of control. I accidentally flung my camera off to clash on the rockside, leaving its future 'kodak-moments' on the hillside where they landed. Next stop; Walmart.

The weather had started to turn, it was raining lightly and fast clouding over. As such, Matt was able to drop the jaws of the few hikers we encountered. Them: cocooned in NorthFace outdoors apparal; Matt: scantilly clad in swimming shorts and a fleece. Johnny Foreigner of Team GB smashes the shortest shorts 4,000 meters.

As we walked back to camp at around 1:30, we were tired yet peckishly aware that we had no food either at our tent or within easy cycling distance. We were faced with two unappealing options; go 20 miles back on ourselves (all downhill)-to Salida, or press onwards up the mountain to the next settlement of Garfield. Lose miles and elevation or ride uphill on mountain-tested jelly legs. Just entering the campsite, we stopped to get Leons' local advice on the matter.

Once again, we were rewarded for putting our faith in local advice over our maps. Turns out that Garfield was once a town but is now so uninhibited they changed its' name to 'Monarch' (a mere mile-post for the mountain it once rests below.) This news must have left us looking like Christmas had been cancelled - because Leon quickly suggested we stay at camp another night and they could take us to town to buy groceries later on. Angel of Shaveno indeed!

While chatting with Leon about the beauty of the Angel of Shaveno mountain, Sarah Faye poked her head from their RV. Once a mother, always a mother; looking us up and down she insisted she 'fix us some sandwiches'. Matt is physically unable to refuse a sandwich, and while we didn't want to intrude - we quickly succumbed to the kind invitation. What a treat after 5 hours up a mountain; sitting in their cosy RV, relishing sandwiches, Sarah Fayes' divine peach cobbler and warm conversation. Leons' career as a pastor had taken them to Kansas, Texas and Colorado, while they were now semi-retired in Tenessee. We were touched to be shown a photograph album which mapped Leon and Sarah Fayes' shared life; from their wedding 54 years ago, their four children and now grandchildren. It felt like being home away from home. Often when we meet people, the ensuing short conversation is dominated by their questions about our trip. So it was a privellege to spend some time hearing about the life of a kind American couple, and to be reminded how family is family - wherever you are in the world.

While on the subject of kind Americans, our nomadic neighbour, Buddy passed by the RV with his grandson Ashton. Matt and I wanted to go out and say hello, but Leon insisted they join us in the RV (and Sarah Faye was already reaching for Oreo cookies for Ashton!) The guys joined us in the cosy loungeroom, and we were deeply humbled to learn exactly how hospitable our neighbour was... It transpired that when Buddy got up that morning and saw our abandoned campsite, he assumed we must have decided to hit the road rather than stay and hike up the mountain. Wanting to bid us farewell, he drove over Monarch Pass in search of us. Buddy laughed as he recalled his journey, saying 'I was thinking those guys must have legs of steel to be this far over the pass!'. Buddys' trip was not entirely in vain as he came across another couple of riders who were stranded road-side with bike trouble, so he was able to give them a lift in his truck into town. Buddy: Guardian of the Cyclists!

Leon and Sarah Faye thanked us for 'visiting' (while we were pinching ourselves at their hospitality!) and we returned to our campsite of the previous night to set up camp. Buddy, Patti and Ashton were heading down to Salidas' famed aquatic centre, and invited us to join them. We were in the back of the truck before you could say 'Thermal waters fed by hot springs'. This 'Angel of Shaveno' campsite sure is aptly named.

Salida Aquatic centre features individual thermal baths which were built back in the 1930's; a novelty we wanted to experience. So when Buddy, Patti and Ashton hit the pool, we hit the 100 degree tomb-like bath chamber. The hot water zapped our energy but certainly helped the mountain muscles. Refreshed, we rejoined the Angels of Shaveno at the pool. Buddy and Patti were happy to drive us to Walmart for groceries, urging us to take our time -what sweethearts. In the car journey back to camp, Patti and Buddy told us of their Ski-mobile adventures and their move from the South to Colorado. These guys inspired us as a couple who have really made the most of life and followed their hearts. I enjoyed Patti's phrase 'Champagne taste on a beer budget'!

Back at the ranch (camp)-we guzzled down our dinner and joined Buddy and Ashton by their fire. We sat for a few hours, enjoying that quintessential camp tradition of stories by the campfire. Conversation skipped over stories from Ashtons' impressive bike exploits, then rolled onto Buddys' years in New Orleans and finally rested on ghost stories - as befits a bright orange camp fire under a starry sky. Like earlier that day with Leon and Sarah, it was a delight to spend some proper time hearing about the views and experiences of two very sound Americans.

Eventually, the Angel of Shaveno made us fall; to bed that is. Our thermal-soaked, mountain-bent legs barely bore us to our sleeping bags. Suffice to say, we slept like fallen fir trees.