Dean had opted to pitch his tent in City Park. He could have stayed in the gym of Cortez-Montezuma High School but the weather was pleasant and he wanted to try out his newly purchased equipment under the western skies. What's more, he enjoyed the camaraderie of the hordes of participants all with the same goal in mind.
The camping area was a riot of color, with thousands of bodies wrapped in every tone and shade of tight-fitting Lycra, each an individual fashion statement on a rock-hard frame. (If Dean's clothes made a statement, they whispered and no one was listening.) Everyone was exceptionally friendly as hundreds of bicyclists wandered about, chatting and smiling, with a hint of nervous excitement in their voices. There was a definite uniformity to the assemblage. Nearly all the riders were young, good looking and in fantastic shape. Nearly all. Some of the bikers were Dean's age or older and a few were in physical shape that made you wonder if they realized what they were undertaking.
Many of the bikers knew one another and there were groups traveling together, but there was equal representation of couples and solo bikers. "Where are you from?" and "Have you done this before?" seemed to be stock questions in addition to comments and curiosity about equipment and attire. It was a fun crowd, obviously out to have a good time while testing their personal ability to accomplish a truly grueling trial.
Without the specter of Jeffrey Byrne hanging over him, Dean could have enjoyed the festivities even more. While he loved the exhilarating feeling of biking alone or on an organized tour, the après ride time was nearly as enjoyable when you could mingle with others with like interests. One thing was for certain; this group would have one whoop-de-do of a party when the week was over.
Each community along the way was scheduled to provide inexpensive meals for the bikers. If Cortez were an example of what lay ahead, no one would go hungry. Dean and his stepfather dined on western style beans, baked potatoes, sourdough bread and the best spareribs either had ever eaten. Colorado-based Coors beer, cosponsor of the event, was also there with its products readily available, and Dean broke his training diet to share a few Silver Bullets with Fred.
After the two men called it a night and Fred returned to his guesthouse lodging, Dean sat outside his tent lingering under more stars than he had ever viewed in his life. He finally crawled into the snug sleeping bag with mixed feelings of awe and trepidation.