Somewhere on a high plateau between Denver and Salida, the cars ahead of me started pulling off the highway one after another. I figured there was an animal in the road, so I slowed down too, only to watch driver after driver hop out and start photographing the double rainbow I had completely missed.
Fitting, really. My whole weekend was about to come in doubles.
It started out as a pretty typical Friday of “work travel”: another hotel, this time in Denver. Another pour-over coffee, my feeble attempt at clinging to some semblance of consistency in an otherwise altogether inconsistent life on the road. But as I rolled my airline case (bike inside) out of my 50th hotel of the year, I was headed into a day that was anything but normal.
The plan was a “quick stop at Rodeo HQ for a tour.” Simple enough. But somewhere on the first lap of the pristine, dare I say serial-killer-clean, shop, Rodeo founder Stephen, AKA Steve the Intern, started rattling off the new arrivals at HQ that should, or at least could, find their way onto my beloved TD4.2 before I left that afternoon for Salida, Colorado, and the Salida 76 gravel race the next day.
By the time the afternoon was over there had been Little Caesars, a new fork, a fresh brake bleed, new bar tape, Laid Back Sliders, and a whole host of other tweaks to get the bike working at its best. It’s been a great first year on my Rodeo, but it’s logged something like 8,000 miles, because this same bike gets ridden on everything: road, gravel, cross, and even mountain bike trails. It had earned a little spa day.
As the new fork (a very beautifully engineered Spork 4) was going on, Stephen mentioned something in passing to the effect of, “Hey, with the Laid Back Sliders and the Spork 4 you can run 2.4s front and back now. You should race the gravel race Saturday and the mountain bike race Sunday. No two bikes needed!”
He immediately walked it back and told me to feel no pressure. Too late. The seed was planted and I was all in. We dug up a pair of 2.4″ Vittoria Mezcals and got to work turning my bike into a Saturday gravel racer and a Sunday mountain bike racer.
Which brings us back to that drive. Somewhere before the rainbow, the nerves had started to flutter. This was supposed to be my final gravel weekend of the season, and my mind and body were tired. But the new uncertainty gave me just the shot of adrenaline, or dopamine, or stupidity, I needed to fully re-engage. Then, cresting the first of two passes over 10,000 ft, this sea-level Californian remembered a challenge no amount of tire clearance could solve: breathing.
So by the time I pulled over on that plateau, the theme of the weekend was pretty clear:
- A double-header race weekend
- Seeing double at high altitude
- And, of course, a double rainbow
Saturday’s race was what I unaffectionately call a watts-per-kilo test. We rolled out neutral, then the motos pulled off and opened up the champagne gravel ahead: an 11.6-mile steady climb of 2,950 ft, topping out at 9,929 ft. You’ll have to forgive me if I round that up to 10,000. Close enough?
It was stunning up top. We spent a few hours rolling along wide-open gravel with only the occasional car, then climbed back up the backside of the first climb to the finish line, with a long, fast descent still waiting after it. Day one in the books, and the bike was stellar.
Day two brought a new double: doubly heavy legs. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) First came the standard hotel pre-race breakfast, packed with ravenous bike racers plowing through bowls of oatmeal and a busy self-serve waffle station for the real gourmets among us. Then I was off to the start of the Banana Belt mountain bike race: 35 miles with nearly 4,000 ft of vert.
Warm-up was a hoot. Boy, was I getting some long stares from the hundreds of riders spinning around on full-squish 120mm-travel bikes, complete with dropper posts, 36T chainrings, and 2.6″ tires. And there I was on the start line, completely giddy about the day ahead. I’d have to be strategic on the descents so I didn’t come unclipped from road pedals and shoes. I’d have to be mindful to avoid flats and crashes. And on the climbs, I’d have to be very aggressive to keep my 44×46 gearing turning over.
What I hadn’t factored in was the beating I was about to take, or the pure joy of bermed corners and BMX jumps all the way down the final descent. All in all, it was one of my favorite days on a bike in 2026. There’s something special about underbiking alongside people who are decidedly NOT underbiking… I guess for them it’s just “biking”?
Some argue cross is the spirit of gravel. I’ve long preached that bikepacking is the spirit of gravel. But maybe we’ve all been too specific. Maybe underbiking, plain and simple, is the spirit of gravel. And if that’s the case, the spirit of gravel is alive and well in Salida.
I hope to be back next year. Maybe with easier gearing, but definitely with one bike: my TD4.2 on 2.4s.
Double rainbow, all the way.
