Woke up and quickly checked my phone for any news from home but only a message from Becca to say Phoebe had now gone into hospital - so the wait goes on. 

 

Once packed up I finished the final 6 miles or so to the top of Boreas Pass. Given its former use as a train line, the incline was relatively gentle, except for one steep pitch that the roundhouse volunteer warned me about - where the Army engineers who converted it to road decided to go straight up rather than follow the winding train route. The shortness of breath was a reminder I was operating at well over 3,000m. 

 

The lower slopes of the descent became paved and flanked with extremely fancy houses and lodges to service the ski resort of Breckinridge. Stopped in town for a look in the museum and a coffee - still no news from home. 

Carried on to Frisco - an adjacent resort town - along an extremely well used cycle path. I haven’t seen such a high concentration of cyclists since being in the States. Stopped for a sandwich and a supermarket resupply but poor old P was still in labour. 

 

Completed the final little stretch along the lake to Silverthorn, which seems to mainly exist as a large shopping outlet - presumably for those not interested in winter sports. But also housed a collection of lower end accommodation where I naturally found my home. Staying in what is a really nice hostel and had the dorm room to myself which was an added bonus. 

 

Passed under the interstate that my friend Tom and I had driven on ten years previously whilst on our road trip towards Denver, so sent him a photo.

 

Went out for a couple beers and food and finally it sounds as though there may be some news from home as I headed to bed.