Sitting in Trimble Hot Springs outside Durango, I examined the many cuts, scrapes and bruises that had overtaken my arms and legs like body art on a Hell’s Angel. I nursed a cold beer, and feeling sheer exhaustion seep from my pores, gave myself the proverbial pat on the back at having completed the roughly 40-mile mountain bike ride from Telluride (top of Lizard Head Pass, to be precise).

The Telluride-to-Durango ride is a classic favorite for those who live in, and visit, Telluride as the network of trails are truly spectacular and provide challenging, varied terrain (not for beginners, I’m afraid). Best of all, they culminate at a natural hot springs spa…perfect for those who relish the sequence of “beat oneself up, then pamper.” For years I’d shied away, thinking my skills weren’t up to scratch, but finally, a few summers ago, I felt ready to see what it was all about.

It was a sunny September day--in hindsight I would go a bit earlier in the season--and we (our group of four friends) set out early in the morning, knowing we had many hours in the saddle ahead of us. The first single-track section (East Fork Trail) was where a-little-late-in-the-season came into play as we not only encountered heavy mud, but sections of snow as we climbed to roughly 11,000 feet. Fortunately from then on, Indian Summer returned as we cruised down Bolam Pass and got on the famed Hermosa Creek trail. I’d heard so many glory stories about the rolling single-track of the Hermosa Creek trail--with its banked turns and smooth, buff surface--and it more than lived up to my expectations, especially after just enough rain left it in prime, tacky condition. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t merely a piece-of-cake pleasure cruise; enjoyable yes, but it was a haul. Besides, as the weakest link, who not only pulled up the rear the whole time, but suffered two “over the handlebars” wipeouts (nothing serious), it felt eternal. I could feel everyone’s relief, when I’d show up at our regroupings along the way, that I hadn’t permanently turfed it into a ditch somewhere.

By trail’s end, I was starving and caked with dirt, but on quite the euphoric adrenaline high, especially when I found out all that was left between me and the hot mineral pools were a few miles downhill on pavement. That almost brought tears to my dust-filled, sunscreen-bathed, sweat-crusted eyes. Forty miles and 8 hours in one stretch, on my trusted full-suspension (you better believe it) bike. Certainly a slog, but a beautiful and rewarding slog…one I would, without question, tackle again.