Fitting any right escape into nature, there is no hard and fast itinerary other than arriving at a cozy hut before dark. Each day begins with hot coffee and a leisurely breakfast eaten beside windows fat with an eye-popping view. Each day ends with us padding about the warm huts giddily content. Between that is anywhere from 10 to 32 miles of riding, leaving plenty of time for whatever we choose.

"We're really pretty loose," Don explains one evening. "We know where we have to be at the end of the day, but what we do in between is entirely up to the group. You can fish, you can hike, you can nap." He smiles. "We've found people don't mind getting off the bike once in a while."

To be frank, there were occasions when getting off the bike was all I wanted to do. One afternoon we stood at the foot of a dirt road leading up to Hagerman Pass. At 11,925 feet, Hagerman Pass marks the ridgeline of the Continental Divide. It is a heady thing to stand astraddle this great country's spine, but I knew it would take some doing. While Richard and Don debated the distance to the summit, I walked over and read the sign. Fourteen miles, it said.

For the first two hours, the fire road we pedaled followed a comfortable three percent grade. The climbing was continuous, but easy. Then we reached a fork. To the right, the road made a tantalizing descent. To the left, it rose steeply out of sight.

I knew where we were headed. Richard, who had stopped to wait for me, read my mind.

"We've only got four miles left," he said.

He smiled encouragingly, but said nothing more. I have spent enough time with guides to know what this means. They are paid to coddle, but not to lie.

I looked at the road. Not only was it steep, it was sorely rutted and pocked with rocks.

"Does the whole climb look like this?" I asked, trying to sound cheery.