tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113143601339285182024-03-09T19:47:48.400-07:00Dirt Girl DiaryEither write something worth reading or do something worthy of writing. - Ben FranklinRoxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.comBlogger189125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-37469270960186925042023-11-07T17:44:00.001-07:002023-11-08T10:43:53.516-07:00BACK TO WHERE IT ALL STARTED: MOAB<div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPi5VbO2bWerrSPmc_yC_BUrNZLm-DHqm3GDEdt9gfPKC5872okeN7aZllQp9DCHXALf3n9PgqCBbQlZxKh6IABVsTwQUtQGWGiKm9eRq6W1540x-LZ5HYfqJEVXhxvUI3VSfYZhXDijOcooVDitOOxwawkC9R9wQSbnz1bh5VIr7QepMsExYGPR4Rw/s4080/PXL_20231104_150315306.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPi5VbO2bWerrSPmc_yC_BUrNZLm-DHqm3GDEdt9gfPKC5872okeN7aZllQp9DCHXALf3n9PgqCBbQlZxKh6IABVsTwQUtQGWGiKm9eRq6W1540x-LZ5HYfqJEVXhxvUI3VSfYZhXDijOcooVDitOOxwawkC9R9wQSbnz1bh5VIr7QepMsExYGPR4Rw/w640-h482/PXL_20231104_150315306.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">HWY 128 into N. Moab</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-family: Cabin;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">I was going to just do a social post about our last minute trip last weekend to Moab, Utah, but it got us feeling very nostalgic so pardon my trip down memory lane (plus DGD needed a new post anyway)!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Simply driving towards Moab conjures up a mental movie reel of past trips we've taken here. Moab was one of my and Ryan's early exposure to the Great Wide Open from the viewpoint of a mountain bike saddle. Back in the early 2000s, </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">before Ryan and I even met,</span><span style="font-family: Cabin;"> </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">we had been asked to join to the Bike Way mountain bike club, which also included an invitation to the shop's annual spring trip to Moab. Though we didn't know it at the time, this small gesture would fundamentally change us. To this day we understand how doing hard things with friends not only enriches the experience but forges long standing bonds. It was a gift we didn't know we were given until the shop trips ended years later. </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The grandeur, the rawness and the danger of the backcountry drew us with an incredible</span><span style="font-family: Cabin;"> force. So, as was done for us, it became our mission to bring others to ride in these amazing places.</span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Fast forward a lifetime and here we are in living in Salida. One of the things we love about living here, aside from the obvious, is it's proximity to many other mountain bike trails and towns. I'd been eyeballing the weather in Moab (which now is only 5.5 hours away, instead of thirteen) and considering the possibility of shuttling the Whole Enchilada before winter really hit and mountain passes become less safe to drive. The weekend called for upper 60s with no precip, so when Ryan's work travel was cancelled, I gently brought up my idea, letting it settle in his brain like a virus that he wouldn't be able to shake immediately. The next day, I looked into shuttle services and only a few seats remained. I mentioned this to Ryan and he said book it! The rest of the trip, we'd have to wing, as sadly Moab has become very popular and unless you're self contained (including a toilet) camping off grid isn't allowed and first come first served spots are limited. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljmK4mlkAFwou6cE-94LQQCVAD02JZMYWNagZXQOEHreACjK1kqFo18ccvTaCp3VVr1isK069CVpar0DKOouvH7VomknEG8MbRTFu3E3TNpukcdfc6uVESj8Hou5ZlSbK3ew9p4bfHWvMSPW44GaWGLGKIGMZr5LHSDzvygfuor-3pVtbhvi84sWkXg/s4080/PXL_20231104_002410101.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljmK4mlkAFwou6cE-94LQQCVAD02JZMYWNagZXQOEHreACjK1kqFo18ccvTaCp3VVr1isK069CVpar0DKOouvH7VomknEG8MbRTFu3E3TNpukcdfc6uVESj8Hou5ZlSbK3ew9p4bfHWvMSPW44GaWGLGKIGMZr5LHSDzvygfuor-3pVtbhvi84sWkXg/w640-h482/PXL_20231104_002410101.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">We left after work on Friday (sounds familiar) and drove four hours to Westwater Ranger Station, just west of Fruita, Colorado, opting to get to a camp spot while we had some daylight, instead of the hope and pray option of driving all the way into Moab and arriving in the pitch black. I could see the concern on Ryan's face as we turned off of I-70 into the vast empty desert, </span>the sun dipping quickly downward. Our campsite was ten miles from the exit but it turned out to be a fine place for the night. <span style="font-family: Cabin;">The parking lot was full of trucks hooked up to empty boat trailers, as it was also a ramp access to the Colorado river. Our spot was right on the bank, and the river idled by without so much as a ripple. Bird calls from flocks of ducks and geese filled the air. Though the sun had dropped below the horizon, the sky remained awash with color until Jupiter appeared in the eastern sky, like a spotlight. We watched all of this from a picnic table, as we ate our dinner of deli sandwiches. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7FK28CvUfOYBTJhU9LiCAUl2mWjiJ4V8x2pox6yMfU512Zk_Gf-MyHhYE0p-Dbc-MmhyphenhyphenVrcYi5oZOaFbPGmmFNvpgapj5p0ETTSNQZTBixLZuHI0uxqt_raXOZgSIX4xobG1ichqRSUa8dl4TywfKYACNgcQneA3p0IYQYsnVIKp244WtvBW5e48MQ/s4080/PXL_20231104_010314881.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7FK28CvUfOYBTJhU9LiCAUl2mWjiJ4V8x2pox6yMfU512Zk_Gf-MyHhYE0p-Dbc-MmhyphenhyphenVrcYi5oZOaFbPGmmFNvpgapj5p0ETTSNQZTBixLZuHI0uxqt_raXOZgSIX4xobG1ichqRSUa8dl4TywfKYACNgcQneA3p0IYQYsnVIKp244WtvBW5e48MQ/w482-h640/PXL_20231104_010314881.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Then once the darkness settled in we set a campfire ablaze. With whiskeys in hand we watched the flames flicker, recalling memories of our first trips here to the Western Slope. On those early trips with the Bike Way, we'd usually stop at Road 18 first to do a shakedown ride before landing in Moab. Years later, some trips were just to ride in Fruita and Grand Junction and we'd never even get to Moab. (One of my favorite places to ride still is Rabbit Valley, in Fruita). Sometimes we'd add in a side trip to Arches National Park (you didn't need a reservation then) and hike 3 miles up to D</span>elicate arch. I'll always remember the first time I saw it and the excitement Ryan had in anticipation of showing it to me. I think that was when we discovered our shared awe of nature.</div></span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Tired from the drive and comforted by the campside cocktail, we turned in for the night. We read books for a while and a few minutes after lights out, I heard it: the familiar sound of a critter crumpling some food packaging in the van. We had seen signs of a mouse in the van prior to leaving and thought we had remedied the situation. I got up and turned on the light. I woke up Ryan but the mouse we being as quiet as, well, you know. I put away a bag of snacks that I had left out and the rest of the night was still and we went to sleep hoping our stowaway was gone.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KeyA8guAfv8W2KlS7OAaEiEFWi6KBnY91q0Xfkg4pS2f_DiHHV2Uu34OyBgvKAJ3vGZtaGoFkQ7OeQ5PZAEx-qVWrr15XHbfydvz9G3k8FRoz87Ej1qzdGUMWNjBuIl80F9oP5fE3hqjNe0Z40mNmJwb2dh4we95UaKX3b4RklvaJpeFS0Ysl2pGcw/s4080/PXL_20231104_161151952.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KeyA8guAfv8W2KlS7OAaEiEFWi6KBnY91q0Xfkg4pS2f_DiHHV2Uu34OyBgvKAJ3vGZtaGoFkQ7OeQ5PZAEx-qVWrr15XHbfydvz9G3k8FRoz87Ej1qzdGUMWNjBuIl80F9oP5fE3hqjNe0Z40mNmJwb2dh4we95UaKX3b4RklvaJpeFS0Ysl2pGcw/w640-h482/PXL_20231104_161151952.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The next morning after coffee and oats, we headed to Moab. We decided to drive in via highway 128, the scenic route, to see if any campsites along the way had openings. We discovered new campsites farther out, and they looked to have open spots. Wanting to be closer to our ride finish on Sunday we kept driving. We went into the campsite where the Porcupine Rim trail actually terminates and holy grail, there was one spot open! We reserved it for two nights, left some chairs and a water jug to make it seemed occupied and headed off to ride. </span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkEWU__D1ksb6ENCGT2cenBFrAhBGZiGETwq7Cdkop2uE3pZHoW0Txz34RME2wAgreWp25oodlJUNympBDnwfwsFB49_QoP1G5_VGl1OtgfJFtRTWAJ1-5jtdED79NRlxUuZm66bNW43XLH8zEvwlrRSGVNQefN3tD-DiEnPhL8lL5yijuWwXHh4d4A/s2279/original_05c198b3-aba5-4509-9da0-29d022204a7c_PXL_20231104_192905867.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2279" data-original-width="1603" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkEWU__D1ksb6ENCGT2cenBFrAhBGZiGETwq7Cdkop2uE3pZHoW0Txz34RME2wAgreWp25oodlJUNympBDnwfwsFB49_QoP1G5_VGl1OtgfJFtRTWAJ1-5jtdED79NRlxUuZm66bNW43XLH8zEvwlrRSGVNQefN3tD-DiEnPhL8lL5yijuWwXHh4d4A/w450-h640/original_05c198b3-aba5-4509-9da0-29d022204a7c_PXL_20231104_192905867.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZhJlwIodpWYF9GnMNALJtKiq9RLHVYRcnifQCu1GXFxdAV732XweJFop84O2ZKpotG2VuXOusUq8a8ISoYCyPD_MOXk13gyNhcgDP9Ap3lwccnn1GfAhr2JwoG5tqty-u3iGZgjBNOcuwHemL8ysNux62t-OdpmDTyFd-uzb3zxM4L0L9jYbCuZbVw/s4032/PXL_20231104_191238831.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZhJlwIodpWYF9GnMNALJtKiq9RLHVYRcnifQCu1GXFxdAV732XweJFop84O2ZKpotG2VuXOusUq8a8ISoYCyPD_MOXk13gyNhcgDP9Ap3lwccnn1GfAhr2JwoG5tqty-u3iGZgjBNOcuwHemL8ysNux62t-OdpmDTyFd-uzb3zxM4L0L9jYbCuZbVw/w640-h480/PXL_20231104_191238831.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The plan was to ride a trail system called Magnificent</span><span style="font-family: Cabin;"> 7 (more aptly known as Mag 7) north of town. </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Mag 7 trails were not officially around in the early days of our visits, their beginnings dating around 2011 but we absolutely did ride in that area known to most as Gemini Bridges, where we mostly rode bikes up and down technical jeep roads. It was still fun and sometimes we'd see a group of those crazy jeepers get their rigs up some pretty steep shit. Since it is so popular with the 4x4 crowd, Google even suggested an unpaved route to the trailhead that was a few miles shorter than the highway. I wouldn't call it black diamond or high clearance but there were some parts with high exposure. The van did great. Ryan did great driving it. I, however, do not have the stomach for it. My mind goes on red alert and I can't really relax. We eventually made it to the trail and not soon enough! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The trail starts out with tech immediately so there's no "warm up". I have no real memory of the trail from racing it back in maybe 2016 other than it was physical with a lot of pedaling due to it's technical nature. But today, I was not racing. It was all slowish technical riding and that's just fine with me. There's something very satisfying when I manage a tall step-up, where the back wheel floats up behind me without a sound. That's usually when I let out my barbaric yawp. By the end of 18 mile loop, I was feeling it. I was happy to be done when we pulled into the parking lot and happier still that we were NOT taking the same way back into town! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYajRjrdWsPDXDTkG4DWNprvAoWjSSRptkkA5OkhTPFR35DORzqW3Wt71RT8uJtTqZe6-rrPZ3B_zu-babvgDcw74VIB82XzFFFLKxTVTvvEORjo55Amrgn03xyH5oGDgngvr5lMFu-DBoMtTfoIJmV32dvCSG9f4Y8NLMlz6CBnbkqBZs_gpxzdnGSg/s3264/PXL_20231105_002714400.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYajRjrdWsPDXDTkG4DWNprvAoWjSSRptkkA5OkhTPFR35DORzqW3Wt71RT8uJtTqZe6-rrPZ3B_zu-babvgDcw74VIB82XzFFFLKxTVTvvEORjo55Amrgn03xyH5oGDgngvr5lMFu-DBoMtTfoIJmV32dvCSG9f4Y8NLMlz6CBnbkqBZs_gpxzdnGSg/w640-h480/PXL_20231105_002714400.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">We pulled into downtown Moab around four o'clock, perfectly timed, ahead of the dinner crowd- and crowded it was. Moab has been found! But it's a fun place, with its dirtbag vibe still intact, despite the clean cut tourists walking around. We went to a place called Trailhead Public House, right smack on Main St. Google maps showed not busy and we got a table immediately. As we were enjoying our margaritas and waiting for food, we hear "Is that Ryan?" I turn towards whomever is talking and to our wonderful surprise its two friends from Omaha/Lincoln, Kate and Allison! Kate was there to run an offroad marathon and ride bikes with Allison. Of all the places! But there's more. They were also in the same exact campground as us! These are two adventurous women who we've had the pleasure to travel with and it warmed our hearts to see them doing their thing on their own terms. We see many more women adventuring and doing rad things than we did in our early travels. Now, it's not unusual to have more ladies than dudes! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJ3YYS5VSbTrh9QOydjuAlUVBnrRHBViYCpUxYBazVJqMNF_HP93_SiNPOWQBK3vLj9ZjXaJ6TcJnsJZPJkc2oCQuQExlm4w47_al3lPwJmHq3NkUu4LR1jJXYEnepEgKSshqFMf9ZN0why6aXNpLZaPBtdV0VyPoLcPaDNbwmzb42r95TqrtW0oV-A/s4080/original_06e05194-9faf-43a4-a0ec-6b19de886f4b_PXL_20231105_143042536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJ3YYS5VSbTrh9QOydjuAlUVBnrRHBViYCpUxYBazVJqMNF_HP93_SiNPOWQBK3vLj9ZjXaJ6TcJnsJZPJkc2oCQuQExlm4w47_al3lPwJmHq3NkUu4LR1jJXYEnepEgKSshqFMf9ZN0why6aXNpLZaPBtdV0VyPoLcPaDNbwmzb42r95TqrtW0oV-A/w482-h640/original_06e05194-9faf-43a4-a0ec-6b19de886f4b_PXL_20231105_143042536.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQ0G8Sr2SvQjL-hN4Wkzd9rQsRSotJNpKqQB3HllMd221GI-8wkThCD0txaZMf3fKkuJas6k8CC9jOHnytyPxlXOX8FBiBJXhyphenhyphenkcgfPDGINQHe1K8V7A0-kR2qoUMszDpJ48zzHzzmdKrMiXp3xaPK14YTtg0J-WqGQcEtOjMCOl70O3ZFMGw5thH9A/s4080/PXL_20231105_143256453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQ0G8Sr2SvQjL-hN4Wkzd9rQsRSotJNpKqQB3HllMd221GI-8wkThCD0txaZMf3fKkuJas6k8CC9jOHnytyPxlXOX8FBiBJXhyphenhyphenkcgfPDGINQHe1K8V7A0-kR2qoUMszDpJ48zzHzzmdKrMiXp3xaPK14YTtg0J-WqGQcEtOjMCOl70O3ZFMGw5thH9A/w640-h482/PXL_20231105_143256453.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidxLs6K6O8DIf5s3YNoxLYZ98gEDhn4QQq6QeXEMYfzZmvFjW7LD1B10wKZue7Zd_65BW7jutt4_DWyHbqgcjY5LNweJnTH9awCORRKQkDYRHIfKKMKmRnXTaGM1rU1aQHF1zdVuZXJEDOUS-fDNnZzVUueI31XPtfuEcdb-z7kf1SePUkpIzO_T03cA/s4032/PXL_20231105_143611640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidxLs6K6O8DIf5s3YNoxLYZ98gEDhn4QQq6QeXEMYfzZmvFjW7LD1B10wKZue7Zd_65BW7jutt4_DWyHbqgcjY5LNweJnTH9awCORRKQkDYRHIfKKMKmRnXTaGM1rU1aQHF1zdVuZXJEDOUS-fDNnZzVUueI31XPtfuEcdb-z7kf1SePUkpIzO_T03cA/w640-h480/PXL_20231105_143611640.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93wcAjmc9fWSxiuvBDxh-n8jUMDQTK4tSYDIoKZQaUCB4f2LNNGsDAlk3m3KMeTBI8PheJVXn486-tyXneJTdbo55klBDn2bnDF4mL7QtzdOTXJ3JZl-avJ-8VA9TPLs_NKfEhtLzovhfeo9fA12FFlhja1nmXJIEjb3BDHu-mhelcNYjVDofWCkw4Q/s4080/PXL_20231105_143814366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93wcAjmc9fWSxiuvBDxh-n8jUMDQTK4tSYDIoKZQaUCB4f2LNNGsDAlk3m3KMeTBI8PheJVXn486-tyXneJTdbo55klBDn2bnDF4mL7QtzdOTXJ3JZl-avJ-8VA9TPLs_NKfEhtLzovhfeo9fA12FFlhja1nmXJIEjb3BDHu-mhelcNYjVDofWCkw4Q/w482-h640/PXL_20231105_143814366.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqZQUjeSWz74-FqQrAmA9SkgXX-fh4m5jaYTLbXnfswv0ZoPodwyO0tJnVmTjdmRC6iJ5IaXjRJf8A-XGusD34iEqvCky7Kd4W-cIQ4VPoPWQ0gFTfENOWkoXRgg9NZ-FwK1zRjhvjsGFHUFxqCVJC2GYf5JM5KFjwv5xtRd1RCOnfbs2iFCHQtWxow/s4080/PXL_20231105_144446554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqZQUjeSWz74-FqQrAmA9SkgXX-fh4m5jaYTLbXnfswv0ZoPodwyO0tJnVmTjdmRC6iJ5IaXjRJf8A-XGusD34iEqvCky7Kd4W-cIQ4VPoPWQ0gFTfENOWkoXRgg9NZ-FwK1zRjhvjsGFHUFxqCVJC2GYf5JM5KFjwv5xtRd1RCOnfbs2iFCHQtWxow/w640-h482/PXL_20231105_144446554.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36V-bmDAu5x42VvMRxMk_DFGx5c0n3nFPHdqeyoCLFkFhhmv6NXh_yh3Lsj3cqh5H_XUiwj8XCXKwTt3xz_2Zz9jslz7fu6X050jf0meEbHbL4vAfkFJel_qN2FWcPcwCAa7ghekyqy9UjnJMsUVUFfyPxvp69xFC3v063Lp0QC-WMMfMfChLRQorjQ/s4080/PXL_20231105_145102789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36V-bmDAu5x42VvMRxMk_DFGx5c0n3nFPHdqeyoCLFkFhhmv6NXh_yh3Lsj3cqh5H_XUiwj8XCXKwTt3xz_2Zz9jslz7fu6X050jf0meEbHbL4vAfkFJel_qN2FWcPcwCAa7ghekyqy9UjnJMsUVUFfyPxvp69xFC3v063Lp0QC-WMMfMfChLRQorjQ/w640-h482/PXL_20231105_145102789.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">If that rock could talk.</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The next morning we were up early despite daylight savings giving us an extra hour. We were too excited to ride Porcupine Rim, but the shuttle pick up wasn't for a few hours so with coffee in hand, we hiked up the last bit of trail we'd be riding down later that day. We scouted lines and talked about some of the rides down Porcupine with different groups over the years. We came with the Bike Way shop guys of course, and in those days, trails above Porcupine Rim didn't exist, legally. The Whole Enchilada wasn't a thing yet. The Bike Way group was made up of mostly former motocross riders who'd taken to down hill and free riding and they were so fast. (Nebraska actually had a downhill team for a couple seasons). And all the shenanigans you can imagine with a group of rag tags like this, happened. Broken bike parts, skin lacerations, bruises and all manner of stinky boy locker room living, usually in a small rental house (pre AirBnB). Years later it was our turn and we brought friends from the next club we were a part of, Bike Masters. We brought newbs who had never set foot in Utah so driving up that same highway 128, we probably stopped five times to let them take all the pictures. And the riding just blew minds. Most of us were XC racers arriving on slim tires and wobbly suspension. Though more skin was probably lost on these trips, it was worth every scab! There was another group that Ryan and I inserted ourselves into as well, and these guys would come out in the fall when it was less busy with the 4x4 crowd. They were expert level XC racers and were all about getting in as many miles as the daylight aloud. It was on these rides Ryan and I found our love for the grind, the pay-to-play style of riding, where you put in the work to get to the good stuff, even if that meant climbing for hours or even hike-a-biking. This group didn't fuss around with having perfect camping spots or taking pictures. They would grab a spot and get on a bike, then go get food, drink a beer and go to bed. Then repeat it again over the next few days. We were still in 26" and V-brake days but that didn't keep us from riding everywhere. Eventually we stopped making the annual treks to Moab, especially as the riding in Arkansas started to blow up. But then the enduro scene hit the US and races like The Whole Enchilada, where you could race from the La Sals at 12K down to about 6k, was too good to pass up. We raced it in its inaugural year 2012? (and still have the sweatshirt). We invited a friend from Europe to come over and race it with us as well as a few more local friends just to ride the course the day before for fun (and also other trails). It was fall and the foliage up in the La Sals made us feel we were in the land of Oz, complete with all the fall technicolor. We went back a few years to race it again (Ryan missed that first year due to shoulder separation two weeks before) and invited my then coach in 2017 to come out and try it. We camped up on Sand Flats road and on race morning, we saw snow up in the high country. The race still happened and it was a shit show, but it's a tale we still tell with great excitement. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPk75OuNtiepIKQpXZ0nqPFwG_0nj2TSc4J1fdAk-cCkWyWzQgxLvAeYavSa8CneDKmhzMU4VNyyadfeRc7lmWpnWUkLw4LjULpMKpzCK9gONL0n8__Zl-uDc8KzAAkVT7U1QQQKCLvnkuCfoCyV7EbnBvnN8qGcteRUpJM_1jQi0VAOIttYrnU8IkpA/s3264/PXL_20231105_185043681.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPk75OuNtiepIKQpXZ0nqPFwG_0nj2TSc4J1fdAk-cCkWyWzQgxLvAeYavSa8CneDKmhzMU4VNyyadfeRc7lmWpnWUkLw4LjULpMKpzCK9gONL0n8__Zl-uDc8KzAAkVT7U1QQQKCLvnkuCfoCyV7EbnBvnN8qGcteRUpJM_1jQi0VAOIttYrnU8IkpA/w640-h480/PXL_20231105_185043681.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Upper Porcupine looking back at the La Sals.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">This time however, we were too late in the season to get up into the La Sals so we had to settle starting the day on the trails above the rim, called Upper and Lower Porcupine. The shuttle would leave from the Chili Pepper Bike Shop in town and we opted to vacate the campsite and move the van to an overflow parking lot so it would be right there when we finished. We rode the seven miles into town on a paved bike path that paralleled HWY 128 and the Colorado river before dumping us onto HWY 191 into Moab.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Upon arriving at the pick up a woman, who was part of another group, recognized Ryan and I from our enduro racing days and she ended up sitting next to us on the drive up. For an hour we chatted about places we've ridden, and invited her to come to Salida! Such a small world. Finally, the van stopped. At first I didn't recognize the drop off point because it was </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">a legit paved turn out with a porta potty, whereas previously it was gravel with no parking lot and you peed in the bushes. Things have definitely changed! </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">But what hasn't changed is the view of Castle Valley. It's like a dream, with all the bluffs and buttes </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">silhouetted</span><span style="font-family: Cabin;"> against the pale colors of the desert sky. It would be our view for most of the day.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGSkIJXAR0UvGjDdJV224pcqAJmS89P9RIyLabUs_0wUKVbKcJQDOJQ7Nt1wrtPAr1TLJL9MUP5kystXGljoSDNFu3_DQpX9Mw8v_UcMujq__hgM8TZgdxYmnM0PB5AryilOlFjas6S4M5vEPrQW8DkzJC139o8Tpmh731aNyj2wXzpPpCxzxkHJlaQ/s4032/PXL_20231105_183556493.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGSkIJXAR0UvGjDdJV224pcqAJmS89P9RIyLabUs_0wUKVbKcJQDOJQ7Nt1wrtPAr1TLJL9MUP5kystXGljoSDNFu3_DQpX9Mw8v_UcMujq__hgM8TZgdxYmnM0PB5AryilOlFjas6S4M5vEPrQW8DkzJC139o8Tpmh731aNyj2wXzpPpCxzxkHJlaQ/w640-h480/PXL_20231105_183556493.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Right after we were dropped off.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfc1WZ-vL5tOosl5O6WZCxQRrL45XUwdqx5A_wHXG0EhJCpca9euiRWZ470z8h0qJbPgGsKl27SJ0ErhVj-siID8N2XL_0yzdy69kiwMnvYcliWBfexNuzID1xRoxZ7Ir4EncCsMIv31QIAWqNPpUMIxgQKTFBoq_qGR6uhpajz77uixftd5kL1CjCQ/s4032/PXL_20231105_190250058.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfc1WZ-vL5tOosl5O6WZCxQRrL45XUwdqx5A_wHXG0EhJCpca9euiRWZ470z8h0qJbPgGsKl27SJ0ErhVj-siID8N2XL_0yzdy69kiwMnvYcliWBfexNuzID1xRoxZ7Ir4EncCsMIv31QIAWqNPpUMIxgQKTFBoq_qGR6uhpajz77uixftd5kL1CjCQ/w640-h480/PXL_20231105_190250058.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Literally riding the rim. Castle Valley in the distance</span>. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjoNnV7gkVoRT2H6AXZtT9Zq2vR0K_jahrdiYoDlPBRBebEGsQQMbTGGUviNoRxye-Sz2WFbfDH-3i3yhbH25Vatg844_9tYFxM5Y64h7sgjxTA3xgIFx4Z_2Cm-5acBWJqgK2kMqq9V4cHyIPX8H_-9rFYvuJ3LX4yXA8euitPUv497TKoysfN7Vow/s4032/PXL_20231105_192437272.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjoNnV7gkVoRT2H6AXZtT9Zq2vR0K_jahrdiYoDlPBRBebEGsQQMbTGGUviNoRxye-Sz2WFbfDH-3i3yhbH25Vatg844_9tYFxM5Y64h7sgjxTA3xgIFx4Z_2Cm-5acBWJqgK2kMqq9V4cHyIPX8H_-9rFYvuJ3LX4yXA8euitPUv497TKoysfN7Vow/w640-h480/PXL_20231105_192437272.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Nothing is smooth on this route.</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The ride was everything we hoped, full of physical and technical terrain, danger and the welcomed edginess of being very far away. Our total ride time was around 3 hours, including stops. The sky was slightly overcast, keeping things just a bit cooler than the day before. Though we stopped a few times to see the sights, fuel up, or chat with other riders, the goal was to just ride. To take it turn by turn, drop by drop, step by step. Aside from the Notch, Ryan pretty much rode the whole darn thing. I was probably 80/20. Some of the taller drops and rock slabs still give me the heebeegeebees but I rode a lot more of the tech than I used to! We arrived at the bottom, 4500 feet later, stoked and dumbfounded once again that we get to ride this sick trail. After all of these years, it really hasn't changed, but it most definitely has changed us and probably thousands of other riders, for the better.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qICmklR0q7pCOAs9LZKj7GskZO18m79Xd7hyE6H234T_f1Ekeu8uRIWOhuEsrO7QgTwEdQqKGtVSv_qdJM2SefUDUACpjJ_iXS8c8g7ghc0K-NVxTcCu6ps3mmA8IXj-zx3tK12yJGrB6Y_GmKzw1p-SEDRoNSeVuGECUUIX8AxefsSsfAvXTiup4g/s4080/PXL_20231105_210748930.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qICmklR0q7pCOAs9LZKj7GskZO18m79Xd7hyE6H234T_f1Ekeu8uRIWOhuEsrO7QgTwEdQqKGtVSv_qdJM2SefUDUACpjJ_iXS8c8g7ghc0K-NVxTcCu6ps3mmA8IXj-zx3tK12yJGrB6Y_GmKzw1p-SEDRoNSeVuGECUUIX8AxefsSsfAvXTiup4g/w482-h640/PXL_20231105_210748930.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">This was the first time Ryan rode this slab. <br />It's terrifying and very hard to walk down.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_OqGBOnE532TkWgrf_rLirCHpCmU9-vgMB9-WfZvDmo1KkZ-c7o_CgFfMvW8aS69SmWV5qdyKPv0gD4r9fnqfCwDYRh3WhKbCKVxayIS0ArUrjhTZ6OP0iJa32pwLPRoAw0je5yCqXUgJ3iXYajGGmhyphenhyphen65vZvKQX8bM4PIFiYELmRGvKbkpDSTVL5Ug/s4080/PXL_20231105_211949661.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_OqGBOnE532TkWgrf_rLirCHpCmU9-vgMB9-WfZvDmo1KkZ-c7o_CgFfMvW8aS69SmWV5qdyKPv0gD4r9fnqfCwDYRh3WhKbCKVxayIS0ArUrjhTZ6OP0iJa32pwLPRoAw0je5yCqXUgJ3iXYajGGmhyphenhyphen65vZvKQX8bM4PIFiYELmRGvKbkpDSTVL5Ug/w482-h640/PXL_20231105_211949661.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">For all our friends in Florida, see, not much climbing! </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Somewhere towards the last third of the trail, we came upon four riders who asked to have their picture taken. Afterwards, two guys from the group sped off, and the other two seemed happy to stay back to chat, admitting excitedly, that they had invited the other two on the trip even though it was their first time riding mountain bikes off road. Ever. Ryan and I both looked at each other with sly smiles. We knew emphatically how excited they were. </span></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-3319875499846560522023-10-02T17:51:00.000-06:002023-10-02T17:51:00.602-06:00Rehoming in the Great Wide Open<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2htWmXlC7QuJ5ytsiaUAW97Day9bYiqs5BQgzs-vmuCrt69w7KUhyphenhyphenJsGTSbT__9pxY1cnplzHy0PP4QAOTs4oaFXX3LqAdFXmHo7a7Xab-M7s9DnH5PeMlvR3R7y3CrI6A3Vdd-qKEBC_QzzWwy0o21tM0n6sd1_fUz2-qu-DuWxalmNLwN9kjZzGQ/s225/download.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2htWmXlC7QuJ5ytsiaUAW97Day9bYiqs5BQgzs-vmuCrt69w7KUhyphenhyphenJsGTSbT__9pxY1cnplzHy0PP4QAOTs4oaFXX3LqAdFXmHo7a7Xab-M7s9DnH5PeMlvR3R7y3CrI6A3Vdd-qKEBC_QzzWwy0o21tM0n6sd1_fUz2-qu-DuWxalmNLwN9kjZzGQ/w296-h296/download.png" width="296" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Cabin;">This post is way past due but for prosperity sake, I'm catching myself up. This July the husboy and I moved once more to our dream location, Salida, Colorado. When we've mentioned this to some people outside of Colorado and our immediate friend circle, we get the question why...where again? We answer by listing all of the "-ings" that we have access to on a daily basis. When we tell actual Coloradans, we get one of two replies: "F-You. We love that place" or "Congratulations! We love that place. " Both mean the same thing. :) And so far, nobody we've met wishes they hadn't moved here. Bonus.</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKv9IM0Sui8mgoXCpzzabIsbwHKs9rAuyMNJi-gqbbLzCEHe-xtUUTyYeYOfO3obGtKQe1EcehhzLm9BcESSQ5BzZezPh74nSAtq0QF7dy63CAR3F30ybWRHhc-UDaaw0saXT024zOC79Id5wn3D3pYo53koduYgjgU5oVybd37gXyQTBT7J-KsW4EQ/s4032/PXL_20230720_184930001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKv9IM0Sui8mgoXCpzzabIsbwHKs9rAuyMNJi-gqbbLzCEHe-xtUUTyYeYOfO3obGtKQe1EcehhzLm9BcESSQ5BzZezPh74nSAtq0QF7dy63CAR3F30ybWRHhc-UDaaw0saXT024zOC79Id5wn3D3pYo53koduYgjgU5oVybd37gXyQTBT7J-KsW4EQ/w640-h480/PXL_20230720_184930001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1DNuN9PegNzVaIwQ0sV7p7b5Bo1v0lysPpB4ULbG2SGmOHTjOaYg6QWxQLbKVNqD9n9S-TrGNwMBvoEeoYxu9ZggO0Q5ms1hQxXQk4lq__bbb4sQx35rnpVQ3xgLUeIC8234gDWLZJOdr7eJljne4Mcfbk1A25TkMuMZT7eIVJ4lQ1Fc4PDTC6dJYw/s1952/Screenshot%202023-10-02%20at%205.25.41%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1384" data-original-width="1952" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1DNuN9PegNzVaIwQ0sV7p7b5Bo1v0lysPpB4ULbG2SGmOHTjOaYg6QWxQLbKVNqD9n9S-TrGNwMBvoEeoYxu9ZggO0Q5ms1hQxXQk4lq__bbb4sQx35rnpVQ3xgLUeIC8234gDWLZJOdr7eJljne4Mcfbk1A25TkMuMZT7eIVJ4lQ1Fc4PDTC6dJYw/w640-h454/Screenshot%202023-10-02%20at%205.25.41%20PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The move from Florida was challenging logistically and mentally. The courage to muster action was a master class in belief and I give all the credit to Ryan for drawing a line in the corporate sand. Florida wasn't home and never would be and we were feeling it in our bones. It was time to go no matter the job circumstances. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Though we've done enough traveling to cool mountain towns to know Salida was "it", </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">moving is always difficult, no matter.</span><span style="font-family: Cabin;"> </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">I'd claim this time around was much easier than when we uprooted ourselves from Omaha since Salida is a familiar destination, as opposed to going to the great flat Tropical Unknown. This time though didn't go totally as planned. Despite pleading with the Universe to keep the Parents in line for a few days, I evidently didn't speak loud enough. I got the call from one of my brothers when we were deep into Texas and a long way from Omaha that my dad had fallen hand inured his tailbone (you may recall about this time last year it was my mom that fell). It all got handled by the grace of my siblings, thankfully, but it did add an extra layer of anxiety and guilt! And Dad is doing just fine, even at almost 90! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Fast forward, as we approach our 10th week in Salida, we've had many days of pure gratitude. From amazing mountain views out our door to now watching (and feeling) the seasons change is a blessing I never want to take for granted. I get to wear layers and socks! We've hosted a couple friends and even one racer from Iowa, Rick Blackford, who took on the Vapor125 race. We get to leave our house, on our bikes, to ride world-class trails–the same ones we've historically brought friends to over Memorial weekend. We get to fly fish gold medal waters when ever the fancy strikes. This all sounds like a lot of broadcasting but I assure you, it's more like a statement of disbelief. As in, really, this is our new home and these are our home waters, home trails? It's startling, honestly. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVYhjJUPcT93qBzFuDx3Mt70Lk9ajXzKCPtvXSuQ4rQkKN4f8mJb_wniouySCLOxtldWtdjlzVUaXLZiqT9_Ri-aju63d8TlOYo6Qb7wNlplTn1x7K4QyIfuHgEXuD5epjTpdaKW687bTs3-bf4yjpVIHZfmdubLLOOWQC1nDrEQ1N6m1W9RPGYeaOA/s3280/PXL_20230723_010150769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVYhjJUPcT93qBzFuDx3Mt70Lk9ajXzKCPtvXSuQ4rQkKN4f8mJb_wniouySCLOxtldWtdjlzVUaXLZiqT9_Ri-aju63d8TlOYo6Qb7wNlplTn1x7K4QyIfuHgEXuD5epjTpdaKW687bTs3-bf4yjpVIHZfmdubLLOOWQC1nDrEQ1N6m1W9RPGYeaOA/w480-h640/PXL_20230723_010150769.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2464" data-original-width="3280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWq20evi4nSYjYrpVun8PBgHgxZWnDJBjh4w_iIrE2S-ujEMVY_5_HGWpla_O92qE0Kw6FrzPwKAvbGcLTD0qTlHUCKuU_lqlvOilw-pXF7BQYchyphenhypheno6iibjZy2sP-aiTBsmIeUt-xl0lRCvQ6z5EnXceQwOIZ3gDDR1Xbzl9-edQb_sQKwza2mjK11Uw/w640-h480/PXL_20230928_175643126.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhqj03laZ2lNYLZj5932-vitgqCvZLslKTi2W8SG7fw9gDj4-7ItcOKPJ5xJlABbyf1zUdM3QX1GvZhaXi7uO5cP4BCuPMLsv_TdnULDkJMwROo1UIUsofSjmyqXrBYqHJkUXwRsOYqaWLONk_pSnnC9oG6fqjM_RlGH4XF0dN8i-FhMFr4sbrYQH4Q/s4080/PXL_20230921_010044623.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhqj03laZ2lNYLZj5932-vitgqCvZLslKTi2W8SG7fw9gDj4-7ItcOKPJ5xJlABbyf1zUdM3QX1GvZhaXi7uO5cP4BCuPMLsv_TdnULDkJMwROo1UIUsofSjmyqXrBYqHJkUXwRsOYqaWLONk_pSnnC9oG6fqjM_RlGH4XF0dN8i-FhMFr4sbrYQH4Q/w640-h482/PXL_20230921_010044623.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5Ern88tCsidMeVNPZ9L_0glUbi64t0VoBuG0ucK8YqAEZ6imHLkVjVdIDbtAcc_-nobOG2NN6fDPgI1lURrMBOMfGxp4tuAUv1YLGkVnEg0bTfPCXOpYykS1G2s0-F8GlH07P8ioKvX5CfJDDz23ZUhW-8bm8IFKr1rCKS-40Ik6WO5_jU6CNualSw/s4080/PXL_20230919_234252684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5Ern88tCsidMeVNPZ9L_0glUbi64t0VoBuG0ucK8YqAEZ6imHLkVjVdIDbtAcc_-nobOG2NN6fDPgI1lURrMBOMfGxp4tuAUv1YLGkVnEg0bTfPCXOpYykS1G2s0-F8GlH07P8ioKvX5CfJDDz23ZUhW-8bm8IFKr1rCKS-40Ik6WO5_jU6CNualSw/w640-h482/PXL_20230919_234252684.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Someone told me to be careful–because once the you reach the dream life, then what? Well, I'll let you know soon enough. </span></p>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-73758013026657692972022-10-16T17:06:00.031-06:002022-10-18T06:17:58.584-06:00GWO Tour 2022 - San Juan Huts Day 5 & 6: My Breaking Point<span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming ‘Wow! What a Ride!’ ”</b></span><div><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">- </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Hunter S. Thompson</span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The trip, by this point, had met all expectations: scenic, remote, dry weather, all the bikes were cooperating and everyone was healthy. However, remember the black cat I saw on the first day? Well, read on...</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpslLvV6u0Pke-FChd1MSYD3CUyAQdeIUXgxS7lhDT1R1oacPm_TngVOfnkPukK-mstRJHseV9OykzOu5RVTqBwqWHR_dTzdlfqTHwXck1vKOuWzjO9RKHcf6QDBGkgk1xCpGm5EGGiTIZb6qQz2so2TZozaPzf59fUGArMjZ4Fv_cZX6M_EFKydk/s4080/PXL_20220812_003724963~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpslLvV6u0Pke-FChd1MSYD3CUyAQdeIUXgxS7lhDT1R1oacPm_TngVOfnkPukK-mstRJHseV9OykzOu5RVTqBwqWHR_dTzdlfqTHwXck1vKOuWzjO9RKHcf6QDBGkgk1xCpGm5EGGiTIZb6qQz2so2TZozaPzf59fUGArMjZ4Fv_cZX6M_EFKydk/w482-h640/PXL_20220812_003724963~2.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p><b>Day 5 - Breaking into Gateway<br /></b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Total Mileage:31mi. Starting Elevation: 8700' Ending Elevation: 4500'</span></p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The group was more than ready to leave the goats behind, but even more so because the rowdy Ute Creek trail was on tap. For those with the wider tires, flat pedals and longer travel, this was a day they'd been waiting for.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I don't recall exactly how it went down, but at one point it was only going to be a few of us doing the single track and the others were going to continue on gravel. Some people were feeling the fifth day and wanted to keep it chill but by the time we actually all arrived at the trailhead, all of us were going to ride it! Woohoo! We'll sleep when we're dead!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Ryan and Andy took off, just like cartoon action figures --KWA-PING!-- leaving a small dust cloud in their wake. The rest of us picked our way down. Well, I should clarify: <i>I</i> was picking because the track was rough and steep and I just didn't have the confidence to ride it with all my gear on the front end of the bike. The Ute Creek trail sees way more uphill dirt bike traffic than downhill mountain bike, so upon looking back, my apprehension, though self induced, seems justified. We met back up with Ryan and Andy and again, but they disappeared in an instant. The track was narrow, below stands of aspens. It seemed more like a drainage be as how it was less contoured to the hill. I remounted and was able to ride a bit better and faster but still grabbing a bunch of break. I dropped my front wheel over a moderate rooty ledge, my butt rubbing the back tire. After passing it, I heard someone call out the drop and then I heard a loud crash and someone yelling and then a bunch of F-bombs. I immediately stopped, propped the bike and ran up the trail. Brian had gone over the handlebars on the root drop, landing on his bad shoulder and putting a pretty good gash in his shin. His helmet had markings that indicated he'd hit his head but he was on his feet and cussing like a sailor, so I assumed he hadn't lost consciousness. His wife, Sara, the nurse, was trying to calm him down and assess him at the same time. These were seasoned outdoors professionals, who have been in this situation with the public at large, so they knew what to do. It was assumed that when Brian's wheel hit the rock at the bottom of the drop it turned severely and quickly, the heavy weight from his backpack assisting in sending him down hard, onto another rock. His shoulder was in working condition, but the mental demon had settled in. So, we all walked. Eventually I met up with Ryan and Andy who were walking up the trail, worried something was up since we hadn't arrived when we should have. I told them what had happened and continued on until I reached the spot where they had left their bikes and waited until everyone was back together.</span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6lp-1Vw2GhqQomeMDRN6o7muyLTqVA2la5AYPR0gzH_SqHTrzH2PBqfCc8zo5Tqqre3bcF-Cz8WQOFcBK0uSj5ZjgLvAF-yl6kCJWZ70OEd3ONx_AcJsy-WY1V655Sh6aXJVtVRFIBTwCZsHylzp5K1bGgllCAKoqYB0KVQGg_orL2zrdkiJsyQ/s4032/PXL_20220811_154548294.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6lp-1Vw2GhqQomeMDRN6o7muyLTqVA2la5AYPR0gzH_SqHTrzH2PBqfCc8zo5Tqqre3bcF-Cz8WQOFcBK0uSj5ZjgLvAF-yl6kCJWZ70OEd3ONx_AcJsy-WY1V655Sh6aXJVtVRFIBTwCZsHylzp5K1bGgllCAKoqYB0KVQGg_orL2zrdkiJsyQ/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_154548294.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGLhtTIuI2nxWEh1ihVDuvv-UvETT3aw4q6qT2ttABUp-8XFsv_AeRsTO20FPRKdEKWqFWkCvN5Es__etE4anNhq5POL3WAGga62GwHfIvEZtRgM3dEH7jbczWduLnGOF8xA6VGs68MgJ0ntx8AcJmf2xyMik3XdEe5lxWOVI0SNJ5ZOd8KB_6_0/s4032/PXL_20220811_154550542.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGLhtTIuI2nxWEh1ihVDuvv-UvETT3aw4q6qT2ttABUp-8XFsv_AeRsTO20FPRKdEKWqFWkCvN5Es__etE4anNhq5POL3WAGga62GwHfIvEZtRgM3dEH7jbczWduLnGOF8xA6VGs68MgJ0ntx8AcJmf2xyMik3XdEe5lxWOVI0SNJ5ZOd8KB_6_0/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_154550542.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUz5hjEG_MXXdvuF4VWufUlrYrFivQVYTpx-cGwergNNm3dqPv8IF2-7qvcnIZndlD9K_SoGCD3QBwd94_VhODmpJJi3Ai1hl7JUOlmBR3fjT2jwEgYbF28xlvrwbCbYlPr7GB0Of6Bm2WtkxntShUfQexJDie70-VlWhNLu5DMSquUYYmLxOXkZc/s4032/PXL_20220811_154603463.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUz5hjEG_MXXdvuF4VWufUlrYrFivQVYTpx-cGwergNNm3dqPv8IF2-7qvcnIZndlD9K_SoGCD3QBwd94_VhODmpJJi3Ai1hl7JUOlmBR3fjT2jwEgYbF28xlvrwbCbYlPr7GB0Of6Bm2WtkxntShUfQexJDie70-VlWhNLu5DMSquUYYmLxOXkZc/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_154603463.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivv6eTwsL_E1HlCfzO_c2Hi7SaCtpUxJanKXvcbJ54Lc8x-vKh2OpUhr722AJiusdsRxZGOLPfw6f3i58uns4F8FdnMmktKYwJ-q6SnyCp2MlD4Shk9i-7UFBnr2jwuknEgQDC-RpJO1XeSOmWluR6Dh5dYrILATRXJFgwUhknjyYp4KZtS10dcyQ/s4032/PXL_20220811_154605738.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivv6eTwsL_E1HlCfzO_c2Hi7SaCtpUxJanKXvcbJ54Lc8x-vKh2OpUhr722AJiusdsRxZGOLPfw6f3i58uns4F8FdnMmktKYwJ-q6SnyCp2MlD4Shk9i-7UFBnr2jwuknEgQDC-RpJO1XeSOmWluR6Dh5dYrILATRXJFgwUhknjyYp4KZtS10dcyQ/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_154605738.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p>By then, we were past the steepest part of the trail, which quickly opened up and we could see the walls of the valley. It sorta reminded me of riding up the back side of Hazard Trail in Moab. The trail was benched into the side of the hill covered in dense brush. It was narrow but rideable with little punches across and down slick rock (look, cool rocks!) and boulders. </p></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiHof93d_CJQFFUtUOi27yl_Lw8CrM-hmfFwAFdvsfzKMK_9ZVjNqxhTjmbW1B6gVUs5DSU_aNbc7N5C0kIB78koJIbLpeIiWBq-1PLHfDJf8s6cKve5AUs6tZPISlQHSlTvui4WAPN7bDwEK6aQH_K_h5cE4aSiG-UHBZxnZ7PORvJPU-ybIGpo/s4032/PXL_20220811_155701329.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiHof93d_CJQFFUtUOi27yl_Lw8CrM-hmfFwAFdvsfzKMK_9ZVjNqxhTjmbW1B6gVUs5DSU_aNbc7N5C0kIB78koJIbLpeIiWBq-1PLHfDJf8s6cKve5AUs6tZPISlQHSlTvui4WAPN7bDwEK6aQH_K_h5cE4aSiG-UHBZxnZ7PORvJPU-ybIGpo/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_155701329.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5BrKF0XynqQlgaaihtyVR0hHzt_0S51MFgLUYn1nPMe6iJn6BoIMSTtkTvf1aZmqPN7y-14yxCPHIg3orYwW6_zceJ3Jj-Ta_X-llDndbRfDLBf7abxJrprL8tVHD5SdEqLmE_ZVX_b140rUH2-qOHzpeHbYzrL__tyJ7yrkiy6sL_sGI9OBm7o/s4080/PXL_20220811_160238836.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2726" data-original-width="4080" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5BrKF0XynqQlgaaihtyVR0hHzt_0S51MFgLUYn1nPMe6iJn6BoIMSTtkTvf1aZmqPN7y-14yxCPHIg3orYwW6_zceJ3Jj-Ta_X-llDndbRfDLBf7abxJrprL8tVHD5SdEqLmE_ZVX_b140rUH2-qOHzpeHbYzrL__tyJ7yrkiy6sL_sGI9OBm7o/w640-h428/PXL_20220811_160238836.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">At some point, I found Ryan and Andy, again below a stair step of rocks, waiting to take our pictures. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nothing as steep as what we had started on but it still took some finesse. I felt pretty solid, despite the weight on the bike. It actually kept the front end from bouncing around. It was like driving a tractor.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Lml_yj4VzzHUnM7o8gHSk3RJeRNZnhZ3FtOZdBaFqEtKqxk4C1USG0dqiHGGir6FHbKEXhiXeguZogH6xVEfY39Q0EpErrPsOjX35efzhEp_5NUiNawZU1BUouLEBy21aVWekaj7pcfmug8B_ZQhawLp5C_Wd0Q48qfYLfQ32YE0toN3n75DGDI/s4080/PXL_20220811_163602411.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Lml_yj4VzzHUnM7o8gHSk3RJeRNZnhZ3FtOZdBaFqEtKqxk4C1USG0dqiHGGir6FHbKEXhiXeguZogH6xVEfY39Q0EpErrPsOjX35efzhEp_5NUiNawZU1BUouLEBy21aVWekaj7pcfmug8B_ZQhawLp5C_Wd0Q48qfYLfQ32YE0toN3n75DGDI/w482-h640/PXL_20220811_163602411.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99Xv1-fJD3ISc2A4bx9AUKPv0xw3jkJXNLnNlU1GklsH7A5XgzP-5dqVkxnd39ZyfdTz3HNIAiaEcDCDezi2kqFbs8Jro4_oh8qxQbTUrwQ5-HFxxAFeYYPIY2pcoZpp9WBZfd6NYDFONQ7fSnhxZoaPm39l55FPNk47m5CbdBzyWaN7rSwvpDoQ/s4032/PXL_20220811_163739578.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99Xv1-fJD3ISc2A4bx9AUKPv0xw3jkJXNLnNlU1GklsH7A5XgzP-5dqVkxnd39ZyfdTz3HNIAiaEcDCDezi2kqFbs8Jro4_oh8qxQbTUrwQ5-HFxxAFeYYPIY2pcoZpp9WBZfd6NYDFONQ7fSnhxZoaPm39l55FPNk47m5CbdBzyWaN7rSwvpDoQ/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_163739578.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqB8ykQTRulioZzBHASjmldvqgvJtXOjInEESmxuXNb5g0H1yZmfBmWckZQ7-Z6zA-mOrPTpyxXzeEDRXZ5QJan6STVsgF0vyAurCYpQN6JEXt5ik33sYTletCDZvfic_e_SEwF6_nLbe5cdHCS_3KU38J-9PLJEgadZKlCeO8FmpSD2VfMP8I7rM/s4032/PXL_20220811_163753175.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqB8ykQTRulioZzBHASjmldvqgvJtXOjInEESmxuXNb5g0H1yZmfBmWckZQ7-Z6zA-mOrPTpyxXzeEDRXZ5QJan6STVsgF0vyAurCYpQN6JEXt5ik33sYTletCDZvfic_e_SEwF6_nLbe5cdHCS_3KU38J-9PLJEgadZKlCeO8FmpSD2VfMP8I7rM/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_163753175.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_58qBRRVMfGoir7PoEDT96NtoBMw1zd67d5lHpElPe7i29MEdQOCk9_3SE6IG1z_hGUbUMSA-Qnp8jK1GZUFyqE5uKDqnjBBPpuvVNIvMzGgtHOSIX-3sR2nxDZr263XvPKT3ikpt0POgaSe402lxzd4f9xfd0QBoBUcY2MgHUJGBCiOb1-KFEE/s4032/PXL_20220811_163853930.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_58qBRRVMfGoir7PoEDT96NtoBMw1zd67d5lHpElPe7i29MEdQOCk9_3SE6IG1z_hGUbUMSA-Qnp8jK1GZUFyqE5uKDqnjBBPpuvVNIvMzGgtHOSIX-3sR2nxDZr263XvPKT3ikpt0POgaSe402lxzd4f9xfd0QBoBUcY2MgHUJGBCiOb1-KFEE/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_163853930.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZq8YPUgTACu5moYT_T1SShfLjY0dQpHU_ueQeRd4xDQc6xZFCPKQdQYshbvBGURkOEqNflgSavs4uhUNQrD7z8Tecr1n8a2rWbCOpGX40UV6-dKqFTiSM3Bc5jzi5phn4m5O4Bhpmkq3sNuWEKi9iFszp0mqpkAl39cOQjNj5gIjAEBZpr7Sibss/s4080/PXL_20220811_164540816.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZq8YPUgTACu5moYT_T1SShfLjY0dQpHU_ueQeRd4xDQc6xZFCPKQdQYshbvBGURkOEqNflgSavs4uhUNQrD7z8Tecr1n8a2rWbCOpGX40UV6-dKqFTiSM3Bc5jzi5phn4m5O4Bhpmkq3sNuWEKi9iFszp0mqpkAl39cOQjNj5gIjAEBZpr7Sibss/w482-h640/PXL_20220811_164540816.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XUIuTAJeiDyyDi0W4JsWQyVuLQUW0Ga-0-XybMxX15kh70WAK64GbcYf3F1imNvGV9BfADPr9XEB482SUf_5L12pMeqoDGD6gF9wNxSk4L5gX4QwWneVEpDtkV6dD3UBks84v8IlPwYk8sPUoXVr3yL3vqr9DoMEM3dD3V6Nw1LeEs2-kdJM8yA/s4032/PXL_20220811_165458098.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XUIuTAJeiDyyDi0W4JsWQyVuLQUW0Ga-0-XybMxX15kh70WAK64GbcYf3F1imNvGV9BfADPr9XEB482SUf_5L12pMeqoDGD6gF9wNxSk4L5gX4QwWneVEpDtkV6dD3UBks84v8IlPwYk8sPUoXVr3yL3vqr9DoMEM3dD3V6Nw1LeEs2-kdJM8yA/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_165458098.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">With everyone safely down the descent, we were once again a posse out on a grand adventure, riding in the most remote section on the whole trip. We were away from roads, goats and humanity, on a Thursday afternoon. Life was good.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And then it wasn't.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The single track eventually became wide double track though was still rugged and demanded our attention. Lauren and I were riding together, Sara and Brian were close behind. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Every so often we'd catch back up to Ryan and Andy. At one of those such times, I was riding close behind them as they ate up a rough section of a punchy climb. Seeing this, I ratcheted up my effort out of the saddle. After a couple pedal strokes, my back wheel lost traction over the baby-head rocks and I began to tilt. Thinking nothing of it, I put out my left hand. I wasn't going fast since I was climbing but as soon as my hand hit the ground, I heard a crunch. There wasn't much pain but I knew in my mind that something was broken. I stepped off the bike and was immediately very pissed off. Brian and Lauren stopped to ask if I was okay. I wasn't sure. Not far ahead, Ryan, Andy and Sara stopped to rest in the shade of a juniper tree and I walked up to Ryan and told him I crashed and that there was something wrong with my left wrist. Sara came over to look at it. She wasn't sure how bad it was or she wasn't telling me, but regardless, she wrapped it as best she could using gauze from her kit. Though we had started at the most remote segment of the route, by this point we were about 10 miles out from the only civilized stop, the town of Gateway, Colorado. From the Bike Bible, we knew there was a gas station where we could stop and assess.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The group had all stopped to take a break but Ryan, understanding that I'd be slow going, decided we should continue onto Gateway. I was able to hold on to my handlebars with both hands but only if the terrain wasn't too rough or steep. As long as I could stay seated, I could ride, unlike the last time I was in a similar situation. (It's been at least ten years now but a month before we were to go on the SJH Durango to Moab route, I fell during a race in Kansas City and managed to fracture the radius on my right wrist). </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But this was not that. In fact, though it was already starting to swell and bruise, I could rotate my wrist without pain and all my fingers could move. What I couldn't do was bend it or flex it. Ryan rode a ways ahead to scout the trail for me. There was only one section I had to walk before finally reaching a dirt road that would take us down a thousand feet in just a few miles. It was difficult riding. Ryan flew like nothing while I smoked my brakes, trying hard to stay in control on the loose road. The view was amazing. At one point I just had to stop, not only to cool the brakes but to look around. We were on a pretty precarious ledge that looked down into Unaweep Canyon. According to an online article in <i>Colorado Magazine</i>, </span><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;">'“Unaweep” means “parting of the waters” or “canyon with two mouths,” depending on who you ask. But long ago, the Utes realized the important point, that Unaweep Canyon is the only known canyon in the world with a divide that drains water out each end. West Creek flows out one end and East Creek out the other. It’s not a radical divide visually, and if you blink, you might even miss it.'</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;">The two creeks cut through the Uncompahgre Plateau where elk and cattle graze. From our vantage point we could see all the way to the horizon. The sky-scraping Precambrian walls, colored many shades of salmon, against the true blue sky never gets old. I've been coming to western slope of Colorado since the early aughts and its grandness humbles me. I'm in awe of it every time. Even then, when I was in pain, it brought me wondrous joy. </span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrDCAmYBoHNhFc-Z-tB70Xqovge0aaMwhsEo2S3YqeJGXLrHX23LwyREbT4zY1-m4_6ulqsgeCyYLQugMD62l0CDiFxjDcbCjKYmpoYHFy98WNXp9AvKO4fLspcZ55aUNhRiPCVgKo1PMoKXBbt19MhlEqhEx3TL72ySEPB50jJgPC0k0CQIkbbg/s4080/PXL_20220811_180658134.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrDCAmYBoHNhFc-Z-tB70Xqovge0aaMwhsEo2S3YqeJGXLrHX23LwyREbT4zY1-m4_6ulqsgeCyYLQugMD62l0CDiFxjDcbCjKYmpoYHFy98WNXp9AvKO4fLspcZ55aUNhRiPCVgKo1PMoKXBbt19MhlEqhEx3TL72ySEPB50jJgPC0k0CQIkbbg/w640-h482/PXL_20220811_180658134.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwn3sJqQ1HSEM4tE22NvQPCrgVvnMYn0KXvVm0kBpoXuBK5u4LseS6-7kUNQLYnA6-CK3yWVC5tNzPvGQ91zev1voSGge5aG6oh4yCcJAPyTr6fdHmQlraV9PUzAJshKQtXRSyrqq9qOWpVa3arO6dHK0AI2T7w4qx8P5VXTHkcPOEKMa7SK0BOCQ/s4032/PXL_20220811_180836904.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwn3sJqQ1HSEM4tE22NvQPCrgVvnMYn0KXvVm0kBpoXuBK5u4LseS6-7kUNQLYnA6-CK3yWVC5tNzPvGQ91zev1voSGge5aG6oh4yCcJAPyTr6fdHmQlraV9PUzAJshKQtXRSyrqq9qOWpVa3arO6dHK0AI2T7w4qx8P5VXTHkcPOEKMa7SK0BOCQ/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_180836904.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXq26NrGghjYVsz3cO5PlHWXRa1fax0qTjJOywWaBjKdRBO_Z90Ooyy_t2KBo3K89Pr1mUjE647xOHU5UJ4ADz1BYVxoLwThj8J48RQNK0L99RjrrR-RC1L2LrjRkn-Y0BVI1gXTw0P68A0-52XDjzxmXsKN2PDtFtQ-dkZLRvi-Dzus3VPwXLKx4/s4032/PXL_20220811_181247246.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXq26NrGghjYVsz3cO5PlHWXRa1fax0qTjJOywWaBjKdRBO_Z90Ooyy_t2KBo3K89Pr1mUjE647xOHU5UJ4ADz1BYVxoLwThj8J48RQNK0L99RjrrR-RC1L2LrjRkn-Y0BVI1gXTw0P68A0-52XDjzxmXsKN2PDtFtQ-dkZLRvi-Dzus3VPwXLKx4/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_181247246.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIA4HiwHCqF2IgqlTbOjdiu7RmElZl88kowkXTqxwk8odDMRWCeb-YfFdAZ9O-tuHJLZSkneuP-HZ5gx-45N8fWcEsKMwlCmldtMZ6MFCN7FoWUb3SwQSVreENFJ2zLqkics9yUXKwcXwCk0WH-VdoIdt7T5XMFKcwtG_qS4Xn0p7m_wSAkNkdRHw/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_181507841.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqegzpGIf_ZwhVFD6KQe_6mts_BnSIxyBZ1NYcfs3GvmUPga6PRcYpnwpAqSkI_MmhPOZd1r40oo5ud0QT6p4JhGBVr-wkd5ttdQ5a2rZDyrgb-ES-qE0Jl7zgoue4PnsFQfCr7UIrvIZpBCnMQ2sS_V8V1YGxJgpQovNLDbeuJ-UywepSUEv9l1Q/s4032/PXL_20220811_183343758.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqegzpGIf_ZwhVFD6KQe_6mts_BnSIxyBZ1NYcfs3GvmUPga6PRcYpnwpAqSkI_MmhPOZd1r40oo5ud0QT6p4JhGBVr-wkd5ttdQ5a2rZDyrgb-ES-qE0Jl7zgoue4PnsFQfCr7UIrvIZpBCnMQ2sS_V8V1YGxJgpQovNLDbeuJ-UywepSUEv9l1Q/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_183343758.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOkbGwrMKvmQUk05d4GJC-mErHTi4CW5oxREsmQHjXCUy2qACvyeqSathN0YsXiZa_66LuFswhfhtigb33zWj9KNxjCi24bN8xSSKwFN8ouHVnchUbW7d03laijWW1ZO4i5YE-JJIudKC8jShlhDNtSPuQAcfL8GZLo1bo9Qy7MTswtEO4Af6vk4/s4032/PXL_20220811_182008342.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOkbGwrMKvmQUk05d4GJC-mErHTi4CW5oxREsmQHjXCUy2qACvyeqSathN0YsXiZa_66LuFswhfhtigb33zWj9KNxjCi24bN8xSSKwFN8ouHVnchUbW7d03laijWW1ZO4i5YE-JJIudKC8jShlhDNtSPuQAcfL8GZLo1bo9Qy7MTswtEO4Af6vk4/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_182008342.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Ryan snapped me out of my vision quest state quickly enough. We had to keep moving so we could get out of this blast furnace. The road turned into a sandy wash at the bottom, which was certainly not ideal when one's bike has a bag the weight of a newborn on its handlebars, making steering nearly impossible. But soon we were on pavement, cruising down the <a href="https://utbywayco.com/">Unaweep/Tabeguache Scenic and Historic Byway</a>. Hugging the right edge, I dropped the seat, tucked and pedaled as hard as I could, surprised that I still had the legs. The baking wind off the asphalt did little to cool us as we dropped down to just over 5K, to the canyon's bottom, near the Delores River. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuuNTfnf4MjXI8Xwlw39tLJIdt7bOO6tGTpouvlYJzAPahtiSBr4Wc5ukL09jq9_WxhaRABuUH7FW7xW4xtm-t6LuYfWg_qOiCUUyq3oIZ7MtckBBZQNVafOnV4PbUr8jarYs7YNvpYn6eCJvetE6iiwbR7vPE2Uxay8AOZXvLUe7WdmQFCefPVbU/s4032/PXL_20220811_184644678.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuuNTfnf4MjXI8Xwlw39tLJIdt7bOO6tGTpouvlYJzAPahtiSBr4Wc5ukL09jq9_WxhaRABuUH7FW7xW4xtm-t6LuYfWg_qOiCUUyq3oIZ7MtckBBZQNVafOnV4PbUr8jarYs7YNvpYn6eCJvetE6iiwbR7vPE2Uxay8AOZXvLUe7WdmQFCefPVbU/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_184644678.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Just passed the town sign we rolled into an equally steaming black-topped parking lot of a newly-built gas station. We leaned the bikes against the wall and went inside. The rush of air conditioning was shocking and rejuvenating.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> My pours opened. The brightly lit cold cases containing bottles of every type of thirst- quenching beverage called to me and I wanted all of them. With my helmet still on, I opened one of the doors and just stood there, letting the air envelope me in a rapturous cloud. I grabbed a gatorade and a tube of Pringles and a Snickers bar. I think Ryan grabbed a coke and a beer. After paying, we sat at one of the two bar-stools and inhaled our snacks. While waiting for the rest of the group, I took a Zip-Loc bag out of my pack, and using the pop machine, filled it with ice for my hand. While loitering, we used our phones to check in with the world. I texted my mom and then my youngest brother who was tasked to relay my whereabouts to my dad. It was useless to say anything about my wrist, as it would have only lead to unnecessary worry. The tug of social media was intense, as I had to much to say, but in all honesty the last thing I wanted to do was rub my phone. Instead, I decided to send a bag of local coffee beans, on display at the end of the aisle, to our good friend Larry. (For the past few years, whenever Ryan and I come upon an interesting place selling roasted coffee beans, we buy a bag and send it to Larry, who lives in Harlan, Iowa, about 45 minutes east of Omaha. He shares our affinity for coffee and he can't ride bikes with us anymore due to a hip issue, so we remind him that we wish he was with us by sending him coffee). It just so happened that right next to the gas station was a postoffice that I'd seen when we pulled in so as Larry would say, it was a no brainer. I wrote him a quick note about my wrist and that we were in the town of Gateway, population about 80. There wasn't much to it in the way of development, but it was pretty spectacular if you took the time to look up. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBe1qEbqMQCru68-E1y-0sIxyaLJbHLEIUX0HTpauD1K1vlie3nDjHDyi1B1dZD2pQJqnwSBJpGqgcviYsTzBZMXmUuMj7yXDVUj5SOBA9V7dFaxSdcpKHIxD1COKnSjQ66OmeV6CVpD8JoJ8uLfNilRQwgwtij3Uut0SjzVu9mA7eMSY3vVIcvU/s4080/PXL_20220812_140841367.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBe1qEbqMQCru68-E1y-0sIxyaLJbHLEIUX0HTpauD1K1vlie3nDjHDyi1B1dZD2pQJqnwSBJpGqgcviYsTzBZMXmUuMj7yXDVUj5SOBA9V7dFaxSdcpKHIxD1COKnSjQ66OmeV6CVpD8JoJ8uLfNilRQwgwtij3Uut0SjzVu9mA7eMSY3vVIcvU/w640-h482/PXL_20220812_140841367.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6ItID9r8OPp0rq_wrSbrx4Oc57o3xbpyIMzcS-GCPPZgl50WlAT2FXE3Dp_6Re57mvi7zwdj4o5tBFCK1sUcRsBCIZQ9cceP25zCAY9lVs5TEB9kKUdGzqjo6v3c6PVOtbmWgrDqRGV61mUXnfAAIVRXpfGJwXB1xO97HaK7iuUSYI0IT_ckNl4/s4080/PXL_20220812_140900982.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6ItID9r8OPp0rq_wrSbrx4Oc57o3xbpyIMzcS-GCPPZgl50WlAT2FXE3Dp_6Re57mvi7zwdj4o5tBFCK1sUcRsBCIZQ9cceP25zCAY9lVs5TEB9kKUdGzqjo6v3c6PVOtbmWgrDqRGV61mUXnfAAIVRXpfGJwXB1xO97HaK7iuUSYI0IT_ckNl4/w482-h640/PXL_20220812_140900982.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2YSCuWa7J-9CWbzUVzsocKU2SoPvOjltVUwbkw9D7EE1ODiNRAewlJYdJdsYvSlWjuKXtqvdzkoRXz5iGzajbBqgy4mPAEKd_jShyWIRwJBg3o3CBEOmHtaIyON15CdoB_zBpfzzzFYkJ5EruCpcyZ-Dus3gH__rE__jnhG4zj6WXQfhBjApnB4/s4032/PXL_20220811_193600231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2YSCuWa7J-9CWbzUVzsocKU2SoPvOjltVUwbkw9D7EE1ODiNRAewlJYdJdsYvSlWjuKXtqvdzkoRXz5iGzajbBqgy4mPAEKd_jShyWIRwJBg3o3CBEOmHtaIyON15CdoB_zBpfzzzFYkJ5EruCpcyZ-Dus3gH__rE__jnhG4zj6WXQfhBjApnB4/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_193600231.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Eventually the posse arrived. The hut was a few more pedal strokes from the station and it seemed that's where the group was headed, so we ran out to the parking lot to wave them down. If the other huts were any indication, this one was going to be a sauna so there wasn't any hurry. As the group shuffled in and took over the tables, we chatted about what to do next. Brian was in good spirits but his nurse wife wasn't as positive. We had some decisions to make. There was a local, listed in the Biker's Bible, who shuttled riders back to Telluride if their ride ended there. He also shuttled riders to the Utah boarder skipping the near 2k of hike-a-bike out of the canyon. Lauren had already decided she was going to shuttle up the border and said I should go with and split the $100 shuttle fee. I thought the idea was good so Lauren called the shuttle driver and luckily he had an open spot for two that next morning but he had to be back by the afternoon to take the next group behind us back to Telluride. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Ryan talked Andy into riding to the next hut and would meet us there. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Brian and Sara weren't sure what they were going to do and needed to discuss it but not at the hut. Instead, they were going to get a room at the posh Gateway Resort we'd read about. Owned by the former CEO and founder of Discovery Channel, it's a luxury base camp designed for the well-off adventure set. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Ryan thought it seemed like a place where the Hollywood elite went to detox!</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">We bid a good night to Sara and Brian as we loaded up to leave our convenient store oasis. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous that they'd be getting a shower and good night sleep, in an air controlled room, under crisp white sheets.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The four of us cruised down a dusty dirt road to our hot box, which ended up being on another private ranch. No goats this time but there were lamas and horses in a lush pasture, near the river's edge. The hut itself was in a somewhat forgotten section of the ranch, with a broken fence, dead cottonwood trees and most notably, minimal shade. It was painted a pale pink instead of the dark green like the others. Same went for the toilet. We opened the hut and it was like walking into a dark shed, hotter inside than outside. And since there was no breeze, being inside was not an option. We all got out of our riding gear to wash them and hang them up to dry. We spent the next hour or so sitting on a picnic table drinking beer, recapping the rest of the ride after we'd last split up on the top of the canyon. The relentless sun really began to wilt our spirits, despite our best efforts. Ryan tried fishing on the nearby river with his Tankara rod but the water was just too muddy and difficult to get to. By late afternoon, we'd had enough and decided to crash the restaurant at the resort. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGbHbMODggUndzMuJPYZALDC8WC8RiDnz-0J7exn-SCoKRY2ZCpNGiUbOMZKr7OvOnBJe8QqsdYJqcsAKOE2bM9bXBkBONd_VnJ1KUy90SAoJMd0xO2JMJt1zAS48y-LrxhNkxcB5WPlI5Bh3dfoxoL2zgClwVVULxG1z0HN3ymp_ju5svRclYyY/s4032/PXL_20220811_220734386.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGbHbMODggUndzMuJPYZALDC8WC8RiDnz-0J7exn-SCoKRY2ZCpNGiUbOMZKr7OvOnBJe8QqsdYJqcsAKOE2bM9bXBkBONd_VnJ1KUy90SAoJMd0xO2JMJt1zAS48y-LrxhNkxcB5WPlI5Bh3dfoxoL2zgClwVVULxG1z0HN3ymp_ju5svRclYyY/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_220734386.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The <a href="https://www.gatewaycanyons.com/">Gateway Canyon Resort</a> sits close to the highway, beside lush green landscaping. Designed in classic Spanish stucco, the maze of buildings making up the oasis blended in perfectly with the canyon walls beyond its property. None of us had cleaned up much but we didn't care and to our relief, neither did the hostess nor waitress. We were greeted warmly, as if we had just came off the back nine instead of the back country. Our waitress was a transplant from another town, who lived on the resort's property, with roommates, whom together were all in this nowhere town in order to scratch out a living just so they could climb the ancient canyons. Ah, to be young and free! She kept us in margaritas and mules all through our meal. The food was five-star but then again, we had been eating canned meat for the last few days. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2lwtcqeHANjKuEK2Rh4RWsDuLK7GjyADKXXvedVFgBFLfYMvXc0igZttskS5QAYIbcC7g3gwJT_d13nOiKmAto2JB7pl-Xp00wGfFBCa_-lqcDo51VFYsW_0nljtle8fRZgFQvH5Lewv1_kYpBuTkfjZkh88mMieAqEjWIqckvdUgkv9pdLW6wVE/s4080/PXL_20220811_225828152.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2lwtcqeHANjKuEK2Rh4RWsDuLK7GjyADKXXvedVFgBFLfYMvXc0igZttskS5QAYIbcC7g3gwJT_d13nOiKmAto2JB7pl-Xp00wGfFBCa_-lqcDo51VFYsW_0nljtle8fRZgFQvH5Lewv1_kYpBuTkfjZkh88mMieAqEjWIqckvdUgkv9pdLW6wVE/w640-h482/PXL_20220811_225828152.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">While waiting for dessert, Sara and Brian arrived, all clean and looking fresh, but still uncertain to their plan come morning. All would hinge on how Brian was feeling. Our plan, however, was set: Ryan and Andy would be leaving around 6:00 a.m. while Lauren and I would take the shuttle a bit later. We left the resort buzzed and happy. But by the time we returned to the hut, we were no longer as happy (although Lauren would argue that the farm cat made her very happy).</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> The hope for the air to cool at sundown was a lost cause. The overnight forecast was to be in the mid 70s, some twenty degrees warmer than what I expected, having always traveled to the desert in the spring or fall. We stayed outside as long as we could but one's ass can take so much sitting on a wood picnic bench or stoop. </span></p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The night was tortuous. Worse than trying to sleep on an overnight flight. Worse than trying to sleep in a moving car. I got up twice to go to the bathroom, just to get some reprieve from the stagnate air trapped in hut. At least the hut had a screen door to assist with air movement, had their been any. Even in my sports bra and shorts, on top of my sleeping bag, next to a window, I was miserable. I even tried putting a blue ice pack from the hut's cooler on my chest but even that wasn't enough. My mind was too busy worrying about the lack of sleep and the condition of my throbbing wrist. Alas, despite my efforts, sleep would not come for me.<br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Day 6 - The Rescue<br /></b><span style="font-size: small;">Total Mileage for Andy & Lauren: 11 Starting Elevation: 7400' Ending Elevation: 8300'</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was still dark when I heard Ryan's phone alarm, and soon thereafter the sounds of boiling water for oats and coffee. As soon as there was enough light to see, I was up, wanting to have a look at my wrist. And it wasn't good. The swelling had increased and all my fingers were turning three shades of purple. My hand looked like a rubber glove filled with air. I could still use my all my digits but my wrist was extremely sore. I was starting to rethink my decision to ride to the hut because it meant riding down to Moab yet the next day. I told this to Ryan even as he was all kitted up and ready to ride. He asked me if I'd rather have him stay to help me figure out what to do next. I reluctantly said yes. This sudden change of plans meant Andy would need to know if he was going to ride by himself or with the others, so he and Ryan rode over to the resort to discuss things with Brian and Sara. Brian came out to meet them to say they'd rather take the shuttle and then ride the rest of the way to Moab. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The hut group arrived at the gas station around 7:30. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Brian and Sara rolled up soon after.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">The shuttle was scheduled to leave at 8 a.m. There were a couple tables outside the closed gas station where we waited for our rescuer, further discussing our options. It was then that Brian and Sara realized that the shuttle didn't go all the way to the hut but just to the Utah border. If they were to continue to Moab on highways, that would require them to ride a minimum of five hours. Not impossible but it would be during the hottest part of the day. Now we had yet to discuss any of this with our shuttle driver. We knew he had room for four bikes. We also knew he had an afternoon shuttle scheduled to Telluride. We weren't even sure he could take us to Moab, our thinking being that at the very least he may know someone else who could or maybe take us another day. As we waited, a f</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">ew cars stopped to fill up with gas but none came over to us. Then a small hatchback turned into the lot, with a bike rack on back for two and two racks on top. Surely, that couldn't be our shuttle? The car stopped in front of all six of us and our bikes. An older gentleman, wearing a sun hat and dirty jeans got out of the car, an earring glistened in the morning sun. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Good Morning, I'm John Stewart." He had the easy going demeanor of an old time surfer. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">"I thought I was picking up two riders and taking them to the border?" </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then Ryan told John the situation--we had two injured riders that wanted to get to Moab. The other two needed to get to the border. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Well, this is a conundrum", said John, in his small town drawl, reminding us that he had an afternoon shuttle to Telluride.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"But, I do have a friend who helps me sometimes. Do you want me to see if he can help?" </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As if he needed to ask. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">We all nodded in agreement. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Jacob lives right over there. Has a glamping operation and I sometimes hire him when I need him. Let me go see if he's up". </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And with that, John got back in his car, crossed the wide parking lot and disappeared across the highway. About ten minutes later, we saw his car again, this time with another person with him. A young guy greeted us </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">with a big smile </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">in that very adventure guide sorta way. I felt a bit of relief because for a while I thought this person was going to be very upset that he was being called on last minute. But that was not the case at all. This dude seemed happy-go-lucky and ready for whatever. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"How much will this cost?" Ryan asked.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">John touched Ryan's shoulder in that very grandpa-like way. "Since I need to pay for my friend's time here, how about $400? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Done. But, none of us have that kind of cash. Okay if we pay in Moab?" </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Yep. You'll just need to stop at an ATM. I trust ya."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So with the gentleman's agreement, the plan was in motion. But first John and his buddy had to go get another vehicle. John had a truck that could fit the two bikes for shuttling up to the border. The small car would take the four of us. "Better on gas", John said, giving his waste band a tug as he began into a diatribe of his adventures as a shuttle driver in the middle of nowhere. He was also a rider, on an e-bike of course, and just enjoys helping people. Finally he got around to the business of getting the truck. Once both vehicles were there, it was time to load up. The car had a pretty solid rear rack, which took Brian and Sarah's bikes. My bike and Ryan's went on top, using a tetris of bungie chords and rags to tether them in place. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Haven't lost one yet" said Jacob. Dude! Knock on something, I thought.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Once all the bikes were loaded, it was close to 9am. It was a bittersweet departure. Brian, Sara, Ryan and I along with Jacob headed south first, bound for Moab. Andy and Lauren with John, took a dirt canyon road up to the border. It was an ending nobody wanted nor could have imagined happening. But considering where we were, we got pretty lucky that we found a helping hand.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQyEpPzKNorC_CTJ9XoepvZzOWHET6V8jEiV_BXjT7jTy_L0j__6kTSXZG7SgCCVCLgxy0VQzvG9Iw_Ew2y7YoZCsm3qzpQjVn_ZzlkQy8QV4Hdh6vqlpYE-axUtJZx40SbNwzXDUSWwU47Yvsarm1bWi3GQqyZHRb8vvQvJ1ickeP-y4lyOcwxU/s4080/PXL_20220812_143929248.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQyEpPzKNorC_CTJ9XoepvZzOWHET6V8jEiV_BXjT7jTy_L0j__6kTSXZG7SgCCVCLgxy0VQzvG9Iw_Ew2y7YoZCsm3qzpQjVn_ZzlkQy8QV4Hdh6vqlpYE-axUtJZx40SbNwzXDUSWwU47Yvsarm1bWi3GQqyZHRb8vvQvJ1ickeP-y4lyOcwxU/w482-h640/PXL_20220812_143929248.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The drive to Moab was stunning. We stopped once at a look-out point near Paradox so Jacob could check bikes, but it was also a place he liked to show newcomers. There we could see a section of a gold mining operation from the 1800's called the <a href="https://utbywayco.com/hanging-flume/">Hanging Flumes</a>. As their only way to move water at the adequate grade, unskilled minors </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">built about ten miles </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">straight into the towering cliffs.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I stared at the decrepit architecture in complete awe, admitting out loud to Ryan that we are wimps compared to what these people endured. Today, it's considered an engineering marvel. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1Xh9yMICkDkFaeix_YEcbLHMv_sUR19PEocDczRKnygRwTl9FN6ymfiAxtdrBt7QNe47eQL7-HEwwNFEJm1B5PA4SypM3p2BJYk1_6Aw06yp-neKRuIPU16lEaQPb8DgEDIg2oYTRAXuyPRb5dDyeHU50xj32OcP0UipumIpOB5aKaXe7t_YrOk/s1200/3ba304d8-0d2f-4b8f-a11b-c95b6bd42ea075643187d488f8636e_20190819_101535.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1Xh9yMICkDkFaeix_YEcbLHMv_sUR19PEocDczRKnygRwTl9FN6ymfiAxtdrBt7QNe47eQL7-HEwwNFEJm1B5PA4SypM3p2BJYk1_6Aw06yp-neKRuIPU16lEaQPb8DgEDIg2oYTRAXuyPRb5dDyeHU50xj32OcP0UipumIpOB5aKaXe7t_YrOk/w640-h480/3ba304d8-0d2f-4b8f-a11b-c95b6bd42ea075643187d488f8636e_20190819_101535.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credit Atlas Obscura</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;">The remaining two hours was spent telling tales of adventure. Jacob and his wife owned </span><a href="http://www.gatewayglampingco.com/" style="font-family: verdana;">Gateway Glamping</a><span style="font-family: verdana;">. They just loved to camp and they loved the desert so they bought some land in Gateway as it was cheaper than anywhere else. And business was good, thanks to the internet. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"First time I've had</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> to shuttle anyone all the way to Moab." Yeah, Jacob, we're glad we could oblige. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When we arrived in Moab, we stopped first at a gas station to use the ATM. On the way, Brian told us that his debit card had expired and asked if we could spot them the cash. The problem was, Ryan had only one card and it had a $200 limit. I think he had about $100 on him and I had some but it was in the van. We convinced Jacob, which wasn't hard, to drive us to the MTBCRIB where we could get the rest of the cash. Once there, I jumped out of the car to locate my wallet and luckily there was enough cash to pay Jacob and give him a tip. I walked around the van to give him the money when suddenly out of nowhere our friend's college-aged daughter, Abbey, was standing in front of me yelling surprise and giggling! Ryan came around the corner of the van and I was like, look who's here! There were hugs and laughter and what the hells and we learned that she was traveling with a friend in the area. When she saw our van she thought it would be funny to take a picture next to it and send it to us and that's when she saw me. It was a funny, surprising encounter. We said our goodbyes too soon as we needed to get to the Urgent Care when they opened at 11am</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">. But first Ryan bought a case of beer for the bike shop's manager to say thanks for the parking spot. She wasn't in but the girl at the front took the beer saying she had been worried about us. She didn't know that we had made an agreement to park there, and she thought we were a couple of mountain bikers from Florida, lying dead somewhere in the desert. Glad we didn't get towed! Bike shops--they are all the same.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We got everything loaded up and headed for the hospital. We thought we'd see Brian and Sara but they never showed up. (We found out later, they chose to go home and see their local doctor--he was fine, actually). I was first in line though the Urgent Care wasn't officially open. By the time I was lead back, there were half a dozen people there for a myriad of ailments. The x-ray confirmed a fracture, a minor one below the wrist. The tech made me a fiberglass sheath that molded to my hand and wrapped my entire forearm in Ace bandage. After the doctor came back to inspect his work, he said to keep it on for about ten days and then buy a spica brace to support the thumb and wrist, and wear it for 6-8 weeks. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhp7sB291u8EXcCq_eaMGpQch_wNFvwsexG3erLYDH5PRFi50nXa3aqtljkdE2mpRuAf8LvLsIyhji5iUoEdPl2TDFpTE6HpVZv5Hkqudyxp_-GREOHsn8bCDTct2T9gVk3Y68A82Xe_KXcP1cfPsreuJ8_CItJ1e-ne5C2naMAdZciHX5gJuXIQ/s4032/PXL_20220812_190537656.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhp7sB291u8EXcCq_eaMGpQch_wNFvwsexG3erLYDH5PRFi50nXa3aqtljkdE2mpRuAf8LvLsIyhji5iUoEdPl2TDFpTE6HpVZv5Hkqudyxp_-GREOHsn8bCDTct2T9gVk3Y68A82Xe_KXcP1cfPsreuJ8_CItJ1e-ne5C2naMAdZciHX5gJuXIQ/w640-h480/PXL_20220812_190537656.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwv0nJSXCMdXPWkVsYnTpOiuufyI2w3TxNbJui4NC1Cc98awb9iZRchMIdci_0YHo5Q2lGDbqyGeTESAdEGKwWPdSQRf13X50bFz6ylpp2ndwENAQYNWZ58tWNo-CoHwr2RBt6HNEDJYizKQ-FdwEwD5GLG44_ZR06U0G8WsjAyFiBo4U0OWfDx7U/s1272/roxwristBRKEPC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1272" data-original-width="785" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwv0nJSXCMdXPWkVsYnTpOiuufyI2w3TxNbJui4NC1Cc98awb9iZRchMIdci_0YHo5Q2lGDbqyGeTESAdEGKwWPdSQRf13X50bFz6ylpp2ndwENAQYNWZ58tWNo-CoHwr2RBt6HNEDJYizKQ-FdwEwD5GLG44_ZR06U0G8WsjAyFiBo4U0OWfDx7U/w394-h640/roxwristBRKEPC.jpg" width="394" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p>I was bummed. There went the rest of my Colorado GWO tour. I wasn't going to be healed in time for the Dakota Five-0 either. My only saving grace was that my fingers still worked so I still would be able to volunteer for the Breck Epic, which OMG we needed to get the heck back to Breckenridge because the race was starting in two days! Originally, had the trip gone as planned, we were going to arrive back in Breck as soon as possible on Saturday night, then grab the PA system and be ready to get after it on Sunday. Now we had a day to play with and it all worked out with flying colors. (Even with my broken wing I was able to contribute to the recovery of many, many racers).</p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Before leaving Moab, we stopped at the hotel where Andy and Lauren's car was parked. We left them a thank you note with the wish that they made it back and that we'd celebrate the adventure later that month. Soon after, taking the scenic route through Monument Valley, we looked off in the distance to the La Sal mountains, where we hoped Andy and Lauren were safe and sound because there was a nasty black cloud over the top and we could see lightening strikes. Our whole trip, we hadn't seen one drop of rain, and now on the last night, it looked like a deluge. I took a picture and sent them a prayer. (They actually had made it just before the rain hit. They also reported better dirt conditions the next day). </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNne7dKjjWO-JF6BRrnMWU4Qq7aq9jaopwxsEvY5KWT7apmGvTauzCfNVdYryzlKgP8_uPcTXiP3cjLbt8u8Sh6znDx24UvEcNs_o0rRAH-RRHWCEWeEkwBT6_-xkLJAzLt_9Bv81WIUqU1cSGSRRkGoUFJEg2UzwSBO-1Po1qN2hP9hf0lO0PKqw/s4080/PXL_20220812_211722947.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNne7dKjjWO-JF6BRrnMWU4Qq7aq9jaopwxsEvY5KWT7apmGvTauzCfNVdYryzlKgP8_uPcTXiP3cjLbt8u8Sh6znDx24UvEcNs_o0rRAH-RRHWCEWeEkwBT6_-xkLJAzLt_9Bv81WIUqU1cSGSRRkGoUFJEg2UzwSBO-1Po1qN2hP9hf0lO0PKqw/w640-h482/PXL_20220812_211722947.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Adventure in the GWO is always unpredictable. That's the draw for us and this trip was no exception. Riding multiple days in a row in the backcountry has its risks. It takes planning. It takes preparation. And it takes a lot of perseverance. Our final tally was around 150-ish miles. Had it not been cut short, it would have been closer to 205. We rode 5 of the seven days, averaging about 4-5 hours each day. With nothing on the agenda but pedal into the Great Wide Open, I don't have anything to complain about. I find that any time away from comfort and digital distractions galvanizes me to my true self, and doing hard things with other people adds depth and color to the story as well as to my own life. We</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> are forever bound by the experience. Yes, it was a bummer I was injured but had it not happened, never would we have met John nor Jacob, nor learned more about Gateway, Colorado; a place where most people don't consider visiting. A place that takes effort to get there but are rewarded when they do. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">And you better believe it, we are already figuring out how to get back and finish what we started.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">EPILOGUE<br /></span><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>DAY 7 - REST & RECOVER<br /></b></span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>Total Mileage for Andy & Lauren:31 Starting Elevation: 7700' Ending Elevation: 4200</span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">’</span></span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>As we woke up in Breckenridge, Lauren and Andy were finishing the rest of the route strong, riding into Moab on service roads, skipping Porcupine Rim, which was the other option. They want to try the Durango Route. </i></span></p></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-92027697665516797162022-09-29T18:12:00.003-06:002022-10-10T16:05:32.651-06:00GWO Tour: San Juan Huts Days 2-4: Goats & Gravel<div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next three days were a blast. Each day was different, be it because of the trails, critters, or views--all the reasons we were out there!</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div>Day 2 - Racing the Heat</b><span><b> </b> </span></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>The second day of the trip was a scorcher. There wasn't much in the way of views as we were just cruising through high desert ranch land so once clear of the others, we opted to just book it to the next hut. We stopped once to admire a small heard of sheep but that was about it. Three hours later we arrived at the hut, tucked nicely away in a grove of aspens,<span> with the</span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> added bonus of a horse shoe pit. (I guess that's one form of entertainment that's theft-proof). The posse arrived a short time later.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">After resting and eating, I was a bit fidgety. We had read there was a single track route near the hut and feeling like I had some more energy to burn, we kitted back up to take a look-see. We went back out on the road and then took a turn onto what looked like another dirt road. As we got closer to the trees, we could see a camper and a truck and I thought we were in a remote campsite. That was until we heard the savage barking of a dog. Thank the Lord it was chained up because it acted as if all it wanted in life was to chomp on my leg. I started to slow down but Ryan kept going. This is someone's property, I thought. Just then more dogs appeared, and lucky for us they were puppies and they just wanted to play. I kept looking around for a person, ready to ask for forgiveness for trespassing. I followed Ryan passed the truck along a footpath that paralleled a barbed wire fence. Soon it petered out and though Ryan protested that his GPS said we were on the trail, I knew we were not. I suggested getting back on the road we came in on, which meant bushwhacking through a field so we could recalibrate. I could tell Ryan didn't like the idea as much as the puppies, who were all following us, one behind the other, like we were their parents (sorry, no photos). When we got to the road, we put on the gas. The puppies chased for a while, their long ears flopping and tongues hanging out. Once we rode past the turn to their "home" they started to slow, but as soon as we turned at the next corner, they came running through the field. We sped up again and soon enough they quit the chase. We charged hard to get out of sight of them as well as the guard dog, who was again, announcing his intent.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The fourteen mile trail was multi-use, probably mostly by dirt bikes and ATVs. And though it was clear and maintained, it was pretty rough, with a lot of punchy, technical climbing--not something I wanted to be doing in the hottest part of the day, and especially not after already riding 30 miles that morning. It didn't take long for me to start feeling uncomfortable and cranky. Though we had a plan to ride to a look-out, I opted for the bail out at the half-way point. Out in the sun, the heat was worse but luckily most of it was downhill.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Back at the hut, we snacked on a charcuterie of cheese and butter crisp crackers. I think Sarah & Brian adopted one of the Thai recipes for dinner. As the sun started to fade, we walked out to the road to see if there were any sunset views. We turned west and walked a bit until the distinct sound of coyotes made us think otherwise. We returned to hut and drifted off to the best night sleep of the week!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRN19epa5cCmTNIiMmmLCBvZH7pI405nMcgXP5vw6E2WNzPSVmzQfXcQuK68EkJTK6cyLZ8vIxTLNDykGJqRZjzjbroxso6tB9dg8yCH4Bhd8iKG-GTpHGksPP9OACkvnkXUQk7VIwAAR398KRGcfRb1-yjt9eh366yuwZ9Ut_s2gyED4o5sJDxI/s4032/PXL_20220808_154540407.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRN19epa5cCmTNIiMmmLCBvZH7pI405nMcgXP5vw6E2WNzPSVmzQfXcQuK68EkJTK6cyLZ8vIxTLNDykGJqRZjzjbroxso6tB9dg8yCH4Bhd8iKG-GTpHGksPP9OACkvnkXUQk7VIwAAR398KRGcfRb1-yjt9eh366yuwZ9Ut_s2gyED4o5sJDxI/w640-h480/PXL_20220808_154540407.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhde8rcLhV4QrHvO1ST5fztCR_1zKvcLU7Z4b9cwOdva2MNfWq21euScVKYY9tT7zc9SSM7oWe9s6iknzz4vLeVvK18vvSFtuECL0OwcqTOnTAl7LlBU-P0wSMNiVFxMgcvuHxzmnh2uBHmmkyojIYjHwZLkDXDt5DLYNfClUJwW6hbGdSPl05p6kg/s4032/PXL_20220808_160859700.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhde8rcLhV4QrHvO1ST5fztCR_1zKvcLU7Z4b9cwOdva2MNfWq21euScVKYY9tT7zc9SSM7oWe9s6iknzz4vLeVvK18vvSFtuECL0OwcqTOnTAl7LlBU-P0wSMNiVFxMgcvuHxzmnh2uBHmmkyojIYjHwZLkDXDt5DLYNfClUJwW6hbGdSPl05p6kg/w640-h480/PXL_20220808_160859700.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVACCCBJcCkde339PG8UzNODqY_Piy6xsSrUk330ODB_zt7tnf6BzmPWuLIygpdPkM3u9umJEFg4sgg9skkKf3A-Ybesv5xRg5O_1ks1ITa7SvjGukJQolPYBTbnRFhEM-XmWLfHZAPoHpLGNtHxA-VirrPhYgwa8c8FNXRlkON3oyZnlnvIMTmFg/s3264/PXL_20220808_161322756.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVACCCBJcCkde339PG8UzNODqY_Piy6xsSrUk330ODB_zt7tnf6BzmPWuLIygpdPkM3u9umJEFg4sgg9skkKf3A-Ybesv5xRg5O_1ks1ITa7SvjGukJQolPYBTbnRFhEM-XmWLfHZAPoHpLGNtHxA-VirrPhYgwa8c8FNXRlkON3oyZnlnvIMTmFg/w640-h480/PXL_20220808_161322756.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Wd_XJvjYjgCXTevN2E9O-NmbIgBXeVPqIGEd3HwgzhXXRCIpK4rLq4IntrbXc4AnUV2YwiU3ZQEOJJtvVEks0-dwLUeJ0qlC-UnowYe1MT3kuFRvEOgfjHOb3z_QezRl1faS-wlKmL6BBhKLMMYz51i-R0W608vsC73HidapUUUFE4W7tctkNcg/s3264/PXL_20220808_172600197.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Wd_XJvjYjgCXTevN2E9O-NmbIgBXeVPqIGEd3HwgzhXXRCIpK4rLq4IntrbXc4AnUV2YwiU3ZQEOJJtvVEks0-dwLUeJ0qlC-UnowYe1MT3kuFRvEOgfjHOb3z_QezRl1faS-wlKmL6BBhKLMMYz51i-R0W608vsC73HidapUUUFE4W7tctkNcg/w640-h480/PXL_20220808_172600197.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hard to see, but there's a flock of sheep out yonder.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwY75xXvE_cteVC6WqCePzlTFXv606LqGa6-pTkePF0LAVtq6y2wgonZgDPPLyk6-9MOCExpjjcm2PGwQ0Y6TLmkLzsULYwaqReymN8uCh6TZwGjlp5P7FDpKWOP9utqZg03DmAaj-7h72Cn-ngYd56chDY0-mSr1K0wCSCHDZPK9_Iujv1OCqis/s4032/PXL_20220808_200447637.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwY75xXvE_cteVC6WqCePzlTFXv606LqGa6-pTkePF0LAVtq6y2wgonZgDPPLyk6-9MOCExpjjcm2PGwQ0Y6TLmkLzsULYwaqReymN8uCh6TZwGjlp5P7FDpKWOP9utqZg03DmAaj-7h72Cn-ngYd56chDY0-mSr1K0wCSCHDZPK9_Iujv1OCqis/w640-h480/PXL_20220808_200447637.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Whole Uncolada (we were in the Uncompahgre national forest)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTymwuTrJtHtNkIkcK5gO4l3YbfCqLfkJI98x-nMJdtdrlh_NkAmZv4H9ycD7HtYenQsI0J1NYWGxk0Tspo0IednxhU7pqHiX6pXw7VKtZg7AIbNI2JOXJvymaHSWMxJ7fitQ-eho1YVx_wMQHZm65i9G58zTXRjue6FFkk2tqyRh1PUr_5zeR04/s4032/PXL_20220809_151142466.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTymwuTrJtHtNkIkcK5gO4l3YbfCqLfkJI98x-nMJdtdrlh_NkAmZv4H9ycD7HtYenQsI0J1NYWGxk0Tspo0IednxhU7pqHiX6pXw7VKtZg7AIbNI2JOXJvymaHSWMxJ7fitQ-eho1YVx_wMQHZm65i9G58zTXRjue6FFkk2tqyRh1PUr_5zeR04/w480-h640/PXL_20220809_151142466.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0Ra2X1r8JREAIhDl8F7fIpbGS83v8n_3WIOoOZeSuah1c0fVWujEzyuZuq5jZvBvnbPEskd3mykZia43sh5pSbOQBcZoZ7XaDgbmFD6mkFpr25SDRTf00CUy-MvFp6pINo9ot_nPpWz_myOQXTXJwBE2t7sHEIQ4hEXwgE5IU13ah2y3kiPoGYU/s4032/PXL_20220808_231545456.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0Ra2X1r8JREAIhDl8F7fIpbGS83v8n_3WIOoOZeSuah1c0fVWujEzyuZuq5jZvBvnbPEskd3mykZia43sh5pSbOQBcZoZ7XaDgbmFD6mkFpr25SDRTf00CUy-MvFp6pINo9ot_nPpWz_myOQXTXJwBE2t7sHEIQ4hEXwgE5IU13ah2y3kiPoGYU/w640-h480/PXL_20220808_231545456.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>DAY 3 - The Alt Route</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Though the extra mileage the day before turned out to be a soul crusher, I was glad we did it. Day three had a single track option that wasn't going to add much to the overall mileage nor to the overall climbing. However, had we started in the spot where we rode the day before, it would have been a lot of work for not a lot of reward so we started out on gravel, taking advantage of the shade the hugged edge of the road.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Ryan and I eventually pulled ahead. We found the next segment of single track and left a marker for the group so they'd know which way we went. The track was rough with deep sand and loose rocks but eventually it became a pretty fun trail. Riding it was work, so we kept the power in check, or the heat of the day would remind us. We didn't stop too much, except at trail forks, so that I could leave a marker, "6F" and an arrow, for our friends (which they never saw b/c they didn't do all the single track). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECcPXMymigDr94CV0jvukoymoT0Q7gaE8OLgbYxDCYA8g0_V3nZolqm_1hGEmC43KOZu3CTKuNYj9H8vU_K4KbeSbTyETzNEopvR-aqyOuvLdl7iR7Gox4Zi_9sus7cFV0KGVSq7FnmK1zC7AFRLj-w7c00lgQx4Xa4962-8T-Zx_BB5uxwW4-mE/s4080/PXL_20220809_161504207.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECcPXMymigDr94CV0jvukoymoT0Q7gaE8OLgbYxDCYA8g0_V3nZolqm_1hGEmC43KOZu3CTKuNYj9H8vU_K4KbeSbTyETzNEopvR-aqyOuvLdl7iR7Gox4Zi_9sus7cFV0KGVSq7FnmK1zC7AFRLj-w7c00lgQx4Xa4962-8T-Zx_BB5uxwW4-mE/w482-h640/PXL_20220809_161504207.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5oxtpp8oTF0xNlbZntjCSTP1AHdd03ESiE6Js3gwrPyL9Tyb0H57zWeRgfLuEAaYx_ejgH5l7obqWglxRgA_JVLsLKqMJG5V7nevO4KQ9lBo78t9oHpDk3YRZC4RFQWErZPj5YV4BsX_mtTflTQh9RzGUX2y6DjYxlDUgsqvQFPcSoEXavxiZSZ4/s4032/PXL_20220809_174020816.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5oxtpp8oTF0xNlbZntjCSTP1AHdd03ESiE6Js3gwrPyL9Tyb0H57zWeRgfLuEAaYx_ejgH5l7obqWglxRgA_JVLsLKqMJG5V7nevO4KQ9lBo78t9oHpDk3YRZC4RFQWErZPj5YV4BsX_mtTflTQh9RzGUX2y6DjYxlDUgsqvQFPcSoEXavxiZSZ4/w640-h480/PXL_20220809_174020816.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Late in the ride, the trail opened up to a treeless and wide double track. After leaving another directional marker, I took the trail to the main gravel road. I didn't see Ryan. Should I continue across or do I get on the gravel? Ryan always stops at intersections. I yelled for him. He was actually</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> hiding from the sun in some tall scrub. He's like, "I'm right here". :)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We continued along the single track, as there wasn't much left. To our surprise after we rounded a corner we came upon the rest of our group! It was a fun reunion. So though they didn't see any of my markers, the time spent doing them made for perfect timing of meeting back up with them. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We pushed on and again Ryan and I were on our own. We weren't sure how far back the others were so we hurried to open the hut and because I'd been thinking about a grilled cheese sandwich all day, I decided to make them for everyone. When I opened the cabinet, we found a bag of Fritos which gave Ryan the idea of doing hand ups for the rest of the crew. The window above the counter looked out onto the entrance to the hut area so at first sign of their arrival, Ryan rushed out the door with Fritos and beers in hand. I yelled out the window, "Grilled cheese sammies for everyone coming up!" I got a loud applause. Brian was stoked about the Fritos. All said and done it was a hard day, but for us, one of the most rewarding because we were able to ride rad new single track. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg62g_lr-nlm3Pul1YSrcE6zS95eQQlPX09W2zzl0HWwKbOFIDtwNzXx-sKEzK1lmkTKECUX2SL6ALxXZvm2eyaLrlk9ntL2FzdRLRPpAPt_cn6izymjrMcgSM01AraverZ2VwiVCEq2VtZJv9FjlLeDaofytya2wTAk0Ko8UDx6OOp_rf1NOfYwA/s4032/PXL_20220809_181721842.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg62g_lr-nlm3Pul1YSrcE6zS95eQQlPX09W2zzl0HWwKbOFIDtwNzXx-sKEzK1lmkTKECUX2SL6ALxXZvm2eyaLrlk9ntL2FzdRLRPpAPt_cn6izymjrMcgSM01AraverZ2VwiVCEq2VtZJv9FjlLeDaofytya2wTAk0Ko8UDx6OOp_rf1NOfYwA/w480-h640/PXL_20220809_181721842.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The remainder of the afternoon was spent playing cards and a game called <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Pass-The-Pigs-Dice-Game/dp/B000246JEK" target="_blank">Pass the Pigs</a>, outside on the picnic table. We took a walk in the evening and found some slick rock by way of suggestions from the hut manual that said to "find cool rocks take the trail to the right of the hut". So from that day on, if we saw similar slick rock along the way, we'd call out "Hey, cool rocks!" It was another great day of riding with friends, eating with friends and being away with friends. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlPHLwvfhNOut7ZohvJWAs8y3_p3tARHH8j6kFFFgXmbGXrzhYgYMAT2y37IW-VesL6RWNWXMzGEIS-vdP_eT7gfZrLGgGtsiIAYTxAWDDNxJBYR4qeV6lluENw_Evzg4Naa8gSDEO8txxdGXNpN5ELwNgy6yJn5o-u4WQaPTUXjWbyTYGZ6hXto/s4080/PXL_20220810_140559603%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlPHLwvfhNOut7ZohvJWAs8y3_p3tARHH8j6kFFFgXmbGXrzhYgYMAT2y37IW-VesL6RWNWXMzGEIS-vdP_eT7gfZrLGgGtsiIAYTxAWDDNxJBYR4qeV6lluENw_Evzg4Naa8gSDEO8txxdGXNpN5ELwNgy6yJn5o-u4WQaPTUXjWbyTYGZ6hXto/w640-h482/PXL_20220810_140559603%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbvCourFtxWaDXn8PFjsnrQvBcB_U5dnqDtKLnBFfRrDlSPjoLECddAs-efN_b9pEYd3OP9UTELAr-skk6mIvoje-Nxoc05UyDd-_gG-CBjQx_Amn_2XxWyka15pTwdX3lH9lcVYeIC51Ltm_nW3TOQJPTYvcWMNCdqzCA-PHEETsHjsJXS1TEQo/s4032/PXL_20220810_001807617.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbvCourFtxWaDXn8PFjsnrQvBcB_U5dnqDtKLnBFfRrDlSPjoLECddAs-efN_b9pEYd3OP9UTELAr-skk6mIvoje-Nxoc05UyDd-_gG-CBjQx_Amn_2XxWyka15pTwdX3lH9lcVYeIC51Ltm_nW3TOQJPTYvcWMNCdqzCA-PHEETsHjsJXS1TEQo/w640-h480/PXL_20220810_001807617.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>DAY 4 - Invasion of the Goats</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">That morning we were starting to feel it: the legs were stiffer, the butt more tender and the low back more cranky. Single track riding definitely incorporates more muscles and that morning, it was easy to know which ones. With the additional weight on our bikes, it's no wonder we were sore. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">There would be no single track option on this day, just miles and miles of rolling gravel, starting at just above 10K ending between 8K-9K. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvA4v4FKGY_z5rsq_3eOOWmVGaYj2q01jPgoSvel0aBq2igE5vHAQVsZ653NVB51hFIJDWSN0Tjw5H2WBl2ByGvg-ulq87HepeaTj0a2uocZE72yo1O1ynyYevT_RTdMLB1MWcFbY5mwt4PnJspXAtUHHhF0QI0Go5hkPwagRpY68qtTWaU8R2RaU/s4080/PXL_20220810_151520774.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvA4v4FKGY_z5rsq_3eOOWmVGaYj2q01jPgoSvel0aBq2igE5vHAQVsZ653NVB51hFIJDWSN0Tjw5H2WBl2ByGvg-ulq87HepeaTj0a2uocZE72yo1O1ynyYevT_RTdMLB1MWcFbY5mwt4PnJspXAtUHHhF0QI0Go5hkPwagRpY68qtTWaU8R2RaU/w482-h640/PXL_20220810_151520774.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRSPKU3qfvZMlgNLIi6dhh_Q2FEtm9mTgIIY-1_GGGlGZDJ7qH9JCjQRFch1VSu9axWyVeqqB0n6hajdKaSrOZ8f4z3we3IgeXC7XekeXaO43nvRw5Jvifr4k_TRjLc3jzxgVCZg5b63wguNIhzS5gFfAuZ3saetKuzFG-Utw_OmlB51xBmutY2E/s4032/PXL_20220810_150945828.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRSPKU3qfvZMlgNLIi6dhh_Q2FEtm9mTgIIY-1_GGGlGZDJ7qH9JCjQRFch1VSu9axWyVeqqB0n6hajdKaSrOZ8f4z3we3IgeXC7XekeXaO43nvRw5Jvifr4k_TRjLc3jzxgVCZg5b63wguNIhzS5gFfAuZ3saetKuzFG-Utw_OmlB51xBmutY2E/w640-h480/PXL_20220810_150945828.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYILJRr3S0aZSuPF0gjAWDXuuSOQcyrndY7JOkiHca8rTUWkNs9kgz8K9EVXS_s8Jyq-IDdX-7yuIiW8xyb8ZF06jxvl2K4Y0awnyOa61PPAVN2zD8WU5aOtw9rzktdR8gCX8FHDNqqLKnswXEbHB36xRnmy-7EK7n9nyuf-JRk3OR4HIsozUtKYQ/s3264/PXL_20220810_152340228.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYILJRr3S0aZSuPF0gjAWDXuuSOQcyrndY7JOkiHca8rTUWkNs9kgz8K9EVXS_s8Jyq-IDdX-7yuIiW8xyb8ZF06jxvl2K4Y0awnyOa61PPAVN2zD8WU5aOtw9rzktdR8gCX8FHDNqqLKnswXEbHB36xRnmy-7EK7n9nyuf-JRk3OR4HIsozUtKYQ/w640-h480/PXL_20220810_152340228.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxD9U2ALOeqqgtgSKYEeu5hl0Y2U6cDE4-BQu_3mMBVtA2-B7co48ZNZPyTAzoZ3VpBqYoeiIQ6NJkh0Jn6l2yiiS-3Ug9X2eA_iZhQwdJgtfZCw7v86j3iPCQHGGgwHfk8DS5dgl5-Vj4AXfmMI0ag3ULHTdR6ogvn6SQ5OXdB6HKlB-As03eXs8/s4032/PXL_20220810_155059529.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxD9U2ALOeqqgtgSKYEeu5hl0Y2U6cDE4-BQu_3mMBVtA2-B7co48ZNZPyTAzoZ3VpBqYoeiIQ6NJkh0Jn6l2yiiS-3Ug9X2eA_iZhQwdJgtfZCw7v86j3iPCQHGGgwHfk8DS5dgl5-Vj4AXfmMI0ag3ULHTdR6ogvn6SQ5OXdB6HKlB-As03eXs8/w640-h480/PXL_20220810_155059529.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding the 402 so we had to stop for a photo.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgU-HFr6BRFd9kX0bQOsLqmh9O7sW5zJvkdrIRw117QO9svSzHlysETDDqcCjWQ_fuxE1h5ZMbN644HcLcww9lue9w8QSfJ5DqbRK0SQR2D3zboEgakcpj9LFZEaFDYeaYGilh-S5BTFEkVuWdxS4ac4GXPtHfQmWLHmnFSNns171zRylJ1HQUjg/s4080/PXL_20220810_160308880.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgU-HFr6BRFd9kX0bQOsLqmh9O7sW5zJvkdrIRw117QO9svSzHlysETDDqcCjWQ_fuxE1h5ZMbN644HcLcww9lue9w8QSfJ5DqbRK0SQR2D3zboEgakcpj9LFZEaFDYeaYGilh-S5BTFEkVuWdxS4ac4GXPtHfQmWLHmnFSNns171zRylJ1HQUjg/w482-h640/PXL_20220810_160308880.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfn8MXb88DkeBjq7Ln6qWkdQ2awAdADp3YekDMHwCYcER36GH1zq67QEaOTEIISryHIFHszTC2ByL0RDFvDiwx88bUwWb9GIW6e45VWSC6j1wU0673F7XF5byyQ3RFPVOs6VPPQXmW-OHsPn-n0iPfEx3lF5inpIngZr0qOJrXgb_VlCnFMPPzbVA/s4032/PXL_20220810_161816285.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfn8MXb88DkeBjq7Ln6qWkdQ2awAdADp3YekDMHwCYcER36GH1zq67QEaOTEIISryHIFHszTC2ByL0RDFvDiwx88bUwWb9GIW6e45VWSC6j1wU0673F7XF5byyQ3RFPVOs6VPPQXmW-OHsPn-n0iPfEx3lF5inpIngZr0qOJrXgb_VlCnFMPPzbVA/w640-h480/PXL_20220810_161816285.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Along the way we regrouped a few times. At one particular stop, we finally got a payoff with an awe inspiring view to the west, and our first look at the La Sal mountains, where we'd be in a couple days. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6LvDyVKifjgpd7-Iwfn9KtJ8M9n811S_GGgwzrUzjnpSmIwoZ8UDIsNEGUvpKAJMjvqJ6cziGiYPA3X4g-CSeP8uZTqmJQ6hst04m3JTksCcQ4uMCMXKnnd319Bk9PZW43am8pnFv2fxwYjYHULH5sT-agcKskPDOTaZZ1hPyH41BTcE9q5nrbk/s4080/PXL_20220810_152951439.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6LvDyVKifjgpd7-Iwfn9KtJ8M9n811S_GGgwzrUzjnpSmIwoZ8UDIsNEGUvpKAJMjvqJ6cziGiYPA3X4g-CSeP8uZTqmJQ6hst04m3JTksCcQ4uMCMXKnnd319Bk9PZW43am8pnFv2fxwYjYHULH5sT-agcKskPDOTaZZ1hPyH41BTcE9q5nrbk/w640-h482/PXL_20220810_152951439.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2Q0JeC3aLKQwlW3x44Jkw1NWJlDetI6CU1Q9G1PCcBXF7F4xJj5vSKyEdzOSzMSN9z_xhdHaPKbw3wstswgxaoUDmFfXwJleW__BE47d-ooS-gYHoGWJVYqTn6uZt2lihsx5apa2VEzl6j52_oqYxo6tnzpw34hP7TsLXt8KoGBTT16gGDppV7E/s4080/PXL_20220810_153437514.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2Q0JeC3aLKQwlW3x44Jkw1NWJlDetI6CU1Q9G1PCcBXF7F4xJj5vSKyEdzOSzMSN9z_xhdHaPKbw3wstswgxaoUDmFfXwJleW__BE47d-ooS-gYHoGWJVYqTn6uZt2lihsx5apa2VEzl6j52_oqYxo6tnzpw34hP7TsLXt8KoGBTT16gGDppV7E/w640-h482/PXL_20220810_153437514.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaS_bEElEqhsWHmNAcaUnffIaBdSQO4is--8jencD4T8ILBea3CgRwDABTT0Ci0MliF5ZYfbFS5Noke-duUqEMoLthMwe4GudPWivzsHGhdeWO4Pn_-HIEb1Ymvc3Jyi8gwXtLz_cIZodY7nX-vVlBdwRTOCrsXNiAKxrMcQ3-9BgZjWueCkNuRw/s4080/PXL_20220810_163051615.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaS_bEElEqhsWHmNAcaUnffIaBdSQO4is--8jencD4T8ILBea3CgRwDABTT0Ci0MliF5ZYfbFS5Noke-duUqEMoLthMwe4GudPWivzsHGhdeWO4Pn_-HIEb1Ymvc3Jyi8gwXtLz_cIZodY7nX-vVlBdwRTOCrsXNiAKxrMcQ3-9BgZjWueCkNuRw/w640-h482/PXL_20220810_163051615.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">From that spot we descended down a few hundred feet and the feeling was glorious. It was pretty amazing to be so far out and not see a human soul. There were plenty of free range cows along the way, as much of the area is a patchwork of arid ranch land. But it still was surprising to discover, after riding down a road marked "private", that our next hut was indeed on a private ranch. We had to go through a latched gate and close it behind us. The hut was situated up on a slight hill, as was the outhouse. The SJH manual informed us that there was going to be a shower here but it wasn't clear where it was located. We could see a house and a bunch of fence-lined pastures, another building of some sort and a small historic cabin opposite the hut. Ryan and I were not far ahead of the others, so we quickly parked our bikes and opened the hut to start lunch prep. Immediately I could smell urine and I feared something had gotten into the hut and made itself at home. I couldn't see anything to support my theory but it definitely reeked. I opened the windows in hopes to air it out. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">While making tuna sandwiches, I heard the others pulling up and not long after Ryan yelled at me to come out. GOATS! There were three goats, one white and two black. The white one seemed to be in charge. Everyone was petting them but not for long because quickly it was clear that all they cared about was eating not food, a.k.a our clothes, our bike bags or anything we set on the picnic table. And they wouldn't take no for an answer. They would not leave us be. Not for a minute. We had to park our bikes further away and then go inside the hut with our gear on. We couldn't even eat lunch outside as one had climbed up the steps to the door and was butting it with its head. Eventually they did get bored of us and wandered off to play with the other farm animals. Finally we could relax and hang out outside. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqbz2AiQj8_2CnWiqdCxWZmANX47784blT17UnTg8RT4N38E40TrbCDOhICg17zh9m2iVd0Q1Zp-HtUtCM5fwe9E9-POtpvH866Q4bopeXlMMxYoHM8AV5aKZzDGMOEZLyLfMbNetCNyiOAlyI-kHb_fvs9n-5nn7Vr9TxsClIOFLA7qTn_6_fpk/s4032/PXL_20220810_183736511.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqbz2AiQj8_2CnWiqdCxWZmANX47784blT17UnTg8RT4N38E40TrbCDOhICg17zh9m2iVd0Q1Zp-HtUtCM5fwe9E9-POtpvH866Q4bopeXlMMxYoHM8AV5aKZzDGMOEZLyLfMbNetCNyiOAlyI-kHb_fvs9n-5nn7Vr9TxsClIOFLA7qTn_6_fpk/w640-h480/PXL_20220810_183736511.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7zkVrbssqcwP5Dke_1thGPp0ib37LcUDCUd0SejvGw6SD71weRFjEqzmk-AK2CkoYAb6ez6q3oigEvdxyFdPSXXk_SptOsp8p7dQKq5I_QJBsRrf8LwgmqIdho4EMi2LeY8tczo6TlJOloVTAWDaWx-NFPdzxiKTRQzKaf5P9OjW_4OmN52xj74/s4032/PXL_20220810_183937048.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7zkVrbssqcwP5Dke_1thGPp0ib37LcUDCUd0SejvGw6SD71weRFjEqzmk-AK2CkoYAb6ez6q3oigEvdxyFdPSXXk_SptOsp8p7dQKq5I_QJBsRrf8LwgmqIdho4EMi2LeY8tczo6TlJOloVTAWDaWx-NFPdzxiKTRQzKaf5P9OjW_4OmN52xj74/w640-h480/PXL_20220810_183937048.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I explored the historical cabin, which looked like it was still being used as such, as it had modern mattresses on the bunks and some pots and pans. I did also manage to locate the shower house, which was a cement block building with one side for the resident and the other for us dirt bags. It had a sink and a shower area with two heads, legit towels and soap. I immediately went back to the hut to grab a change of clothes so I could enjoy the lap of luxury. I had to hobble together some shampoo from a few half-opened bottles but I felt like a new person after that shower! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Back at the hut, we sat around on camp chairs and eventually the goats returned. Brian, who's quite tall, managed to scare them by yelling and screaming like a wild man. When Ryan tried the same tactic, they just stood there looking at him like, "Yo, that was lame as shit" so Brian chased them again until they retreated under the hut. Aha, that's why the hut smelled like urine! It was sitting atop the area where they went not only to keep cool and sleep but to do their potty business. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97ZD-96gX9L2irKgW38dgPttV0CHAftrg2CGSoE5uv3_BLZ4Uw-fwu-oNSW1r7N0eyAYJfrUC-ggg8AM1xNhmrs2g-2HWgwtc1GyWfr-TBttjbVd58dzyjy-Tm2_l6Xk3VbVTQnV1nmabQMG-EiNEWYsxm2DNzpkgXj_S7TfFQVAwsItJZbA5Gqs/s4032/PXL_20220811_020315627.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97ZD-96gX9L2irKgW38dgPttV0CHAftrg2CGSoE5uv3_BLZ4Uw-fwu-oNSW1r7N0eyAYJfrUC-ggg8AM1xNhmrs2g-2HWgwtc1GyWfr-TBttjbVd58dzyjy-Tm2_l6Xk3VbVTQnV1nmabQMG-EiNEWYsxm2DNzpkgXj_S7TfFQVAwsItJZbA5Gqs/w480-h640/PXL_20220811_020315627.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren found a new friend.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzBwBNNib5NHcvq00mG3414waRrfIIkgd-dQO4JVUdVB_tllyrSD0q-WFuIaDe3BqIuyAvkMBb0pmNZZKt9JGM0WqMGYc1ZtNgFwMLaX3yVb3Gs-BCyQfs8nG2hvSc3F4pZAcBYm-oxxupQjUgV9O8wi12Mvv64LqFTY9aqz3FQi6eLZUC1Yh1MM/s4032/PXL_20220811_015847589.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzBwBNNib5NHcvq00mG3414waRrfIIkgd-dQO4JVUdVB_tllyrSD0q-WFuIaDe3BqIuyAvkMBb0pmNZZKt9JGM0WqMGYc1ZtNgFwMLaX3yVb3Gs-BCyQfs8nG2hvSc3F4pZAcBYm-oxxupQjUgV9O8wi12Mvv64LqFTY9aqz3FQi6eLZUC1Yh1MM/w640-h480/PXL_20220811_015847589.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naughty goats!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2vv-w3Gm8EEHohgPgtYmq-jgIPUWiavcj0xIrT2K_BpHmbMV3wxgYaWy0V_KuJIzR8bzVFNBk_M_O9W7TFYepxOnE60qzWrKrauKTI3Obcj6mZ4CekNRqMpwHrY9OLl8ycKTFF3tGsnJPNaJSd0MaOjxYrdy4kyrBFP2BTMtqzUuVTd9pGYip1Q/s4080/PXL_20220810_215807875.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2vv-w3Gm8EEHohgPgtYmq-jgIPUWiavcj0xIrT2K_BpHmbMV3wxgYaWy0V_KuJIzR8bzVFNBk_M_O9W7TFYepxOnE60qzWrKrauKTI3Obcj6mZ4CekNRqMpwHrY9OLl8ycKTFF3tGsnJPNaJSd0MaOjxYrdy4kyrBFP2BTMtqzUuVTd9pGYip1Q/w482-h640/PXL_20220810_215807875.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">After they came back out from hiding, attempting to munch on our stuff, somebody had the idea of putting their bikes on the deck-side of the hut. Once all the bikes were placed, I built a barrier around the perimeter with tree stumps that had been under the trailer in hopes it would deter the goats from jumping up there. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H7Qetdo3w8Qba0LPsXDtgDlrP9ZX4fR05IxhDe0cepZ8OfIREKoqsmOwrOpnWm4D0SYRrTf9GwZFG2FT0rvxFAS0NI_Uftqykk6ZhPm6RTrS-rSoUumgFulduB6wckkj5hSqH-fZ1ilneFeEZCUAa2aW3_HvkXZ6lvqRpqjTzf-ujD5vqXQT0nA/s4080/PXL_20220811_131723338.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H7Qetdo3w8Qba0LPsXDtgDlrP9ZX4fR05IxhDe0cepZ8OfIREKoqsmOwrOpnWm4D0SYRrTf9GwZFG2FT0rvxFAS0NI_Uftqykk6ZhPm6RTrS-rSoUumgFulduB6wckkj5hSqH-fZ1ilneFeEZCUAa2aW3_HvkXZ6lvqRpqjTzf-ujD5vqXQT0nA/w640-h482/PXL_20220811_131723338.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally, after a long day on the bike and fending off goats, and after everyone was showered and fed, we turned in for the night. The next day's ride would either be the most fun or the most painful. Or both.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-64773773599579544142022-08-31T16:40:00.007-06:002022-08-31T16:42:32.892-06:00The GWO Tour 2022 - San Juan Huts: Day 1 Eat. Sleep. Ride. Repeat. <span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i> The farther one gets into the wilderness, the greater is the attraction of its lonely freedom." - Theodore Roosevelt</i></b></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBU--lFIi3jhxjsowacnzxelaA5awfCFw1LzS8CCasUk2x3622buaI9dfcLjL2lLrcgoEB7n00YOCkHnTHezCUxDJo2d5usm93afROlwKALPQqD0BK4ar2m0BYnzyuT_Qhvn7Ibvzvwm7iKrxT0jet0OSnwXkVdrUUR-ohufvV5DivWrukg4kSUTU/s4080/PXL_20220807_181948425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBU--lFIi3jhxjsowacnzxelaA5awfCFw1LzS8CCasUk2x3622buaI9dfcLjL2lLrcgoEB7n00YOCkHnTHezCUxDJo2d5usm93afROlwKALPQqD0BK4ar2m0BYnzyuT_Qhvn7Ibvzvwm7iKrxT0jet0OSnwXkVdrUUR-ohufvV5DivWrukg4kSUTU/w482-h640/PXL_20220807_181948425.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">For the past few months Ryan and I have been hooked on the series </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Alone</i><span style="font-family: verdana;">, on the History Channel. And for me, I find it very intriguing how the people on the show adapt to their environment. Now I'm not comparing this bike packing adventure to the show b/c we don't have to kill our dinner and we have very good shelter. Oh and we're doing this for fun. Where the two are similar is how the wild wilderness will take us humans out of our normal routines and comfort, forcing adaption, simplicity and ultimately new routines. As well, both experiences create moments of pure freedom, where the only thing to do is to be. Be in the moment, thinking only of what needs to be done. Nothing more. To enjoy being out. Away. Quiet. Grateful for the opportunity to have our minds defragged and our eyes redirected away from screens to what we long for: Distance. Space. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">A panorama </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">of sky, mountains and forests where the lonely freedom resides.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>DAY 0 - Summit County to Moab</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our group consisted of Dillon, CO., locals: our friends Andy and Lauren, plus their two friends Sara and Brian. Andy owns The Cove Bike Shop in their neighborhood and his wife Lauren is a web designer and soon-to-be licensed dog trainer. Sara is a nurse and her husband Brian is a deputy chief fire-fighter. They are all seasoned riders and outdoors people. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Since the trip was to end in Moab, we needed to somehow get to Telluride with all of our gear, so our group reserved a shuttle van from Moab to Telluride, leaving at the crack of dawn the next day. (SJH provides a list of many vendors for this). The four of them got a hotel room in Moab and we planned to sleep in the MTBCRIB. As we were getting ready for the trip, the conversation about car storage came up and because the others were staying at the same hotel at the start and at the end, they had made an agreement with the hotel to park in the lot. Well, that left us wondering where we were going to park a 16' van. I got on the Googles and there wasn't anything in Moab for that purpose and the SJH suggested asking the hotel where you'll be staying. Argh! What to do. So, I FB messaged the only person I knew in Moab. She had a glamping operation so I figured she'd either have space or know where there was some or somebody who had some. Turned out, she was bff's with the manager of Chili Pepper Bike Shop and she asked her on our behalf if we could park in the lot of their shop (the shop was closed for a seasonal break so there wasn't anyone to ask). Within a few minutes we were granted parking access! Whew! So, the next thing was getting a hotel. I found one a couple blocks from the shop and it was super cheap. As the saying goes, you get what you pay for. Let's say it was more like a mobile-home type building with laminate floors and in-window AC. But when we went into the building to access our room, what did we find but super old school photos of mountain bike racers and riders endoing on the famed red rocks of Moab. Yep, we were among our kind. The place was more like a workforce dorm, but it catered to us dirt heads just fine.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr7PnIt5z5DJfNqAzA_IdtA548LZFY2aNaVPOadxnIxmXGOA9ihFY0jdMA_b-s91d1kLmCf0n7Kc1Jo_9e0qEJgz53AbaGATuYLY2OcaXkPVanEwElgU_AhiiCdTIrYJsxdzvuaBiHFKWXXdr1bM5uOj7HuvLHjAnBvdVlR2iK1XaIY7Jjd3SBNHg/s679/siler%20sage%20ext.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="573" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr7PnIt5z5DJfNqAzA_IdtA548LZFY2aNaVPOadxnIxmXGOA9ihFY0jdMA_b-s91d1kLmCf0n7Kc1Jo_9e0qEJgz53AbaGATuYLY2OcaXkPVanEwElgU_AhiiCdTIrYJsxdzvuaBiHFKWXXdr1bM5uOj7HuvLHjAnBvdVlR2iK1XaIY7Jjd3SBNHg/w540-h640/siler%20sage%20ext.JPG" width="540" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Motel Silver Sage "red carpet"</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6sjPbSYZJHcYRxUP5gZ2ExxGK_K7z-8L6X-mjDR-zXxDl8t1NqLmnHiFvfU_j265-PtJXs_ep6MFdjvDQgDn89vBIe5cpbGpK2JR2xLUpRxokc0ran6zKabdx2_Vd0LfEgcczDjvtwV8Jl15baa0tiFa1shamtlQ0WhPsyTyehWbJ_ayEJ6GoaM/s1070/silver%20sage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="756" data-original-width="1070" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6sjPbSYZJHcYRxUP5gZ2ExxGK_K7z-8L6X-mjDR-zXxDl8t1NqLmnHiFvfU_j265-PtJXs_ep6MFdjvDQgDn89vBIe5cpbGpK2JR2xLUpRxokc0ran6zKabdx2_Vd0LfEgcczDjvtwV8Jl15baa0tiFa1shamtlQ0WhPsyTyehWbJ_ayEJ6GoaM/w640-h452/silver%20sage.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top of the line!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>That night, we went to dinner with Andy and Lauren. Earlier we learned that Sara was not in the best of health and needed to get a Covid test. At dinner, the update was she was negative and they were in route. We enjoyed our last good meal for the next week and went to bed with a buzz.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Day 1 - Moab to Telluride Shuttle: Telluride to Hut 1</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><div>Total Mileage:13.1 Starting Elevation: 8750' Ending Elevation: 10,980’</div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sunday morning came super early. The shuttle was picking us all up at the other hotel, on the other end of town, by 6am. Our bikes were all ready and the only things we had to do were eat, coffee up, poop and get out the door. We managed to do it all by 5:30 am. As I was taking bags out to the van, a black cat was sitting in the lit parking lot. Shit. Ryan loaded his bike on the rack and I rode my bike to the bike shop where we parked the van for the week. We crossed our fingers that the communication as to why our van was parked there was being distributed to the right people. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">From the shop, we rode two miles north on Main St. using headlamps, as the sun had yet to rise. The sky was just starting to lighten and we could see the purple silhouettes of distant ridges and bluffs. There's very few places that are as spectacular as the desert this early in the morning.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">When we arrived at their very swanky hotel, the shuttle van was there, and the driver was already loading up Andy and Lauren's bikes. We were asked to take off most of our bags before handing ours up to the shuttle driver, Eric, who was from all over but mainly Oregon. Once our bikes were loaded we waited for Sara and Brian. Minutes passed. Phone calls and texts were sent. While we waited, I went into the swanky hotel lobby to use the bathroom. I felt like a dirt bag walking across their shiny white floor in my bike shoes. But I'm sure they were used to the likes of us doing such a thing. Soon Sara and Brian appeared. They got their gear and bikes on board and we were off. It was a 4 hour drive through some of the most beautiful Great Wide Open landscapes!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We stopped half way, in a one horse town, to use the facilities and buy food for the rest of the drive. Once in Telluride, we were dropped off at a local park that had access to a bathroom and place for us to reload our bags on our bikes. Once we were all chamoi'd up and hatches battened down, the last thing we did was stop at a local bike shop to pick up our packet of info that had paper directions and key access. Even though a few of the group had all the gps coordinates on computers, paper doesn't have a battery life so it was good to have turn by turn just in case. A computer also can't tell you to look for the cairn by the big stump.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98214NnIk9WFE69R4lEyYcyUP99DQVU_aPzTUHD30HxbdK4bOmTgHGu5UaTqfyzl10Bi5QONGJhc_VUTMUx15P95FJdVkISe0kTJUsRlPVZ0HbgAc2gIZI91Di17PhtH6MIlEHGFXqO439JJIwqG0y5hSLZyuQ0DZ4t1Z5ED5xB04PYNPsTAuvDY/s4032/PXL_20220807_160030134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98214NnIk9WFE69R4lEyYcyUP99DQVU_aPzTUHD30HxbdK4bOmTgHGu5UaTqfyzl10Bi5QONGJhc_VUTMUx15P95FJdVkISe0kTJUsRlPVZ0HbgAc2gIZI91Di17PhtH6MIlEHGFXqO439JJIwqG0y5hSLZyuQ0DZ4t1Z5ED5xB04PYNPsTAuvDY/w640-h480/PXL_20220807_160030134.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reloading up the bikes in Telluride.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOfk_koGyUN3xa-EO6n6kxtE5XdtMz6XiGdJvC-ocai8qRVm2M0OJpCLNSsF0kXrT5R1k0ygTgJlHned3iQ3D6zch9J4MDJQOrga5mKS2rF5DI4tFO7XT9ePAYI3pThF-H1u3kUs7dcm3O1zurQ_6RWnpvX2Dce4JXGaCF7mQ0mEdfvxrnnu2WmQ/s4032/PXL_20220807_160346022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOfk_koGyUN3xa-EO6n6kxtE5XdtMz6XiGdJvC-ocai8qRVm2M0OJpCLNSsF0kXrT5R1k0ygTgJlHned3iQ3D6zch9J4MDJQOrga5mKS2rF5DI4tFO7XT9ePAYI3pThF-H1u3kUs7dcm3O1zurQ_6RWnpvX2Dce4JXGaCF7mQ0mEdfvxrnnu2WmQ/w640-h480/PXL_20220807_160346022.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally pointed west!</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Finally, we turned west and onto the local rec path that took us out and above the town of Telluride. This would be our shortest mileage day, but it would also be the day with the highest elevation gain. The trail dumped us onto a gravel road. We passed near the local private airport and through hillsides where some of one-percenters lived. I stopped at a construction sites to use the porto. Hopefully nobody was there. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70-iSg_P6bJbXeRmLgETKU1U9zon1t6CFUG1dirjm-EPH5sIzru14dpyaU_atxSWcHg9i1snq2inXLvManYnvqqZYEkxekOeg7tpVPlMDec7jUpSPvi2yT17S1rH2soscucBcHFQ72P91Q_UzEqqGH_m2Gwi-P9gXtD6Ynd9LHb_BITg_uYk0eww/s3264/PXL_20220807_162615630.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70-iSg_P6bJbXeRmLgETKU1U9zon1t6CFUG1dirjm-EPH5sIzru14dpyaU_atxSWcHg9i1snq2inXLvManYnvqqZYEkxekOeg7tpVPlMDec7jUpSPvi2yT17S1rH2soscucBcHFQ72P91Q_UzEqqGH_m2Gwi-P9gXtD6Ynd9LHb_BITg_uYk0eww/w640-h480/PXL_20220807_162615630.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan, Dirtgirl, Lauren, Andy, Brian & Sara</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKm-UMyHvIOnD6p6hqa6hfO8-WJWq9KVoVgLSal4KbV0QJxylYGjunuEOvH0BloNycaKqRKmf-Fd8WdPVnIzW2zhCzyx3U7Tm0YC7uW8W7Mws29dKyF0ysJutjt5lotl1yMdgByAarNnnTjYdMuvMoW_h7mVN6KbDwbEN1ilfsR5GNGEzLFNoB2g/s4032/PXL_20220807_165628816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKm-UMyHvIOnD6p6hqa6hfO8-WJWq9KVoVgLSal4KbV0QJxylYGjunuEOvH0BloNycaKqRKmf-Fd8WdPVnIzW2zhCzyx3U7Tm0YC7uW8W7Mws29dKyF0ysJutjt5lotl1yMdgByAarNnnTjYdMuvMoW_h7mVN6KbDwbEN1ilfsR5GNGEzLFNoB2g/w640-h480/PXL_20220807_165628816.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting the heck outta Dodge.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdIxDrZ9wYaSZzY8J3uIzgOayPj7mvGDffnf2Zne-S5I4uL7m3BR01D_Ejzd-7E2vZpo9yPE4VwVp3ib22f-COrjU_d3kP81LdHEfgBWXHTIMFgqVjaJmAGL1zeGh__Sp2SdwIwG7MhWPBGAQH1i1YCKBuX4daaCql-va8bHXi4N5IuoLWuPKSlkE/s4080/PXL_20220807_170445469%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdIxDrZ9wYaSZzY8J3uIzgOayPj7mvGDffnf2Zne-S5I4uL7m3BR01D_Ejzd-7E2vZpo9yPE4VwVp3ib22f-COrjU_d3kP81LdHEfgBWXHTIMFgqVjaJmAGL1zeGh__Sp2SdwIwG7MhWPBGAQH1i1YCKBuX4daaCql-va8bHXi4N5IuoLWuPKSlkE/w640-h482/PXL_20220807_170445469%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Group photo by Telluride Airport sign (since there wasn't one at town edge)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">When the gravel ended, the service road began and we were politely reminded that we were about to head into the wilderness and to abide. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0mqRaPNlHobVN_DSTIu3Y6CTAm0CuhA00_0hWLPIZrM5YmluqKER2aEWq905gNiqTB3QaKrSS5C9qSZi4tiombsenIms6PTZz8JGei5ZFYbsoux2QPLs4x-B1Dnt0GJTwrHrNpCjrqFm72TirTGgCnZqdWtY-v4AkUcwv2ihtXhBGY37aXbQP-o/s4080/PXL_20220807_181826871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0mqRaPNlHobVN_DSTIu3Y6CTAm0CuhA00_0hWLPIZrM5YmluqKER2aEWq905gNiqTB3QaKrSS5C9qSZi4tiombsenIms6PTZz8JGei5ZFYbsoux2QPLs4x-B1Dnt0GJTwrHrNpCjrqFm72TirTGgCnZqdWtY-v4AkUcwv2ihtXhBGY37aXbQP-o/w482-h640/PXL_20220807_181826871.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A final warning.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The remaining time, about 1.5 hours, was a combination of hike a bike and riding, depending on the pitch. The final climb was all hike, past a dead end sign. Ryan did some recon to assure we were to go past the sign and he found the hut, which was up the steepest climb yet. But what we saw upon arrival was worth every pedal stroke, and every step. The view to the west was absolutely gorgeous and a picnic table was placed in the prime viewing spot. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiBgRRiMP3pZduwRiLKuGlqdNZe7HQv78QE16tXKMxorvZ8APqC0UUVAMXODRoY4IWlKCguPOY3BTF8MF0FB1QMQya8Lnb8KmCPZiHDFVlvVqz-7cY5DsOfXe3DQQmh_QQxIroPwfsp-OKGdSvqV3AA3ugXOHVE1ddUDe8xeFdCAVwEbXK0asZfo/s4032/PXL_20220807_182050982.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiBgRRiMP3pZduwRiLKuGlqdNZe7HQv78QE16tXKMxorvZ8APqC0UUVAMXODRoY4IWlKCguPOY3BTF8MF0FB1QMQya8Lnb8KmCPZiHDFVlvVqz-7cY5DsOfXe3DQQmh_QQxIroPwfsp-OKGdSvqV3AA3ugXOHVE1ddUDe8xeFdCAVwEbXK0asZfo/w640-h480/PXL_20220807_182050982.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Hut 1 looking at Wilson Peak & the Lizard Head Wilderness</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMjIzu9fkhM1KKDm1k4Gzl3V0cwEsBPmdwhWmF1sZD1aTOax_B47M25Dk4e9e5k5YIc1zOErFgazp0iqggqTZ58JwNuSrqmY2sn_vAQC5jp6Rm19a8DRLm0tuOtdulekfDJjGSdREfFY85imOJjBvouB5UJP1audeByxtyVnMDcRxUnGQ4PbQZjw/s4032/PXL_20220807_190735616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMjIzu9fkhM1KKDm1k4Gzl3V0cwEsBPmdwhWmF1sZD1aTOax_B47M25Dk4e9e5k5YIc1zOErFgazp0iqggqTZ58JwNuSrqmY2sn_vAQC5jp6Rm19a8DRLm0tuOtdulekfDJjGSdREfFY85imOJjBvouB5UJP1audeByxtyVnMDcRxUnGQ4PbQZjw/w640-h480/PXL_20220807_190735616.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road we traveled.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">First things first, we opened the hut and surveyed our resources. That meant for me, finding the commode to get out of my diaper. It was a out of sight but using the well-traveled trail leading away from the hut would take me there, I found it pretty quick. Next, I put some of the camp soap we brought into a bin and filled it with water from one of the 5gallon jugs where I washed my chamois and socks and hung them on the close line. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaG2NNBUGYzLGHObfYYpWJyk_4LUyqKJclNi-7o6yMnL1ZXOrGGQwWF_Ctg33ff464PY-blxen1qIYRDNS4uv99dMus8sbtma4up6JxhOoq3VIfABQtkwU7S33d3QM8C9R2E50s8N1GQV-1C9icJUd_RasD7uUFZvCfxM-5P6_osLaF50D9MjOjRU/s4080/PXL_20220807_220405782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaG2NNBUGYzLGHObfYYpWJyk_4LUyqKJclNi-7o6yMnL1ZXOrGGQwWF_Ctg33ff464PY-blxen1qIYRDNS4uv99dMus8sbtma4up6JxhOoq3VIfABQtkwU7S33d3QM8C9R2E50s8N1GQV-1C9icJUd_RasD7uUFZvCfxM-5P6_osLaF50D9MjOjRU/w640-h482/PXL_20220807_220405782.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This tells the story pretty well.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Next, I found my bunk and put on my clean clothes and sandals. I found some snacks, Ryan made a pot of coffee (local stuff from Fruita) and then sat my ass down on that picnic table for most of the evening. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBv9KVRVnm0s2vWutqh-lWPZg1_rzAKRuU4_CSWm0A_ErcpCS1OTdc1ZS-ppo5Ph4ZdBFUA8CQRqzztPVc8sL1SlLZdlfJr3YmBlH0mUTzeZq-0K_mj0DLDCcFfDCki56jzDngrIG7ArMFZJZkly7iSaf_VW3Jkq7zQxahUmjZCD6TkmZ9NwaWIo/s4032/PXL_20220807_204001484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBv9KVRVnm0s2vWutqh-lWPZg1_rzAKRuU4_CSWm0A_ErcpCS1OTdc1ZS-ppo5Ph4ZdBFUA8CQRqzztPVc8sL1SlLZdlfJr3YmBlH0mUTzeZq-0K_mj0DLDCcFfDCki56jzDngrIG7ArMFZJZkly7iSaf_VW3Jkq7zQxahUmjZCD6TkmZ9NwaWIo/w640-h480/PXL_20220807_204001484.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren and I admiring the view and Ryan's barista service.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">And this was pretty much the new routine unless it was our turn to make dinner. Andy and Lauren took dibs on making dinner this night: a large pan of chicken enchiladas that we scooped up with a bag of tortilla chips. Who knew canned chicken could taste so good! All from the recipe book SJH provides along with everything to make such a feast. Post dinner, some people took naps, others fiddled with their bikes. I took a little wander and found a rock out-cropping to hike up to. There were no sounds except for the wind in the trees and the calls from the birds, well, until some campers down below started cranking Cold Play, ruining our little oasis. Eventually, Ryan yelled "PLAY RADIOHEAD" and their music got much, much quieter.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first day, looking back, was the one of the best of the trip. It was a hard start for sure and a good kick in the pants for what was to come, but the views were just amazing. The sunset lasted for quite a long time and it was hard for Ryan and I to go inside. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjX-nwh905SnfkVX1Vw09jyUHL824Q-ZP1HJIzQHorNSnmA3l7xM-ydORvW4fF1FeBndPXoZGri1i7R0EN1LWax4-5EPoL1WOJwd2ZJ6WkCpQxPNtAMkYNvTRpwkHCe_Tj5CBPFB1mxpdCJVVNE0uQ0SD_9zw_gCyZ_b9BaYYlH9eAs497q2ryPk/s2048/300498271_1813657245636331_560899188497846803_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjX-nwh905SnfkVX1Vw09jyUHL824Q-ZP1HJIzQHorNSnmA3l7xM-ydORvW4fF1FeBndPXoZGri1i7R0EN1LWax4-5EPoL1WOJwd2ZJ6WkCpQxPNtAMkYNvTRpwkHCe_Tj5CBPFB1mxpdCJVVNE0uQ0SD_9zw_gCyZ_b9BaYYlH9eAs497q2ryPk/w640-h480/300498271_1813657245636331_560899188497846803_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">R&R chasing the sun. Photo Credit Lauren</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHqsW963W8q673BFYLUxIxnGDf9k55OyN9s-a8hyQqVbKWDv4sOiu4IzRTkjIq-ULVteteqlszF7aaVa5Sh-5OpT_Ho12kr2sglZhpT-IpUsyKN7cOLBgrRtneGEhb4jxBzM-7mz6GheaSH3xVVNYIvvoDM6pAp3Uf6fvVDgaT7k79NIb_wH-wPI/s4080/PXL_20220808_013246089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHqsW963W8q673BFYLUxIxnGDf9k55OyN9s-a8hyQqVbKWDv4sOiu4IzRTkjIq-ULVteteqlszF7aaVa5Sh-5OpT_Ho12kr2sglZhpT-IpUsyKN7cOLBgrRtneGEhb4jxBzM-7mz6GheaSH3xVVNYIvvoDM6pAp3Uf6fvVDgaT7k79NIb_wH-wPI/w482-h640/PXL_20220808_013246089.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mountain man!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0KSnuGTZ7WjDG-rNncGYg9ubXGu5bqmUisoiOVgeSL1aSL60bBybQ0daaAxd40h7NDMRls26_i89P3PCm89dbpAD7yu5Uzn0dCccTU489XabmXs1OMEGeHU3NN_3wdyRK63j6EXlZy5OBGCbG2m1O66DDaiuDkHcHF-Wslqq8jpoQP6XcTt9FQkg/s4080/PXL_20220808_021547697.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0KSnuGTZ7WjDG-rNncGYg9ubXGu5bqmUisoiOVgeSL1aSL60bBybQ0daaAxd40h7NDMRls26_i89P3PCm89dbpAD7yu5Uzn0dCccTU489XabmXs1OMEGeHU3NN_3wdyRK63j6EXlZy5OBGCbG2m1O66DDaiuDkHcHF-Wslqq8jpoQP6XcTt9FQkg/w640-h482/PXL_20220808_021547697.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sunset finale! </td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Just before sunset, a ground squirrel perched himself on a small rock outcropping, and it sat there for a while, looking like it was admiring the view, like we were.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Needless to say, we all were a bit jealous of its lonely freedom.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Q9DGW1qR0iK9q9MR-cBRibYgDDaHMeVkJF9s1LhFsJAAplGmhNGyj6sPzjs9t2XdDM9SauKTfecoFrl72W8qvDtrKz8wp_mL74_c3aG5gOppd-UEngnccuuiJ0kGlph_or8IbQXWi-TQRt7BRQXPDgjGOlZVj0k67AGwpXHkeNGS70yR0oLF4Hk/s2048/302050462_362743265923184_482666654922404902_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Q9DGW1qR0iK9q9MR-cBRibYgDDaHMeVkJF9s1LhFsJAAplGmhNGyj6sPzjs9t2XdDM9SauKTfecoFrl72W8qvDtrKz8wp_mL74_c3aG5gOppd-UEngnccuuiJ0kGlph_or8IbQXWi-TQRt7BRQXPDgjGOlZVj0k67AGwpXHkeNGS70yR0oLF4Hk/w480-h640/302050462_362743265923184_482666654922404902_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A ground squirrel living his best life.</td></tr></tbody></table>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-43431094205917075572022-08-29T11:18:00.005-06:002022-10-16T17:28:16.093-06:00The GWO Tour 2022 - Hut Trippin in the San Juan Mountains: Prologue<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXV_y40NYNcbXbtNORxb9sKOvyIARS6OWDn8sYnZ51KPlqapAUa4PWUyR_poJdxMj03Po4rOODmPwalJalBw7dtFZu7kqwkOfYK_1qDGhBJ9xYeXnvPrukVPgzsGeEYZVcywr00jkI787OY-edj0DCxQWcCu_hyx-2udETY9m3yeWvSu4jPJcVAg/s202/sjhlogo.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="202" data-original-width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXV_y40NYNcbXbtNORxb9sKOvyIARS6OWDn8sYnZ51KPlqapAUa4PWUyR_poJdxMj03Po4rOODmPwalJalBw7dtFZu7kqwkOfYK_1qDGhBJ9xYeXnvPrukVPgzsGeEYZVcywr00jkI787OY-edj0DCxQWcCu_hyx-2udETY9m3yeWvSu4jPJcVAg/s16000/sjhlogo.png" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p>Last summer, good friends, Lauren & Andy, who reside in Dillon sent a text: Want to join our group on a hut to hut bike packing trip in 2022? We took all of two seconds to reply: Hell Yeah! A few minutes later we got a payment link from the group's leader. Okay, I guess we are doing this. And, we didn't look back. In fact, we didn't even look back at any emails that may or may not have contained the dates of the trip, which overlapped slightly with the Breck Epic mountain bike race we were asked to work at. Oops. Well, as most of you know, we made it work. </p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So what is <a href="https://sanjuanhuts.com/mtb/mountain-bike-trips" target="_blank">San Juan Huts</a> anyway? It's a company that manages a series of huts for back country adventurers. There are multiple routes for winter and for summer. What started out as a dream idea of skiers, turned into a reality for mountain bikers when the mobile winter huts, with no place to store them, remained where they were for us dirt heads to use. The Telluride route was the original and the Durango route, which Ryan and I did in the early aughts, came fifteen years later. The huts are completely stocked with all kinds of snacks, hydration fuel, canned foods, coolers of beverages (you can opt in for the beer package) and a cooler of food like cheese, eggs, and bacon. Needless to say you won't starve neither while riding between huts nor when you arrive at them. Sleeping arrangements are bunks with 4" vinyl-covered mattresses. You just need to bring a sleeping bag liner. They do have first aid, most had sunscreen, bug spray and hand sanitizer. There's no electricity and no running water. There are however, many 5-gallon jugs of water and a propane stove for cooking, plus all the utensils, pots & pans you'd need to make a feast. All food scraps are composted and trash is collected and put into a bear box. You do your duties in a pit-toilet that I guarantee are better smelling than most rest stops, and usually have a view. You don't really bathe, just rinse, and you share a wash bin to clean your chamois. That's it. There's no soap. There's no shower. If you're lucky, you might come across a stream, but in the 215 miles, we didn't see running water until the last 60. So, note to self, bring enough water to get you to the next hut. </span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd1uQ5CfGT1_rEOUlv8SoLB-sgZAILcdM7gp-ZzQOPz9cu19fOJtM1vB49hNprICJNAtWQmrshHvH1-u7-phelUL7f7-QI9gEbzM_eoSKPYsg0VdC1wHEfwniDJ3xel3K1goB8a4Sz7_z9AOvPrED7YN3SY9-xppjZSjrNBe3wMOOxHvxZdtvMpI/s4080/PXL_20220808_015800991.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd1uQ5CfGT1_rEOUlv8SoLB-sgZAILcdM7gp-ZzQOPz9cu19fOJtM1vB49hNprICJNAtWQmrshHvH1-u7-phelUL7f7-QI9gEbzM_eoSKPYsg0VdC1wHEfwniDJ3xel3K1goB8a4Sz7_z9AOvPrED7YN3SY9-xppjZSjrNBe3wMOOxHvxZdtvMpI/w640-h482/PXL_20220808_015800991.jpg" width="640" /></a><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLwhFVx1-UvwOnT9zR1MTwQFn5SHcicRVA0T9XGh8DxlH2qtQZc3sRhzrCotpONZh171AQu-X3t0uMiFPb-sskLlEqkvu4QSDNCAIYWmW_Wy4oLyWQZRyvRUc2U0PfP0ODN8rZc3nRnBZ3PzHcBn9jyVUsyyceFReSSg0rFfqxD7SO53OLFi1OZ0/s2048/hut.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLwhFVx1-UvwOnT9zR1MTwQFn5SHcicRVA0T9XGh8DxlH2qtQZc3sRhzrCotpONZh171AQu-X3t0uMiFPb-sskLlEqkvu4QSDNCAIYWmW_Wy4oLyWQZRyvRUc2U0PfP0ODN8rZc3nRnBZ3PzHcBn9jyVUsyyceFReSSg0rFfqxD7SO53OLFi1OZ0/w640-h480/hut.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks Andy, for the great shot!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKRFRo1YuQJF1oJXJSimTn9v2gI0jlAiwCUaxPClAjteKn7d13nZ4N2mBxTjCzfG1VANc1hczQ-ztZlkDN4J45Tlgo2dPhMonx_JspWS5cZGrXe54tHLj3CsmYl5q5XG_AwhjSKqkrqYkVh1BZwkBMQR3ff9WtEklBbe_ts_MYXTJUmMliuMA5HM/s4080/PXL_20220808_020156822.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKRFRo1YuQJF1oJXJSimTn9v2gI0jlAiwCUaxPClAjteKn7d13nZ4N2mBxTjCzfG1VANc1hczQ-ztZlkDN4J45Tlgo2dPhMonx_JspWS5cZGrXe54tHLj3CsmYl5q5XG_AwhjSKqkrqYkVh1BZwkBMQR3ff9WtEklBbe_ts_MYXTJUmMliuMA5HM/w482-h640/PXL_20220808_020156822.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The throne.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Speaking of, the distances are totally doable for most intermediate and even beginner riders, with averages of 25-35 miles, on gravel, unless you opt for the single track, which sometimes added miles or elevation or was about the same. We were usually at the next hut, on average, within 4 hours, when using the preferred routes, aka gravel or service roads. We were all on mountain bikes and they varied from long-travel hard tails to trail bikes. One could do this on a gravel bike using the preferred routes but be aware that some roads can be washboard and have deep sand in spots, but I wouldn't let that deter someone who'd opt for a gravel rig. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Only Ryan and I were clipped in and that's where I'd argue, gave us an advantage when climbing all the gravel.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">San Juan Huts' tagline "Adventure Without the Weight" is clever, yet subjective-specially if you've never done this type of adventuring before. Though we had done the Durango route, bike packing wasn't a thing in 2005 and we did all 225 miles with small backpacks. Learning from that experience, we opted to put all of our weight on our bikes and waste packs, which changes the dynamic of how the bike responds to rugged terrain. Since we live in Florida, we didn't have the option to "test" the packed bikes on anything technical, so it wasn't until we got out to Colorado that we were able to ride the rigs fully loaded. And it wasn't terrible. My Pivot 429 was a champ on the climbs despite the weight but the tricky adjustment was having all of my gear stored up front, over the front wheel. I had to pump up the fork quite a bit as well as the shock. It did great, until it didn't. But I'm jumping the gun. Ryan's new-to-him Salsa Timberjack was his rig of choice and his set up had the same Salsa Anything Cradle up front that I did plus he added Salida-based Oveja Negra frame bags. My frame bag was a generic one from <a href="https://www.revelatedesigns.com/index.cfm/store.catalog/Frame-Bags/fullsuspension" target="_blank">Revelate Designs</a> that carried my extra water. I had two bottle bags on my bars and about 3 more bottles worth of water in my frame, by way of a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08NX82XZB/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o06_s01?ie=UTF8&psc=1">bladder</a>. I never ran out but got close on the longest day. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here's what I took with me:<br />2 pr chamois<br />2 pr riding shorts (I'd wear the other after rides if hot enough)<br />3 pr socks (two light wool for riding, one thick wool that always stayed dry for post ride)<br />Pjs<br />1 pr underwear<br />1 pr lightweight hiking pants (could double as rain layer)<br />1 light wt wool base layer - long sleeve<br />1 sunproof pull over (I wore this after every ride)<br />1 ss wicking tshirt<br />2 ss jerseys<br />2 sport bras<br />1 pr sun block sleeves (also used as warming layer in cool mornings)<br />crushable wind jacket<br />rain jacket<br />knee warmers<br />wind-resistant gloves<br />puffy vest<br />head band<br />neck gator<br />wool beanie<br />off-bike sunglasses<br />1 sleeping bag liner<br />Teva sandals that I strapped to the top of the handlebar bag using Velo Straps<br />Seat tube had flat kit: 1 tube, 3 Co2, inflator & tire lever, + bacon strips<br />Top tube bag held easy-to-get-to snacks<br />Hip Pack stored my lunch plus bathroom items like toothbrush, paste, contacts, first aid, etc. Since I didn't have bottles in the waist pack, I used the holders to carry my head lamp and wind jacket. <br />Helmet, shoes, gloves<br />My phone, eyeglasses and ebook were in the front of the Anything Cradle which also had stuff I needed to get to during the ride like sunscreen <br />I finally chose to go with a full tube of chamois butter instead of single use packs<br />2 plastic grocery bags in case of really wet conditions and could put inside shoes<br />1 large battery recharger (which charged our phones and computers through day 5)</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkbvc6F6P2waCiKAT0jF7kUZN45IYmzrAv5BY0lsCMprGG-J2Eps2eg2dTNgkKg-8Loqc892tY5snWopV9ByQNNUQGZflvg9zoX5VG4oh1eoGKvT4PRJtYo8RoHQQ0tXMLAchGaAZkFt1j19d_Uj8L9XG5Ol1IpqTKCg5SyLqwn9X7J_Nh6E-XSgg/s4080/PXL_20220810_152828150.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkbvc6F6P2waCiKAT0jF7kUZN45IYmzrAv5BY0lsCMprGG-J2Eps2eg2dTNgkKg-8Loqc892tY5snWopV9ByQNNUQGZflvg9zoX5VG4oh1eoGKvT4PRJtYo8RoHQQ0tXMLAchGaAZkFt1j19d_Uj8L9XG5Ol1IpqTKCg5SyLqwn9X7J_Nh6E-XSgg/w640-h482/PXL_20220810_152828150.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My rig: Pivot 429</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_OIN3cgmdBYHVumdV_MQiBvgdtiWMpNhgWhdgmI_Bq6osunUi3ANL2pvzXqy9bAQRGJS9p9iuGCPpZwT6tduRLAWcsO10hB32UrkXPVPwOrWCKj5jWJpkWb8eIUeHs_07IIVNJGl8MwkeHLUXd6u3HPFTf-f7xlpmOxST1t31L_HqPzRFOXpW_E/s4032/PXL_20220804_013329850.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_OIN3cgmdBYHVumdV_MQiBvgdtiWMpNhgWhdgmI_Bq6osunUi3ANL2pvzXqy9bAQRGJS9p9iuGCPpZwT6tduRLAWcsO10hB32UrkXPVPwOrWCKj5jWJpkWb8eIUeHs_07IIVNJGl8MwkeHLUXd6u3HPFTf-f7xlpmOxST1t31L_HqPzRFOXpW_E/w640-h480/PXL_20220804_013329850.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan's Salsa Timberjack</td></tr></tbody></table></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Looking back, I feel this was the right amount of gear. I used all of it accept for the cold weather riding gear and rain jacket. It was warm, even at elevation so we were lucky in that regard. As well, we got lucky with the rain, despite the overly wet summer the Rockies have had.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Overall, the trip went really smoothly until...well, I'll get to that but what I want people to understand when considering a trip such as this: shit will happen and your expectations of yourself and everything else will be raised and lowered on a daily basis. That's what makes it an adventure. Go into it understanding you are a guest in these wild landscapes and you will be forced to adapt to them. And for the love of all things wild and free, unplug and have a blast!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-F61y4EQidWfDO7JuMs8bs2R5SLLiE0HhFT2aBDpFAlb_GfuSeZqSEFLtiYFIFFam6R6ASICUYQPXFdDPHykI9P0mtxZY3K_ZgA1f1BzYdOpdZ4A7VkIaWEMjBGstYjWLvus1luFaOSx11BRqpgsQ-wEtbIeYmSly8wVvQ4qFmCKBu-hOPdCQO4o/s4080/PXL_20220807_181805771.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-F61y4EQidWfDO7JuMs8bs2R5SLLiE0HhFT2aBDpFAlb_GfuSeZqSEFLtiYFIFFam6R6ASICUYQPXFdDPHykI9P0mtxZY3K_ZgA1f1BzYdOpdZ4A7VkIaWEMjBGstYjWLvus1luFaOSx11BRqpgsQ-wEtbIeYmSly8wVvQ4qFmCKBu-hOPdCQO4o/w640-h482/PXL_20220807_181805771.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-81685659684914211182022-08-16T18:40:00.001-06:002022-08-26T13:35:34.394-06:00The GWO Tour: The Alpine Tunnel & Monarch Crest<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWvfhff6oIGBpsRaIKlcnZAIm-XZ75GuLx2KX22fj4ym6yyEQ0rrsRoe9R8y1OcgvjP6FGj5ARkdik7k8hbcyn_f0ntpPsifIm3KNRQa-HQoe65XF7oG7kTXCeolO0lw6m93X485DnOBq-1oRdOe-fzNlHuYvA7FgUPbos0URoE_9smRgKgdPtKo/s4032/PXL_20210923_010935467.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWvfhff6oIGBpsRaIKlcnZAIm-XZ75GuLx2KX22fj4ym6yyEQ0rrsRoe9R8y1OcgvjP6FGj5ARkdik7k8hbcyn_f0ntpPsifIm3KNRQa-HQoe65XF7oG7kTXCeolO0lw6m93X485DnOBq-1oRdOe-fzNlHuYvA7FgUPbos0URoE_9smRgKgdPtKo/w480-h640/PXL_20210923_010935467.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><div><span><br /></span></div>After saying goodbye to Crested Butte, we spent a short week in Salida, our favorite Colorado mountain town. Our rental was minutes from downtown and the Arkansas river. Our first meal was Mo Burrito</span><span> and our first ride was up S mountain with former local Emily Skiles, who now works at Absolute Bikes. A few years ago she had a bad crash at Jewel and seeing her now, shredding very technical terrain, in the rain no doubt, was a beautiful thing! So if we ever move here, we have a friend in town! </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The week went by pretty quick since we both had to catch up on work. By the weekend, we were back in the van. Emily had suggested riding The Alpine Tunnel route, a high altitude loop that begins in the abandoned mining town of St. Elmo, at the base of Mt.Princeton, in the Sawatch range. The trail is railroad grade the whole way, starting first on gravel for about 7 miles to the actual trailhead where only non-motorized traffic is allowed. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisF6IcHrhO3Zm91GTexHw4EOT5aYEoSQYRmBdDdgHFyEX-d_o3MvDtDgaTe8kZmUbgAgmxH0xKfw7MyelI4nB645JpvxrOHn4rddH4cW2EtktN3jDc1QTlS9thOZCua9X8_2JH-q4XSO5nxuQyMlBGdrxCFuNjIclC-hJX9Sq5HMasB7RoSXH64ZU/s4080/PXL_20220730_173411947.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisF6IcHrhO3Zm91GTexHw4EOT5aYEoSQYRmBdDdgHFyEX-d_o3MvDtDgaTe8kZmUbgAgmxH0xKfw7MyelI4nB645JpvxrOHn4rddH4cW2EtktN3jDc1QTlS9thOZCua9X8_2JH-q4XSO5nxuQyMlBGdrxCFuNjIclC-hJX9Sq5HMasB7RoSXH64ZU/w640-h482/PXL_20220730_173411947.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTAaHIsQUq4jMWR_rSBu-3DHAgYt8ujPmbJUcx98p_PRB0K0o6dJi8_fjmWblJrrrhEJW0BCCACriDZqF-VKF3ON1pFMroX4lYphCgyq5uknsJA33IqLw1ofkQg9PJpFXaL6FlbTsrhgEakhhBuivAI3WV5kwgktjlKIYOqUAjd0Fzlgxf2grL9XE/s4032/PXL_20220730_164417678.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTAaHIsQUq4jMWR_rSBu-3DHAgYt8ujPmbJUcx98p_PRB0K0o6dJi8_fjmWblJrrrhEJW0BCCACriDZqF-VKF3ON1pFMroX4lYphCgyq5uknsJA33IqLw1ofkQg9PJpFXaL6FlbTsrhgEakhhBuivAI3WV5kwgktjlKIYOqUAjd0Fzlgxf2grL9XE/w640-h480/PXL_20220730_164417678.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">A former rail line, remnants of railroad ties still very much intact, creating some technical riding scenarios. Knowing we were in the same place steam engines traveled over a hundred years ago made it all the more special. The flowers only added to the already amazing views, including clumps of columbines growing right out of cracks in the rock.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacWOgDlFGDmc5Rn34IBgq6j_l3-4JqK_K44rdfZ3wo1FeB8L2t-HeRf-z8y-8Y4E7sw4q2K6ffXL6EOjuSra0-EASHh9yAuLqCITIMx-4rzO3y2cyBxqGwU2WqJloHZSoc11QQIvfT9-b7Ih13FaAHHSRizkm33ut8sMih1KZ5jaBBKsKPv-RErU/s4080/PXL_20220730_171118318.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacWOgDlFGDmc5Rn34IBgq6j_l3-4JqK_K44rdfZ3wo1FeB8L2t-HeRf-z8y-8Y4E7sw4q2K6ffXL6EOjuSra0-EASHh9yAuLqCITIMx-4rzO3y2cyBxqGwU2WqJloHZSoc11QQIvfT9-b7Ih13FaAHHSRizkm33ut8sMih1KZ5jaBBKsKPv-RErU/w640-h482/PXL_20220730_171118318.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwokQdKsgHvp-hMnM1r9OcD0XaYi60lksKq1S_vY_QxXnxpMawrlaSZq1KmPX2SPVgMPH0_n9zGQg8jg0dQKyprblty9zjeLgbH-3TH7P61_lDD-DW-LM6uOf85kEUIst4_hWNRQs55HwSCkSWbTlvvIPTiDhXcyuvXlBS-WkhzfQec4tlvp7Ntrg/s4032/PXL_20220730_171912416.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwokQdKsgHvp-hMnM1r9OcD0XaYi60lksKq1S_vY_QxXnxpMawrlaSZq1KmPX2SPVgMPH0_n9zGQg8jg0dQKyprblty9zjeLgbH-3TH7P61_lDD-DW-LM6uOf85kEUIst4_hWNRQs55HwSCkSWbTlvvIPTiDhXcyuvXlBS-WkhzfQec4tlvp7Ntrg/w640-h480/PXL_20220730_171912416.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvE0AJykBtMqFYoevQQT_GAH5ElCUo70wO4AiEYnJuyKf2sRCQoNhlIP-SPmrIMRamgI4cRDVM2r4_32YYhU7MjpQ0BXxwCtsm9gOvITn0CwiI_dh_cyFy1d26J_9I6xYbNQd9Hy6p_Gye60UH0Alha8_DbJt6SinfCs6yq-ZCORCCu-dx8EmCAj0/s4032/PXL_20220730_172035073.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvE0AJykBtMqFYoevQQT_GAH5ElCUo70wO4AiEYnJuyKf2sRCQoNhlIP-SPmrIMRamgI4cRDVM2r4_32YYhU7MjpQ0BXxwCtsm9gOvITn0CwiI_dh_cyFy1d26J_9I6xYbNQd9Hy6p_Gye60UH0Alha8_DbJt6SinfCs6yq-ZCORCCu-dx8EmCAj0/w480-h640/PXL_20220730_172035073.MP.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUntJ5QX9ygUlzAFGDgSxKL6wLK7wejymdhVVTVAG0WrZr-zNZ5YCAR4zQFpFfQcgsMe6GPBE70BU9xw6NyL-bLJPE7wP7AmMZwZ2RR2JAGhsqxCg-gx3UrUKMR04SkDeMN4AvhrySySr1oXzqmZ2xM0qZNtNkYhdftmplsTj-TNh50DmKXFax2X8/s4080/original_d1688bfd-b429-4603-9d84-b16eae400b61_PXL_20220730_172008323.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUntJ5QX9ygUlzAFGDgSxKL6wLK7wejymdhVVTVAG0WrZr-zNZ5YCAR4zQFpFfQcgsMe6GPBE70BU9xw6NyL-bLJPE7wP7AmMZwZ2RR2JAGhsqxCg-gx3UrUKMR04SkDeMN4AvhrySySr1oXzqmZ2xM0qZNtNkYhdftmplsTj-TNh50DmKXFax2X8/w482-h640/original_d1688bfd-b429-4603-9d84-b16eae400b61_PXL_20220730_172008323.jpg" width="482" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Eventually the easy grade ended and it was time to hike. A few switchbacks took us up through a rock fall area but once at the top, we had the sky to ourselves. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdLdWoS7-INv3t1vY0Egsdjo6sHbgCBc86LiS-dRecy6SfI6Amo-IJMCpZAFlixbsY7sblA9DwpMwJjl-7ja4fq-l6TrzWSb368d_FYEkkU9-YlvG719vVAjyC1Pb6SoxCpyOLpJlMQc4F0RFnUGCEEmL2J8nsxBSXi3Nz1VUXwaIokHfMwcwDws/s4080/original_8d276731-35a8-4e9f-abf7-2b78bd3a7b3b_PXL_20220730_173945131.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdLdWoS7-INv3t1vY0Egsdjo6sHbgCBc86LiS-dRecy6SfI6Amo-IJMCpZAFlixbsY7sblA9DwpMwJjl-7ja4fq-l6TrzWSb368d_FYEkkU9-YlvG719vVAjyC1Pb6SoxCpyOLpJlMQc4F0RFnUGCEEmL2J8nsxBSXi3Nz1VUXwaIokHfMwcwDws/w640-h482/original_8d276731-35a8-4e9f-abf7-2b78bd3a7b3b_PXL_20220730_173945131.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">At the top of the scree field was classic high alpine riding through scrub and across narrow rushing streams. The wet summer kept the drainages pretty active. The higher we climbed the more we could see some cloud activity gathering and soon enough, we were hearing thunder. We weren't far from the summit, a saddle, that would then point us down the other side. The rain came quick enough. We didn't have our warm rain jackets but we did have our emergency jackets, with hoods, that would only be affective as long as the rain didn't get too heavy, nor the temps too low. Just below the saddle, the rain turned to sleet and the lightening was getting closer. We scanned the landscape for shelter, of which there was none. I did start to worry a bit, knowing we were very exposed. We trudged on and up, having to hike a bike once or twice more before heading down the other side of the saddle. We only saw two other rides, a couple and their dog, early in the ride on the gravel road. We wondered if they turned around. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDxlZ8K9tbrBF2HNZ550yqTeTMupt4xlKm0Vhs9NAgXjU8ChKGnHDM2ik_Wmt555IPznXR_F2vq8o7jPIbsFF3wAUB8gGutP8WZeNNU7aUgXWNRtk6WnVKii6BQa23C9Zk7HeIDX0L8JsRvrD3Wc-gi5WmL2GqLo4GCj3vXmJ2491Jda9tE8xkb0/s1964/PXL_20220730_180357337~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1489" data-original-width="1964" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDxlZ8K9tbrBF2HNZ550yqTeTMupt4xlKm0Vhs9NAgXjU8ChKGnHDM2ik_Wmt555IPznXR_F2vq8o7jPIbsFF3wAUB8gGutP8WZeNNU7aUgXWNRtk6WnVKii6BQa23C9Zk7HeIDX0L8JsRvrD3Wc-gi5WmL2GqLo4GCj3vXmJ2491Jda9tE8xkb0/w640-h486/PXL_20220730_180357337~2.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nY4bkMax44jdaWt5ovbBCrbDneqvQnBtfeoR5ID8FxjBoruuiZZv_zTX6Zos_74Y25gXE97pT_jFlv9E7w4rVbke8iy0-6i6kgfkxbNFQeB7Uv0F0pFhnth-V9znj2vm8A3WZ9Cib-pHebJeEsIDESNlyltF0ZzknuOCCppqpRL25ImrM570jE8/s3240/PXL_20220730_180401925~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2057" data-original-width="3240" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nY4bkMax44jdaWt5ovbBCrbDneqvQnBtfeoR5ID8FxjBoruuiZZv_zTX6Zos_74Y25gXE97pT_jFlv9E7w4rVbke8iy0-6i6kgfkxbNFQeB7Uv0F0pFhnth-V9znj2vm8A3WZ9Cib-pHebJeEsIDESNlyltF0ZzknuOCCppqpRL25ImrM570jE8/w640-h406/PXL_20220730_180401925~2.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFm60VPgPcwl8i1k-p_5Pdm-4YVNG7tdaMMSCZFnFjh4Q9q6502qdr0cLyE8kSep-NQHqpxSoveuu8JEd-pQkdDXY9-6sXH0epsD49y3PcZdPrDInaIJiX7IckRxGSoiCmapAarX7ZCAiCxYsWCYNGmcpphyjZ2o-AjdiSAoRxX70muLH01LWJdo/s4080/PXL_20220730_181537791~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFm60VPgPcwl8i1k-p_5Pdm-4YVNG7tdaMMSCZFnFjh4Q9q6502qdr0cLyE8kSep-NQHqpxSoveuu8JEd-pQkdDXY9-6sXH0epsD49y3PcZdPrDInaIJiX7IckRxGSoiCmapAarX7ZCAiCxYsWCYNGmcpphyjZ2o-AjdiSAoRxX70muLH01LWJdo/w482-h640/PXL_20220730_181537791~2.jpg" width="482" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3dxBLarIqVUJFodzzlRCwbcWhFdyLQ5-rok0KaXTGuxtI2rGcG-2rQnR5ud6DuhFzFyFHwry4Mza6Lo-uOmE1TP6Ps-iFKcvTwyIvOH7bCLGNvobjIWTn_OUDMCtv7-mYSVnZ9WNFY_MfyntQtusfgJtWyPcAuFKK6dTrgaPxmGvmISKFGwrWHbI/s4032/PXL_20220730_183938524.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3dxBLarIqVUJFodzzlRCwbcWhFdyLQ5-rok0KaXTGuxtI2rGcG-2rQnR5ud6DuhFzFyFHwry4Mza6Lo-uOmE1TP6Ps-iFKcvTwyIvOH7bCLGNvobjIWTn_OUDMCtv7-mYSVnZ9WNFY_MfyntQtusfgJtWyPcAuFKK6dTrgaPxmGvmISKFGwrWHbI/w640-h480/PXL_20220730_183938524.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The other side of the saddle we linked up with the Colorado Trail. Those two words, in mountain biking mean one thing: FUN! The trail was classic flow trail, with wide switch backs and loam for days. We had to check our speed though, as we came up on many hikers. We warned them of the weather up top, most agreeing to stay in tree line for the night. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We exited the trail onto 4wd road and down, down, down we went, eventually arriving in St. Elmo. The main street was busy with tourists. The roads and trails were busy with side by sides and dirt bikes. At that elevation, it was no longer raining so we packed up the bikes and looked for some fishy waters. We got to try out the new 7ft 4wt rod that Ryan bought on a therapy shopping spree after losing a big brown trout the day before because the handle on our net was too short. He bought a new net but then he also needed a rod and reel to go with it (hey, it has our initials on it). Our souvenir, he said. Mmhmm. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHr0NFYNCRhGFOiSwNLo5juACfGkiSPXs60g7w37eep46oRb6ol69zKJvrUXvxaPkjiY_Jh0UfYDqKPnMwrYA3VQjR-BCj1sFWq17H0iNm2Tzkvulj4qtnaP3WkkSIPWL8JOxfHHBs-lCYIkNZ-gBIMxEKWusj7cTdZ9zhhD1k4NEa5MmwmxqNh0/s4032/PXL_20220730_215022504.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHr0NFYNCRhGFOiSwNLo5juACfGkiSPXs60g7w37eep46oRb6ol69zKJvrUXvxaPkjiY_Jh0UfYDqKPnMwrYA3VQjR-BCj1sFWq17H0iNm2Tzkvulj4qtnaP3WkkSIPWL8JOxfHHBs-lCYIkNZ-gBIMxEKWusj7cTdZ9zhhD1k4NEa5MmwmxqNh0/w480-h640/PXL_20220730_215022504.MP.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD06rnRDuxDY4vYGWiQP-EX-O79vlab8ZSZJURishW91FanYjLfylQdflZCkZFrovxOspuURRi95x0_EDpcxIUD0ypYFcD5OmFJAAHwYluapWeZq-Q2L-XkBzTIsvF_7S-j7ikLfvx4dTaDNqUEhUTbWXNjRa3Q_CFbycI8Clw9IoA9Bl7UdvF53c/s4032/PXL_20220730_212915184.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD06rnRDuxDY4vYGWiQP-EX-O79vlab8ZSZJURishW91FanYjLfylQdflZCkZFrovxOspuURRi95x0_EDpcxIUD0ypYFcD5OmFJAAHwYluapWeZq-Q2L-XkBzTIsvF_7S-j7ikLfvx4dTaDNqUEhUTbWXNjRa3Q_CFbycI8Clw9IoA9Bl7UdvF53c/w640-h480/PXL_20220730_212915184.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">But it is a really fun rod with a lot of action and great for small creeks. I caught a small rainbow on it. He caught a few on the other rod as well. All in all, it was a great day on the water and on the trail!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pSLIPONTewBerRZyFZt7IkiIDtR6G3Q0ljNLM8YC3EpKQ58GjtypRTfFTd6U64dlluSfrFj8beaErEyMEzoaJ9fntyR3N4aSWde50NVS7RCVmXPOYXkiTxvPSrbJzdGh7PUFpPjHrBystkCHm2Cr2LbIiPQypn63A8ZUVUlmf3ES4AGP3e4jCUU/s4080/PXL_20220730_202043409.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pSLIPONTewBerRZyFZt7IkiIDtR6G3Q0ljNLM8YC3EpKQ58GjtypRTfFTd6U64dlluSfrFj8beaErEyMEzoaJ9fntyR3N4aSWde50NVS7RCVmXPOYXkiTxvPSrbJzdGh7PUFpPjHrBystkCHm2Cr2LbIiPQypn63A8ZUVUlmf3ES4AGP3e4jCUU/w482-h640/PXL_20220730_202043409.jpg" width="482" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFcBj0InQUIkhix3UBphKDB3Yil_1AQsK_gp5EVUVtzmZOFuySFSiYxGj7IVKaCXBUdpmDkYWU202rEVEpYHUaJm9We7tr9T_an-ZIclpjWemnyxMYGlgnqmxsqEYVmDcALMkAYzKd9z7UYYgYhBjzByHg9sSMDUanYzsE_2gTm9KckzDespJoPuc/s4080/PXL_20220730_212613477.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFcBj0InQUIkhix3UBphKDB3Yil_1AQsK_gp5EVUVtzmZOFuySFSiYxGj7IVKaCXBUdpmDkYWU202rEVEpYHUaJm9We7tr9T_an-ZIclpjWemnyxMYGlgnqmxsqEYVmDcALMkAYzKd9z7UYYgYhBjzByHg9sSMDUanYzsE_2gTm9KckzDespJoPuc/w640-h482/PXL_20220730_212613477.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">That night we tested the 4WD ability of the van, taking it up a narrow road, to a high campground with a lake that we visited using the Toyota a couple years ago. After an hour and still not finding the campsite, plus the loss of daylight, we stopped in an open turn out that was flat and had a view. It was too late to try to fish the lake and because we had to be at the shuttle pick up by 7:45 the next morning, it was going to be an early morning. So we snacked on some chips and guac, had a drink by the fire and then called it a night. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next morning we were up early and were greeted with the sun reflecting off the peaks.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVBgpX-FWxyBYwP_Y4SF1GL8-qzTqj4CU1IX68AYBQ6KWSy0g07bQ_FJW1kzP-wbwzWDbrkNujnEZgflCY1gf-wBuDbQti7x_zk8DJt92f9nGhC4FKFUv0mL8NDdHMW1gNmQA_bEh8EuSBXrJI-FxdHhH2MXrCfuy6OGHTXfUISYokjajexEXuSQ/s4032/PXL_20220730_125531262.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVBgpX-FWxyBYwP_Y4SF1GL8-qzTqj4CU1IX68AYBQ6KWSy0g07bQ_FJW1kzP-wbwzWDbrkNujnEZgflCY1gf-wBuDbQti7x_zk8DJt92f9nGhC4FKFUv0mL8NDdHMW1gNmQA_bEh8EuSBXrJI-FxdHhH2MXrCfuy6OGHTXfUISYokjajexEXuSQ/w640-h480/PXL_20220730_125531262.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">After coffee, we began the slow descent. The van did great. It was I that was a mess. I don't really like off-roading like that, let alone in a 16 x 11ft box. At one point I got out, at Ryan's request, to take photos of a particularly gnarly section and it was just at that point when the right front wheel came off the ground. I couldn't watch the rest, but it did just fine. After driving that road, Ryan exclaimed he had finally bonded with the van. I just wanted to change my drawers! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMQMXrKafU13Y-zAX9_YuXxpGb1QuAZv_dq5074d13o8aqO97NdpH14k7hGrKE2JfCRBYuWMagqt0Wb8PJ52ZBj1EOFfpE2oTFoaAcsWKx7Qiq6uxXU30DsfqtbOR3TO5onu0e-hwvB38j0BSW0MlVzYbzv9uEqBCHAjmNuevjf96donVHHL39FQ/s4080/PXL_20220730_135947634~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMQMXrKafU13Y-zAX9_YuXxpGb1QuAZv_dq5074d13o8aqO97NdpH14k7hGrKE2JfCRBYuWMagqt0Wb8PJ52ZBj1EOFfpE2oTFoaAcsWKx7Qiq6uxXU30DsfqtbOR3TO5onu0e-hwvB38j0BSW0MlVzYbzv9uEqBCHAjmNuevjf96donVHHL39FQ/w482-h640/PXL_20220730_135947634~2.jpg" width="482" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We arrived in plenty of time for the shuttle up to Monarch. I wasn't sure about doing the entire thing, including the rainbow trail, so it was going to be a game-time decision. There was a small group of women on e-bikes, a few couples and a bunch of dudes all on pedal bikes. The e-bikers started around the same time we did and we would yo-yo with them until we finally dropped them for good just before arriving at the drop in point that's near the warming hut that saved our fingers and toes a few years ago when we started a Monarch Enduro stage in the snow! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVaICGdXf-dcbt5BAGWhUX4a9Vhq9m1gOZZzc9YQkqUInCYn5CBoJSrjdyQ5q0Yy37a0GWi_UBG6wjQLQpE9q7mRjlr5JJkVnYIwDbzOzFMA93-kxmqIpX0sVhbJvUmOMCiVPp1KUvGWInoDYtvrApcgo2jbIJlAMnqs3mlvRStPr_zgfEBT0lyU/s4032/PXL_20220731_152407028.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVaICGdXf-dcbt5BAGWhUX4a9Vhq9m1gOZZzc9YQkqUInCYn5CBoJSrjdyQ5q0Yy37a0GWi_UBG6wjQLQpE9q7mRjlr5JJkVnYIwDbzOzFMA93-kxmqIpX0sVhbJvUmOMCiVPp1KUvGWInoDYtvrApcgo2jbIJlAMnqs3mlvRStPr_zgfEBT0lyU/w640-h480/PXL_20220731_152407028.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">And again because of the daily rain showers that have been a constant in the high country, the trail was tantalizingly tacky. With grip for miles, we could really push the speed. We popped out at a familiar trail head with a bathroom where a group of side by siders were convening, trying to figure out where they were and wondering how we got there on bikes. From there, it was part hike a bike, part steep climbing up another 4wd road until we reached the next segment of the Crest trail, Silver Trail. It starts our loose with some pretty tight switchbacks and then flattens out a bit before heading into the trees for more rowdy good times. There were a few areas where we had to pump the pedals a bit but for the most part, it was mostly ripping down to where it finally met the river and where we would decide to continue on the Ribbon Trail. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnI9FP6Czgpt2okDtmAEGKVbYlS2ZNqw41pizU6vvxqX0QdbnyDhPxtF1zHhCPep3hhmycUhQaSvLjTcxHZ_qKrGyd9hhFRq4_3TcyevOEOmG1iHe_VeoD-FNloTjIXLeB4ex9B_3c0GjbjjtyA91tzwBAfJHVNDOT1RzmtQCl3hjvdIXaHBOs5eU/s3264/PXL_20220731_165723652.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnI9FP6Czgpt2okDtmAEGKVbYlS2ZNqw41pizU6vvxqX0QdbnyDhPxtF1zHhCPep3hhmycUhQaSvLjTcxHZ_qKrGyd9hhFRq4_3TcyevOEOmG1iHe_VeoD-FNloTjIXLeB4ex9B_3c0GjbjjtyA91tzwBAfJHVNDOT1RzmtQCl3hjvdIXaHBOs5eU/w640-h480/PXL_20220731_165723652.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizIAQWPp15LXEsHSB7rkPjKQzQyQPxFABEZUyaLM_dMpXmujmqYB0fP7X2KrvYrh6NVwh7RIfZtydAc2t1Zbep1kDKE5UCD2-DnGlF_p20gd3BnuW3-9wNM_LBbetJciGBZ7vCQA-iGoi9Tllx8LodZGJaYQntkYxX8MJmQJIJXldkLqRJ8Hl0sZw/s4080/PXL_20220731_171110069.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizIAQWPp15LXEsHSB7rkPjKQzQyQPxFABEZUyaLM_dMpXmujmqYB0fP7X2KrvYrh6NVwh7RIfZtydAc2t1Zbep1kDKE5UCD2-DnGlF_p20gd3BnuW3-9wNM_LBbetJciGBZ7vCQA-iGoi9Tllx8LodZGJaYQntkYxX8MJmQJIJXldkLqRJ8Hl0sZw/w482-h640/PXL_20220731_171110069.jpg" width="482" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNLJuylI3GDdTYb9hpU8RYStsnX-tWNMR8kQgt-nhCBBbifOMgduEfN3Z6JtHcRb2cB332-KZjOlFHI7VarCXRYp64LP1lhz4TNtHiTsaa97vP9LFfIbSud_8dH9nf0-ITJiFUJ5Yuj2xZk4TRtGrpWHloA6LEVL9YVp39J8i5f8Xz2kfEjkeDL0/s4032/PXL_20220731_171023949.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNLJuylI3GDdTYb9hpU8RYStsnX-tWNMR8kQgt-nhCBBbifOMgduEfN3Z6JtHcRb2cB332-KZjOlFHI7VarCXRYp64LP1lhz4TNtHiTsaa97vP9LFfIbSud_8dH9nf0-ITJiFUJ5Yuj2xZk4TRtGrpWHloA6LEVL9YVp39J8i5f8Xz2kfEjkeDL0/w640-h480/PXL_20220731_171023949.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The last time we did it, it was an ass kicker because the trails were sandy and slippery from moto traffic plus it was really hot. This time, the trails were tacky, and the tread surface was sublime. We only saw one other rider and a few motos on that stretch. By the time we hit the pavement, it was pretty hot so we tucked our tails and time-trialed the 5 highway miles back to the van. Then we celebrated with burritos and margies at Mo's before heading back out of town to camp for the night.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmBEHuMlEANMkh1NXCNOTJ-8Z4y-GBr1SYzug-0iZJEzjR2rZGS1NK2Fk_4cm_0ftpDAjmkAngITMcmg28AJnMRt6CZKyLxyDHHO-EFXhuvitmkKju5DPcb9RTDf7i5QIhDvLRLzLOysKTIND-Dqxv24BcloMSfXeJP9kvGGeHAnugtxG7iBR9xI/s4080/PXL_20220731_022418805.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmBEHuMlEANMkh1NXCNOTJ-8Z4y-GBr1SYzug-0iZJEzjR2rZGS1NK2Fk_4cm_0ftpDAjmkAngITMcmg28AJnMRt6CZKyLxyDHHO-EFXhuvitmkKju5DPcb9RTDf7i5QIhDvLRLzLOysKTIND-Dqxv24BcloMSfXeJP9kvGGeHAnugtxG7iBR9xI/w640-h482/PXL_20220731_022418805.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9qWZp07P1QQETm6l3KTkxRNI11nEF6X9xO0zpDYErnm6rjGPvQIlufnlCRHy8WgtQpMKS8MNnNXA2JxEEcRphhwkVMPMRls6vdm6YLqjVUXlIe8D49OxmdBOKPNl9A7AnJlWyLg4B0nwgvwr0aQVtPBlK74t5YycdBl84KLCC0GnOQ9hmXtpaWg/s3280/PXL_20220731_024617698.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2464" data-original-width="3280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9qWZp07P1QQETm6l3KTkxRNI11nEF6X9xO0zpDYErnm6rjGPvQIlufnlCRHy8WgtQpMKS8MNnNXA2JxEEcRphhwkVMPMRls6vdm6YLqjVUXlIe8D49OxmdBOKPNl9A7AnJlWyLg4B0nwgvwr0aQVtPBlK74t5YycdBl84KLCC0GnOQ9hmXtpaWg/w640-h480/PXL_20220731_024617698.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our visit to Salida was just what we'd hoped. A reminder that it is where we hope to set roots and play bikes with all the people and maybe actually become smarter than the fish!</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsZOd8P4i3vpL-e_x4h66gfUelyjqrmkESpFQn3AhVe8kyI6TndxkwDU685pMOYm4wNtTbHAtFT0CR9LrBN8aHtdB6hAv85nFsRB_XnzTUterdDMnnTw0wXWz5KtVDp9xDNU6LJcLzCrGpsGACtOCQo74wvQIazhqUVS1nLLEJDfVnUf7hTHdrs0/s4032/PXL_20220731_121959626.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsZOd8P4i3vpL-e_x4h66gfUelyjqrmkESpFQn3AhVe8kyI6TndxkwDU685pMOYm4wNtTbHAtFT0CR9LrBN8aHtdB6hAv85nFsRB_XnzTUterdDMnnTw0wXWz5KtVDp9xDNU6LJcLzCrGpsGACtOCQo74wvQIazhqUVS1nLLEJDfVnUf7hTHdrs0/w640-h480/PXL_20220731_121959626.MP.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOln1-yqJNtRxwp91CjQkxcT0Uy22bfVRMj03tRPlmVCsYOfM9h1LJ4NTcf-ZfkfI_0rEXCXIv4mpULyBmWlk3EEdHMZxS8ZAoB3bzjCiaYXUmkbMlQf14casZoGBPy2OS7ZQbLZR6pDl6jM0aljeadiB-JxoHRX2shCG_IZPBLv5176CxWmq5u0/s4032/PXL_20220731_122055536.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOln1-yqJNtRxwp91CjQkxcT0Uy22bfVRMj03tRPlmVCsYOfM9h1LJ4NTcf-ZfkfI_0rEXCXIv4mpULyBmWlk3EEdHMZxS8ZAoB3bzjCiaYXUmkbMlQf14casZoGBPy2OS7ZQbLZR6pDl6jM0aljeadiB-JxoHRX2shCG_IZPBLv5176CxWmq5u0/w640-h480/PXL_20220731_122055536.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-26339485407811866112022-08-03T14:01:00.006-06:002022-08-03T17:34:16.269-06:00The GWO Tour 2022 - Crested Butte, MOD's Happy Place<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When someone we know passes away, it seems fair to think that the world should stop. That trains shouldn't run. That commerce should shutter. But we know that's not possible. So it's up to the friends and family of the dead to stop. To slow down and acknowledge the loss. And then somehow, some way, create new memories for those still living on.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Last year one of our cycling friends ended his battle with colorectal cancer. We had the opportunity to have some last words with him not long before his final day on earth. Mark Savery was only 50 years old. And when his widow, Anne, asked us earlier this year to join in the celebration of life that she was organizing in Crested Butte, Colorado, the answer was an absolute yes. We felt honored being asked.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoexud5pHoM_YQi8-34KMVsgqGkeobx4nIq_9fWWwOHokdrzZJe-NhXgFrmEVkDRvkPIY7KoS4CGan6N9oV-xID-lHVRQm-uUMwTCih0rD6AaHKbTXW4bdICdVNmV-mhC_q2t9aX6rrftR0cPGqw9MdT8RG5jsT1QFEhlaXh2qKhn1lkrBAgGtbwY/s4080/PXL_20220722_005258987.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoexud5pHoM_YQi8-34KMVsgqGkeobx4nIq_9fWWwOHokdrzZJe-NhXgFrmEVkDRvkPIY7KoS4CGan6N9oV-xID-lHVRQm-uUMwTCih0rD6AaHKbTXW4bdICdVNmV-mhC_q2t9aX6rrftR0cPGqw9MdT8RG5jsT1QFEhlaXh2qKhn1lkrBAgGtbwY/w482-h640/PXL_20220722_005258987.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">So the next stop on the GWO'22 tour was Crested Butte. Since friends were heading west to also take part in Mark's celebration of life, I was able to go back to Nebraska with the Eybergs to see Mom and my step dad for a few days in between. Ryan went on to CB without me so he could get caught up on work before I returned with </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Eric O'Brien, aka, EOB</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> and his daughter Abbey (AOB). I wasn't even sure if I would be returning to be honest. By that Wednesday, mom was improving and had one of the best days that I'd seen since this whole thing started. I felt I could head west secure in knowing mom was showing more signs of improvement in many ways than physical.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">EOB picked me up bright and early so we could swing through Lincoln to grab Abbey. After a tour of her new digs and a coffee stop, we pointed the minivan towards Colorado. Eleven hours later we were at our campground - the same one as last year. It was close to sunset and we only had time to set up camp and eat a bit before turning in. The next day was going to require a visit to the doctor.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">No, not that kind of doctor. Abbey, who has ridden in CB a couple times with Eric, had yet to ride one of the classic routes: Doctor Park. It was one of the first rowdy descents Ryan and I did when we were here for the BME Enduro many years ago and it remains a favorite. But it's a haul to get to the top. We did it as a loop, starting just down the road from our campground (which we broke down b/c we eventually moved to one closer to town). We gradually climbed a dirt/gravel road for an hour to the "start of the climb" as we like to say. But first, we had to cross Spring Creek, on foot, as it was too deep to ride. It wasn't as deep as some prior years but walking barefoot on river rock sucks! I wish someone would build a bridge! But then, what's the adventure in that!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ZRwUjPsFk74UfA3hRh7IlmBaxrSzZ4eYuUw67-F9_b_uAIus-78IfF9TC-z53jsTXoOwL6kTbOsOYXG7RX8wkNn-DHQmfLkBTHyHx3Pf8128sGLasAK0uRIfaOZIODshBeza4ADZxf8CR1p-xpD1ulTuTe24OKuJEUuoLn0fsj6gM6hFBOUom0E/s4080/PXL_20220721_154655535.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ZRwUjPsFk74UfA3hRh7IlmBaxrSzZ4eYuUw67-F9_b_uAIus-78IfF9TC-z53jsTXoOwL6kTbOsOYXG7RX8wkNn-DHQmfLkBTHyHx3Pf8128sGLasAK0uRIfaOZIODshBeza4ADZxf8CR1p-xpD1ulTuTe24OKuJEUuoLn0fsj6gM6hFBOUom0E/w482-h640/PXL_20220721_154655535.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4NUbj509lkUeycL9yHVJhWa6ja2a8iT5acMijO2mJ6wXVek28l8VJb-f6wMn-YfR8Gms8Wg6KftjfkX41QghS41hJJuEGIoRJnd_XQWFV4ScM7_USMXNX4eYgOduOU6SAPm_mXKjDICPiHihuFaZ66UxrHWkfkQ8kbhdwPZb0RyPVTAARdo7iGI/s4032/PXL_20220721_160459540.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4NUbj509lkUeycL9yHVJhWa6ja2a8iT5acMijO2mJ6wXVek28l8VJb-f6wMn-YfR8Gms8Wg6KftjfkX41QghS41hJJuEGIoRJnd_XQWFV4ScM7_USMXNX4eYgOduOU6SAPm_mXKjDICPiHihuFaZ66UxrHWkfkQ8kbhdwPZb0RyPVTAARdo7iGI/w640-h480/PXL_20220721_160459540.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIseIKx2kc9BA4L1_Lv5sSm0pW7lZ31giq-YF_Wckr8nJt1xYwKUcsE6QrqcK9c3RoEi6Dv_m0u2MFoJAT2VR9eWm-Yk-KSzJzon-TasawqlOh6l-paRA7SB-wOpGOiIw_nxaYeRiU7LL16dZEEmKPbibVcIBz2OjnFG5GVxn74yKAVI9vIHxmHQ/s4032/PXL_20220721_161455649.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIseIKx2kc9BA4L1_Lv5sSm0pW7lZ31giq-YF_Wckr8nJt1xYwKUcsE6QrqcK9c3RoEi6Dv_m0u2MFoJAT2VR9eWm-Yk-KSzJzon-TasawqlOh6l-paRA7SB-wOpGOiIw_nxaYeRiU7LL16dZEEmKPbibVcIBz2OjnFG5GVxn74yKAVI9vIHxmHQ/w640-h480/PXL_20220721_161455649.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">Once over the river it was time to get up to the woods, which required another hour of moderate to steep climbing on single track and gravel roads. It's a real soul crusher when you're from sea level and especially when it's your first ride of the trip (sorry OB's)! But we were in the area and wouldn't be back so it was out of convenience that we began the trip doing that trail.</span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-no4bdstI8rrctAfLFz1emx5Q78A6q65YoBN1T2SV56CpcHNMQhNz6twTMd7Vis_6zbwIwKNNdV2XShb-cOdvWqvQ6FgkER5rFPVZ0lA9YIqaczTzQt74lzF6RyrfBdvON06Ikq79cb6dq99Wu1gtxf-uMRD5x7tg_BtpYtAzsw6mF7WbfVd8MJE/s4032/PXL_20220721_163742027.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-no4bdstI8rrctAfLFz1emx5Q78A6q65YoBN1T2SV56CpcHNMQhNz6twTMd7Vis_6zbwIwKNNdV2XShb-cOdvWqvQ6FgkER5rFPVZ0lA9YIqaczTzQt74lzF6RyrfBdvON06Ikq79cb6dq99Wu1gtxf-uMRD5x7tg_BtpYtAzsw6mF7WbfVd8MJE/w640-h480/PXL_20220721_163742027.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally at the top, contemplating why we do this to ourselves, whilst fighting off biting horse flies, Ryan lead us to the swoopy bonus loop that flowed through meadows of mountain flowers. Colorado has had a wet summer thus far and the flowers were in their height of color. The bonus loop put us at the true start of the descent where Abbey chased Ryan and EOB and I followed. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vtxdi5zxXrIYKWmvq3mewrLlhnF4YSydjAhxdbs7lo-UXMQyEDbDlkB32x87PuptpJDHJm8G4QJFrEndtTkoQfkT2dSrKCQ943jwJQj3ePMIa3HsmUz4rxKDSYlSNPfvy6Uz1BYx-TQD_rhVYgml_aapTfioze0nOw24WtaeiU6AAuct9HWX4-s/s4032/PXL_20220721_173335835.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vtxdi5zxXrIYKWmvq3mewrLlhnF4YSydjAhxdbs7lo-UXMQyEDbDlkB32x87PuptpJDHJm8G4QJFrEndtTkoQfkT2dSrKCQ943jwJQj3ePMIa3HsmUz4rxKDSYlSNPfvy6Uz1BYx-TQD_rhVYgml_aapTfioze0nOw24WtaeiU6AAuct9HWX4-s/w640-h480/PXL_20220721_173335835.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2HwAOCa8jEHNtKcVgDwQ69lJB8zOpLwI4lXURfPTW4rWqBITVY_wwGh8fRVz2XoAyJOzRAZFNaAuDHBFkvgb1MTyAb6SY043qwLi85yeTdfed-J5lfrS78WJpwtcue9ccYT4yyYCpSPZcOMEm-PaaABqopkPd0D7s1pSU3kXvPGPKzYN6AzPEQw/s4032/PXL_20220721_180006114.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2HwAOCa8jEHNtKcVgDwQ69lJB8zOpLwI4lXURfPTW4rWqBITVY_wwGh8fRVz2XoAyJOzRAZFNaAuDHBFkvgb1MTyAb6SY043qwLi85yeTdfed-J5lfrS78WJpwtcue9ccYT4yyYCpSPZcOMEm-PaaABqopkPd0D7s1pSU3kXvPGPKzYN6AzPEQw/w640-h480/PXL_20220721_180006114.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNK_y96jKC1UU99OY_2c-Jt3N_IDCVIMyda5PxYBddg_hvGeOUI5I2gP6q7uTVCllMLrXM7qhDsvhPSMWqy-kWBqDEwkitmzXT_EcTWVfwct8-mHsqSC1VJSVHaZI4yxOj2smVOOuJzTliYTW0gHsK3-spbff0-Ee_k0da1qlRGkpR51A8X2XF4E/s4080/PXL_20220721_174656010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNK_y96jKC1UU99OY_2c-Jt3N_IDCVIMyda5PxYBddg_hvGeOUI5I2gP6q7uTVCllMLrXM7qhDsvhPSMWqy-kWBqDEwkitmzXT_EcTWVfwct8-mHsqSC1VJSVHaZI4yxOj2smVOOuJzTliYTW0gHsK3-spbff0-Ee_k0da1qlRGkpR51A8X2XF4E/w482-h640/PXL_20220721_174656010.jpg" width="482" /></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Doctor is a mix of fast, narrow single track between rocky technical segments, all below an aspen and conifer forest. There's history with EOB and this trail but I'm happy to report he put that demon to bed, riding sections faster than he had in the past.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7FldxtXuUpCvB_lSCSo17eLtXDVyvYg3ot7HOefkYFOUkzZiFqHVaOnnYiMvkbwV9sYCtVmkn9kEwlzEzVL5n91y2QG31Jnc5YODnhgypkXhrS41_ESzHwcxpqJST7rZVmCouLeyGTEvDzzgIJoKjrVYCTcYJp2Szoua32b00cCZ2tskWaeFKi8/s4080/PXL_20220721_183341289.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7FldxtXuUpCvB_lSCSo17eLtXDVyvYg3ot7HOefkYFOUkzZiFqHVaOnnYiMvkbwV9sYCtVmkn9kEwlzEzVL5n91y2QG31Jnc5YODnhgypkXhrS41_ESzHwcxpqJST7rZVmCouLeyGTEvDzzgIJoKjrVYCTcYJp2Szoua32b00cCZ2tskWaeFKi8/w640-h482/PXL_20220721_183341289.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV0sKHpnzd0Gt-ouO70e86ucFEQfHDF7zQb8FXxzBE8ZXI0EHSwV4O_l3w4_QpLkQZ16raGeVNePYnXoDUcyamstQL1y6QdMa6VQM8N-IJW7iYiyTTY3yHQ4Sg8DPHEi4r8AbWIlaGTYWrihlahgGT2YnLjPEHPO2K2xic6wYDNCXrm6e5a55nO94/s4080/PXL_20220721_184753250.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV0sKHpnzd0Gt-ouO70e86ucFEQfHDF7zQb8FXxzBE8ZXI0EHSwV4O_l3w4_QpLkQZ16raGeVNePYnXoDUcyamstQL1y6QdMa6VQM8N-IJW7iYiyTTY3yHQ4Sg8DPHEi4r8AbWIlaGTYWrihlahgGT2YnLjPEHPO2K2xic6wYDNCXrm6e5a55nO94/w482-h640/PXL_20220721_184753250.jpg" width="482" /></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally, near the bottom, we had to navigate a set of tight and loose switchbacks before reaching the parking lot and the rushing cold water of the Taylor River. Everyone got down safely and with wide smiles. Abbey was full of giggles and that made us happy! We celebrated with margaritas, tacos & fresh guac at Bones and then coffee from Camp4. It was an awesome first day on all accounts in CB! </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixc5jCpLlKZbgqKbuFovLDrcWVT-geypSUhYGdENjZClwwWF-N7NezDQJeqdoWFcBEjRx3MO5hDNe5IbEcNTJpRNnpZEmEH5vDn2LNUT0Telm2pVBcjSCJeurlNMn-RCoySJX55oV98Ft277VhNItthI5Dpu5STjV8nuFWXzgGtf6BOPbkPN89Qf0/s4032/PXL_20220721_191121261.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixc5jCpLlKZbgqKbuFovLDrcWVT-geypSUhYGdENjZClwwWF-N7NezDQJeqdoWFcBEjRx3MO5hDNe5IbEcNTJpRNnpZEmEH5vDn2LNUT0Telm2pVBcjSCJeurlNMn-RCoySJX55oV98Ft277VhNItthI5Dpu5STjV8nuFWXzgGtf6BOPbkPN89Qf0/w640-h480/PXL_20220721_191121261.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhry2RH1jyWOV4_30SBhPHRlvltx9fDHhHdr3-i_2dAaz4xjUH8t5tQSyIhjTdGuaA2xMfP02q2Vee-0wchdElYkCnzCamjUsxXbYBFRK7DRZ9nPMDKsZ9YnOMnyu-jWfey6lfISS-MA9vGNoyH5YM8I25PkGHnpeeaEKZugMhJ5wdnBCCi4A_d-S4/s4080/PXL_20220722_000326020.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhry2RH1jyWOV4_30SBhPHRlvltx9fDHhHdr3-i_2dAaz4xjUH8t5tQSyIhjTdGuaA2xMfP02q2Vee-0wchdElYkCnzCamjUsxXbYBFRK7DRZ9nPMDKsZ9YnOMnyu-jWfey6lfISS-MA9vGNoyH5YM8I25PkGHnpeeaEKZugMhJ5wdnBCCi4A_d-S4/w482-h640/PXL_20220722_000326020.jpg" width="482" /></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day two was an even bigger day. Teocali Ridge was on the docket and everyone was new to the ride. It's one of the first mtb trails built in the area and she's a brute! The ride starts on ranch roads that turn to double track and eventually single track. The grade is easy until it's not. And it's obvious when the not part starts! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We met Matt & Jill Tilinghast at Brush Creek trailhead. Ryan talked the remaining "fast guys" into leaving an hour later, on bikes, from their condo, with the guarantee they'd still catch us. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPiMkxKMxNHjM8hfKV72ecT0jvqM3ySEzPttdt_HyMCrWpjkNC3Lr6UszZL6-paf2hAdGViH9Pe8VTmYyoxeOLZl7ADKVofA9gZa3p4p-sO_XMYxqbJwqBjnsoxakO6zZ0NK4AUj9ANIPkrwCdeM8IPpe8oDfhd-CCuSEq2Naid389dBqiJXBZ4X8/s4032/PXL_20220722_142028461.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPiMkxKMxNHjM8hfKV72ecT0jvqM3ySEzPttdt_HyMCrWpjkNC3Lr6UszZL6-paf2hAdGViH9Pe8VTmYyoxeOLZl7ADKVofA9gZa3p4p-sO_XMYxqbJwqBjnsoxakO6zZ0NK4AUj9ANIPkrwCdeM8IPpe8oDfhd-CCuSEq2Naid389dBqiJXBZ4X8/w640-h480/PXL_20220722_142028461.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JAb-v6qyDX_iW7MElLaQ8y8uO9FCZROrssjwetDbxOZAadVgTLYh57TQFuE5PeOrIswvTPZRzbFR2txGLAdJaAoZxH2uP66eELD4rJmuWBHABn5mw0iU2xf_5CKr-PaCGOE8Qc471Ev-lCEsqOeHmLqGKV5Y1KXiyn17rBZ8nKOyltsAYjni6C4/s4032/PXL_20220722_145759700.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JAb-v6qyDX_iW7MElLaQ8y8uO9FCZROrssjwetDbxOZAadVgTLYh57TQFuE5PeOrIswvTPZRzbFR2txGLAdJaAoZxH2uP66eELD4rJmuWBHABn5mw0iU2xf_5CKr-PaCGOE8Qc471Ev-lCEsqOeHmLqGKV5Y1KXiyn17rBZ8nKOyltsAYjni6C4/w640-h480/PXL_20220722_145759700.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The flowers again were a sight to behold. I couldn't get enough! At the junction where the real climb starts, we posed for pictures and refueled for the grinding effort ahead.</span><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7d7uJu4CEQ5bKwVYHHajVmk1rrOOw2Lo5bcpWTQxwdI7RiIvp__SOKJv4mmT7w53W1Iaxtf7rK6oE1LLAMOR4u2VXuvwlcYbuRRBPa9MAaMfy6eQpDY1w8Qm0m55n2Ip9Coj7zBjrBCChC0cHRrE87eZPF2EGSVLppUMff_NJvUUxuViD83NWQXg/s4080/PXL_20220722_155527578~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7d7uJu4CEQ5bKwVYHHajVmk1rrOOw2Lo5bcpWTQxwdI7RiIvp__SOKJv4mmT7w53W1Iaxtf7rK6oE1LLAMOR4u2VXuvwlcYbuRRBPa9MAaMfy6eQpDY1w8Qm0m55n2Ip9Coj7zBjrBCChC0cHRrE87eZPF2EGSVLppUMff_NJvUUxuViD83NWQXg/w482-h640/PXL_20220722_155527578~2.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBUCckT6_IMVOs-s_i-qDZ66MPK6m2N-VOpKco5mdxpSxxIBQgoPZj8dV2i-0Y5KZn8XVjU2XHq7V-CwYAkeOmxDlWXP9ikxUcOgHLGOoXivAQfBtUXZcs3eLeRVF_yxeQJtSK_GlB1Dj2PsIAsM4lrUiCjYM47tErziX0VXmUePg59fgpNcSmSA/s3280/PXL_20220722_155945643.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBUCckT6_IMVOs-s_i-qDZ66MPK6m2N-VOpKco5mdxpSxxIBQgoPZj8dV2i-0Y5KZn8XVjU2XHq7V-CwYAkeOmxDlWXP9ikxUcOgHLGOoXivAQfBtUXZcs3eLeRVF_yxeQJtSK_GlB1Dj2PsIAsM4lrUiCjYM47tErziX0VXmUePg59fgpNcSmSA/w480-h640/PXL_20220722_155945643.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaJcAfk1npbz7tMuhvKzrl0zlCk5mh7XWjzztPaYVDgpmuaVXTXHgZ6nbMkfNRjIEwhcOJzXVXlrbxS_fr8fuJsVr04g1yfdssf1Pii882QnNQxNJ10BTBB0Tevy9rbO1ArhYYwna1KbtQp88sXXNWSs97YsdTPa7WL6FKwL8aFeGWeM0SSCxafc/s4032/PXL_20220722_160112539.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaJcAfk1npbz7tMuhvKzrl0zlCk5mh7XWjzztPaYVDgpmuaVXTXHgZ6nbMkfNRjIEwhcOJzXVXlrbxS_fr8fuJsVr04g1yfdssf1Pii882QnNQxNJ10BTBB0Tevy9rbO1ArhYYwna1KbtQp88sXXNWSs97YsdTPa7WL6FKwL8aFeGWeM0SSCxafc/w640-h480/PXL_20220722_160112539.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDtRIVh6SHGRR5oN5RrayesDBT_4lb842a0YxqgeP8PwlhARxaiYmE7zkC-t-i5NCKVlyR7ZybPtGM_QdYGXhIRo2ROAn8Hx24k1_XdGbcuYk2dwOEeZI9G_01uFlA84lIUwD8-gOkmgplUF-50Dzj8LfqE46ieSYTNv5mVoWBtq94bt-4t3ATwU/s4080/original_836f869b-d411-4060-a5be-0439602d8583_PXL_20220722_160435091.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDtRIVh6SHGRR5oN5RrayesDBT_4lb842a0YxqgeP8PwlhARxaiYmE7zkC-t-i5NCKVlyR7ZybPtGM_QdYGXhIRo2ROAn8Hx24k1_XdGbcuYk2dwOEeZI9G_01uFlA84lIUwD8-gOkmgplUF-50Dzj8LfqE46ieSYTNv5mVoWBtq94bt-4t3ATwU/w482-h640/original_836f869b-d411-4060-a5be-0439602d8583_PXL_20220722_160435091.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhgVV-U44isXFCKnSZaMmWm65ZqWVZI7wVproI7X96tSB4WlKx5ISpHutWBkIqa5oV5NYI3708nyw2LwaqWA7Vvo205ekchJ1jHkiZPIzawDZdazbV8T3LBzZAkyJvdc5FvNZfd66K7gYCtH2sGlU3I_iajPsOsRO9mYDhU6mntu3CaIkAEuRxMU/s4032/PXL_20220722_162101486.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhgVV-U44isXFCKnSZaMmWm65ZqWVZI7wVproI7X96tSB4WlKx5ISpHutWBkIqa5oV5NYI3708nyw2LwaqWA7Vvo205ekchJ1jHkiZPIzawDZdazbV8T3LBzZAkyJvdc5FvNZfd66K7gYCtH2sGlU3I_iajPsOsRO9mYDhU6mntu3CaIkAEuRxMU/w640-h480/PXL_20220722_162101486.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The arrival of the fast guys was both perfect and maddening. They caught us on the longest, steepest part of the climb, which they spun up, while a few of us saps were two-footing it along the way. At the top, everyone celebrated the effort. Ryan suggested we take a group photo honoring our friend and so he and I gathered up some rocks to spell out his nick-name, MOD. We huddled around the display and gave gratitude to Mark for bringing us together on this day, in this amazing place.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvprZq-1lX34AQfpqH0wQ9ymmDowqS2Kj3sPoYzUdl96wfC4uK6xQVeVFePyAJgawI56RGRPE2Qe9ZaJuZemjnkLc2MIG270SKCeqBFrgk7xjLvIhHq4PqaZge87wu-b8uFef7nC0ZUd-0XZ6t3Zl0HxL1IL_p5bjFBazLWYWyfztcsMTQTPqdu0Q/s4080/PXL_20220722_171445981.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvprZq-1lX34AQfpqH0wQ9ymmDowqS2Kj3sPoYzUdl96wfC4uK6xQVeVFePyAJgawI56RGRPE2Qe9ZaJuZemjnkLc2MIG270SKCeqBFrgk7xjLvIhHq4PqaZge87wu-b8uFef7nC0ZUd-0XZ6t3Zl0HxL1IL_p5bjFBazLWYWyfztcsMTQTPqdu0Q/w640-h482/PXL_20220722_171445981.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then, we descended. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Roadies, a former tri-athlete, a rigid fork, hard tails and full squishes, lycra-clad to baggy-bearing-we all took to the single track like we were getting away with something. It's a classic Colorado descent, complete with roots, rocks, and loose switchbacks among the aspens. Add in some loose exposure, of which EOB had a personal introduction, losing his Garmin and some skin in the process, and it's definitely a helluva good time. The last mile or so winds through an overgrown meadow where site lines are for woosies so you just ride on hope and a prayer, all the while laughing aloud like a hooligan. When the Tillinghasts arrived, Matt had EOB's Garmin in his hand. All was well again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After high fives and chit chat, some wanted more miles, so they made their way to Strand Hill. The rest of us, on the other hand were ready to return to the parking lot. Jill had taken a tumble on the trail and again on the gravel road but she was in good spirits, none the less. At the parking lot, we hunkered down for some shade until our posse of riders arrived. Ryan peeled off the group, and the rest continued back to their condo. We spent the remainder of the afternoon gorging on pizza and coffee and then walking it off around downtown. Later at camp, we bathed in the river to clean off the remains of the day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There's just something magical about being out in the woods on bikes, with friends. It's unbridled joy. It's ridiculously fun. It's also healing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And the healing vibes continued later that evening gathered in a former train station, now a converted event space. There, we ate and Anne spoke about Mark and thanked us all for taking the time to share in Mark's memory and celebrate his life. Through stories told by his friends from when he was in his late teens and early twenties, we learned he was a perfectionist from the start, pushing his team and teammates to success on the bike. His confidence was off the charts and so the nickname MOD was born, obviously a sarcastic moniker for the "most modest" guy on the team. Our good friend Rafal took us back with him and of his time sharing in Mark's Masters World Cyclocross win, and how much it meant to part of that special time. EOB spoke to Mark's generosity when it came to sharing the sport with kids; his own daughter being a wonderful example of Mark's time and dedication. A world champion, later pitting for a teenager, spoke volumes of how much Mark cared. Anne finished the night by passing out small gauze bags with a sticker and patch memorializing Mark in the image of a buffalo, a creature Anne said, that he felt a connection to. The design was done by Jesse Peterson of Lincoln who has done may cycling logos in Nebraska. Also in the bag, was a little bit of Mark and we were invited to spread his ashes if we wanted to. It was a beautiful and sad moment all in one. A few were crying, many were stoic. Anne was a champ throughout it all, and was so graceful and so grateful, though there was no need to thank us. It was our turn, actually, to thank her for giving us this opportunity to share some wonderful memories and also to say goodbye to our friend.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18p1SyIv8Gm93UfjLvqsfBAtm7RC9DSO_AuA6BSzNrFQ8KaNeT9NZxpcovDGVW6mBjxcZuar4vedk3Fyda8xiDNuulreoXgHb8RHs55fGmiDrhtssphAO0TGySsqh_awEa0E42oq5JPhd1cm0cmzRqvLTt0U2upQAGz4eSlggg6STEFOtANoDNn4/s591/MOD%20sticker.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="531" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18p1SyIv8Gm93UfjLvqsfBAtm7RC9DSO_AuA6BSzNrFQ8KaNeT9NZxpcovDGVW6mBjxcZuar4vedk3Fyda8xiDNuulreoXgHb8RHs55fGmiDrhtssphAO0TGySsqh_awEa0E42oq5JPhd1cm0cmzRqvLTt0U2upQAGz4eSlggg6STEFOtANoDNn4/w576-h640/MOD%20sticker.JPG" width="576" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit PCakeAnnie</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The next day, Saturday, everyone who was there to celebrate Mark, met at the Judd Falls trailhead up Gothic Road, including those who didn't have bikes and would be hiking up to the falls while the riders rode up to Trail 401. We pulled in next to a guy sitting on his tailgate. When we exited the minivan, he looked at us like he knew us and Ryan greeted the "stranger" politely and the guy was like, "You don't recognize me, do you?" He was of course in a flat-brimmed cap and large sunglasses with a beard. I thought it was Dave Chase but to our surprise it was Mitch Kline, former Lincolnite who's been living in the front range for 15 years. It was a wonderful surprise and reunion. Mitch is well-known for his photography of live music events and just a cool guy to be around. As we all suited up for the ride, Anne came around and gave out hugs to everyone. Then, we gathered up for a group shot. All 30 of us somehow managed to get into the frame. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqSjZ0OkFPFMz1a9lAqR7Ha3zSYBNW2x4N5qAUsV6Gh-QryRpfAMIwkMOKpNwQrtIl0QmGUShf-3SrcC4lZmOmFiWHsu3kGDPurcXFBdI9HFx8oZNAYfG3WPY1k3jOIF8m4wF8Jh1YKf7xeuWKzNJEcROTXdqQP5vbeY73hvUzseSvmtCHEtJf1o/s4032/PXL_20220723_153209089.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqSjZ0OkFPFMz1a9lAqR7Ha3zSYBNW2x4N5qAUsV6Gh-QryRpfAMIwkMOKpNwQrtIl0QmGUShf-3SrcC4lZmOmFiWHsu3kGDPurcXFBdI9HFx8oZNAYfG3WPY1k3jOIF8m4wF8Jh1YKf7xeuWKzNJEcROTXdqQP5vbeY73hvUzseSvmtCHEtJf1o/w640-h480/PXL_20220723_153209089.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">401 is the classic of the CB classics. The trail starts at Schofield Pass but to get to it we had to ride about 5 miles up the service road. Once at the pass, someone stuck one of the memorial stickers on the famously stickered pass sign.</span></div></div><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VHxoRNFTqaEZYQxNBx6kj_GRHzlvMP-aCxl_xp0jfpTXEkTRrWl1o0ikPRWI0Ezi86wlQp7Y_ytA_QyHbRp9H2pW7CyCpR-yPPMlZCD6Y29WtDtnNCNajM5dwOAIfiDVfoAEi7YHkiMRk5W9mVwgSAjBz2oQ1fuzD9cNlu_EzMrc7DCLfgZ3ALM/s4080/PXL_20220723_161007508.jpg" style="font-family: verdana; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VHxoRNFTqaEZYQxNBx6kj_GRHzlvMP-aCxl_xp0jfpTXEkTRrWl1o0ikPRWI0Ezi86wlQp7Y_ytA_QyHbRp9H2pW7CyCpR-yPPMlZCD6Y29WtDtnNCNajM5dwOAIfiDVfoAEi7YHkiMRk5W9mVwgSAjBz2oQ1fuzD9cNlu_EzMrc7DCLfgZ3ALM/w640-h482/PXL_20220723_161007508.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53FJ3l-Dcy4lbtQ5UXJO4DyQtsHiPeFf2zhLVtTNbsdE2QF_XKWunqG8omKMmErVxDaRWWW3euODyMPlHHd_h9IHS5WBLZuA0dtHsv6TiwQ0V5lLShknfArq63jCUwBQDNhGoo1lBxT0R7LLPmf7GqnYAdSAE6O7CGksiij7IKXTXz6cU8f_EWDY/s4032/PXL_20220723_163205875.MP%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53FJ3l-Dcy4lbtQ5UXJO4DyQtsHiPeFf2zhLVtTNbsdE2QF_XKWunqG8omKMmErVxDaRWWW3euODyMPlHHd_h9IHS5WBLZuA0dtHsv6TiwQ0V5lLShknfArq63jCUwBQDNhGoo1lBxT0R7LLPmf7GqnYAdSAE6O7CGksiij7IKXTXz6cU8f_EWDY/w640-h480/PXL_20220723_163205875.MP%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLEeYpZVrNiOSzrcjOHuNDGT2_Vun4Hs_4xbpikgUsFBszsGe-gxkJuFBS6tHmhw_SfuvfNNTTVqbiFu3MtMaUzoBnaGLhSn0k00TnMgF6ECFFKJRgJRk9pt1rUPikzmT3fA5PUf6HTDmv9jitUFftWnl6OU4tqfchT7S7mVoLlQCrkBxrl12jqY/s573/PXL_20220723_163205875.MPcropped.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="550" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLEeYpZVrNiOSzrcjOHuNDGT2_Vun4Hs_4xbpikgUsFBszsGe-gxkJuFBS6tHmhw_SfuvfNNTTVqbiFu3MtMaUzoBnaGLhSn0k00TnMgF6ECFFKJRgJRk9pt1rUPikzmT3fA5PUf6HTDmv9jitUFftWnl6OU4tqfchT7S7mVoLlQCrkBxrl12jqY/w614-h640/PXL_20220723_163205875.MPcropped.jpg" width="614" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p>As all CB rides do, the trail started up a steep grade. It wasn't too technical, just steep so I rode from switchback to switchback, catching my breath at each corner. Abbey and I stayed together and we made sure to take in everything. I reminded her to always look back from where she came, in riding and in life, to get a good view on things.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIc_KcXU0_zMQ5kl4QVWDPKDr2u_8p5PGfm1NBbZIkCx6FMGU75E6po0AOkgA7qsgnC95N8yCFCGHaZAOEAUMSIYtOiJ4Tz99pPbbOqa8kAdCak36DvzO8aVUUduqxAP-nJwM2xkwrjWpuNHRl2HYF9uFcRSMhkeiU0grBSxhJPzMsG7ufShAL9d0/s4032/PXL_20220723_171251004.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIc_KcXU0_zMQ5kl4QVWDPKDr2u_8p5PGfm1NBbZIkCx6FMGU75E6po0AOkgA7qsgnC95N8yCFCGHaZAOEAUMSIYtOiJ4Tz99pPbbOqa8kAdCak36DvzO8aVUUduqxAP-nJwM2xkwrjWpuNHRl2HYF9uFcRSMhkeiU0grBSxhJPzMsG7ufShAL9d0/w640-h480/PXL_20220723_171251004.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfNOegpMVykIcnEDtXOwo8NaNRnaVC1jHggTU5hvAj2NgXjSVXVx6ghVvRHgbN1I2h0YJwySSgRzj81Upk1yW96Dzzd4MFr4dd1x9g0f1L3LJCM50CMLBgQKpCdnto6RpBYUFqimUsTpTNgku1T0GR8GcW-HyDPYPkm2qmoZipDe-fPIT5CzCoBU/s4032/PXL_20220723_171344918.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfNOegpMVykIcnEDtXOwo8NaNRnaVC1jHggTU5hvAj2NgXjSVXVx6ghVvRHgbN1I2h0YJwySSgRzj81Upk1yW96Dzzd4MFr4dd1x9g0f1L3LJCM50CMLBgQKpCdnto6RpBYUFqimUsTpTNgku1T0GR8GcW-HyDPYPkm2qmoZipDe-fPIT5CzCoBU/w640-h480/PXL_20220723_171344918.jpg" width="640" /></a></p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">At the top of the climb, again, friends gathered. There wasn't any formal ceremony but instead a knowing that we all were there with a task: to honor Mark in one of his most happy places. We were all sorta mingling about when Anne went off alone, to a patch of tall grass, her back to us, facing the western horizon. With arms spread, she looked like an angel, scattering Mark's dust to its sacred place. Their sacred place. Though I felt like I was intruding on her private moment, she was, in all actuality, helping us. For some this was a hard moment to face. It was in seeing her courage, of being so raw, so vulnerable among everyone and everything around her, that we all found our own. Ryan and I went to a spot, and said a few words before taking turns spreading Mark's ashes. After doing so we were sort of numb, unsure what to do or say next. We took some photos and then I think someone said it was time to saddle up and everyone slowly made their way to their bike. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLMXs3q1QLY4_9d3nXe-vcO3XvJX9czpIzut-KB2YQTU8yjlqNYIRK8wJuUsbEg1iKvVGhHHRP8kncHh1veIC3pVy-bheMA15vsnCUBHRHMqnsQoHpuwx112rkrN03bAGDaGy-zbgTN5YesWvypR_LlAivVrxrtg6J0PzCERn_gIuuYydNGs7wn4Q/s4032/PXL_20220723_174354516.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLMXs3q1QLY4_9d3nXe-vcO3XvJX9czpIzut-KB2YQTU8yjlqNYIRK8wJuUsbEg1iKvVGhHHRP8kncHh1veIC3pVy-bheMA15vsnCUBHRHMqnsQoHpuwx112rkrN03bAGDaGy-zbgTN5YesWvypR_LlAivVrxrtg6J0PzCERn_gIuuYydNGs7wn4Q/w640-h480/PXL_20220723_174354516.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There is a short section before the trail opens up to reveal the beauty that is Gothic Valley. Before dropping into this amazing ribbon, I always slow for a brief second, to breathe in the air, and to take a moment to give thanks to whatever entity allowed me to be there. This time, I said thanks to Mark. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXnjGA5XAJ_RIR4Ay5R_sBG7vM5ht9TLnLqiOfO81pb7JEpa2kxR8GlYV7tHYNpDtZ0P2PUXfejSBPaMhDOdp2o6BN32GzM8TR6ShmXj6vM7h8wsVr_uVMQLfrlSFuGzfxhNaKpV7M1Ban13gMn0hoeU5b0_IpWAG8DdfKTq9u1MKVuV8xATzgqM/s1440/401-trail-crested-butte2-1440x810.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1440" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXnjGA5XAJ_RIR4Ay5R_sBG7vM5ht9TLnLqiOfO81pb7JEpa2kxR8GlYV7tHYNpDtZ0P2PUXfejSBPaMhDOdp2o6BN32GzM8TR6ShmXj6vM7h8wsVr_uVMQLfrlSFuGzfxhNaKpV7M1Ban13gMn0hoeU5b0_IpWAG8DdfKTq9u1MKVuV8xATzgqM/w640-h360/401-trail-crested-butte2-1440x810.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit https://www.uncovercolorado.com/biking/401-trail/</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The ride was rippin' fun. The tall vegetation kept everyone honest. I did hear later that Nate Woodman blew a corner and landed in the flowers. He was riding around Ryan and the story went that Ryan had flatted and to pay tribute to a legendary story involving Nate and Mark, Ryan threw his glove and Nate retrieved it. But only once. ;) </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uCwQ2Z3eESTBCraJWRhtOXMPH3pYmoguarRi3CAEcJarOrWfBMmA0B55KkimCqeF0EAGBcS5xntq7SZx5acJs699ajcPxfDAFs2lOw1f3XfZ6Bee-JZK08q0A-hwVeILCvcXCN0RdaAukxQenF8l1wAnazKvzNk3aDukHRiKPGOudSFUIhQX_DM/s4032/PXL_20220723_180251881.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uCwQ2Z3eESTBCraJWRhtOXMPH3pYmoguarRi3CAEcJarOrWfBMmA0B55KkimCqeF0EAGBcS5xntq7SZx5acJs699ajcPxfDAFs2lOw1f3XfZ6Bee-JZK08q0A-hwVeILCvcXCN0RdaAukxQenF8l1wAnazKvzNk3aDukHRiKPGOudSFUIhQX_DM/w640-h480/PXL_20220723_180251881.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6U0AhuDc6v-P9GgkH5c1nsiKwGRzYh_ZSmBLa588iH5Cg_CZo5hZrC_X-VZ_zV2jphbq_e5nYB8zDY4V8IOk0vsl31E1ZNqBcWPcAyZ83aiPB34vg7AfHFJ1cm_ldxPjdCsni9w30nCbJ22SWtx-QZ9h0PkhsZydZgFqqqIPze79IU7dhFPRgEQ/s4032/PXL_20220723_180257643.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6U0AhuDc6v-P9GgkH5c1nsiKwGRzYh_ZSmBLa588iH5Cg_CZo5hZrC_X-VZ_zV2jphbq_e5nYB8zDY4V8IOk0vsl31E1ZNqBcWPcAyZ83aiPB34vg7AfHFJ1cm_ldxPjdCsni9w30nCbJ22SWtx-QZ9h0PkhsZydZgFqqqIPze79IU7dhFPRgEQ/w640-h480/PXL_20220723_180257643.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first segment of 401 ends at a point where one could bail and take the road back. None of us did that, of course, so we continued on. Not too far into the trail, the triathlete, Brady Murphy, blew his hub apart (not his fault, actually) and instead of bailing, he started running. And when the trail went down, he hopped on the bike and coasted. He did this for most of the way until the next bail out point. Amazing!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The final pain came as we climbed up to Judd Falls. Jen Bebe, of Relish fame, arrived and EOB wasn't far behind so Ryan classically Rick Rolled him as he exited the trail.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"> </span><iframe allow="fullscreen" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://giphy.com/embed/uhYPkjP03h9RvVdazZ/video" width="480"></iframe></p></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> We all joined in of course. A couple turns later we were back at the parking lot with the others, buzzing with all that had transpired.</span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next day we all dispersed. We said goodbye to the OBs and our new friend, Lindsay who camped with us. We went into town with the plan to get some fishing intel and I got a text from Jen and they wanted to know if we were riding. Welp, we were now, so we made our way back to the van to</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> meet up with Jen, Paul Chapman and crew. From there we drove to Strand Hill. It was another pay to play ride, but the pain on this trail is short-lived compared to the others and the descent is fast and much less technical. When a few wanted more, taking a bonus loop, Ryan, Jen and I took the classic route through rolling ranch lands with 360 views. It was the first time riding with Jen after many years of saying we needed to! And like Jen said, it was a great first ride! </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLkY0XwIq1tbhELlsA2gXk6ON9JQP1Y8oNwY0LvXNaVf85sRE28YyiwiBavRXAYvNV6U0VK7OuB8kzIEEMY3jf_2OrpF9fRp-QLVspKmvWsLOcc7sw-XLj1G6IT9zckxuZAnxA4p6y2SGzQSWWwxRiVN1EOZKqgK0GlrZ512LufQBBe7xicuh3Zo/s4032/PXL_20220724_170809210.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLkY0XwIq1tbhELlsA2gXk6ON9JQP1Y8oNwY0LvXNaVf85sRE28YyiwiBavRXAYvNV6U0VK7OuB8kzIEEMY3jf_2OrpF9fRp-QLVspKmvWsLOcc7sw-XLj1G6IT9zckxuZAnxA4p6y2SGzQSWWwxRiVN1EOZKqgK0GlrZ512LufQBBe7xicuh3Zo/w640-h480/PXL_20220724_170809210.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYuJMX_Q9cROKjURQMjBC1ZVSDizN83_QChOqA3U8BQH1Bzunh5pmHiuNa_tHG8DADdUd2uxlJlC5qQXXFaBk2VaWv_eU19-NxaxKxjUBeIpL5oXFMMyF7YSsJ9abwiwFjmcGMIVhWxzsQjMPrSpeR1DFMn94vA6rTPVkzXHDf2FKJ9sa_COHrgO8/s4032/PXL_20220724_170823884.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYuJMX_Q9cROKjURQMjBC1ZVSDizN83_QChOqA3U8BQH1Bzunh5pmHiuNa_tHG8DADdUd2uxlJlC5qQXXFaBk2VaWv_eU19-NxaxKxjUBeIpL5oXFMMyF7YSsJ9abwiwFjmcGMIVhWxzsQjMPrSpeR1DFMn94vA6rTPVkzXHDf2FKJ9sa_COHrgO8/w640-h480/PXL_20220724_170823884.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Kyhtwg5zCc2Wmg53_BocacINxPYgjZl4Wtv6CHn9TX6P6JctrZmPxt1HZ79lF5bwfLQIsFtt1Mcoz4Q_aqFYDxvkdwKQzZ38LAj6F2w6HWL7qEIbfHlT9I2Lj6as_Fvz8HILKWT9ONIL1VFxFbl16iD8RcolPlRF06E-RqaJmCxS-Ji8x6vLCbA/s4032/PXL_20220724_174014417.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Kyhtwg5zCc2Wmg53_BocacINxPYgjZl4Wtv6CHn9TX6P6JctrZmPxt1HZ79lF5bwfLQIsFtt1Mcoz4Q_aqFYDxvkdwKQzZ38LAj6F2w6HWL7qEIbfHlT9I2Lj6as_Fvz8HILKWT9ONIL1VFxFbl16iD8RcolPlRF06E-RqaJmCxS-Ji8x6vLCbA/w640-h480/PXL_20220724_174014417.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAs-4H4SZkybvbfrnchSPCA3u4NHtyYgbiHCEETN2y2j7khiAt9QMysTDVmYZ5NaDzSuj-rB_0RLtwUYfztB37ERTE5688GOJ8VoVEVdUeTWtZ6SkgO9v_h6lxDJxMdWqZylQvZPb_WU-N8pk-LvaVx7L0m832EY8KyV2gszZ-NhkewfkPUo84ixQ/s4032/PXL_20220724_174211904.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAs-4H4SZkybvbfrnchSPCA3u4NHtyYgbiHCEETN2y2j7khiAt9QMysTDVmYZ5NaDzSuj-rB_0RLtwUYfztB37ERTE5688GOJ8VoVEVdUeTWtZ6SkgO9v_h6lxDJxMdWqZylQvZPb_WU-N8pk-LvaVx7L0m832EY8KyV2gszZ-NhkewfkPUo84ixQ/w640-h480/PXL_20220724_174211904.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After the ride, we headed back to town, to hit up the fly shops for some intel. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">We bumped into Anne who was doing some shopping and just a-buzz with everything. She cracked for just a slight second, claiming fatigue. It's Ok Anne. You can cry now.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> :)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The fly shops told us about fishing up the Slate River so we headed up and beyond the area where Lupine trail starts. Like Gothic, this was a wide glacial valley, cut by the Slate River. The longer we drove, the more beautiful it was. Unfortunately the rain kept us from fishing so we just did some sight seeing, discovering an area we'd never been to before, that had some pretty cool remote camp grounds and areas to fish. After coming to a dead end round about we went back the way we came but then turned up Washington Gulch road and the start of 403 Trail. We raced it some years ago and I didn't recall any of the road we apparently road up, only a view of the valley. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xhkDqq7VVcAkA_am2TwPGSualwbHutvPfQvq5f4S4wr_yLkhkFCVPOp9lTfisLnrOriTZHDg5zXccz5AtoEtZpubbC4Jk_EK-8HQzmn9hGWNhNy1JW3o3a3fsU5d9oL8q1_sZOvwms5xKP_PWVRWM0exapc8FaafW6YgFamMf6-H2oCXiZlMy9o/s4032/PXL_20220724_204233634.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xhkDqq7VVcAkA_am2TwPGSualwbHutvPfQvq5f4S4wr_yLkhkFCVPOp9lTfisLnrOriTZHDg5zXccz5AtoEtZpubbC4Jk_EK-8HQzmn9hGWNhNy1JW3o3a3fsU5d9oL8q1_sZOvwms5xKP_PWVRWM0exapc8FaafW6YgFamMf6-H2oCXiZlMy9o/w640-h480/PXL_20220724_204233634.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICLrB2YgXlyz_JV5if6J2LRqO6BG7mQJ8u2Cz1DazG2W5vYM6UtJAEI8_zKZ7oV1VCLGyKD78CgodMyZClBcbpug9t6FbTUW1sCH4yIviqExspr-2CGXOk5AV9Kl45na2HPZuhjZr2finwaB3MuZ5QS0vIAD5m24JvhhkC2iKv3scJvtU5TYnaXM/s4080/PXL_20220724_225903080.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICLrB2YgXlyz_JV5if6J2LRqO6BG7mQJ8u2Cz1DazG2W5vYM6UtJAEI8_zKZ7oV1VCLGyKD78CgodMyZClBcbpug9t6FbTUW1sCH4yIviqExspr-2CGXOk5AV9Kl45na2HPZuhjZr2finwaB3MuZ5QS0vIAD5m24JvhhkC2iKv3scJvtU5TYnaXM/w640-h482/PXL_20220724_225903080.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAO7n8rnMRFCHoPI1bHFzzJwUOTOuHnx_IZg8_YlF9ms4uPug-GUayv23EbZUInSKh8BkN9_K81-56SQ41JbIB7BoOjRVAkTGqV3geesDdJ70AMIpdD2tDaFvHfJvrgmRB6JcxrsdSyMIfqzalKujRC6GOzK4G-wS6W-GYB7VK0NJ8knAA8RWb9bU/s4080/PXL_20220724_225955280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAO7n8rnMRFCHoPI1bHFzzJwUOTOuHnx_IZg8_YlF9ms4uPug-GUayv23EbZUInSKh8BkN9_K81-56SQ41JbIB7BoOjRVAkTGqV3geesDdJ70AMIpdD2tDaFvHfJvrgmRB6JcxrsdSyMIfqzalKujRC6GOzK4G-wS6W-GYB7VK0NJ8knAA8RWb9bU/w640-h482/PXL_20220724_225955280.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Seeing that the rain wasn't going to give us any more play time, we headed back to camp. It was less full and the rain had stopped. We went for a short hike up Cement Trail giving us an excellent view of the campsite. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBA_JlqzqvKu8tm2flODqxXhansfovqTQZvxbAg_FKJfrKt2FnOeGm6N90mcyhwRe-FA4sFL4ixF6ULbAe_Enegv8Lk-Y-1oZm0Te_WdDG08l8PrJm6gRTkJGTddUlKPgcCWkDcYxpU-d8X-MEaylF-QsgZv2qNzJmoWOtTndRQP2evhp__-VARtc/s3280/PXL_20220725_013937298.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBA_JlqzqvKu8tm2flODqxXhansfovqTQZvxbAg_FKJfrKt2FnOeGm6N90mcyhwRe-FA4sFL4ixF6ULbAe_Enegv8Lk-Y-1oZm0Te_WdDG08l8PrJm6gRTkJGTddUlKPgcCWkDcYxpU-d8X-MEaylF-QsgZv2qNzJmoWOtTndRQP2evhp__-VARtc/w480-h640/PXL_20220725_013937298.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamHF2VGVcnB6hGy7mGaduFJGZa1kTscQKGBpy5KK6lPmNBJGTHAqGdB2woi5t7AxdSc5TKFYMT5eJeWF9WWStjVaSu5SSHos5ykI7GusFdgUOsAbLHwVBcFaQXCEYJDwQ4UQz8allyCzgTnEwCH-oE3rtsE4xv5PoQrUw7hA-4RoapZqwa-rLAHc/s4080/PXL_20220725_014228934.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamHF2VGVcnB6hGy7mGaduFJGZa1kTscQKGBpy5KK6lPmNBJGTHAqGdB2woi5t7AxdSc5TKFYMT5eJeWF9WWStjVaSu5SSHos5ykI7GusFdgUOsAbLHwVBcFaQXCEYJDwQ4UQz8allyCzgTnEwCH-oE3rtsE4xv5PoQrUw7hA-4RoapZqwa-rLAHc/w640-h482/PXL_20220725_014228934.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIT-rtMgLyuUuNMttEywkM6IRGI2Sh6mYqYUbCWCEuDrLFtLteZqLzJzgz_sLEEHJB3nFrcTgkRbCRI52TEqJ5IJMmxYR8t6JW7YLr-4oqKszvDDaRU3_pfDMETw36o582TVGU8hzlDt-DR8bUDB5qu21C_QDJj6sEE56WZhQVETrsOe3hNMPGfE/s4032/PXL_20220725_040214783.NIGHT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIT-rtMgLyuUuNMttEywkM6IRGI2Sh6mYqYUbCWCEuDrLFtLteZqLzJzgz_sLEEHJB3nFrcTgkRbCRI52TEqJ5IJMmxYR8t6JW7YLr-4oqKszvDDaRU3_pfDMETw36o582TVGU8hzlDt-DR8bUDB5qu21C_QDJj6sEE56WZhQVETrsOe3hNMPGfE/w640-h480/PXL_20220725_040214783.NIGHT.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>The next morning, our last in CB, was spent fishing the East River. The fly shop told us about the steep descent to get to it but we had no idea that it meant several hundred feet of elevation loss down what looked like a road caused by an avalanche. It had been recently graded and was kinda muddy from all the rain. It was tough finding the trailhead to begin with since it started in a construction zone. But once on it, it was obvious. At the bottom the river snaked back and forth at a gentle pace. Two other fisherman already had poles in the water so we knew we were in the right place. We waded in the water and cast for trout. Ryan got hits right away but my line never got a tug. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzsD9Syj_XnV0jwnW1Rp4dJZ5N8NCmFvOenJC3s9Z75lEXfio8Xgi1NxrseBIUdhAWstOFX2IgG2aoELmN13qmCO7QoBgzXt4UdGt1HbnZywaKhieFWNoU50sQTgmKqlYtZWXjJ_HGEKjgYYec_iyhN_d-m3ZjdMig6uuk-MaaqWLFuS78egL9YI/s4032/PXL_20220725_151228110.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzsD9Syj_XnV0jwnW1Rp4dJZ5N8NCmFvOenJC3s9Z75lEXfio8Xgi1NxrseBIUdhAWstOFX2IgG2aoELmN13qmCO7QoBgzXt4UdGt1HbnZywaKhieFWNoU50sQTgmKqlYtZWXjJ_HGEKjgYYec_iyhN_d-m3ZjdMig6uuk-MaaqWLFuS78egL9YI/w640-h480/PXL_20220725_151228110.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqis0MwM5ELiGI5ERGjYs3lHodLOmF5fzaQPWXvZDg5ZX65rtEWhjnlz-a4cy-JnWAHqXG0Xf-2rdODdc3ntysAmygRb7iahpwUt4wZkvumSDwKQZ5cf4pM1lqB5vc8521y4F4VEWGVNH-gBJrMmfpCk_q9c0p_qdX1EaODR39geMowN2sVsFHfkw/s4032/PXL_20220725_153856706.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqis0MwM5ELiGI5ERGjYs3lHodLOmF5fzaQPWXvZDg5ZX65rtEWhjnlz-a4cy-JnWAHqXG0Xf-2rdODdc3ntysAmygRb7iahpwUt4wZkvumSDwKQZ5cf4pM1lqB5vc8521y4F4VEWGVNH-gBJrMmfpCk_q9c0p_qdX1EaODR39geMowN2sVsFHfkw/w640-h480/PXL_20220725_153856706.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJkr-tk4fEeN4IddV9CeEP-8ZS-0deWPsunmpqPLg285pr3TjP5ZWSaNycq9Te4Q9li9RXlLn0fAf8t0xTNQ6oDTwXcAstk_p2CpEN1ZJ4QumhdwOwv0eyxxzyTpNltltBzLkzmlY9w5HmFMBI4EhzX8cmB89E48v31XAAUuYIQaU3ZWzit-YaQk/s4080/PXL_20220725_163421136.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJkr-tk4fEeN4IddV9CeEP-8ZS-0deWPsunmpqPLg285pr3TjP5ZWSaNycq9Te4Q9li9RXlLn0fAf8t0xTNQ6oDTwXcAstk_p2CpEN1ZJ4QumhdwOwv0eyxxzyTpNltltBzLkzmlY9w5HmFMBI4EhzX8cmB89E48v31XAAUuYIQaU3ZWzit-YaQk/w640-h482/PXL_20220725_163421136.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPgukOh3FGA8Jqup1yDFiX5tPuioBd17HRp3WIFcToH4Sqqukap6Rs_IQygBiavXAJPylPhiUjz6lnOgQ9SHNr5Itn9vdxD-J79F7RSJJIK0RqinHRIsp6NTdp7D2JutGiZLKkbaVf6yKJbTNBzS3fdNIcay57yinOOEz8aPTkdpnU8xNXWeRkRw/s4032/PXL_20220725_164211252.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPgukOh3FGA8Jqup1yDFiX5tPuioBd17HRp3WIFcToH4Sqqukap6Rs_IQygBiavXAJPylPhiUjz6lnOgQ9SHNr5Itn9vdxD-J79F7RSJJIK0RqinHRIsp6NTdp7D2JutGiZLKkbaVf6yKJbTNBzS3fdNIcay57yinOOEz8aPTkdpnU8xNXWeRkRw/w640-h480/PXL_20220725_164211252.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenCx2NiA8gWtUT4IcFO3QUd4-rwaA03ck_vPqQit3zyfzyF9Ih6nT9VMnFvo6gifknTv8NpIkXiYaSOgLesznvhBWRxln0rQPiFAyxcxq_4DXjZDjQkD-eZ3OII983OP9v90Lv-fsqDQQFCDPduu0i1AhbakS6jXrvuG5fXn8VNkU7yCuQgXUcmc/s4080/PXL_20220725_165118154.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenCx2NiA8gWtUT4IcFO3QUd4-rwaA03ck_vPqQit3zyfzyF9Ih6nT9VMnFvo6gifknTv8NpIkXiYaSOgLesznvhBWRxln0rQPiFAyxcxq_4DXjZDjQkD-eZ3OII983OP9v90Lv-fsqDQQFCDPduu0i1AhbakS6jXrvuG5fXn8VNkU7yCuQgXUcmc/w640-h482/PXL_20220725_165118154.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p>By early afternoon, it was time to return to the real world. I had to be on a zoom call. The hike up the road wasn't as bad as I was dreading, having dried a bit, thus allowing our boots a bit more purchase with each step. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkfPAoGqtC2bxTdW518BXWgcJjokPNAo2Kv0MHUYwOLop0hWyuyGNAkx87yAwu32eaIt9nSBVnDWmwcFVpeANyj11_HYUrlh6xNxj3RDVXYnu-MRcM8LwEh6QJSZC88LqDJZPfBKLZi_xVRXApR5GWdeLDY_WwSuTQ5qdIKn2J5d7LAeNPUfXHA2w/s4032/PXL_20220725_175744949.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkfPAoGqtC2bxTdW518BXWgcJjokPNAo2Kv0MHUYwOLop0hWyuyGNAkx87yAwu32eaIt9nSBVnDWmwcFVpeANyj11_HYUrlh6xNxj3RDVXYnu-MRcM8LwEh6QJSZC88LqDJZPfBKLZi_xVRXApR5GWdeLDY_WwSuTQ5qdIKn2J5d7LAeNPUfXHA2w/w480-h640/PXL_20220725_175744949.MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep_7w0zw3hanVAsoPfDC90Z5iKPapa8n7jnU2cL23HK_zZu2YmmNHduwgvogw9D__z4MChMYq0EVpJ1CcJYprmjoeRFPCOOjlwk8_iT9LZCIY4KPvbo6YWs2rwfirufMN6YMkg4LcX30prSpLksPHmuLz4EM0bm7wBOLYXglgtw90fweMwVgn2Ek/s4080/PXL_20220725_180347576.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep_7w0zw3hanVAsoPfDC90Z5iKPapa8n7jnU2cL23HK_zZu2YmmNHduwgvogw9D__z4MChMYq0EVpJ1CcJYprmjoeRFPCOOjlwk8_iT9LZCIY4KPvbo6YWs2rwfirufMN6YMkg4LcX30prSpLksPHmuLz4EM0bm7wBOLYXglgtw90fweMwVgn2Ek/w482-h640/PXL_20220725_180347576.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><p>Though the hike was long, it gave us time to contemplate the last few days playing bikes with people we love and some we haven't seen in a very long time, all connected to a certain person and the outdoors. To be able to play it back, like watching the good parts of a highlight reel, was salve to our souls. For those closest to Mark, we forced our worlds to stop so we could focus the days remembering him and all he was. For Anne, new memories were made, and those new stories will forever include him, as it should be.</p></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On July 23, 2022, thirty old and new friends, from all across the US, came together, in a magical place and descended a mountain, on bikes, to honor their friend, teammate and husband. Tears and heartache were replaced by joyous shouts of revelry. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Loud enough so even Heaven could hear.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhnkm3xFHxwLjIS7iWSzwDi7wz3wGk6EjlLCb3l0qyF5-LlFd_XOUAlfDrujmMi-YkIOySokSFvmJJ7XoKFyEEc9mfXUN43igmOx8gfzmeSNaHQSv5iqr6wPue_GLT6TmIAc1-f7wzDn8gLXxO_5iuvbTGkKr-ICa-BF7in11BOMmQyFa6rJ__BU/s4032/PXL_20220722_171306915.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhnkm3xFHxwLjIS7iWSzwDi7wz3wGk6EjlLCb3l0qyF5-LlFd_XOUAlfDrujmMi-YkIOySokSFvmJJ7XoKFyEEc9mfXUN43igmOx8gfzmeSNaHQSv5iqr6wPue_GLT6TmIAc1-f7wzDn8gLXxO_5iuvbTGkKr-ICa-BF7in11BOMmQyFa6rJ__BU/w640-h480/PXL_20220722_171306915.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark Savery 1971-2021</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-84156345446391524642022-07-28T12:42:00.003-06:002022-08-01T11:18:57.197-06:00The Great Wide Open 2022 - Bikes & The Black Keys<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCc6Tn2cWfvEdAK060AcOSWo2y-gXKLKCi5l-cuMbUmSC9TV-FfMBRoy2soOD8mKBHp5Ig0itbZb58ziS9fzoaA9JF5csFmezysQeclN7TKSzzejRPIGhn9NW0LSdsTCyAZWQTrc6-YvqPGcZ3PliBoexoZQPYgaqTzEp3suY6W33mEGTieoei40w/s4080/PXL_20220714_003711568.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCc6Tn2cWfvEdAK060AcOSWo2y-gXKLKCi5l-cuMbUmSC9TV-FfMBRoy2soOD8mKBHp5Ig0itbZb58ziS9fzoaA9JF5csFmezysQeclN7TKSzzejRPIGhn9NW0LSdsTCyAZWQTrc6-YvqPGcZ3PliBoexoZQPYgaqTzEp3suY6W33mEGTieoei40w/w640-h375/PXL_20220714_003711568.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span><div style="font-family: "Public Sans";"><span><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">In early 2020, we texted our friends, the Eybergs, about seeing the Black Keys at Red Rocks. Being one of our favorite bands from their early days to now, we knew they'd jump at the chance to come with us. But as the world shuttered and concerts were cancelled, it wasn't until we were actually on our GWO Tour 2020 that we received the final update: the show would not go on.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Fast forward to 2022 and this time we get the text from our friends in Dillon: "Wanna go see the Black Keys at Red Rocks" in July? Hell to the yes! I think they had already asked and heard from the Eybergs who were also a Hell Yeah. A few panic hours of Lauren and April online, refreshing the ticket window, and the plan was set. The Drop Out Boogie Tour was to be our first stop on the 2022 GWO Tour.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>But first home. We stayed at Ryan's parents' place. As I described in the previous post, mom had fallen and broken her hip. Our short stay home was full of visits to the hospital and then long days at the rehab facility. In between were some memorable moments with friends who had thrown a little welcome home gathering and boy did we need all the hugs. We</span> had a good ol' fashioned 4th in the driveway of Ryan's parents, complete with decades old black cats and bottle rockets (no fingers were blown off). We visited the new downtown mall, which was full of people despite the crushing heat. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTF7HsovGVD_5GBmBWeCNz65XLG21PW_g0EWNtyBmvuwewfWp14SnmfPw8UoE2rIxV55Rceg7cga6L_fL0gDtQRN4yAJfntSPz9A9tF6qNitI1CDzesWcdpQPmP0mZLIUc6e67VpDG0DxQNYCIk403x1UsuNTRVpDe2b19DbRQH-BJApodLuPvDs/s2048/PXL_20220705_032142788_exported_585_1657127698018.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTF7HsovGVD_5GBmBWeCNz65XLG21PW_g0EWNtyBmvuwewfWp14SnmfPw8UoE2rIxV55Rceg7cga6L_fL0gDtQRN4yAJfntSPz9A9tF6qNitI1CDzesWcdpQPmP0mZLIUc6e67VpDG0DxQNYCIk403x1UsuNTRVpDe2b19DbRQH-BJApodLuPvDs/w640-h480/PXL_20220705_032142788_exported_585_1657127698018.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEaIjyWWJutFBGNWMTiTHeZ5b_-dqPIsxMhH1zs-XKwbc1F1QQ1ciICXLco7oUjdsC68maE_od3YvD-pw78-_u9jnmzGWUoQvpbCfYMOOV5pJ5uG4Pgov9WmdAq8ia41tF7Gg4PXoID02yYnEXGnWMkLUCHUTYVMAyJh4Ma_CHyvmlZmGCaR-P92E/s3280/PXL_20220704_204503278.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEaIjyWWJutFBGNWMTiTHeZ5b_-dqPIsxMhH1zs-XKwbc1F1QQ1ciICXLco7oUjdsC68maE_od3YvD-pw78-_u9jnmzGWUoQvpbCfYMOOV5pJ5uG4Pgov9WmdAq8ia41tF7Gg4PXoID02yYnEXGnWMkLUCHUTYVMAyJh4Ma_CHyvmlZmGCaR-P92E/w480-h640/PXL_20220704_204503278.jpg" width="480" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BCx1li6VaZ17Qq0lU7KOjIoRIX7JpWC9_7vGr2UnyeTlXwAnPyyjVzdHsStJVs6cRfdbmbnCR0AkQKKR_aRdt49FnA8n3U_dHf4Q7IyBjAWlgBozdrwV3I2sNcUmRbRvOqr6D4paS_35y0aAXtvU-vOGEwA_eWysxoDVtq1LMiPgTh-MA8Fp-iY/s4000/image.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BCx1li6VaZ17Qq0lU7KOjIoRIX7JpWC9_7vGr2UnyeTlXwAnPyyjVzdHsStJVs6cRfdbmbnCR0AkQKKR_aRdt49FnA8n3U_dHf4Q7IyBjAWlgBozdrwV3I2sNcUmRbRvOqr6D4paS_35y0aAXtvU-vOGEwA_eWysxoDVtq1LMiPgTh-MA8Fp-iY/w640-h480/image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">When it was time to leave, it was tough. I felt mom was in good and capable hands but she never left my thoughts. Though I tried to have fun, knowing she wasn't, really tugged at my heart. I checked in almost every day to cheer her on and stay in touch with her nurses. My brother Jim and her husband were doing the heavy lifting and I'd eventually return to give them some relief. In between that time, I took to the mountains for some salve.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Prior to the Eybergs arriving in Colorado, we stayed a few days up the hill from Morrison, which is at the entrance of the Red Rocks venue. The little town had a handful of restaurants that we sampled and Bear Creek flowed fast along the town's banks. We spent a few days working in a condo and rode the local Bear Creek trail system after work. Aside from one ride in Omaha before we arrived, these were the first with some elevation and my tender lungs let me know it! The trails were dry and loose, a mix of tech and easy peasy pedaling. An out & back trail, we never completed the whole thing, opting instead to ease our way into riding after being off the bike for so long. There were going to be plenty of long slogs to come. No need to rush it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC29vctWY_0EOy77tiiDL25oDie_lCkSRx61IBOwt8wu0rFkzWj_-WTlrjw0Wl3TxX83fA6fWt7x0BDjuZKsY_0EEmfAsd6TQBjzpAyzX63RfFJOxG1QCSYfxgRNgvWZbFFD90j-d8L0P7SH61oK9V6YWa_WQo-zoG0oRVk5lIc2PNnxuhalvf5-o/s4080/PXL_20220712_003133786.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC29vctWY_0EOy77tiiDL25oDie_lCkSRx61IBOwt8wu0rFkzWj_-WTlrjw0Wl3TxX83fA6fWt7x0BDjuZKsY_0EEmfAsd6TQBjzpAyzX63RfFJOxG1QCSYfxgRNgvWZbFFD90j-d8L0P7SH61oK9V6YWa_WQo-zoG0oRVk5lIc2PNnxuhalvf5-o/w482-h640/PXL_20220712_003133786.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNenNlQ9lP8W7RcSdfIlDq913cpVxtGKnj2oFuCJUG6MpFpA4kBmAD6u5LuZJcXv7w504Y5o_sAHrqeGCq1O8qOu2RdyoGF_JSHivClo1RuJTivTVgYurBNtlk1SHdrigIOvdCIDZFAvvIliyBt40vLBCy1lJ0VuitoFqODVspYJaSovDprU4qCFg/s4080/PXL_20220712_022458044.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNenNlQ9lP8W7RcSdfIlDq913cpVxtGKnj2oFuCJUG6MpFpA4kBmAD6u5LuZJcXv7w504Y5o_sAHrqeGCq1O8qOu2RdyoGF_JSHivClo1RuJTivTVgYurBNtlk1SHdrigIOvdCIDZFAvvIliyBt40vLBCy1lJ0VuitoFqODVspYJaSovDprU4qCFg/w482-h640/PXL_20220712_022458044.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXKeZiAzcer3aU6Dttor7kzv0woEA2GRboSFt7XMrFIVxY7-fgp-YyGR2hF8JAHCz5GkO5xSX40FN0tKrVwifYfCm8zoqcevKcOptYv_mgd5obm7mXj1hTqjgxBWURlI4oyWpPK2uJ-9WUkbmibaBmdp7fds6Yo-eQFdLX92e8QZnrENAK33-_Vok/s4032/PXL_20220711_225858392.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXKeZiAzcer3aU6Dttor7kzv0woEA2GRboSFt7XMrFIVxY7-fgp-YyGR2hF8JAHCz5GkO5xSX40FN0tKrVwifYfCm8zoqcevKcOptYv_mgd5obm7mXj1hTqjgxBWURlI4oyWpPK2uJ-9WUkbmibaBmdp7fds6Yo-eQFdLX92e8QZnrENAK33-_Vok/w640-h480/PXL_20220711_225858392.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNxNzLFrfEYmWURfgKM6VBD7y1VuilpY5K9bhSvmC1Di5oYJ13eFBikVMfPP8HP1rubcwP6poAWug2M8hY9WdS6W8dotujQvUZI4b1AB3_gr9xBtLEGfmi05u4LomRhdPVPTtrlmUMh4wsQW_eaHyH2Q3nZxt-s1y1CL_ZtDSfwvjwfT7E-xBjl8/s4032/PXL_20220711_021017622.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNxNzLFrfEYmWURfgKM6VBD7y1VuilpY5K9bhSvmC1Di5oYJ13eFBikVMfPP8HP1rubcwP6poAWug2M8hY9WdS6W8dotujQvUZI4b1AB3_gr9xBtLEGfmi05u4LomRhdPVPTtrlmUMh4wsQW_eaHyH2Q3nZxt-s1y1CL_ZtDSfwvjwfT7E-xBjl8/w480-h640/PXL_20220711_021017622.MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">On the evening of the second day, after another ride around Bear Creek, we drove up to Evergreen to see what there was to see. We ate at a nice little outdoor eatery and then took a stroll. I was surprised. It definitely had that summer mountain lake community vibe and I was digging it.</span></div><div style="font-family: Cabin;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Cabin; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih982ch9APXLjA7_tPIHC_rri8puMyDJ4x7tLdQn6pQwGEOOO3OxNngmTy_dCXS2XrxUDgNpW9Sb_UCJm6QNLeKOkiQOO2igcvPmOa7e99lz3_pchNjuAv8w3AnXiOWB9OeTSc3TOuRJiBSRiL7BKVkP1FwI26kvs8iQJk5JnBEtVdTA-oOl1srhI/s4080/PXL_20220713_022819883.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih982ch9APXLjA7_tPIHC_rri8puMyDJ4x7tLdQn6pQwGEOOO3OxNngmTy_dCXS2XrxUDgNpW9Sb_UCJm6QNLeKOkiQOO2igcvPmOa7e99lz3_pchNjuAv8w3AnXiOWB9OeTSc3TOuRJiBSRiL7BKVkP1FwI26kvs8iQJk5JnBEtVdTA-oOl1srhI/w482-h640/PXL_20220713_022819883.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Cabin; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaZcv_wTslMiQZ45fz62KwstbNM8R1GbpBy74xcB3gMVz5TQT3ir7fmqML4SLAhZTtETEcAft9Rp4J9dFOz3xcz9fUbS3g3AhzEmrOoz_Vb3GXjSoVBjF5fuMsC1vg83KCdeCaknVWhGok3Ru273GmtrAsNxZWn6mE2-yvuppyp4PTjAhJQVYeoY/s4080/PXL_20220713_022934331.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaZcv_wTslMiQZ45fz62KwstbNM8R1GbpBy74xcB3gMVz5TQT3ir7fmqML4SLAhZTtETEcAft9Rp4J9dFOz3xcz9fUbS3g3AhzEmrOoz_Vb3GXjSoVBjF5fuMsC1vg83KCdeCaknVWhGok3Ru273GmtrAsNxZWn6mE2-yvuppyp4PTjAhJQVYeoY/w482-h640/PXL_20220713_022934331.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Cabin; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN4U3ND7obDS6i8aJKcnYRHPAh-nqrELuIHCf9rP9PjqJ_5qGL4yIc-qg-jpgynMIGc1SVz_3eooRGgwtzTXvI5HVx90RA4GOWJEjsI9XYVPpNo53bwKRfqF0gP9By3npgCH0geqk1hgnAuZp0uylkNCXTXZclhyVU_YO3o05JP6lTSvV-FtoVqIY/s4080/PXL_20220713_023358224.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN4U3ND7obDS6i8aJKcnYRHPAh-nqrELuIHCf9rP9PjqJ_5qGL4yIc-qg-jpgynMIGc1SVz_3eooRGgwtzTXvI5HVx90RA4GOWJEjsI9XYVPpNo53bwKRfqF0gP9By3npgCH0geqk1hgnAuZp0uylkNCXTXZclhyVU_YO3o05JP6lTSvV-FtoVqIY/w482-h640/PXL_20220713_023358224.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">By Wednesday of that week, it was time to check out of the condo and check into camp with the Eybergs, not to far outside of Morrison. Sort of urban camping, with a Home Depot on the distant horizon. But it was close to the music venue and we'd be getting back late. After a comical errand of meeting a mobile locksmith to remove the locked padlock from the bike cable for which we didn't bring they key, then getting groceries and a big lunch, we finally met up with April & Todd. From camp we drove to Red Rocks and parked on the road until Andy & Lauren arrived to pre-game.</span></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaiYTixbs6lggkB9jyaEaaYIssvC4dm73WCimsUVbyyFvHOdZ_e1Q5cd3nt6jfRl3xEIDwjA5quwtmCYRUCmdEJ7a6goX34vRhkiwIYOBzGQn6oWXc_1ySh0hVRoHM5IEFyRSveBimnhFB2nQ9KvFLNks6b5inuE4TNeT3DhnDNX7XOpUglRBksvI/s3280/PXL_20220714_000215545.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaiYTixbs6lggkB9jyaEaaYIssvC4dm73WCimsUVbyyFvHOdZ_e1Q5cd3nt6jfRl3xEIDwjA5quwtmCYRUCmdEJ7a6goX34vRhkiwIYOBzGQn6oWXc_1ySh0hVRoHM5IEFyRSveBimnhFB2nQ9KvFLNks6b5inuE4TNeT3DhnDNX7XOpUglRBksvI/w480-h640/PXL_20220714_000215545.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><span><div style="font-family: Cabin;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The venue was everything I'd imagined; a sloping amphitheater with slabbed cliffs on either side. A zillion stairs took us to the GA section and we sat on a long bench, almost dead center. Better access to the bathroom and the libations up top, I was told. The opening band was pretty good, their wardrobe looking like they robbed a Goodwill prior to. Band of Horses played next and sounded great as well. But the true fun began when Dan Aurbach and Patrick Carney took the stage, with their band, blasting that classic bluesy rock sound. They ripped through all the classics, with barely a break, and added the newest release, Wild Child, to the playlist, even inviting Nathaniel Ratliff out for a tribute song. Towards the end of the set, the full moon gave us an encore as it rose up through low clouds and hung like it was just another one of the crowd, enjoying the show. With a light breeze and views towards Denver and beyond, it was an escape I fully enjoyed.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Fd1GxFUGy8119ztIBjI97tAtzXUcTagP2qZMo_Lo-io4thsDhWbK776iurIPKBTCLSjbBJTgIUWemTC9sPIuW9pY0Z5aOGq97kkmfH0Lob54ARfqCzudm3Icw_d6WjjSnoB5BUWgB6dXkjuyIy4fB_A-hdMpihC33SOepoGKz_6nr1S_HoK5QI0/s4080/PXL_20220714_002544684.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Fd1GxFUGy8119ztIBjI97tAtzXUcTagP2qZMo_Lo-io4thsDhWbK776iurIPKBTCLSjbBJTgIUWemTC9sPIuW9pY0Z5aOGq97kkmfH0Lob54ARfqCzudm3Icw_d6WjjSnoB5BUWgB6dXkjuyIy4fB_A-hdMpihC33SOepoGKz_6nr1S_HoK5QI0/w482-h640/PXL_20220714_002544684.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjvwy9UB2twft2mM2nGa1jXFBHhzl2lciPkwrilW4xULAMKD993jLJOrpvWwDY781-cxzau5NkyH7K-JlEDoWWEwiqgFM0kecprHvbakxIUzeN6yHGrIDYyMN9oK-TFoOXXxLhPlTKIBdfxVE2rWi8n7mBouhoCCZZaXFdFDpybx7BSFTHAAB43nQ/s4032/IMG_6673.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjvwy9UB2twft2mM2nGa1jXFBHhzl2lciPkwrilW4xULAMKD993jLJOrpvWwDY781-cxzau5NkyH7K-JlEDoWWEwiqgFM0kecprHvbakxIUzeN6yHGrIDYyMN9oK-TFoOXXxLhPlTKIBdfxVE2rWi8n7mBouhoCCZZaXFdFDpybx7BSFTHAAB43nQ/w640-h480/IMG_6673.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiak7Laway2VKSxdI81XJXXt-lMWeAB_EwUy6EB5xy3905Nzx6M7EFKjRq_PTiSv1DDzsS4tNa0HSuNLArUWPcHGq2YRSnaubL0NPpTkAD4EzrHokv5lKx4poo0FTWJA91RvDtHSYkEVEiqyn_SIChyDdhmENfUy6HUnn56bF_-ZehMJ6ebFD33TK0/s1440/11EAAFB2-1C0B-4D59-9AC8-D2CA20C6C0D5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1039" data-original-width="1440" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiak7Laway2VKSxdI81XJXXt-lMWeAB_EwUy6EB5xy3905Nzx6M7EFKjRq_PTiSv1DDzsS4tNa0HSuNLArUWPcHGq2YRSnaubL0NPpTkAD4EzrHokv5lKx4poo0FTWJA91RvDtHSYkEVEiqyn_SIChyDdhmENfUy6HUnn56bF_-ZehMJ6ebFD33TK0/w640-h462/11EAAFB2-1C0B-4D59-9AC8-D2CA20C6C0D5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh93lYcSUTg5P4Dgudwze60VL3IwO9n8qVr-xqkF1vos5u97kFuyK9ARCoXyHGfaQzuRpcluRfpzGuAxhKV5eowxIpy-DJZuosU-m9ZdxME4FGyhulbbh6qT99QwX4YmBgaWhTETBfdc7fqb-hIjstqyVSfmwoXKkoMVE9VSX9Mb2FkOp5XKz5pgOs/s4032/IMG_0187.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh93lYcSUTg5P4Dgudwze60VL3IwO9n8qVr-xqkF1vos5u97kFuyK9ARCoXyHGfaQzuRpcluRfpzGuAxhKV5eowxIpy-DJZuosU-m9ZdxME4FGyhulbbh6qT99QwX4YmBgaWhTETBfdc7fqb-hIjstqyVSfmwoXKkoMVE9VSX9Mb2FkOp5XKz5pgOs/w640-h480/IMG_0187.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next day we headed for the high country. I had booked a place that had two sites next to each other and were only 1.5 hours drive. Though they were next to the South Platte River, the campsite itself was but just a small circle drive with hardly a lick of shade. I think it was mainly used by folks coming to fish who would be on the water all day and not frying like an egg on land. We arrived early and had to wait for the previous campers to clear out. Once we set up camp, and stuffed our faces, we headed for the first ride of the weekend in Buffalo Creek. We'd been there once before and knew it to be full of amazing views and interesting terrain amongst large boulders and pine. The trail head is a memorial to a fallen rider and has everything a mountain biker needs from a bathroom, to drinks and snacks, to a tool station. The ride was toasty by mid afternoon but we didn't care. We were in the mountains riding bikes with friends. Though we were out of cell signal most of the time, I did get a signal at the end of a driveway off the highway. I was able to make calls home to check on mom. It was rough back home and I was going to have to make a decision to go back.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmDv2TJYfoo03eSMeetXsqUOO0AdkMFKaM526K4_SHd621uraY5kNCZTh_33wi58cRNJtJZsuwwhbKqQO81eS6ADzygIA0PNuptYxDFhKuGDA3Gmh-gGyYsFar94tmhiblNmVmzG3TOimvVKKbhZy99H6vUkJyQMPDZrweByIXNpC_Q_H3jMj0-4/s4032/IMG_6700.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmDv2TJYfoo03eSMeetXsqUOO0AdkMFKaM526K4_SHd621uraY5kNCZTh_33wi58cRNJtJZsuwwhbKqQO81eS6ADzygIA0PNuptYxDFhKuGDA3Gmh-gGyYsFar94tmhiblNmVmzG3TOimvVKKbhZy99H6vUkJyQMPDZrweByIXNpC_Q_H3jMj0-4/w640-h480/IMG_6700.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_phhPpNs7r8Aqw10mrd9sJkcfx10obpTcv51XMwJ1bb1igq91j0xAForpBQE16x3KGlCvoAkE7tOfPCuZZRqZdURUyEV9FVMdDCRy18kol2igUH733T_rJO20CCCStGC8lyxZkjnHU9Mo6Nnq09nK3OOCwbotVBpwCn4xlEEgvLdkAhon60qqkU/s3280/original_3c6634b0-21a4-4f75-87e9-24292693bab8_PXL_20220714_210058004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_phhPpNs7r8Aqw10mrd9sJkcfx10obpTcv51XMwJ1bb1igq91j0xAForpBQE16x3KGlCvoAkE7tOfPCuZZRqZdURUyEV9FVMdDCRy18kol2igUH733T_rJO20CCCStGC8lyxZkjnHU9Mo6Nnq09nK3OOCwbotVBpwCn4xlEEgvLdkAhon60qqkU/w480-h640/original_3c6634b0-21a4-4f75-87e9-24292693bab8_PXL_20220714_210058004.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFbtIu-2wNbHe2bgX2GQJAZLZ0ZmZqJlOECnoKMYiIvEw9OkBFml4OQx4ieVGCwnmjO6UnQs41wM-2lXPAU2BlX-5LQc0FSe6iE3CN8izfOxkTKoX6hYEPY_6zjF08Vy9zBXV74PO1O4DZthL0l9JKK5xANZHcsnVFmzVtAZ_RK0RadOKVJgJ2x2g/s4080/PXL_20220714_205414961_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFbtIu-2wNbHe2bgX2GQJAZLZ0ZmZqJlOECnoKMYiIvEw9OkBFml4OQx4ieVGCwnmjO6UnQs41wM-2lXPAU2BlX-5LQc0FSe6iE3CN8izfOxkTKoX6hYEPY_6zjF08Vy9zBXV74PO1O4DZthL0l9JKK5xANZHcsnVFmzVtAZ_RK0RadOKVJgJ2x2g/w482-h640/PXL_20220714_205414961_2.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3jj-kur2go5BPIFjNw8PFGSKFYd94_YS3XbeJSrPgmt1KoRvH-BvKhgdKZMVanTxDq9U0Jc104vliMqZXZsPMAWxVr_QDyOcDd1PEY9aVWVkC-NDICOUb9icR5jq2A-qJNilYrP9AkquI-46g7CP1d3HxgPepZ3wmGoY6gnarBI6bMZoWZVU5Y-g/s3470/original_80dbce54-9698-43e7-be16-30c5921d6d1c_PXL_20220714_210205194.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3470" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3jj-kur2go5BPIFjNw8PFGSKFYd94_YS3XbeJSrPgmt1KoRvH-BvKhgdKZMVanTxDq9U0Jc104vliMqZXZsPMAWxVr_QDyOcDd1PEY9aVWVkC-NDICOUb9icR5jq2A-qJNilYrP9AkquI-46g7CP1d3HxgPepZ3wmGoY6gnarBI6bMZoWZVU5Y-g/w566-h640/original_80dbce54-9698-43e7-be16-30c5921d6d1c_PXL_20220714_210205194.jpg" width="566" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW98ReP0JOtpqCk2yqp1GmawKiHEeOm4nYE6JTYFsfNOtHP3q6S0JhWWcYjKUsKGWoJLo6sn4wTCqZnaEPkRuqwDcChtqyafeoW_7TzjL1AD0yjK9Z0rmJEnmgpBDA5WudXSZsgub_bFWD22EkWsGntZFhkRVmBlsMy-hfiukiMmumwdyG4RIPMGU/s4080/original_a462e7b2-4237-454b-9e0a-4e2f62e8329b_PXL_20220715_014046511.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW98ReP0JOtpqCk2yqp1GmawKiHEeOm4nYE6JTYFsfNOtHP3q6S0JhWWcYjKUsKGWoJLo6sn4wTCqZnaEPkRuqwDcChtqyafeoW_7TzjL1AD0yjK9Z0rmJEnmgpBDA5WudXSZsgub_bFWD22EkWsGntZFhkRVmBlsMy-hfiukiMmumwdyG4RIPMGU/w482-h640/original_a462e7b2-4237-454b-9e0a-4e2f62e8329b_PXL_20220715_014046511.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">But before I had to make that decision, we had some fun to partake in. The weather stormed each afternoon, cooling the air down. In between Ryan fished and I took hikes along the river with our friends. I don't recommend doing that in sandals on gravely trails! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cabin; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEi30Wb7JlwL7N0wrxqsAXecpCb7lT7Pe_o6J56ZuGLxpXcx1ib4VtnXczxZsupVnrRjxv8CRaRhr0FAIB4NdSbtkVXyXRDwA-mdSWqC3O6AC70qVM5wOIfmSYCmvc3UKEFdZCQEe-hoP3ysWLKP00DxxIxoGvLxdlwBEMOOvA3fqqcaJU9Jv9f4E/s4032/IMG_0196.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEi30Wb7JlwL7N0wrxqsAXecpCb7lT7Pe_o6J56ZuGLxpXcx1ib4VtnXczxZsupVnrRjxv8CRaRhr0FAIB4NdSbtkVXyXRDwA-mdSWqC3O6AC70qVM5wOIfmSYCmvc3UKEFdZCQEe-hoP3ysWLKP00DxxIxoGvLxdlwBEMOOvA3fqqcaJU9Jv9f4E/w640-h480/IMG_0196.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Public Sans;">Day two was a similar ride in another part of the same trail system with wide open views and fun rock rolls. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgOGHYZ7VTAxKQuZmB3E9O7L2v6QXrU3YySF1xySkO7LiAAF2CNo5OoMaTGgA-6KwMASbJec7pDGTxx8lGCco1c4WuEuvVjkaa2onUQza7CUuhyphenhyphen3T560qEELulLVZylFJJ30QsAce2g/w640-h482/1659030800443618-2.png" width="640" />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sSVeolOtQUDPsonro2hlZW64-6ZNErq2I2E2eY1iZBUOt6_2UkOHna7SZLfsnSSPUWD19hZccq-7cqxdBKiIxqKPTlA0klhahPZNIKXdzAMW3hl7vUssj0lqsgDDaYynu4T1pQykqs1inAGC1YOGMWWE2nNILY1OZNcbn2xpU_sfbSQEfQNwawo/s4080/PXL_20220715_171800192.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sSVeolOtQUDPsonro2hlZW64-6ZNErq2I2E2eY1iZBUOt6_2UkOHna7SZLfsnSSPUWD19hZccq-7cqxdBKiIxqKPTlA0klhahPZNIKXdzAMW3hl7vUssj0lqsgDDaYynu4T1pQykqs1inAGC1YOGMWWE2nNILY1OZNcbn2xpU_sfbSQEfQNwawo/w640-h482/PXL_20220715_171800192.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">After returning to camp but not yet tired enough to sit around, we headed back up the road to hike an area called Cheeseman Canyon. Ryan brought his Tankara rod as the area boasted miles of gold medal water. The Eybergs were gracious to allow us some fishing time but eventually they wandered to higher ground to see what there was to see. By the time we made it back to the truck, fishless and frazzled, ours was one of the last vehicles in the previously full lot. Like we do, we packed it in with fine people who appreciate what that means.</span><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><span style="font-family: Public Sans;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day three, we were up early and on the road to the next trailhead. Starting from an area very popular with campers from Denver, we climbed a bit more than previous days and descended some excellent flowy CT terrain with steep rock rolls thrown in here and there. When we got back to the truck, we drove to a second trail head where Ryan opted to drop us and then meet us at the bottom of the descent. T&A and I rode mostly downhill through a burnt-out but beautiful area that had loose, open trails with really cool views. Post ride we found an amazing food truck and a an equally amazing coffee shop across the street. I only planned to get a coffee but the warm blueberry turnover had me on my knees. I took one bite and saved the rest for the morning. It was still glorious.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: verdana;">To wrap up the weekend, we drove up to Cheeseman Reservoir in hopes of dipping into the cold mountain lake to cool off but signs said no human contact allowed so our stay was short-lived. </span><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Back at camp, my mood was dark. Thoughts of my mom alone in rehab (covid protocols forces patients to stay in their rooms) while I was prancing among the peaks filled my chest with pressure. I knew what I had to do. I asked the Eybergs if I could catch a ride back with them to Omaha, knowing another set of friends could bring me back a few days later. I spent the remaining part of the day trying to catch a trout in the gold medal waters of the South Platte, feeling lighter knowing I would be home soon to do what I could for mom and my family. I finally got a bite but I didn't quite set the hook. The water and my mind went quiet.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPD8ZdEL6mYIuHXCKGNRfAlBbuF-A3CK9E7NHa-_cF0P6gc7jsd0P_3DGPapZiBWuzGKzzOoAGmzJkNcLRmBrdnf9k608W97R3dgeuDh426jQ9TicVBBKG07PonkgAT5Yvd3_K8WLrmjMjPGlhrmocLRcj0a7YsVq62FJZliIdMA0l-0L-Fb6L55Y/s4032/PXL_20220715_132609433.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPD8ZdEL6mYIuHXCKGNRfAlBbuF-A3CK9E7NHa-_cF0P6gc7jsd0P_3DGPapZiBWuzGKzzOoAGmzJkNcLRmBrdnf9k608W97R3dgeuDh426jQ9TicVBBKG07PonkgAT5Yvd3_K8WLrmjMjPGlhrmocLRcj0a7YsVq62FJZliIdMA0l-0L-Fb6L55Y/w640-h480/PXL_20220715_132609433.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-90426105179468716352022-07-26T16:23:00.002-06:002022-07-27T15:36:04.228-06:00The Great Wide Open Tour 2022 -Intro<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZLAOPq71zwRAbA3BwcwRnf6XmCIfJmHLUqoysA2imQp5_Ky1FD_GqjpE1WORVV-5CvK238DFm1s7mYTDbJ7J31-r7mRvxOXW7EW_HiQKa_qAKWbLTfpP_qgKkkX8tLmAtPMT8Li28SQwf3RUjBtx8NqF8I69RHjbb62SR62817TFF_taFv4_D6Fk/s4032/I76_South_sign_in_Nebraska.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZLAOPq71zwRAbA3BwcwRnf6XmCIfJmHLUqoysA2imQp5_Ky1FD_GqjpE1WORVV-5CvK238DFm1s7mYTDbJ7J31-r7mRvxOXW7EW_HiQKa_qAKWbLTfpP_qgKkkX8tLmAtPMT8Li28SQwf3RUjBtx8NqF8I69RHjbb62SR62817TFF_taFv4_D6Fk/w640-h480/I76_South_sign_in_Nebraska.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">By Koconnorc - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69832417</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The 2022 installment of the GWO Tour has started off a bit different than in years passed. The tone is a bit less jovial, the excitement overshadowed and the uncertainty of the near future is a new unwelcome companion. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Starting around mid May I contracted what I thought was for sure Covid-19, with all the coughing and congestion. It was so bad at one point, I had to sleep on the couch so Ryan could get some shut eye. But after a couple home tests and a trip to urgent care (my 88 yr old dad was coming within days) my tests were all negative and seemed to be a case of bronchitis. Fluids and rest meant no bike riding for me. I couldn't even go to the gym for all the coughing. My symptoms started to improve and continued that way during my dad's visit and we had a great time. Ryan, however, begun to battle something similar and it was all we could do to keep Dad from catching it. Soon after Dad left, my ailment returned with a vengeance. A second trip to urgent care forced another Covid test (negative) and a chest X-ray to rule out pneumonia. I received a script for some real meds and I doubled-down on immunity supplements (the kind people take during chemo) and hoped for the best. I felt fine other than the congestion and the constant nasal drip. Forcing all the air out of my lungs, I could hear all the mucus bubbles popping. One could have assumed I smoked a pack a day! Eventually, I made my way back into the gym only a few weeks before heading north. I had been working out since January, having finally committed to a routine for my sport as a New Year's resolution, and I didn't want to lose any more fitness. By the time we left Florida on July 1, we were more or less over the worst of whatever it was but hadn't ridden a single pedal stroke in over two months. We were hoping a change in environment would further assist in our recovery. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Driving home to Nebraska takes two solid 12-hours days. On the second day, less than two hours from home, I got a call from my brother, Jay, telling me Mom was in the hospital, suffering from a fall. We didn't know the extent of it as she had just been taken by ambulance, and even by the time we arrived, she was being told she didn't have a break. But she was in severe pain and couldn't move her right leg. Another set of x-rays the next day revealed a fracture in her femur and she was to have surgery on July 4. The surgery went great and she was told she'd be up walking in a few days. Well, when you're 82, that's not totally accurate. The reality was mom ended up going to a rehab facility and is still there, three weeks later. I was happy to be home to help with the transition and leaving her was excruciating. My siblings are there and her husband of course but mom's not an easy customer. She didn't like it and was scared, as anyone would be and I felt terrible for heading off to play. It didn't seem fair. Almost three weeks in and it's all hands on deck to get her through this. It's been challenging for all involved and we've only just started. My mom is one of the toughest women I know but age does something to people sometimes that erodes the confidence thought to be impenetrable. Doubt and shame creep in like an unwanted guest. I worry that they're here to stay.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">As I write this, I feel a pull towards home. My real home. Not where all my crap is but where all my familial connections lye. I've been back once already since heading west, to help relieve my brothers and step-dad, by hanging out with Mom; trying to make her laugh and forget her situation. Sometimes it works. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">It's weird becoming the caregiver to a parent but also the most natural thing in the world. I love my mom and will do all I can to assure her return to normal. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">My head is in the mountains, but my heart is home.</span></p>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-76521667063712927432021-10-06T10:32:00.000-06:002021-10-06T10:32:10.561-06:00Celebrating the Dirty Dozen on the Palisade Plunge<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMlyLw1mExgURxvizUH-2sb5jPKRVe9yIQLW3r6Oikxa4G3VPObqmal37Tes8_HEHpHq2mJpps4Oj6NG-qEpRHR9GUTHxfI0OSuI6wl_Wr-P_uEjtzkm0RqO-VRY3pInOPb4Fb2iZOQ/s2048/PXL_20211003_150622562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMlyLw1mExgURxvizUH-2sb5jPKRVe9yIQLW3r6Oikxa4G3VPObqmal37Tes8_HEHpHq2mJpps4Oj6NG-qEpRHR9GUTHxfI0OSuI6wl_Wr-P_uEjtzkm0RqO-VRY3pInOPb4Fb2iZOQ/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_150622562.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div><i style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></i></div>I know, I know. We've been on the road for months in our new van and not a peep. So why the silence? No good reason other than being in places for short amounts of time leaves me limited days to explore and not be on a computer. Then time adds up and here we are. So, my dear diary, I owe you a pretty big entry on our 2021 trip in the Great Wide Open.</i><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">But for now, as I gaze out of the window of our 6th rental of the trip, staring at the Book Cliffs on the eastern edge of Fruita, Colorado, I will retell the tale of our 12-year wedding anniversary, riding the newly minted Palisade Plunge, a 32 mile traverse starting at 10,700 feet atop the Grand Mesa, eventually ending at the Colorado River.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">We traveled up to Colorado along the famed Million Dollar Mile, </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">after a stay in Santa Fe. We found </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">dispersed camping for a night just north of Durango up some remote 4x4 road to a lake the fly fishing guy told us about. </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtYz30bfhENd0YtatW4zfCh2_CGfQORrnsgfaywzqwhb3yY06x59DPdvhzoXajUT3cC9CwRPDbZ71o2KjFpSIZ6EiLEvtwBwa3Wt2mTehI31t5ZdIeIMATEL6-XnGVe1SAsJ_6xeDCw/s4032/PXL_20211002_171610481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtYz30bfhENd0YtatW4zfCh2_CGfQORrnsgfaywzqwhb3yY06x59DPdvhzoXajUT3cC9CwRPDbZ71o2KjFpSIZ6EiLEvtwBwa3Wt2mTehI31t5ZdIeIMATEL6-XnGVe1SAsJ_6xeDCw/w640-h480/PXL_20211002_171610481.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8a-Zr_Bty7xrgOpAhZ2SsO9ZWKLZFS-xht9ZKj17D3mkwkcdmsJOoLkiEHzlZ9bAvkbkrnp1vycMv7f1eH6fZz-Ao4FiSaDkr3tQfIrXrZxkNWRT4bJKhv54zK2-KOpSiZmjdZ94Hng/s4032/PXL_20211002_154806289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8a-Zr_Bty7xrgOpAhZ2SsO9ZWKLZFS-xht9ZKj17D3mkwkcdmsJOoLkiEHzlZ9bAvkbkrnp1vycMv7f1eH6fZz-Ao4FiSaDkr3tQfIrXrZxkNWRT4bJKhv54zK2-KOpSiZmjdZ94Hng/w640-h480/PXL_20211002_154806289.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6TSDC5d2CS_AiWFVhmK-ahKP6nFynhOE9RFO25We4dSUmsd9T5sL5ttkE8zKQaLbER9c6eU6XrTPAKqObscgNPlNx0FJatpHAbuQdrdR0NX6ZGCf10eTjiZdKHLoJGpVYGE9d7FP6A/s4032/PXL_20211002_140524364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6TSDC5d2CS_AiWFVhmK-ahKP6nFynhOE9RFO25We4dSUmsd9T5sL5ttkE8zKQaLbER9c6eU6XrTPAKqObscgNPlNx0FJatpHAbuQdrdR0NX6ZGCf10eTjiZdKHLoJGpVYGE9d7FP6A/w480-h640/PXL_20211002_140524364.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQL5k4OTT4vOkwekiIzbo-5xoV5Bkfr8i1AjP_OtwCT9DbmRQOSrp0xFjvVg4W4lxTAFQqQHaE1eN4D_W9cXO20Mt4BtjaZM6m8CypXuz4AclmRkN58r2H1XL6CwyYLBegWUx8n4ONw/s4032/PXL_20211002_140232374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQL5k4OTT4vOkwekiIzbo-5xoV5Bkfr8i1AjP_OtwCT9DbmRQOSrp0xFjvVg4W4lxTAFQqQHaE1eN4D_W9cXO20Mt4BtjaZM6m8CypXuz4AclmRkN58r2H1XL6CwyYLBegWUx8n4ONw/w640-h457/PXL_20211002_140232374.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">It was only a few weeks prior that Ryan's office changed the dates they were going to allow employers to return. We thought about it for all of a minute before we decided to extend our GWO'21 road trip. </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Since I was injured at this time last year and didn't get to ride the western slope with our friends, and an announcement on the socials that shuttles were still running up to the newly opened Palisade Plunge, the plan started to fall into place for where to go next. Plus, it seemed a fitting place to celebrate the 12th anniversary of taking the actual plunge into married life! Ryan also reminded me that on our honeymoon we rode a trail in California called the Cannell Plunge!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUS1L7slxC3TmOtTbnnHPMYWwtNEHUko4coMSRlatEeM7UrsBbYl084-GLnBrkE5-HIQvRYRZFA0ox2qFo4r7iYgOgTGGJYMPRdAe1jQbBNq8XGQMMl-nMO-7ysZ4X9wsFr8n_1H1Emg/s1600/wedding0959m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUS1L7slxC3TmOtTbnnHPMYWwtNEHUko4coMSRlatEeM7UrsBbYl084-GLnBrkE5-HIQvRYRZFA0ox2qFo4r7iYgOgTGGJYMPRdAe1jQbBNq8XGQMMl-nMO-7ysZ4X9wsFr8n_1H1Emg/w640-h426/wedding0959m.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBITU-kF6P_wJM_ppD0OS4FZ16kvXlvEWJwHG2F4g8GL-4doB5kRXggLEAti4lZwSKHP0Tjc1tvtYjS2nNLNacOY3neE0xTahw6X47d9P075h7EKD0TxYff16-6qxBqzdWiI2mqEPgwg/s1600/100_1106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBITU-kF6P_wJM_ppD0OS4FZ16kvXlvEWJwHG2F4g8GL-4doB5kRXggLEAti4lZwSKHP0Tjc1tvtYjS2nNLNacOY3neE0xTahw6X47d9P075h7EKD0TxYff16-6qxBqzdWiI2mqEPgwg/w640-h480/100_1106.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We overnighted in a local state park only about 10 minutes from the shuttle pick up point. We enjoyed a fire followed by a rare full night's sleep. We were up early and things were going good until I managed to spill almost an entire bowl of the last of our dried oats all over the van! Shit! We rationed the remaining two packets between us and shared the last apple as well. I added a Lara bar to make up for the lost calories that were on the floor of the van and I was good to go. We packed up and followed two other vehicles packed with bikes to the pick up point (which was also where we would finish). I could tell Ryan was getting excited by how fast he was driving to keep up with the others--just like on the trail. ;0 </div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">After a quick load of the bikes, ten riders were headed up the Grand Mesa, a solid hour shuttle. We were dropped off "at the top" which is to say, at mile 0. As we found out later, the hard way, there were better places to get dropped. I was excited but also a bit nervous. Reviews online are mixed which told me that it was going to be a challenge. Last year we happen to have met one of the Plunge's builders, who did some of the major rock work, </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">at his house we rented in Salida</span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">. He told us of the team that had to dangle from ropes to cut the trail into the side of the cliff, where riders descend off the mesa. Well, shit, that only made me want to actually see it more! So, yes, we knew all about the extreme exposure, the technical nature of the trail, and the remoteness. But for us, that's the attraction. We can ride alpine single track all day but to ride remote back country on the edge of a cliff, well that's something unique and worth seeing what there was to see!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Ok, back to the ride. The husboy and I were the last to leave the parking lot (my choice) and we had the single track to ourselves. It was frozen and there was plenty of frost on the vegetation. Then we hit sunlight and the once frozen trail became a loose slur of black mud. To our relief, it wasn't collecting on the tires, but it sure was spraying on everything else. We heard from a friend that the top of the mesa was a boring XC trail through flat terrain and was a waist of time but we wanted to do the whole thing. We're not vertical junkies. We're adventure xc riders with a tick for exploring new areas. But this time, we should have taken our friend's advice. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgRP0GSGeX68k2rZ3xHIj7ec_zx7I2JSNte0BsOdgq5VpojIqzWixR75yOVqljFUl8v9xp_3H5rwgCIJGMwSZ7rmVTOTh31I1RWDFLnJbAKfjpSurpX7LsJhR4x-kEbTPTB8sRFsSwA/s2048/PXL_20211003_151319371.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgRP0GSGeX68k2rZ3xHIj7ec_zx7I2JSNte0BsOdgq5VpojIqzWixR75yOVqljFUl8v9xp_3H5rwgCIJGMwSZ7rmVTOTh31I1RWDFLnJbAKfjpSurpX7LsJhR4x-kEbTPTB8sRFsSwA/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_151319371.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>As the morning wore on, the mud began to get sticky and about 6 miles in, I had to get off my bike and start scraping it off the tires with my shoe, as there wasn't a tree in site that could offer up a stick for such things. I might have gotten another mile up the trail before I had to do it again. Ryan's bike was holding up but my front mud flap was creating a narrow tunnel and the mud was packing on the edges, creating a tire that looked like I was on a fatbike. The back tire was fine and my chain looked like I had just lubed it, so I was optimistic, but I knew we had to get the hell off that mesa because it was just going to get worse. And it did. We caught other riders with bikes upside down or they were bent over trying to clear the mud. It was a shit show and I was questioning why we were being allowed up there in those conditions knowing that the hardest part was yet to come? Someone was going to get an earful! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlRCYVrIcwGnZ7kNKoySsaw-ulXR03hFhlaKQIzv8Lxms2e_UwJtvtcE7BacOWb3c6nGVBnPzNSrQRr9S2UYjGVuaBIMsenViMpaUhm3EmSjTghPGF-b48NOZG70JUyNWPits8qOidA/s2048/PXL_20211003_161159062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlRCYVrIcwGnZ7kNKoySsaw-ulXR03hFhlaKQIzv8Lxms2e_UwJtvtcE7BacOWb3c6nGVBnPzNSrQRr9S2UYjGVuaBIMsenViMpaUhm3EmSjTghPGF-b48NOZG70JUyNWPits8qOidA/w480-h640/PXL_20211003_161159062.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOuEBwSlkxD9b2jy-sDiQzNSB7b1frh5XdgTecnJWhH1U-At85OmuRll4De7GHR1mYEZqoOSqNpAXKulcns__zRV0-N64B6qxRbKSgbj6ZEgghnMig_3pUQ4zWCEaqE8tnNgI61Bs2w/s2048/PXL_20211003_163036027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOuEBwSlkxD9b2jy-sDiQzNSB7b1frh5XdgTecnJWhH1U-At85OmuRll4De7GHR1mYEZqoOSqNpAXKulcns__zRV0-N64B6qxRbKSgbj6ZEgghnMig_3pUQ4zWCEaqE8tnNgI61Bs2w/w480-h640/PXL_20211003_163036027.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The first dozen miles cut across the Mesa and so did a very clean paved road. On that paved road, were other drop off points that could have been very easily used instead of mile zero. I made the comment after crossing said road when coming upon Ryan and a group who were waiting for others behind us that were also having problems. We found sticks and tried to get as much mud off as possible. I carried the stick with me the rest of the way across the mesa and finally, we made it to Shirt Tail trail head, which was where we should have started. But our shuttle service didn't indicate any issues by starting at the top, instead saying there may be some mud, but we'd be fine. Insert eye roll here.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">A large group of riders descended before us and they were soon off their bikes as the trail was slick and rocky. This wasn't an issue for us so we kindly got by some of them before we hit another group stacked up. It took me a second to realize what was happening because we were in tree line but once out of the trees, I saw it all. The view of the Grand Valley and all of its pastel glory. THIS was why we came up here: to peer over the edge of the world onto a scene that is THE Great Wide Open. At that moment, </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">we were explorers, in awe of not only the sights before us but also of the challenge that lay ahead: 6000 feet of relief (You'll notice I didn't say descent. There was about 2000' of climbing in order to get down)!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOJ_Bj67Ra4Iv0W7j1wg3Nk5HKG8SesTqJFnHlvS8HruUf03q9lnsaQ0C-5QEdGF3g5kj8FcMSrd49jz6QLsvvFIVxZr2CAbfz0a9Ew01n-jlWWHAoDvZZUfXnAHOo70JAYlXXMkcLQ/s4032/PXL_20211003_170137121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOJ_Bj67Ra4Iv0W7j1wg3Nk5HKG8SesTqJFnHlvS8HruUf03q9lnsaQ0C-5QEdGF3g5kj8FcMSrd49jz6QLsvvFIVxZr2CAbfz0a9Ew01n-jlWWHAoDvZZUfXnAHOo70JAYlXXMkcLQ/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_170137121.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div>That challenge started at that moment, as there were 4-5 very tight and steep switchbacks right at our feet, dubbed Otto's Wall, named after the pioneer builder of the Colorado National Monument, John Otto. Some guys rode the few seconds in between each but it wasn't worth it to me. I felt pretty rushed through that section, as everyone seemed amped to get on with riding and less walking. The trail continued down, in tree line, and the switchbacks weren't nearly as steep but were pretty slick. I walked most of them along with a few other dudes. From then on, for about 3 miles through the Kannah Creek drainage, was classic alpine single track, with roots, rocks, creek crossings and all the fall colors to boot. I was happily surprised by this, having thought that we'd be in high desert terrain the whole time. But that was coming soon enough. We managed to pass quite a few riders in this section. </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I think folks were already gassed from the mud up top. Our bikes were making all kinds of noise s</span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">o we had to take care not to stress our chains too much. They were dry as the desert floor and made no bones about it telling us for the rest of the ride! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EpV9qbMLgRqcfpgFhf5b7hT2fQ327123ZATmXqlgDZepW9MyQK2smpMyVrgy-FYhII1r95FmDN0txzpBJtLe_rTuVmxLXNMESnUWzz-dSxYQpBxvuHi5zN6IhK8TTjME8PPkDSHRAw/s2048/PXL_20211003_170703765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EpV9qbMLgRqcfpgFhf5b7hT2fQ327123ZATmXqlgDZepW9MyQK2smpMyVrgy-FYhII1r95FmDN0txzpBJtLe_rTuVmxLXNMESnUWzz-dSxYQpBxvuHi5zN6IhK8TTjME8PPkDSHRAw/w480-h640/PXL_20211003_170703765.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeSlgSz9fycMkY_TydWkzWYsfr8XDvb4ezzF-ibiGv1tQHsk8eI3xO8sa1R955Z6GjPhyphenhyphen8m8hOY9LDXlX1T0FUGWJkQABfYsfZXOkOzYxhnOKFDqG9dSAznEYgzeRUoomtBIP0bbOpA/s2048/PXL_20211003_173550949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeSlgSz9fycMkY_TydWkzWYsfr8XDvb4ezzF-ibiGv1tQHsk8eI3xO8sa1R955Z6GjPhyphenhyphen8m8hOY9LDXlX1T0FUGWJkQABfYsfZXOkOzYxhnOKFDqG9dSAznEYgzeRUoomtBIP0bbOpA/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_173550949.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhmpDnWczt9a1YU6yLYDTI-xtgeIvlIB1hHAWM_wx35WLa42ZF41RlcAaZNLug8sB8PGV_6_Vzdt_Im6oucYE4mjUNSlKW6qPYBj6Ei4RhuxgBUhCm0ADkcYjN832RmFlR-dxJ3fPUw/s2048/PXL_20211003_174143760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhmpDnWczt9a1YU6yLYDTI-xtgeIvlIB1hHAWM_wx35WLa42ZF41RlcAaZNLug8sB8PGV_6_Vzdt_Im6oucYE4mjUNSlKW6qPYBj6Ei4RhuxgBUhCm0ADkcYjN832RmFlR-dxJ3fPUw/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_174143760.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div>By mile 15, we crossed Land's End road for the final time, and if one was to bail, this would be the last chance. It also is the last drop point if one were to skip the stuff higher up, but for those reading this, Otto's Wall, for just the view alone, is worth the effort.</div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">At this point we entered the Whitewater Basin and the beginning of classic Western Rim terrain: sandy high desert with rock step ups and roll downs and sections thick with scrub bushes (think Hazzard above Porcupine Rim) and pinon pine. Some of the switchbacks I had to slide down but I wasn't in any real danger. Open meadows celebrated the changing of the seasons and rock falls from the Whitewater Creek made it challenging. This was the last water we'd see until the Colorado River at the bottom. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3jl5P9n0CYrwStONR224T_jMT85YADmg0K8ie4o0ACoe4PtGtt5-GWcLQhuVyp1DduP7ShqRIW_RQIAF6cN6FpN1ePw1Hgo6MWePCN39oMFOtJ50IdEIPR1jceSaLrI89zuCifPP-w/s2048/PXL_20211003_175850456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3jl5P9n0CYrwStONR224T_jMT85YADmg0K8ie4o0ACoe4PtGtt5-GWcLQhuVyp1DduP7ShqRIW_RQIAF6cN6FpN1ePw1Hgo6MWePCN39oMFOtJ50IdEIPR1jceSaLrI89zuCifPP-w/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_175850456.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">This section of the Plunge was the belly of the beast. From here until about mile 27, we were riding at our most heightened, aware of the drop to our left but not looking down at it. We took breaks at obvious view points and many times I got off the bike to gather myself, rest, walk and make sure I was eating. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIt7EcyMGi8ZtGNtY6eSrRjcqtwEj6zNPnxEZbq_uM4jCtjrClajRqOBqioJcdp3Ex7C38MQoJ8UWT9wPFWY3E_TltpQzUj_vWweZs076IS5WPqkQk5nT_X1ZSlhUX2ZfgARnhrvqRg/s2048/PXL_20211003_190922981%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIt7EcyMGi8ZtGNtY6eSrRjcqtwEj6zNPnxEZbq_uM4jCtjrClajRqOBqioJcdp3Ex7C38MQoJ8UWT9wPFWY3E_TltpQzUj_vWweZs076IS5WPqkQk5nT_X1ZSlhUX2ZfgARnhrvqRg/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_190922981%257E2.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN4OcANTaURz5XTgE6w8QFQjDk7mF97W2rrXqOz40oSktivW80QyB24tyoJB3UO78RDMkTPxQsaD1Rt-Rtt4urD39M7U0CmFw-CfIUSk2cs6gPC9pDVzzpXzQTjhyphenhyphenOLYy5zOSR9QTuEA/s2048/PXL_20211003_190018342%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN4OcANTaURz5XTgE6w8QFQjDk7mF97W2rrXqOz40oSktivW80QyB24tyoJB3UO78RDMkTPxQsaD1Rt-Rtt4urD39M7U0CmFw-CfIUSk2cs6gPC9pDVzzpXzQTjhyphenhyphenOLYy5zOSR9QTuEA/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_190018342%257E2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwI4V73DDu4INiyjBdGHcD3-Pox6-3YLDAAju1SEit1V9TkqsZATg55qx70K281x9jPEfdjYDeEtrM9Jl1DCcjlSXhnPqy_GwzHh5tsh0T5zApSkxTlCJ8fj9HbQUD5koUxkChQZiL_w/s2048/PXL_20211003_191327770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwI4V73DDu4INiyjBdGHcD3-Pox6-3YLDAAju1SEit1V9TkqsZATg55qx70K281x9jPEfdjYDeEtrM9Jl1DCcjlSXhnPqy_GwzHh5tsh0T5zApSkxTlCJ8fj9HbQUD5koUxkChQZiL_w/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_191327770.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The temps were perfect, the wind calm and the sights were majestic. I could tell Ryan was eager to keep moving while I, though equally as eager, wanted to try to savor it all. Alas, he'd go for a bit and wait for me and then disappear again. Sometimes those were at prime photo spots so we would take a few moments to take it all in and thank our lucky stars that we were able to do what we were doing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtMovqtyMdo4MxpIq8QPR-LPBo6FtiC1o7zWr8X5S4hiHrXq8TbMQfBsaElYSU1AXfUBQCpmXcFUIJ0DUPoed8rpyKjWv6SF6pJzVQt8w62zRq3t4758yy5BZsOrCEXfDxnSxwx9Cfw/s2048/PXL_20211003_182536899.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtMovqtyMdo4MxpIq8QPR-LPBo6FtiC1o7zWr8X5S4hiHrXq8TbMQfBsaElYSU1AXfUBQCpmXcFUIJ0DUPoed8rpyKjWv6SF6pJzVQt8w62zRq3t4758yy5BZsOrCEXfDxnSxwx9Cfw/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_182536899.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMfohqBQBoBpP5voIZtLodLg-N9hyphenhyphenAr5cHAOK9AK38w-qRSoRQ4U3Ac64VGsfpUvJqVimLgQbMO9CUZLpg1PN1pIb0fOF_K_a2zedKdHllHjMwltQJ0WpAlYUPfHGO5oeJSZAkSSP_Q/s2048/PXL_20211003_191831902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMfohqBQBoBpP5voIZtLodLg-N9hyphenhyphenAr5cHAOK9AK38w-qRSoRQ4U3Ac64VGsfpUvJqVimLgQbMO9CUZLpg1PN1pIb0fOF_K_a2zedKdHllHjMwltQJ0WpAlYUPfHGO5oeJSZAkSSP_Q/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_191831902.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HqqvU4AgAbHGYyBC1wgbSsupzZr2eb5hwHO_N_x1Tjo9vH2llMaLZ0X6beRo2XBZgBOhDczDUrQigu76G5jfmXevmpVgdce38ldesIRqEVZyhm75XmYtc8ms_o3rlcyVMcvHbbNIVw/s2048/PXL_20211003_192132176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HqqvU4AgAbHGYyBC1wgbSsupzZr2eb5hwHO_N_x1Tjo9vH2llMaLZ0X6beRo2XBZgBOhDczDUrQigu76G5jfmXevmpVgdce38ldesIRqEVZyhm75XmYtc8ms_o3rlcyVMcvHbbNIVw/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_192132176.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vE_isYc0Yd3AGtZE77BELlWwtL1x4pg3-b4nHH8Uew1Gk240kdVE-mB_6qqSTLBgP6T9DxdaJsO9gPh70CqOEYLMMDZ0hY3fj2oq6SeTwD-m-MLMk0hE-Wrkw3WW1I3Cqdl8IMO4fg/s2048/PXL_20211003_193944082%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vE_isYc0Yd3AGtZE77BELlWwtL1x4pg3-b4nHH8Uew1Gk240kdVE-mB_6qqSTLBgP6T9DxdaJsO9gPh70CqOEYLMMDZ0hY3fj2oq6SeTwD-m-MLMk0hE-Wrkw3WW1I3Cqdl8IMO4fg/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_193944082%257E2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div>But even the most happy go lucky find their limits. Fatigue was starting to set in and it seemed the valley floor was nowhere nearer than it was at the last turn. Around miles 22-27 was a slick rock playground, marked by white stripes painted on the surface. I was thankful that it meandered predominately away from any cliff edge, as this type of terrain, with its deep bowls and quick edges, can suddenly take you to places you don't want to be.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhThk5bqWBGSH1y-1c9OwwTi02N3WE6TzcLIGsgJnuA3BTaTcJrBtwmohGGFll7CT3p704Z9lgbIsMrVrVjUqiMU2G33VDCAbwaHkVTa4c3OYnnqvjetLNFh8KBbAc58v_vahsmgPbMYA/s2048/PXL_20211003_193341883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhThk5bqWBGSH1y-1c9OwwTi02N3WE6TzcLIGsgJnuA3BTaTcJrBtwmohGGFll7CT3p704Z9lgbIsMrVrVjUqiMU2G33VDCAbwaHkVTa4c3OYnnqvjetLNFh8KBbAc58v_vahsmgPbMYA/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_193341883.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMtu895pDKRZrWLKAwq_9_UBXRJiRcAtzjG3i4SDpkCV7N7pYgwDJ3s1t27DUIxmnTtauQvtoNww_pxyAwlpbJm8Gi0cm20jPAZZtZm3x5FiDyt-lOvU0hp9SJciHjj7tNA6-lRbaTFw/s2048/PXL_20211003_193717551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMtu895pDKRZrWLKAwq_9_UBXRJiRcAtzjG3i4SDpkCV7N7pYgwDJ3s1t27DUIxmnTtauQvtoNww_pxyAwlpbJm8Gi0cm20jPAZZtZm3x5FiDyt-lOvU0hp9SJciHjj7tNA6-lRbaTFw/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_193717551.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZeypAOrWWilm1OaYTy6GMnzsuDY4M5r8Ra2Wr6xzAjsNt9nkb_gDJwhUqLBWbynTz6WIAx2KPD7KPBXGzvVjUf2zdGfC9d5dtt_HbtF9S_h3GJJUzq7oazOa29BOILzGaJo-lAysJxA/s2048/PXL_20211003_193743065%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="2048" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZeypAOrWWilm1OaYTy6GMnzsuDY4M5r8Ra2Wr6xzAjsNt9nkb_gDJwhUqLBWbynTz6WIAx2KPD7KPBXGzvVjUf2zdGfC9d5dtt_HbtF9S_h3GJJUzq7oazOa29BOILzGaJo-lAysJxA/w640-h434/PXL_20211003_193743065%257E2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWaj3tqyRNyb1fQgPF3st8EM7T-BijHQ7bF8XynVXECulhH1-in4NCkV8nY-o31qS73-5GTSc97E1M2C3IUkT7n4-jxN9anV8ue1UhUnPAAgljqzjLJusZhGnWGr6Ctc2zZvxXl6QTw/s2048/PXL_20211003_194621449%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1396" data-original-width="2048" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWaj3tqyRNyb1fQgPF3st8EM7T-BijHQ7bF8XynVXECulhH1-in4NCkV8nY-o31qS73-5GTSc97E1M2C3IUkT7n4-jxN9anV8ue1UhUnPAAgljqzjLJusZhGnWGr6Ctc2zZvxXl6QTw/w640-h436/PXL_20211003_194621449%257E2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghne60T5G3XrYh1V2x04ZuHNapb1zC7yVVqf4WBRp1V3bahKOiPvBaKCmdSud8hJmi2_KKzkjOLMf0021KiXIPZOhW3LnNhbmXXbA1XxC7OWDJfaPoMX9MWJQC31QNobLgCzsJEzuAiA/s2048/PXL_20211003_194703395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghne60T5G3XrYh1V2x04ZuHNapb1zC7yVVqf4WBRp1V3bahKOiPvBaKCmdSud8hJmi2_KKzkjOLMf0021KiXIPZOhW3LnNhbmXXbA1XxC7OWDJfaPoMX9MWJQC31QNobLgCzsJEzuAiA/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_194703395.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Once through the slick rock, the terrain returned to classic, rocky desert riding. With about 5 miles to go, we were still thousands of feet from the bottom and the tech kept coming. When you get tired small things can start to piss you off, like having to dismount (again) or the sound of your dry ass chain. I'm not above this type of behavior. We were approaching the sixth hour by this time, on a trail that we probably should have been able to finish in five. Every turn I'm hoping was the last. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxE7qiJiQvRjI6MyPQr_1LB95xkhsEgDUKNrWDA85k-rG56AAdjhZOWhRlLNVykpgPhW7UCstGgX3lAmWcExfMQvApKqfenIupDSfZfkxaB9n5NmRVVsPH-1rBkSsUr6HOzJRJ09X3Ww/s2048/PXL_20211003_194824293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxE7qiJiQvRjI6MyPQr_1LB95xkhsEgDUKNrWDA85k-rG56AAdjhZOWhRlLNVykpgPhW7UCstGgX3lAmWcExfMQvApKqfenIupDSfZfkxaB9n5NmRVVsPH-1rBkSsUr6HOzJRJ09X3Ww/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_194824293.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3i79bScGtaBDNO8loDjKBeX2tDKk3xxZx6G8NYEnIGJFNMN7AS_RC_nUugguNe9HyAPEQ4a6D0jtVuWLm4RF7BR0Tr7ITZ3WkR2h80pwn6oM5OdBEuQnVn2TWXFhsGU0TIdadzTZBg/s2048/PXL_20211003_195118852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3i79bScGtaBDNO8loDjKBeX2tDKk3xxZx6G8NYEnIGJFNMN7AS_RC_nUugguNe9HyAPEQ4a6D0jtVuWLm4RF7BR0Tr7ITZ3WkR2h80pwn6oM5OdBEuQnVn2TWXFhsGU0TIdadzTZBg/w480-h640/PXL_20211003_195118852.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Riders that had been behind us start catching up and passing us. Some were out of water and had been for some time. I saw their mud crusted back sides, dried from hours in the sun. Few words were exchanged, as the focus had shifted from thrilling adventure to down right let's get the fuck down!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbcV5CZOJvODOx4gCerkAa0wDCEf9WZXGFqb3VrqM6U5vbhPjvwKLrEG_iTK5qDPNpxx7s1duDG8Yfpkh6p7K4r2hxI3Z4UTlvHsBs4ip5T_Rp9h72A2qdAOR1qyIBWi8VAPQ3kDohw/s2048/PXL_20211003_200734733.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbcV5CZOJvODOx4gCerkAa0wDCEf9WZXGFqb3VrqM6U5vbhPjvwKLrEG_iTK5qDPNpxx7s1duDG8Yfpkh6p7K4r2hxI3Z4UTlvHsBs4ip5T_Rp9h72A2qdAOR1qyIBWi8VAPQ3kDohw/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_200734733.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALWLbaLLdTPDumjknF_3-nWqBJYgKzj7Sq8FqFUd1jYLxtP7TRTqIRi7CrVPVtLeodll5tRGZ5lkCW0ag9-LQaY9uXGZ-nBq62m6aRqUYn93Q5UoU1W5LDNG7dN_V44ifjiyN-XeT9Q/s2048/PXL_20211003_203825181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALWLbaLLdTPDumjknF_3-nWqBJYgKzj7Sq8FqFUd1jYLxtP7TRTqIRi7CrVPVtLeodll5tRGZ5lkCW0ag9-LQaY9uXGZ-nBq62m6aRqUYn93Q5UoU1W5LDNG7dN_V44ifjiyN-XeT9Q/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_203825181.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">At no other point did this crystalize for me than after entering a wash and Ryan said, "Look, I can see a building". I thought thank the Lord, we're done. Oh, but no. There were at least two maybe three super steep roll downs or in my case walk downs. I had plenty of water and food but my mental stores were low and my aches and pains were getting louder (but not as loud as my god damn chain)! </span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mIiY_xw0gVZRDqeHhjdjLSXjqhW-ahHpk-TwN0JX-NAnqSy_A9mIICpJNx16N4gaFyakOiU0ntzE429dmY4fy3kKGMDSnJVVlpB1umrSK6fFvKzEtHU64gpszLRWLPx299vjKuEJUA/s2048/PXL_20211003_204334153%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mIiY_xw0gVZRDqeHhjdjLSXjqhW-ahHpk-TwN0JX-NAnqSy_A9mIICpJNx16N4gaFyakOiU0ntzE429dmY4fy3kKGMDSnJVVlpB1umrSK6fFvKzEtHU64gpszLRWLPx299vjKuEJUA/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_204334153%257E2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div>Finally, I saw a fence and then a road and then a parking lot and then our van and it was only then that I knew we were actually done and quite literally dusted. Our bikes were equally as trashed, as the mud from the mesa had dried to cement. Every seal and bushing was covered and it was going to take a trip to a car wash to get it off. </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">But, before that, it was a time for high fives and gratitude; not only for what we just accomplished but also for the dozen years of fun and adventure. And even though they are behind us, we willfully carry their joyful memories with us.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_EaAyuVM3ZAKqVQLEkY8RAODPglitSNF5h3BbduFraA5wGOBPaDgLJH52iL9SwvUGWj1Bt19t_WqgxCOmNSG9sS4biUcE7cnxy58-zlMI22YdEVTRwiQfT6GothEVvaPuvIQD-SElw/s2048/PXL_20211003_205538919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_EaAyuVM3ZAKqVQLEkY8RAODPglitSNF5h3BbduFraA5wGOBPaDgLJH52iL9SwvUGWj1Bt19t_WqgxCOmNSG9sS4biUcE7cnxy58-zlMI22YdEVTRwiQfT6GothEVvaPuvIQD-SElw/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_205538919.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtsZkfB_09c4VVKpWo-NuZafixLNf4PrKwwGCQLXJobMUOuhZFgojstFHkUvNw1idje_2FMGiaQtQTzdkvnbiXewZFcOw9GpOa5JaErSu_UYGl-stgiZu0uo6fzvpdCebxC6-KXPnFw/s2048/PXL_20211003_231635807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtsZkfB_09c4VVKpWo-NuZafixLNf4PrKwwGCQLXJobMUOuhZFgojstFHkUvNw1idje_2FMGiaQtQTzdkvnbiXewZFcOw9GpOa5JaErSu_UYGl-stgiZu0uo6fzvpdCebxC6-KXPnFw/w480-h640/PXL_20211003_231635807.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7z9Fg2f5-5QjtE7ZyPjA0dnEI9t_XTRJnZ5iqwhpMQJjLHCPVh7YVAFEwbp8fUhHtNvggcDMIfTvJ2gNLywVLQZX1sx4CxOyWe4rpPl-MYFZPdQ2l3UXAcj5YnDabK2N8VvV9vFbVMA/s2048/PXL_20211003_231649286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7z9Fg2f5-5QjtE7ZyPjA0dnEI9t_XTRJnZ5iqwhpMQJjLHCPVh7YVAFEwbp8fUhHtNvggcDMIfTvJ2gNLywVLQZX1sx4CxOyWe4rpPl-MYFZPdQ2l3UXAcj5YnDabK2N8VvV9vFbVMA/w480-h640/PXL_20211003_231649286.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div>From mud mustaches and unibrows, to dirt clods in butt cracks, the Palisade Plunge delivered on all expectations from the most terifying to the most thrilling. And as we do in life, tackling all of its challenges together, checking off this massive bucket list ride was the perfect way to celebrate our adventurous marital plunge. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcN-Ru6XTRFxRWNu9wxvnRUYegXwvPs3ORFaGkX87jw10Wybf7fkg1KngcxrG0xSPves-KSz-9WynePH8zxBZJgIEC0WaqHfdNI7MP-TrlfvsJUBJOIqCFnE8rsJPf6hwfVwGa6DEmOg/s2048/PXL_20211003_193849848.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcN-Ru6XTRFxRWNu9wxvnRUYegXwvPs3ORFaGkX87jw10Wybf7fkg1KngcxrG0xSPves-KSz-9WynePH8zxBZJgIEC0WaqHfdNI7MP-TrlfvsJUBJOIqCFnE8rsJPf6hwfVwGa6DEmOg/w640-h480/PXL_20211003_193849848.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The last sentence in the paragraph on the Palisade Plunge website, if read in the context of our life together, sums us up pretty succinctly:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><blockquote><i>Be sure to bring plenty of food and water and appropriate clothing and bike repair supplies.</i></blockquote><p>Happy 12th anniversary R&R! Ten three, you and me!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVb13i_yPRwESSeKIDsBVS3CzdrEseEVpPoh7VsTqSTmSxsM-j1dK0sECVYUUxyLedUTWM4OylBke5uoObWzPWwJ6VB6jwbaZ-HxVY4D3qoq5QIW0oZyluvqa6ql-NAMsYxy8_NbfqgQ/s660/R%2526R+wedding+illustration.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="660" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVb13i_yPRwESSeKIDsBVS3CzdrEseEVpPoh7VsTqSTmSxsM-j1dK0sECVYUUxyLedUTWM4OylBke5uoObWzPWwJ6VB6jwbaZ-HxVY4D3qoq5QIW0oZyluvqa6ql-NAMsYxy8_NbfqgQ/w640-h444/R%2526R+wedding+illustration.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></span></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-33311312355174523662021-03-15T19:58:00.000-06:002021-03-15T19:58:11.249-06:00Shredding at the Swamp: Graham Swamp 360<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqHQ3KWzqYFoPvI3ReI8RPPo2SyWQJS_mFa37hxZD2bKG4U5YlJADxpi7tFJZccfqtCBfe9uMh-og8TSTBYflwpVBAOPQQZJssMFekMjk0yF2JzqEeGrf-Ny7ECQ5-oJtT12nm14w5g/s960/GSwamp+Logo.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqHQ3KWzqYFoPvI3ReI8RPPo2SyWQJS_mFa37hxZD2bKG4U5YlJADxpi7tFJZccfqtCBfe9uMh-og8TSTBYflwpVBAOPQQZJssMFekMjk0yF2JzqEeGrf-Ny7ECQ5-oJtT12nm14w5g/w300-h400/GSwamp+Logo.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br />The last race we did was in the fall of 2019! So hard to believe it's been that long since we pinned on a number. After racing for over two decades season after season, it's been weird not having racing in our daily lives. So, when it seemed people were ready to get back into throwing elbows, (don't think it ever really stopped down here in Florida) I started looking for an event that would have less of the serious competitor vibe that is pretty rampant in the XC world down here. The Graham Swamp 360 is considered an endurance event with a 3 and 6 hour option. Not really wanting to ride 3 hours straight as we haven't even been riding more than 2 hours at a time, the coed team category seemed align perfectly with our non-training lifestyle. Author's note: I'd be lying if I didn't mention that I've been doing intervals since the first week of February, however, that was before I read about the 360 event and it was more of a way to spice up my forever flat rides.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Anywhoo, we heard through the Florida NICA league director that Graham Swamp was a pretty technical course for Florida. We've heard this phrase before and people below sea level have a different interpretation of technical. But we thought it was worth a look so we drove across to the east side of the state to check out the trail in late February and we're so glad we did. Not only is it technical but it's like fun technical, as in keep your speed up technical. As in get some air technical. As in rooty, droppy, jumpy, sandy technical. I took my Pivot Trail 429 (aka Miss Pivvy - hey, she's big boned) on the recon and even though I could have done it on the Super Fly, the extra suspension was going to help keep things comfy and chill. Plus we replaced the Maxxis tires and put on some used Bontrager XR3s to get her a bit lighter and rolling better in the sand. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">As we do, we drove across the state the night before the race. Ryan had to work til 5 o'clock and after getting some burritos to go, we headed north. As we passed Orlando and started east, the traffic was absolutely bonkers congested. What was to be a 3.5 hour drive turned into more like 5. Holy crap. Bumper to bumper and it was just congestion. No accidents that we could see. Thank God for long form pod casts! And I hate Disney even more!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">We pulled into the hotel and the lot was completely full of motorcycles of all kinds. And trucks with trailers. It was bike week in Daytona! Luckily, the loud mufflers quieted down but I slept like shit (as usual) even though I wasn't nervous about the race. What we were nervous about was parking at the race. It wasn't ideal and we wanted to get a good spot. </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;">We were only 10 minutes away and since we were up, fed, and full of coffee, we headed to the venue. Two hours before a race is pretty typical arrival time for us but it seemed folks don't arrive that soon down here. I think we were there before most of the volunteers! Needless to say we got rock star parking and the shadiest spot for our staging area. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">Soon riders began to arrive and a woman I've met who leads many of the women's rides and events down here set up next to us along with her friends, so we had a fun group to hang out with all during the race. Party Pace!!! We were all about it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">It was time to head to the start line. Ryan was going first. Because of how the event was set up, they had very limited space to start, and the course went immediately downhill. So, they did a Le Mans start. However, there was a twist. They told everyone where to line up and then threw out potato sacks. That's right! A gunny sack race to the start line was an awesome way to spread out the pack. It was fun to watch but I was glad it was them and not me! Ryan was early to his bike and made it out clean. </span><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br /><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span><a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/WovY31QNApdTnmT69"><img border="0" data-original-height="732" data-original-width="451" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIP2LogPVK2PJ50ztgIuW8CRBpDINlFqJaayxm2GUJbQNxASjyqAmRIGyD42dBgotgb3lGleEdLCRdg27MDC6MCIx9bciSARQyxA8Kd9FHhkdP9m1NajSKZ-Z8-N_Ubjqp8tgtZ8dJgw/w246-h400/Screen+Shot+2021-03-15+at+9.35.45+PM.jpg" width="246" /></a> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxf_oBiDmP2p9DeGtd1xdTWZQuSwI7ShoHBK75AqrSZ0F7zbJBMyi_wYiK2JlQzSEGX-qyIbQkNbBLRknCz' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The riders would pass the start line once more before heading onto the rest of the course and Ryan was right up there with a mix of single riders and team riders. We assumed our laps would be 40-45 minutes so I went back to our staging area and hopped on the bike to do a few spin up intervals to get the heart rate up and make sure all the gears were working. Then I waited (and visited the port-o-pot about five times). Right on schedule Ryan came by our staging area within about 35 minutes. That was my signal to get up to the transition area. Once there, I saw him a couple times through the trees and along with maybe 4-5 other riders, I got myself to the front so we could easily exchange our ankle bands. Then I was off! </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqCduaaQqvG21yurz4sxKGfxB0oJBs4SVcNxZXFiHrhj34C2bIoJqbMAFKPrh43XLUh-MCkf7s2wTjjEV-FoKZoDsF3d9B6YbtBgdnbV3PMo8a0teFqXVx6bpQFpS6OyMFFkArluN9Ww/s2048/GrahamSwamp+Roxy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqCduaaQqvG21yurz4sxKGfxB0oJBs4SVcNxZXFiHrhj34C2bIoJqbMAFKPrh43XLUh-MCkf7s2wTjjEV-FoKZoDsF3d9B6YbtBgdnbV3PMo8a0teFqXVx6bpQFpS6OyMFFkArluN9Ww/w266-h400/GrahamSwamp+Roxy.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br />It was our goal to have fun. I raced in baggies and my R&R tech tee to remind me of our goal. I wore a camel back but only carried enough fluid for each lap and I could barely tell it was there. The course was technical and there weren't many places to drink. It was also tight and punchy and tested our skills with sections that had rooty climbs that forced riders to navigate between trees; there were drops with large roots across the middle of them and high speed jumps with flat landings. One section took us through a labyrinth of roots 6 inches tall, one after another, as if a giant octopus was trying to emerge from the sand. The best way to get through them was just keep unweighting the front wheel, which left just enough time to take a breath before stomping a 2ft step up. One power climb was "rewarded" with a tall root to navigate around before bombing down a waterfall of drops that included more roots or deep sand. Only a few sections were flat enough to take a breather so mostly I was on the gas, which was just what we needed after over a year of vacation paced riding. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc6vUoj4X7eSjKYCE1F4x70GZfyOoQC3NtXljAONwRRECw1FXQbbMsR53UdVCv4fLSwU1lOxx21iseBO0ja9R9I5IbW_ciAli1AYhJGBIzeMQeLh9wChlLubLxf4TChlfI24D5L_2A2w/s2048/GrahamSwamp+Ryan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc6vUoj4X7eSjKYCE1F4x70GZfyOoQC3NtXljAONwRRECw1FXQbbMsR53UdVCv4fLSwU1lOxx21iseBO0ja9R9I5IbW_ciAli1AYhJGBIzeMQeLh9wChlLubLxf4TChlfI24D5L_2A2w/w266-h400/GrahamSwamp+Ryan.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">There weren't many women but the ones who were there were good riders, as the course demanded a bit of skill. One of them had on a leaders jersey from the Florida State Series and I found myself around her a few times. The first time she caught me but the next two times I held her off. The second time she was right on my wheel for the last 1/4 mile and I did everything I could to stay on the gas and keep a good pace so she wouldn't need to ask to pass. After we came in to the transition area, we were both like hell yeah, that was fun. The next time she was behind me it was our last lap. I was feeling the effects of a Red Bull high and had fun pushing hard so as to not let her catch me. <br /><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhihE2s2xcvMAN2dEYNZJJFpuJdCwEQrO53K0bpHXjQMWuk25jMaV0hzwuCEIYijinSS9iKgSSesdYm8oyEg8VJumFwiayTMdZlYlSebPd4rQDW_nib9pt-Vqj-ckh4mhaSaMcHylvBLA/s2048/GrahamSwam+Full+Podium.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhihE2s2xcvMAN2dEYNZJJFpuJdCwEQrO53K0bpHXjQMWuk25jMaV0hzwuCEIYijinSS9iKgSSesdYm8oyEg8VJumFwiayTMdZlYlSebPd4rQDW_nib9pt-Vqj-ckh4mhaSaMcHylvBLA/w640-h426/GrahamSwam+Full+Podium.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><br />Our final lap count was eight total and the winning team I think got in 9 laps. It was fun to get called to the podium although at first we thought there was a mistake with the timing b/c the team with the State Champ on it was called up to 2nd place even though the results had us beating their time by several minutes. We were like, what evs but then they announced "masters co-ed" and called us up. I laughed to myself as I'm sure Ryan didn't really dig being on a masters team. Hehe. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUC25upFLB9PwpyU4qdNPjnpco0YkKG3AWmLrY8H9lSAWwIyjC4dRZk48dASGmjW7oGSYq8Dr5xWImlYBLUmKJFjXhCfcTfe7oW8TQ_q9MAYCZSlLCnPSzl5SVs-KOleAkce9uZRaJg/s701/Gswamp+Medals.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="526" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUC25upFLB9PwpyU4qdNPjnpco0YkKG3AWmLrY8H9lSAWwIyjC4dRZk48dASGmjW7oGSYq8Dr5xWImlYBLUmKJFjXhCfcTfe7oW8TQ_q9MAYCZSlLCnPSzl5SVs-KOleAkce9uZRaJg/w300-h400/Gswamp+Medals.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Cabin;"><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">The after party was sweet. They fed us pizza and tapped beer and gave out really cool finisher medals made from wood. </span>They had a massage vendor on site and a recovery tent where riders could don recovery legs, those blow up pressurized leg wraps. The podium winners received cash and the trophies were hand cut by the trail crew from fallen trees. I thought using the trail work truck as a podium was a nice touch. They called out props to the trail bosses and really made sure those that made the event happen were given all the love. It kinda felt like we had crashed a local bike party that had a race attached to it. </p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Cabin;">All said, it was great to be among bike folk again. The track was really unique and fun and maybe, just maybe, fun enough to sit in traffic and head back there next year.</span></p>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-35996366907107992882020-12-08T16:51:00.000-07:002020-12-08T16:51:47.695-07:00A Thanksgiving Appetizer Served up Southern Appalachian Style - Part 1: Pisgah<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjN5zQu3jiXraSH5an8Vfmpkbe4dC9J421b12vgdwjwjYFCMS-lDvo47TK4OjD_Bnd9jCou0IGtbX2YzH1-m8bGErfXgiR9nYEZlQrfIupsodvGfWJ-n3SQrC0GR2fbS-7BX3NTaqDDw/s700/pisgah-national-forest-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="700" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjN5zQu3jiXraSH5an8Vfmpkbe4dC9J421b12vgdwjwjYFCMS-lDvo47TK4OjD_Bnd9jCou0IGtbX2YzH1-m8bGErfXgiR9nYEZlQrfIupsodvGfWJ-n3SQrC0GR2fbS-7BX3NTaqDDw/w640-h426/pisgah-national-forest-sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">As Covid-19 rages at near or above peak levels back home in Nebraska (and many other places) the option to head back to the Heartland for the holidays is one that changes along with the headlines. And as it would turn out, with our families all staying in their own bubbles and a couple brothers quarantining, the decision not to return was obvious. So the husboy and I got out our bike bucket list and started making a plan. Neither of us had been to the famed Pisgah National Forest of North Carolina, home to old-school fall line trails that are criss-crossed with even more infamous roots. Also on the bucket list for many years had been Mulberry Gap Adventure Basecamp, nestled in the hill country of Northern Georgia, some two hours north of Atlanta, with a reputation for riders coming for the trails and staying for the food. </span></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br />As it has been for most outdoor spaces, where camping is still a way to social distance, finding a payed spot online proved challenging. After reading that there are indeed free camping spots along dirt roads, but only as long as you don't mind your shit getting stolen, we kept researching for a payed spot. Government sites are evil for this activity and I'm never really sure that the booking info gets to the camp host. I found one place just a mile outside of Brevard (Pisgah mtb culture ground zero) that had 4 nights in a row starting the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Then to my surprise, Mulberry Gap had a couple spots open over Thanksgiving weekend, AND we could buy a couple of Thanksgiving dinner reservations. The plan was set. Now I just needed the proper bike. <br /><br />Back up a few months. In late August we sold my TREK Remedy 27.5 and were excited to buy a trail/fun/travel bike from a shop in Nebraska, with the hopes for delivery while we were in Colorado, escaping three rainy months in Florida. All was going as planned but we started to get the run around on the frame delivery to the point where the shop wasn't even answering our phone calls. It wasn't a huge deal because I was injured for all of the month of October while in Salida. One day we went into the local shop, Absolute Bikes, for something and they had a small Pivot Trail 429 on the floor. For giggles (and to see if I could use my injured hand), I took it for a spin up the road. Hard to determine its magic qualities on cement, but it fit me. So Ryan did some thinking, some math and some measuring and after a call with the shop to confirm that we could order a frame, and have it delivered most likely before we left town, we fired the money cannon. We cancelled the first frame order once we got the new frame and will never do business with the shop back in Nebraska again. Certainly it was a surprisingly unprofessional and frankly disappointing experience.<br /><br />After getting all of our pre-paid parts sent to us from Nebraska (well, most of them) Ryan had less than two weeks to build a bike and a wheel set that would get no actual dirt time until we arrived in North Carolina. We luckily found some cheap 180 break roters in town, some shifter cable and I ordered a stem to match the wheel nipples. It passed the driveway test once Ryan figured out why the tubeless tires wouldn't stay inflated. Then I spent about 10 hours putting on frame protection film. Yes, I should have bought it sooner and put it on before Ryan built it but life is messy and we were on a timeline. This will come to be an important point later.<br /><br />Anywhoo, here it is. The newest bike in the quiver, and it's not a TREK for the first time in like 18 years. It's a style-of-the-minute bike known as "down country", meaning it's not quite an XC bike and not quite an enduro bike, but some frankenbike in between, with 130mm up front and 120 in back. Kind of an all rounder bike, which is exactly what we were wanting. And the color. Oh, hell yeah! A bold blue to compliment my power blue Super Fly (which I'll never part with). We opted for the MRP fork for time constraints and also the many ways to dial it in to my riding style. I spent two months over-riding the Super Fly on rowdy XC and enduro lines and was ready for a proper bike to point down. </span><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK91ajdwF9cBCkelxths7oeRelCTNmyThKXoNAXQXnamN1sLd9kWBiTdqHZSFEdFXL2rlQCjNj7cVmsytlOWHMOHEYxpuOkI4r0MYSMvq5baNXHEan4HwxaNiDC1xE2lr4KXSYVf3YGA/s2048/PXL_20201122_164157575.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK91ajdwF9cBCkelxths7oeRelCTNmyThKXoNAXQXnamN1sLd9kWBiTdqHZSFEdFXL2rlQCjNj7cVmsytlOWHMOHEYxpuOkI4r0MYSMvq5baNXHEan4HwxaNiDC1xE2lr4KXSYVf3YGA/w640-h480/PXL_20201122_164157575.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br />We packed up the 4Runner and went at this old school. By that I mean a tent and all the gear, including a couple fishing rods. Though we know it's all about the trout where we were heading, we only had spinners thinking we'd find somewhere to throw a rod. <br /><br />We drove about 8 hours on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, staying the night in a hotel in Greenville SC, not even an hour from our first trail head in Dupont State Rec Area. Our night's sleep was interrupted by not one but two fire alarms, where we had to leave the hotel and stand outside. Only a few minutes after getting back into bed after the first exit, we got a call from the front desk asking all guests to go back outside. We thought twice about it but went anyway and so glad we did! Upon returning the second time, we noticed all the room doors were left open and if we'd stayed we would have been that couple, still in bed, while our room was checked by uniformed firemen. Awkward!<br /><br />Our groggy morning came too soon but we were more than happy to get out of that hotel. The air was crisp and it smelled like fall, which added to our excitement. If there's something we miss living in Florida is the change in weather. So this year, thanks to Covid, we'd not only not miss fall, we'd experience it twice; once in Colorado and again on this trip. (It's the little things).<br /><br />We arrived in Dupont to a very full parking lot. Ah, our people! It was so exciting to see all the folks hanging out outside their vehicle, bikes in tow, smiling and enjoying the day outside. The area we rode in was mostly machine cut flow trail, all pretty wide and multi-use (we saw a few folks on horses). There wasn't much in terms of technical riding but it was a good way for me to get familiar with the Pivot and get my cockpit set up and suspension dialed in. We managed to find some of the least ridden trails and came across an old car, long forgotten. It was a great spot to take a break. The views at the top of the trail were awesome. Had we been in peak leaf season, this spot would have provided a cornucopia of color, so we had to leave it up to our imaginations but still appreciated the folds of the land and the sheer amount of forest we had the privilege to be in at the moment. It was a good start to a week of presumed harder shredding to come.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytJ0lTqFw9z8JlktoQiqePo-AH4s7itMFwfebJVqfHtYYUYWvLg7aF9XfAtOjwWwnV2aMXAyPFv-DOBLwa4NTZ9DfaNiJwcmQ3bQO2A3u0zdwPSp7MZuh_OWitOwuSRsXXIQ0jPQQRw/s2048/PXL_20201122_174759435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytJ0lTqFw9z8JlktoQiqePo-AH4s7itMFwfebJVqfHtYYUYWvLg7aF9XfAtOjwWwnV2aMXAyPFv-DOBLwa4NTZ9DfaNiJwcmQ3bQO2A3u0zdwPSp7MZuh_OWitOwuSRsXXIQ0jPQQRw/w640-h480/PXL_20201122_174759435.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3l_mDc7j_nnTGR3EDCNWjqp4_F_rmPXOwjmLtKYLFhOKLOZwqLsD-kubNFT0lveSBf85Tx0BxUwSv7X4mNs1a6GuT4JGDHnTvxCgSx0kquLx82KCeAGaX26RJWXfAAci8k-T2EUqZg/s2048/PXL_20201122_180516731.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3l_mDc7j_nnTGR3EDCNWjqp4_F_rmPXOwjmLtKYLFhOKLOZwqLsD-kubNFT0lveSBf85Tx0BxUwSv7X4mNs1a6GuT4JGDHnTvxCgSx0kquLx82KCeAGaX26RJWXfAAci8k-T2EUqZg/w640-h480/PXL_20201122_180516731.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDoCsts8hG-U9i23zih3gMObJpzRDpA8LBC7tKZoSFuxZXlvUqYZs-mT2QzapJav14s0E4yxqyK_82d8zOPIFykCX093Ozjnd0RIiOMUWI75D3FIPxYIHV3ZHbA0BKAeawFqzA6ZKSA/s2048/PXL_20201122_163911875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDoCsts8hG-U9i23zih3gMObJpzRDpA8LBC7tKZoSFuxZXlvUqYZs-mT2QzapJav14s0E4yxqyK_82d8zOPIFykCX093Ozjnd0RIiOMUWI75D3FIPxYIHV3ZHbA0BKAeawFqzA6ZKSA/w640-h480/PXL_20201122_163911875.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRcldrd2oxsP7dPnwXXVehmxVnm-_nYGsbRpOH1GoTCBxzwO1zPA5oQN2eXS2zTxxN5OprG-5CMU-nithn4hLloMT0eN-fREtPmfiNNwskZda7ueZ-sDpugU1krguXWgdPwhM4eavF8Q/s2048/PXL_20201122_164127979.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRcldrd2oxsP7dPnwXXVehmxVnm-_nYGsbRpOH1GoTCBxzwO1zPA5oQN2eXS2zTxxN5OprG-5CMU-nithn4hLloMT0eN-fREtPmfiNNwskZda7ueZ-sDpugU1krguXWgdPwhM4eavF8Q/w640-h480/PXL_20201122_164127979.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeXwdcskD1-L-7rSInIkgjXyCC0VloRh00CfyjS4UxTHpycLEpkFGQN2v1JtSoD40cv5tyv1fV-1rvk3eF4hY_7R7Q2G5RJoQD6_83IyWU_g9ooZQMeILWhjdKiwZ0sgzb46kWM15IQ/s2048/PXL_20201122_183622246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeXwdcskD1-L-7rSInIkgjXyCC0VloRh00CfyjS4UxTHpycLEpkFGQN2v1JtSoD40cv5tyv1fV-1rvk3eF4hY_7R7Q2G5RJoQD6_83IyWU_g9ooZQMeILWhjdKiwZ0sgzb46kWM15IQ/w480-h640/PXL_20201122_183622246.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31i0N6WDcViYhaliFPK9x5rgwfJBwTgk8jzwu9mraVuXU1SZ3TUMGgO6KgPoMEDkIuctSDFNdSSfJD59kpWzf90rU7gnPI8JZ6dg9ZkWwEfOvl9tj-8Ukfon6_8gkZXKK3VaD6n7LIg/s2048/PXL_20201122_183649447.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31i0N6WDcViYhaliFPK9x5rgwfJBwTgk8jzwu9mraVuXU1SZ3TUMGgO6KgPoMEDkIuctSDFNdSSfJD59kpWzf90rU7gnPI8JZ6dg9ZkWwEfOvl9tj-8Ukfon6_8gkZXKK3VaD6n7LIg/w640-h480/PXL_20201122_183649447.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsb2NEloe3wtfDiZKsDc3tNraGtj_IhWMPJivxbazLyvMXtbOJeaSnKFWclqciPhlXU3MiUHAgDZxCYh66QdQTQoWcqLUq77zc87liiL6SgWv7CirAv3qyZ_sG-b77I0WzVXV2RdY4_Q/s2048/PXL_20201122_185513491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsb2NEloe3wtfDiZKsDc3tNraGtj_IhWMPJivxbazLyvMXtbOJeaSnKFWclqciPhlXU3MiUHAgDZxCYh66QdQTQoWcqLUq77zc87liiL6SgWv7CirAv3qyZ_sG-b77I0WzVXV2RdY4_Q/w640-h480/PXL_20201122_185513491.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br />From Dupont, we headed north to Brevard, North Carolina, home to all things outdoors, including mountain biking, which makes sense due to its proximity to the entrance of the Pisgah National Forest. Several travel websites claim between 200-300 miles of dirt trail lay beneath the canopy of hardwoods. The love of the trees is evident immediately. According to exploreasheville.com "Once property of George W. Vanderbilt, and considered the birthplace to modern forestry in America, Pisgah is home to old-growth forests and the highest mountain peaks east of the Mississippi". Parts of Pisgah are also considered rain forest due to amount of rain they can get, sometimes up to 70"-90" per year. This fact contributes directly to amount of waterfalls in the forest and needless to say, some wet rides. (Or as we like to say, two sock rides).<br /><br />We arrived at our campsite mid afternoon. It wasn't anything special but it would do just fine. It was a popular RV and tent camping area but because it was off season, only a small section of spots were open. We set up camp in our new tent (larger, taller and with vestibules) and settled in for the day. We stopped by one of the local shops for coveted local intel and of course coffee. As the guy gave us his opinion of what was good and why (naming trails we've never seen as if we had) one thing did stick with me. He said, "Our tech is another trail system's erosion." In other words, you better get used to exposed roots, chunder and fall line trenches. What we didn't realize was Pisgah riding involves gravel connectors. With so much hilly typography, you have to get to the top somehow and if it's not by shuttle then it's by grinding gravel. And we found that out the hard way. But before we could put tire to dirt, we went into town after dinner to get some booze. We didn't bring any knowing we'd shop locally (we were in the Appalachians after all) but it was also Sunday and well, we were also in the Bible Belt. So we found a secular haunt that boasted cocktails and outdoor seating. Our off-grid adventure suddenly went on-grid. But what we found in the process of driving to the little pub was that downtown Brevard has the cuteness of another time gone by, with a few square blocks of shops and restaurants, all lit up for the holidays. With our cold weather gear on and the lights a twinklin', we felt nostalgic for home.<br /><br />Monday morning couldn't have come soon enough, and not only because of anticipation to shred the gnar. A crazy wind storm had blown in over night and chilled us to the bone. Temps were only in the 40s but we could not keep the wind from coming in under the rain shell through our 3-season screened walls. And it was loud! I left my ear plugs in the truck and was too lazy to go get them so we tossed and turned as the night whistled its way to sunrise and our first day riding a bucket list track.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Using the map Ryan bought at the bike shop (he loves maps) together with his GPS, he designed a ride that would be around 3 hours, which was great because I hadn't been on the bike much since returning to Florida a few weeks prior plus not riding at all in October due to my hand injury. All be it to say, I was a bit behind the eight ball in fitness and being on a brand new bike, I didn't need a Ryan Epic on day one. But that's exactly what I got.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZjJN_Gyh61OrbWDLJUr4Lkdvc1fTemCyrSTTJCRcdNkDC59VuXRgtgSmNDza_pktlDQ_jeD8ttWxOS6g8nbIASlZjRj0xkJADl8PRC2bryMkkF7d8sOKqRAtREudc688NbbzCirCZQ/s640/a5d8528e17dc29723ba283d04d19b5d9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZjJN_Gyh61OrbWDLJUr4Lkdvc1fTemCyrSTTJCRcdNkDC59VuXRgtgSmNDza_pktlDQ_jeD8ttWxOS6g8nbIASlZjRj0xkJADl8PRC2bryMkkF7d8sOKqRAtREudc688NbbzCirCZQ/w480-h640/a5d8528e17dc29723ba283d04d19b5d9.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />We were able to ride right from camp which was a total bonus after all the driving to get there. A few minutes on the main road through the forest lead us to a gravel road that would take us to the first big climb, and ultimately to the fun stuff. On the way, we spotted a trail head marker and Ryan looked at it on Trail Forks and determined that it seemed "doable" from its profile. It appeared to be less up and down and more contour riding so up we went. All was well for about the first 1.5 miles. I was stoked on the Pivot's ability to ride right over the roots and with the shorter rear triangle, I felt I could hoist myself up and over the rooty step ups more easily. The trail had us climbing at first gently, then a few power climbs that would mellow out. Then we hit a spot that was straight up so we shouldered bikes or pushed them until we could ride again. Well, this happened about ten more times and by the time we got to the next trail head (which originally we were to get there by the gravel road), and after seeing riders coming at us, we knew this was NOT the way to get to the original trail head. Perplexed, Ryan thought maybe he looked at the wrong trail profile. So he showed me what he looked at and I was like, no way. Where are all the red lines that indicate steepness? I told him to compare it to mtb project app and sure enough, all the red lines we had just hiked up appeared clear as day. We went back to the Trail Forks app and I said this is a very zoomed out view. Scroll down the page. Once he did that, the true profile with all the dark red lines appeared. We indeed had just hiked up the worst hike a bike and we still had a lot more which would only get steeper. (Later, confessions to other riders about our oopsy-daisy resulted in "Oh Shit!"). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUUCTD2TlRyyD1UEYwSyfO0smJ67eTG5dXkOaQnuis6e1-jmjNuQLA417TAfwooiOfjihuujWP3ufizKfG7iEw_-38v-CTHFweOJjcqkz2BfV8wo9W1MyTpylJMO7QTkU5y9SspYtjQ/s2048/PXL_20201123_164950226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUUCTD2TlRyyD1UEYwSyfO0smJ67eTG5dXkOaQnuis6e1-jmjNuQLA417TAfwooiOfjihuujWP3ufizKfG7iEw_-38v-CTHFweOJjcqkz2BfV8wo9W1MyTpylJMO7QTkU5y9SspYtjQ/w640-h480/PXL_20201123_164950226.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA51gEiwJxRmmQyDj6BTauo0gHnE0q5vJ4POGqSAgJHLYMEVqtvJIug8vvlinX4V32CHhCeFk3-aBJXtRm2xsLhX-la_KB70k8pjaxoWWhlOjDVtpoxD_Tb-_EUEtmkmLTQ8xv869_Sg/s2048/PXL_20201123_170522648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA51gEiwJxRmmQyDj6BTauo0gHnE0q5vJ4POGqSAgJHLYMEVqtvJIug8vvlinX4V32CHhCeFk3-aBJXtRm2xsLhX-la_KB70k8pjaxoWWhlOjDVtpoxD_Tb-_EUEtmkmLTQ8xv869_Sg/w480-h640/PXL_20201123_170522648.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOXtnE4yxtT849RaAgkgRTt5NxmLZjnv3L2cdkvCS_HpUY5RBbWABOYgem1b6_K_Qjuj_4HG3NdyBwjR3G6mL-WPHrelPcBkyyTVNeL8BL_0SbuMAkDHDCo4TWzrgNIBvuqfuDouYUQ/s2048/PXL_20201123_172804913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOXtnE4yxtT849RaAgkgRTt5NxmLZjnv3L2cdkvCS_HpUY5RBbWABOYgem1b6_K_Qjuj_4HG3NdyBwjR3G6mL-WPHrelPcBkyyTVNeL8BL_0SbuMAkDHDCo4TWzrgNIBvuqfuDouYUQ/w640-h480/PXL_20201123_172804913.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br />We shouldered on. Literally. At one point or maybe two, Ryan had to take my bike so I could climb up water bar drops that were as high as my shoulders. Couple that with sheer drops on either side of the trail and it was enough to give me the shivers and Ryan the stink eye. He's usually pretty spot on with his route-finding but when he isn't, it can result in a death march. Yes, I'm being dramatic. He gave me the option to head back down the gravel but I was like hell no. I didn't walk up all of that trail just to ride gravel DOWN. So we kept going. After about two hours since we left camp, we finally made it to the top, where four trails converged. There was no easy way to get there, per some locals and since we had burned a lot of calories and patience, we opted to take a different track down instead of continuing up. </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The trail was called Avery and it was everything Pisgah. Rough, rowdy and loose. And on top of it all were the fallen leaves. You wouldn't know if you were running over a rock or a raccoon. But I think I did OK. The new bike was in its element, even if I wasn't yet. We had a couple of creek crossings along the way, including at the bottom of the run, where we had to tip-toe our way across make-shift bridges made by others, using down tree trunks with 2x4 for railings. All in the name of fun! But honestly if we had an easier way to get back up to the start of Avery, I would have gone again. Instead, we rode back to camp and got out of our wet gear and made some food and coffee. We went into town to get booze and firewood so we could cap off the night with proper libations and much needed heat. The night would turn pretty cold and after the previous night's wind forcing the issue, Ryan bought another blanket! But since we had a day of riding behind us, and a couple of fingers of whisky in us, sleep came a bit easier until it started to rain. But, that's camping life!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuPF7wx1Y4g0IKPbYg3ssaMeEHGKmd1B_dPw6FHlE4RRPQdC_YO27VAkRFU69ci-pryjuBTdoswXSqfgF3Rhyphenhyphen4v4-m1tMhQttlN0iodobbFHLUrQsMBsQdZr7A1HCLyym1Di-7kfM7A/s2048/PXL_20201123_182443555.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuPF7wx1Y4g0IKPbYg3ssaMeEHGKmd1B_dPw6FHlE4RRPQdC_YO27VAkRFU69ci-pryjuBTdoswXSqfgF3Rhyphenhyphen4v4-m1tMhQttlN0iodobbFHLUrQsMBsQdZr7A1HCLyym1Di-7kfM7A/w640-h480/PXL_20201123_182443555.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ya7YPX6tU31u4ZGQZts4mZr-0hLLUZSXazhmCAmvw77eCK1ws_IGHtpHS-TqLjfCKBUKpwq-imMfuM199-gxAtq_uUawFOJQFueQbXg0gyE64L2oQd2L-hPETBg6LuODSA4TWKdaDw/s2048/PXL_20201123_182650170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ya7YPX6tU31u4ZGQZts4mZr-0hLLUZSXazhmCAmvw77eCK1ws_IGHtpHS-TqLjfCKBUKpwq-imMfuM199-gxAtq_uUawFOJQFueQbXg0gyE64L2oQd2L-hPETBg6LuODSA4TWKdaDw/w640-h480/PXL_20201123_182650170.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ6rj-FrDDHGnqc1bv_kAxTt7tUkLOvWPgVvfSd118CRNNFEc8o3bySij6HouohWdJkr80pY26wQMqq-9ThYMuz7CoXrApN_OV_jVT5KSzS_EaOqRAomFx-NocmDRP9pWaPD1ZkBRLgA/s2048/PXL_20201123_185325782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Tahoma; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ6rj-FrDDHGnqc1bv_kAxTt7tUkLOvWPgVvfSd118CRNNFEc8o3bySij6HouohWdJkr80pY26wQMqq-9ThYMuz7CoXrApN_OV_jVT5KSzS_EaOqRAomFx-NocmDRP9pWaPD1ZkBRLgA/w640-h480/PXL_20201123_185325782.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4Tck-9eIYc3nbThuxm_v6L_79sgGMclEci1A87WK5mzP4TzM-109f_RTq_yIkX1KhxP-IXwvEJZqw0lXRUqtnZKC02Ec_pqd1sZvGB_5luzZMmHb1H5AYuOGYbhP5gCvooomJlnQFg/s2048/original_dc6920c1-97fb-477f-864f-e8dbd1348030_PXL_20201125_014832686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4Tck-9eIYc3nbThuxm_v6L_79sgGMclEci1A87WK5mzP4TzM-109f_RTq_yIkX1KhxP-IXwvEJZqw0lXRUqtnZKC02Ec_pqd1sZvGB_5luzZMmHb1H5AYuOGYbhP5gCvooomJlnQFg/w640-h480/original_dc6920c1-97fb-477f-864f-e8dbd1348030_PXL_20201125_014832686.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVlIWg2sAcFON0788whaAlaeevn4BgUI6dWtvKDAiHR4SnpcNsiyh8HJ3Z3wlJ5OJww55mBHzTu8RTjw9HQ9hCEoLozVJTDTauFN1_p0SilC5mDnCeTFGj0lRUQRCEUpxf3nmIJkEng/s2048/PXL_20201123_190240801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Tahoma; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVlIWg2sAcFON0788whaAlaeevn4BgUI6dWtvKDAiHR4SnpcNsiyh8HJ3Z3wlJ5OJww55mBHzTu8RTjw9HQ9hCEoLozVJTDTauFN1_p0SilC5mDnCeTFGj0lRUQRCEUpxf3nmIJkEng/w480-h640/PXL_20201123_190240801.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_oBg23J8wxg3ANbZk2SJlF5AUy9rlXxi2OAjOBurMKV9PHFbQy3RAnZkm3OY44d2uLc7AvqICGjBDadsYWN-gD94mLB4uvO6rI1pTBdrsIq86tFQ7ksNJ5Kja465RlGnQ2q1nxACUA/s2048/PXL_20201123_021423622.NIGHT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_oBg23J8wxg3ANbZk2SJlF5AUy9rlXxi2OAjOBurMKV9PHFbQy3RAnZkm3OY44d2uLc7AvqICGjBDadsYWN-gD94mLB4uvO6rI1pTBdrsIq86tFQ7ksNJ5Kja465RlGnQ2q1nxACUA/w640-h480/PXL_20201123_021423622.NIGHT.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27LymKvhwqIZzzuuOdeuwOuyTLgukTUAA0lKi7eAi10oVLLmfDsOQmj3LpoJGKqOW7iVJNWqNwm-4ne_mc6EpZuoVUuVMaTAffzK0yUgnxuokBBdWQ-vfzqmvvENHcy1-DnYxsEN6cw/s2048/PXL_20201123_013948510.NIGHT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27LymKvhwqIZzzuuOdeuwOuyTLgukTUAA0lKi7eAi10oVLLmfDsOQmj3LpoJGKqOW7iVJNWqNwm-4ne_mc6EpZuoVUuVMaTAffzK0yUgnxuokBBdWQ-vfzqmvvENHcy1-DnYxsEN6cw/w640-h480/PXL_20201123_013948510.NIGHT.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Tuesday was to be a planned epic around Black Mountain, a very popular trail in that area. We knew there would be hiking but not as much as the day before. We started up a contour gravel road that was gradual and easy riding. It was blocked off by vehicle traffic so we didn't have to worry about the blind corners. The forest was in hibernation for the most part but a few trees still had some leaves and color. At the top of the gravel we took a rest stop and another rider was doing the same. We'd see him again at the false top out. The start of the single track was gnarly. All roots for the most part so you just had to get used to it. The trail switch backed many times and started to become rocky. At one point, I had to give my bike to Ryan so I could climb up some slick rock slabs. We met the other rider at the top and shared some intel about the area. He was pretty new to riding here but said this was a popular trail to ride down. We continued on the hunt for the top out and it came with some sketchy narrow track that seemed impossible to hike let alone ride, but once we pointed the bikes down, it was game on. I pulled up my knee pads, said a prayer and let off the breaks (sorta). It was all fall line trench riding once again, only this time, add in the three to four foot water bar drops. I had to tell myself I had the rig to handle it and just send it. All my alarm bells were firing. This was about as rowdy as we've done in the Rockies and add in the trail hidden by leaves. I had to stop a few times to give my back leg some relief (time to start doing some wall sits). After one of these stops, as I'm ready to drop in, the front tire, unbeknownst to me, was behind a root and as I stood up to go, I didn't and fell over. And it couldn't have been on a completely flat ground. No, it had to be right where there was a tall enough rock to scrape MY BRAND NEW BIKE ABOVE THE FRAME PROTECTION WRAPPER!!! I was beyond pissed. Livid! So that's how I rode for the next mile, just crushing the trail with my rage at such a dumb thing to happen. Well, it's my bike now. For fuck sake. Anyway, the trail finally mellowed out from droppy to more flowy and we popped out where we could make a choice to ride up and descend a mellow flow trail or take the gravel. Up we went but not far and it was all rideable. We swooped down a pretty established trail and out onto the paved road that lead us back to camp. I can see why it's such a popular route. Upper Black Mountain is a bitch to get to and is extremely rough, natural terrain down. Lower Black is more typical trail riding that still had a lot of tech but with more contour and less drops. Super fun day all told! Back at camp we made up some pasta with pesto, canned chicken, canned tomatoes and basil. We got in our meal before the rain came and it drizzled off and on for much of the night. We drove into town and hit up The Hub, the shop of all Pisgah bike knowledge and other outdoor exploits. It also served beer and had fire pits outside. As we were there to get out of the rain we didn't partake in the latter but it was a very cool shop with so many shiny things! By the time we left, the rain had subsided long enough to have a campfire before bed so we could warm up. That night wasn't as cold as we slept the best yet.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDz5dUSjBaV7ApmeN1VH9GFI4jLnn7LhhfEp6fXwkKAThrUc0vVD81Yecu3bPTZxFzoKfClOntIpRoH_zRVoQxk7lQTtA-6XFOp07_Lkxq47c7A-5qQ4H0s6bAZUDI6ql36onQcc5Zg/s2048/PXL_20201124_181011805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDz5dUSjBaV7ApmeN1VH9GFI4jLnn7LhhfEp6fXwkKAThrUc0vVD81Yecu3bPTZxFzoKfClOntIpRoH_zRVoQxk7lQTtA-6XFOp07_Lkxq47c7A-5qQ4H0s6bAZUDI6ql36onQcc5Zg/w480-h640/PXL_20201124_181011805.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Qmgn4mCKIePL8-QeCWV4u1xVco9yYdSyL8WBu0pnXUzt9XFNY_6H3oxZGJFpGpNjxEVmwt1S4KeLFJz1JLSR279gdb9w_cA9956AMa0cgYZtC1BI3XAU3DNG4oKlE6DC6oQmGHHFvg/s2048/PXL_20201124_182255650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpC0gyVFTlIvzJ1IHi5La7rJiv6KPdHsSZ0z_Jsup52G5buyUSOXJnT-i_M9VWhMKauqrMRg5Ed1CUXlMJPcVqfVjqRiwgVd__TDLSSDDOc5T-hFL36w_XKMwrqLLocQtsepa_myKiJw/s2048/PXL_20201124_190738301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpC0gyVFTlIvzJ1IHi5La7rJiv6KPdHsSZ0z_Jsup52G5buyUSOXJnT-i_M9VWhMKauqrMRg5Ed1CUXlMJPcVqfVjqRiwgVd__TDLSSDDOc5T-hFL36w_XKMwrqLLocQtsepa_myKiJw/w480-h640/PXL_20201124_190738301.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1B6p_Kh2UoXvyJIpfiq3gIR7VON-BMz9Mg9Rqyu2GBGZcgH_pn_0dPhTsr27xny66YN1ddrUl5PptPA0vFjjjvU89_zvotHoZtMFZqyXdBBbgYJZLI_4EA_0U9aFhkxaASiPgdpx0Q/s2048/PXL_20201124_213137017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1B6p_Kh2UoXvyJIpfiq3gIR7VON-BMz9Mg9Rqyu2GBGZcgH_pn_0dPhTsr27xny66YN1ddrUl5PptPA0vFjjjvU89_zvotHoZtMFZqyXdBBbgYJZLI_4EA_0U9aFhkxaASiPgdpx0Q/w480-h640/PXL_20201124_213137017.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Wednesday morning was a wash for riding. A misty rain, the kind that gets into your bones, engulfed the forest. So we decided we'd take a drive to see what we could see. Well, that was a bust too because the "smokey" fog that sits in the valleys blocked views of any kind. We drove the Blue Ridge Parkway to Asheville (another popular mountain biking hub) and found a couple really cool water falls along the way. At one of these stops is where we learned how many waterfalls there actually are in the area, helping it earn the moniker "Land of Waterfalls". Anyway, we white knuckled it to Asheville and stopped at a hip diner in the "arts district" for brunch before taking a stroll around a public garden (which duh, it's winter and everything is dead). Then we decided we'd find us a bait shop and a place to put in a rod. We ended up at <a href="https://www.romanticasheville.com/bent_creek_lake_powhatan.htm" target="_blank">Bent Creek Experimental Forest</a>, a popular park where we saw many people on bikes. Unfortunately, Ryan didn't have any of his gear with him so we didn't ride but that was ok. We didn't land any fish either in the little lake so we left the park and hit a large river outside of town. Again, not even a bite! We took our worms and our fishy dreams and went back to Brevard. The fog hadn't lifted and our drive back was pretty much the same as it was that morning. With the rain still falling back at camp, we made our way to the downtown to see if anything was open. It was the night before Thanksgiving and only a few restaurants and pubs showed signs of life. We decided to step into a Mexican restaurant and fill our guts with chips, guac and all things taco. Unfortunately, they didn't serve margaritas but that only created more room for chips. We didn't want to have to go back out in the rain so we lingered a bit. Before we drove out of town to camp, we stopped at the same liquor store to purchase more whiskey for the second leg of the trip. (Though North Georgia is as backwoods as they come, we'd be traveling on Thanksgiving and nothing would be open in the small towns so we had be prepared!)</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgmsKstcmTaYg46W5hyphenhyphenFGtozPqMNOtb_wlqZhzNAZkH7VXb-W8JQY2_iR3rRHFiYPEoEZPy0O1mEgmMbXnidqx74Y4vMnDKOL5Ipux0I7Ytyk4QPO3PNbkXDcHMRQBi49birg57A8Ug/s2048/PXL_20201125_140312484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgmsKstcmTaYg46W5hyphenhyphenFGtozPqMNOtb_wlqZhzNAZkH7VXb-W8JQY2_iR3rRHFiYPEoEZPy0O1mEgmMbXnidqx74Y4vMnDKOL5Ipux0I7Ytyk4QPO3PNbkXDcHMRQBi49birg57A8Ug/w640-h480/PXL_20201125_140312484.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxTobweZMNFQBo0EDs7TBF-E3hOjO6W-JJsr4eu64mDHshrmqqQD5lkfDmNvRgEy1Uo7lEEzqlp049SNx9rUqscsECApE0eN0k8Ejezg_Mqw3jgCSqQ29yprT7gj-dKrbjqkefbx8KnA/s2048/PXL_20201125_135440375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxTobweZMNFQBo0EDs7TBF-E3hOjO6W-JJsr4eu64mDHshrmqqQD5lkfDmNvRgEy1Uo7lEEzqlp049SNx9rUqscsECApE0eN0k8Ejezg_Mqw3jgCSqQ29yprT7gj-dKrbjqkefbx8KnA/w640-h480/PXL_20201125_135440375.jpg" title="Looking Glass Falls" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pT3AsjJVl6E7MUAxMW42ZZ2MmfZhDN8KxjTnoe5w7EawOyEHikK-tGVG2zCgfvJ5-tZ-w2bR89LrWuAlsJWBGW9ZxcZB6QYysAaOrnyBHRBwBbKfGnfl5cJK1JSNXrYEJnTfoFt7wA/s2048/PXL_20201125_140525138.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pT3AsjJVl6E7MUAxMW42ZZ2MmfZhDN8KxjTnoe5w7EawOyEHikK-tGVG2zCgfvJ5-tZ-w2bR89LrWuAlsJWBGW9ZxcZB6QYysAaOrnyBHRBwBbKfGnfl5cJK1JSNXrYEJnTfoFt7wA/w640-h480/PXL_20201125_140525138.MP.jpg" title="Sliding Rock" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAXEWPTmdmdoLJD_8xDp-bUwyCF0nv2DIH0qDsBPXuKlmqdmEM00Gp41qXGeYrJmqInOC3HLPvAxvD2ozqvorUIwqYlr7bbckb5azGrI17gqiAy8I1xDdwkYnUJAi2CLfuoAqniCjBAQ/s2048/PXL_20201125_191149308.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAXEWPTmdmdoLJD_8xDp-bUwyCF0nv2DIH0qDsBPXuKlmqdmEM00Gp41qXGeYrJmqInOC3HLPvAxvD2ozqvorUIwqYlr7bbckb5azGrI17gqiAy8I1xDdwkYnUJAi2CLfuoAqniCjBAQ/w640-h480/PXL_20201125_191149308.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pbkaFqCGtLtTixUXbZYCARCTJrOKOGe0XUslvhi-NQueF1yl2Dl0nVViqBR3vCIPou-8X8htkzTTwQ2ZySwGEg-HhdmlPeXIgw9IYZuv7SpGZ3qHsz8YvYHikYnf3oOu3-OxI9MV_g/s700/lake-powhatan-NC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="700" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pbkaFqCGtLtTixUXbZYCARCTJrOKOGe0XUslvhi-NQueF1yl2Dl0nVViqBR3vCIPou-8X8htkzTTwQ2ZySwGEg-HhdmlPeXIgw9IYZuv7SpGZ3qHsz8YvYHikYnf3oOu3-OxI9MV_g/w640-h426/lake-powhatan-NC.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">No matter how you frame it, Brevard, Pisgah, South East riding– it all lived up to the hype we've only read about through the years. All the rowdiness is indeed true with all the attributes of pay to play fun times. I can only name a few friends of ours that would put themselves through the pain to get to the good stuff up high. We only rode two days so we don't have a lot of context as to how much this applies to the rest of the trails. They were</span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> much hillier, with higher elevation than we had in our minds. I think we topped at 4500-5000 ft. on Black Mountain. That's enough to help us forget the slog to get to the top and have a shit eating grin at the bottom. A friend once said, "If you're not hiking, you're not biking". Though that's one way to look at it, the sentiment seems to apply to riding Pisgah. All I can say is bring maybe your hiking shoes.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /><br />Next up: Part 2 - Mulberry Gap, Ellijay Georgia</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-57121147208780359602020-09-10T09:46:00.000-06:002020-09-10T09:46:28.195-06:00Let Love Drive: A Road Trip with my Dad - A Homecoming<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Itinerary: Cody WY - Sheridan - Devil's Tower - Bad Lands of South Dakota</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Miles: 456</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>In June despite a pandemic and social unrest, my 85 year old dad and I went on a 5000 mile drive through the mountain west, in his Buick, to visit his sisters in Texas and Montana.</i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After leaving Cody, WY, the plan was to continue east, taking the scenic route to the Bad Lands of South Dakota. Dad had never seen them and neither had I. I know, I know. How is that possible given the many trips to Spearfish every Labor Day weekend? Well, I don't have a good reason other than we had other priorities on those trips but this time would be different.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The route we chose took us through the small hamlet of Sheridan WY, home to famous rodeos and also home to my good friend and former colleague Jenae Neeson. Naester, as she's known by those of us back in Omaha, is a woman of the mountains and always has great tales of adventures in the higher altitudes. It's always a pleasure to see her and a stop would be perfect timing for a coffee refill. But before we arrived, we drove through some of the most stunning scenery I've seen in that part of Wyoming. Now it's tough to beat Yellowstone and the Tetons but on this side of the state, where the Big Horns rule, there are amazing views to be had. One of those was the eye popping drive through Shell Canyon. Even though it was drizzling, driving between sheer cliff walls and a rushing river was worth every minute. Until it wasn't. On the back side, after we went over a pass, fog had yet to lift out of the canyon, making driving practically impossible. We wight-knuckled it for about 30 minutes as we crawled at 10 MPH down the mountain. The only thing keeping me on the path were the yellow lines on either side of the road. My biggest fear was not seeing a car in front of me until it was too late or someone coming on us from behind. We couldn't see for maybe 10-15 feet in front of us. I turned on my hazards and hoped for the best. We had no idea if we were next to a wall or next to a cliff, the fog was that thick. But Able Mable got us down without issue. When we could finally see blue sky and the road in front of us, even Dad said he was pretty nervous and didn't want to have to do that ever again! After a drive like that, I didn't need a coffee, I needed a shot! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We arrived in Sheridan where we met Jenae at a small cafe. I walked in but didn't see her so we got a table. By the time I returned from the bathroom, she was walking by Dad who was spying the ice cream options. We exchanged big hugs, which I'm sure was terrifying to those in the cafe, but one can't be in Jenae's presence without a proper greeting. We sat for an hour or more and got her caught up on our shenanigans over the past week. Dad, being on vacation, ended up getting both an ice cream and coffee (it was only around 10 in the morning, after all) and chimed in a few times between bites. The time came too soon that we had to be getting back on the road. We said so long (it's never good bye) and headed off to Devil's Tower.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dad took over the controls of Mable and we flew through the foothills of the Big Horns, home to ranch land and wide open sky. I'd never been to Devil's Tower and have always wanted to see the mammoth rock in the middle of nowhere. And as we drove I kept looking and looking but it wasn't until we were practically there that we saw it, which seems impossible. It literally juts out of the ground, completely out of place among the rolling hills.</span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjmhqEuhjI0F7Yre2YQhDHT9SzLQve-oziw1XktRX3m1eDHMR75LDBgjjnVo_u3QoGwOsa-W7KLlN300npSdbIwAFLPaA4Owv42-snQ-O7BLCoD8lF-QPp97uDmGF5UFwQJhjz5dTJg/s1600/IMG_20200617_141028.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="1600" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjmhqEuhjI0F7Yre2YQhDHT9SzLQve-oziw1XktRX3m1eDHMR75LDBgjjnVo_u3QoGwOsa-W7KLlN300npSdbIwAFLPaA4Owv42-snQ-O7BLCoD8lF-QPp97uDmGF5UFwQJhjz5dTJg/s640/IMG_20200617_141028.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9bcj7-h4UabHAV05BeIgpkyW2iZH2f5hefYNWEwAgJdOja1gLYUteZ1_vxatuL7FVgTo7Ii6iP94XphrRIE83s3BYx0mBuA1rJ6N2B314nd_JhST8b9K9uOhrDM5vplflhDPyC_MbQ/s1600/IMG_20200617_141428.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="1600" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9bcj7-h4UabHAV05BeIgpkyW2iZH2f5hefYNWEwAgJdOja1gLYUteZ1_vxatuL7FVgTo7Ii6iP94XphrRIE83s3BYx0mBuA1rJ6N2B314nd_JhST8b9K9uOhrDM5vplflhDPyC_MbQ/s640/IMG_20200617_141428.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We drove down to the entrance to the park but didn't feel the need to get any closer. It was good enough to see it from the point we were at. We stopped for a quick potty break and since it was so hot and full of tourists, we turned around and headed back the way we came, only this time I got back behind the wheel. Too much steep terrain for Dad which was fine. We hopped on 90 and drove east towards the Black Hills. On the way, we went by Spearfish SD, which is right on the boarder of Wyoming, where I've raced every year since 2006 in the Dakota Five-0. From the interstate, you can see the race route that took us out of town and up into the hills. It was up in the air at that time if the race was still going to happen. Ryan and I had signed up for it in April, not knowing the pandemic would literally crush any large gatherings for the rest of the summer. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our next drive by would take us through Sturgis and Deadwood. Both towns were full of tourists, and barely anyone with masks. Dad talked of the few times he attended the Sturgis Rally (which was scheduled to still happen, regardless). He went once by car and another by motorcycle. He even camped one year. Hard to believe considering how feeble he is now. He recalled enjoying seeing all the different types of motorcycles (he had a Honda Gold Wing at the time) but didn't care for all the T&A and fowl language. Dad has spent a solid percentage of his life in pubs, bars and seedy pool halls and yet he really has a low tolerance for fowl language, especially from women. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPycMC_smQIeChaD6IVyfVecoqRUa_dDPODuNZ9DSVC4QvtYH5WTDZ_IWwsUxSe-nDZF9kT9by1PnbzLa9jblBp-hP7ns5YvFYqoaj_2KSaECliZll0VSAKg9NwxuFCEtUoXIib9Qjw/s1600/IMG_20200617_154154.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1025" data-original-width="1600" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPycMC_smQIeChaD6IVyfVecoqRUa_dDPODuNZ9DSVC4QvtYH5WTDZ_IWwsUxSe-nDZF9kT9by1PnbzLa9jblBp-hP7ns5YvFYqoaj_2KSaECliZll0VSAKg9NwxuFCEtUoXIib9Qjw/s640/IMG_20200617_154154.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVRJyCP0U6PTvZfAx5AWimX_RwfAbGED2nvNsMvQQO78UnBhNq_v59QL3_YxVNYE87dedMV6bSbUHima4_v_hI6k_3XnadY1zVOoyxYCSBTZbgc_NP6ADSgyw0RKMFRbIWHFAzMaX5g/s1600/IMG_20200617_154408.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="1600" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVRJyCP0U6PTvZfAx5AWimX_RwfAbGED2nvNsMvQQO78UnBhNq_v59QL3_YxVNYE87dedMV6bSbUHima4_v_hI6k_3XnadY1zVOoyxYCSBTZbgc_NP6ADSgyw0RKMFRbIWHFAzMaX5g/s640/IMG_20200617_154408.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Before heading to the Bad Lands, I took a look at Google Maps to see if there was a more scenic route instead of taking 90 into Wall. Good thing I did because the more scenic route was closed due to Covid. The road into the western entrance went through Indian territory and to keep the virus out of those communities, they had closed access. Good for them! So it was back onto I-90 and to the town of Wall. It was late afternoon by the time we arrived but I was able to get us the last two single rooms in a small motel. We unloaded our bags and decided to head into the Badlands NP to see what there was to see. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Immediately after entering, a large mountain goat was standing in the middle of the road. And to Dad's giggling joy, an adult buffalo was not too far off. Que the music: "Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam and the deer and the antelope play." Like, literally, that song was playing out before our eyes. But apposed to the next lyrics, the skies were a bit cloudy which played to our advantage. Not many people and it made for some pretty spectacular photos. </span></span><br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKE1ZQYWBAfoaLaZikUWi7gMlaSPmZnuJuMeCrsCs5mlKFRmQeQ2fhLLLM43VK_st78M7ShZtyznOE_eqvX_MwPjiyHZvwdGCXl8ymTllO3f1WZ4EsX8K07haLyXNhxUil8U8rZnrcyg/s1600/IMG_20200617_172418.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1031" data-original-width="1600" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKE1ZQYWBAfoaLaZikUWi7gMlaSPmZnuJuMeCrsCs5mlKFRmQeQ2fhLLLM43VK_st78M7ShZtyznOE_eqvX_MwPjiyHZvwdGCXl8ymTllO3f1WZ4EsX8K07haLyXNhxUil8U8rZnrcyg/s640/IMG_20200617_172418.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiovoILzFzo5gS7410Gc3ebGHvWXyomUMRYE-6tojSjOu1oTfkswnx7LzskPlQThGfqMw3sT0tu85NNzVC83zw8TA7Fw-p-Que7y_rRbL2yRf30nLsjH0C9jwMTD7my-Xnh2UcX-oKvUA/s1600/IMG_20200617_182000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiovoILzFzo5gS7410Gc3ebGHvWXyomUMRYE-6tojSjOu1oTfkswnx7LzskPlQThGfqMw3sT0tu85NNzVC83zw8TA7Fw-p-Que7y_rRbL2yRf30nLsjH0C9jwMTD7my-Xnh2UcX-oKvUA/s640/IMG_20200617_182000.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkb5VbxJIPDFo88I5KhrDK-o-qKxN0YtVnUkCAIMljOgfCArJOXX-smbtqCJJfIfPChyuitXnQmS-iQH_Vs2lElaEnF7k7bMuK_DU2u_lQIIAfKel8YCOUHktlEH1Fx5XbgHqQererlA/s1600/IMG_20200617_173742.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1186" data-original-width="1600" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkb5VbxJIPDFo88I5KhrDK-o-qKxN0YtVnUkCAIMljOgfCArJOXX-smbtqCJJfIfPChyuitXnQmS-iQH_Vs2lElaEnF7k7bMuK_DU2u_lQIIAfKel8YCOUHktlEH1Fx5XbgHqQererlA/s640/IMG_20200617_173742.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We stopped at the first pull out that had a long flight of steps down to another level. The sun was cooking us so Dad stayed in the car while I played tourist. As we drove along, the people became fewer and fewer and the colors better and better. Like in Cody, driving back from the Sunlight Bridge, Dad started getting into the excitement of seeing some pretty strange terrain and would look up from his book and tell me to take a photo of a certain area. He never got out of the car but that was fine. I on the other hand was like a kid in a candy store, pointing my phone in all directions. On our way back towards the entrance, the storms in the distance were in full view and was just marvelous to watch the clouds and curtains of rain float across the horizon.</span></span><br /><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then, just as we were about to exit, I spotted a group of mountain goats, looking to be settling in for the night. We drove up a gravel road and pulled over to admire the grazing animals. Then to our surprise, a baby goat popped up over the cliff edge and it was all I could do to stay in the car. The timing was perfect and not another car in sight. We saw a few more buffalo as we left the park and thought maybe we'd return in the morning. </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By the time we got back to the motel, we were starving. I found what looked to be a modern looking bar and grill that was open to the public. There were barely any cars out front, which boded well for social distancing. We both ordered BLTs and a couple of drinks, and proceeded to toast the end of our trip, save for the drive home. Dad's a talker and will weave a tale til kingdom come so I figured at the very least I'd given him some new material to draw upon. We both agreed this was a very fun adventure, thinking maybe we should go somewhere new next year. He even offered up his surprise at how smoothly it went and how much he enjoyed being able to see new things and not be on some kind of agenda to get somewhere. It's interesting to me how I'm one who yearns to take the roads less traveled; who dreams of adventures to come, while Dad has never been one to take a real vacation. And maybe it's because he already lives a life of leisure on a river that provides all the necessary room for an aging fisherman to wander and wonder about mysteries of life. I'll never really know. But what I do know is this: I am the lucky one. Life gave me a gift, despite all the signals to the contrary, to have this extraordinary experience with my dad. I heard stories never told to me, met relatives who welcomed me and was given a chance to see my Dad in a different way, from a different time. All of these things only strengthened our bond, making us even better friends. And even though we have some things in common like a love for the outdoors, Dr. Pepper and Clint Eastwood westerns, this trip has given us a shared experience that we will be able to talk about and relive together many times over.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Truth be told, I was skeptical of this whole venture at first. With so many on the fly logistics, Dad's stubbornness about certain things, (and my short temper surrounding those things), plus the uncertainty in the world, I worried that it would be fraught with roadblocks. But what I learned and what came to fruition was that if you let love drive, and if I may paraphrase Henry Miller, the destination becomes not actually a place, but a new way of looking at things.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">TRIP STATS:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">11 states in 13 days</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">6 mountain passes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">4829 miles<br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Thank you, Dad, for trusting my driving, my motel choice (aside from the roach motel) and believing that the best views are the ones yet to come. I love you.</i> </span></span></span><br />
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Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-36630423478483672982020-09-01T09:25:00.000-06:002020-09-01T09:25:00.075-06:00Let Love Drive - A Road Trip with My Dad: Connecting with the Past<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">In June, despite pandemic and civil unrest, my 85 year old dad and I went on a 5000 mile drive through the mountain west, in his Buick, to see his sisters in Texas and Montana.</i><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">We left Helena ahead of a large storm system. Reports were coming in from farther north at Glacier NP that they were getting many inches of snow as eventually would Helena. I was so glad to be driving ahead of it because a ten mile stretch of interstate 89 was being resurfaced and we had to drive on gravel/dirt behind a line of vehicles. Snow or ice would have made for some sketchy driving conditions for sure. We drove about 4 hours to the town of Joliet, near the southern Montana boarder. It was a tiny town that serviced the railroad industry. I booked us two rooms at a train-themed hotel, opting for the cheaper digs in the unattached building behind the main hotel, saving us about $40. When I drove around to the back, the building was a single level structure, almost like those we had in elementary school when there wasn't enough room in the actual school for all the classes. I was a bit worried when I opened the main door. Inside was a washer and dryer. It didn't smell or anything but it was definitely more of a dormitory for rail road workers noting the linoleum floors, tight hallways and doors with heavy-duty locks. Luckily, the room was descent enough. Linens smelled freshly washed and there was plenty of room. Once I was able to get Dad's remote to work, I settled in for the night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next morning, we took advantage of the free breakfast. Dad just got his usual coffee but I made a Belgium waffle with butter and syrup. Dad thought that was pretty neat. I think he ate a doughnut. All around the room were paintings of trains in beautiful places in the mountains. According to the desk clerk, the owners were huge Elvis Presley fans and in the entrance was a large display case of kitschy memorabilia. It seemed out of place, but it was the wild west after all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">We bid Joliet farewell and hit the road. Cruising through rolling ranch land on a two-lane highway, we passed through towns like Bearcreek and Belfry. We arrived in Cody around 8:30 a.m. so we could get in early at the Buffalo Bill Museum. This was a planned stop for us. Dad never made it to the museum when he lived in Montana and it was something he said he wanted to do when we first began planning the route. Dad is a fan of the Old West. He hooked all of us kids on Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns pretty early in our lives and they are still our favorite. My brothers and I would sit for hours on a Sundays and watch those long drawn out westerns on TV. Dad reads western novels and books by the dozen and so it was no surprise he wanted to see the museum. </span></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We were one of a few cars in the lot when we pulled in which was perfect. I didn't want to be inside a place with a bunch of people but Dad was excited and the museum is very large so we were able to spread out and even were in spaces alone. Not only did the museum tell the story of Bill Cody and his Wild West show in fine detail but it also housed a historical display on Indians (Bill Cody was a friend of the Indian, employing many in his traveling shows to tell their story) a western art wing and an entire wing dedicated to the history of firearms. According to Wikipedia, "The museum showcased the fame and success Cody attained through this 'Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show,' and addresses his influence on the economic and cultural development of the American West."</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"> All of it was very impressive. The collection of costumes and artifacts, even one of the actual wagons, was of the highest quality. It not only covered the traveling show but also his personal history. He was born in Iowa, lived in Kansas and was part of the Pony Express before he became a scout for the Army. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was fun to watch Dad as he made his way through the displays. Though he had his cane with him, I thought for sure he'd only last an hour or more but to my surprise, he lasted many hours. Some of that was due to him trying to find the actual firearm he used in the Marines. The firearm part of the museum was extensive. I'm not totally sure we found THE rifle but we got close. He kept mentioning a detail about the scope on his weapon and that seemed to be the detail we couldn't find. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">But what he did find was a new cane. In the museum's gift shop, he saw a bunch of hand carved canes with a carved deer antler on the top. The first one he picked out was the perfect height but he put it back for some reason. He wanted to think on it while we had lunch in the museum's large cafeteria, which was also quite large with tables spread apart for safety. At one of the tables was a family of three boys and their parents and when they got up to leave, all of them stopped by our table and thanked Dad for his service. (He had is Korean vets hat on). It was seriously precious and Dad just nodded his head to each one of them as they shook his hand (yes, I know what you're thinking). It was simple and sincere. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Dad, you're famous. Maybe you should wear your hat to a club. Get some ladies to dance with you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Really" he said with a twinkly smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we decided what to do next, he said he was going to go buy the cane. I was glad he did. It wasn't that expensive and he'd have a great keep sake from our trip he'd actually use. After I made sure he found the gift shop, I trotted off to the bathroom and to look at the artwork in the art wing. When I returned to the gift shop, I couldn't find Dad anywhere but the security guard told me he was outside. Time to go, I guess. When we got back in the car, he said he was outside because he was hanging out with the security guard who was also a Vet. I loved seeing the connection he has with others. I made sure he sanitized his hands before we drove off. :}</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">We still had some time to kill before we met up with my cousin, who I'd never met and who Dad hasn't seen in 40 years. I'd been texting with his wife when to meet and where and they offered us their home for the night. They wouldn't take no for an answer even though we had only got a hold of them that morning. I felt like we were intruding! So to find something to do I did some Googling on places to see in the area and I landed on the Sunshine Bridge and the Chief Joseph Byway. Trip Advisor has it a five-star rating and it was exactly that. The byway started about 18 miles north of Cody and is actually 46 miles in total, and ends at the North East entrance to Yellowstone National Park through the Beartooth Mountains (we didn't go that far). The reason this scenic highway is named after Chief Joseph is because the road follows the same route Chief Joseph and his Nez Perce people took as they were running from the U.S. army during the Nez Perce War of 1877, trying to reach Canada to avoid being forced on a reservation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">The start of the drive wound around gradual switchbacks through grassy foothills. Every turn out had an amazing view. At the top out was a interpretive spot to read about the how this exact point served as a lookout point for the Nez Perce scouts. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pointy mountains definitely look like a bear's tooth!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very friendly locals.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">From there we had a choice to turn around or go see the Sunshine Bridge that spanned the north fork of the Yellowstone River. We decided to keep going and it was a drive to remember with gorgeous views. I was that tourist who had to get out at every turn and take a photo! But each switchback took us lower and lower and I kept thinking about Mable Able and what if she were to over heat on the way back up! About half-way down I voiced my concern and Dad said we came this far, might as well go all the way. I'm so glad we did!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">The view from the bridge was outstanding. Dad made it only to the parking lot fence. It was windy and cold and the trek to the fence from where I parked the car next to the bathrooms kinda did him in. I was bummed he didn't want to come out on the bridge but he said from what he saw from the fence, he was pretty impressed. The gorge was about 1200 ft deep and with the mountains in the background, it was a sight to behold! I crossed over to the other side of the road to peer over that edge as well. When I got back to the car, Dad had it running with the heat on. I drove him over the bridge and though we couldn't see down very far he did get a close up view of the canyon walls. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">The drive back up went fine. Mable did just dandy. As we headed back down hill towards Cody, the sun was hitting the red cliffs and we could see storms breaking in the distance, all of which made for some pretty spectacular scenery. And Dad noticed it too. With each switchback, we had a better and better view so he'd tell me to pull over and get another shot! I couldn't have been happier to do it and it's one of the stories I've heard him tell, how the red rock was brighter and brighter with each turn. It was this exact type of moment I was hoping to have on this trip, where we were both enjoying the same thing in the same way. It was a true bonding moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the time we arrived back in Cody, my cousin was off work so we headed directly to their house. Somehow I picked the wrong house and as I was knocking on what I thought was the correct door, I heard someone yell from across the street. It was my cousin's wife, Patt. She was waving us over. Dad was laughing at me as we walked across the street, knowing full well that this was probably something he would have done and glad that he wasn't the idiot. I parked the car in front of their house and was greeted with the warmest of welcomes. We were family, though distant, but family none-the-less and that was all the introduction we needed. After a bit of get-to-know you talk, we headed out to dinner with two of their close friends. Dad had a ball retelling the stories of our trip and of the drive earlier that day. Many drinks later, we headed back to the house and quickly to bed. They had to be up early for work and we had to be on the road just the same. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Looking back on the trip, this segment was one of my favorites. We took a spontaneous side trip and it turned out to be one of the most memorable. In Cody, we were welcomed by family who we had just met but by the time we drove away, it was as if we'd known them forever. Though I travel to get away from humanity, in the end, it's the personal connections we make that help define who we are and sometimes take us in new directions. It had become clear to me that the connections Dad made in his life had been meaningful. Each extended family member we met greeted us with warmth and generosity and I could tell Dad felt it as well. He'd come so far to assure these connections were still in place. I can only hope I'm as brave as he is to do the same.</span></div>
Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-87135188954275064722020-07-28T08:09:00.002-06:002020-07-28T13:01:16.605-06:00Let Love Drive: A Road Trip with My Dad - The Gates of the Mountains<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><b>Itinerary: Corvallis - Helena, MT</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><b>Miles: 178</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><i>In June, despite pandemic and civil unrest, my 85 year old dad and I went on a 5000 mile drive through the mountain west, in his Buick, to see his sisters in Texas and Montana.</i></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen shot from Gates of the Mountains Tour Gallery</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Once it was decided that I'd be going on this trip with Dad, aside from visiting family, he had three places he wanted visit. The first was the Berkeley Pit, which we'll just have to make another trip in order to observe it (see previous post). The second place was The Gates of the Mountains. But this wasn't just going to be a quick drive by. Nothing is quick in the great mountain west. No, we were going on a guided boat tour of the actual location named by none other than Meriwether Lewis.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Per Wikipedia: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Captain Lewis wrote on July 19, 1805:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">...this evening we entered much the most remarkable cliffs that we have yet seen. these cliffs rise from the waters edge on either side perpendicularly to the height of 1200 feet. ... the river appears to have forced its way through this immense body of solid rock for the distance of 5-3/4 Miles ... I called it the gates of the rocky mountains.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We left Corvallis and Aunt Charlotte early. We had a three hour drive and the tour began at 11 a.m. Weather was looking good that day but not-so-good weather was on its way. Dad wanted to stop in Walmart to buy a point and shoot camera–the kind with the screen on the back. He only has a flip phone so I had been taking all the pictures. I could tell he felt a little left out. While planning for the trip, I looked to see if disposable cameras were still around as I knew anything above that would just be a frustration for Dad but he wanted a real one. I built this little detour into our itinerary so we had about 45 minutes to get this done. And as expected, since cameras aren't the popular gadget, they were all the way in the back corner of the Walmart. I told Dad I'd push him in wheel chair or he should drive the electric one and I'd sit on his lap. He was having none of it. Not at 8 in the morning, for sure. So we slowly made our way to the camera section. The selection was slim but we found one made my Kodak. As we're checking out I spotted the $5 CD rack and asked Dad to pick out some new road tunes. The current ones had run their course ten-fold. So he picked out Alabama, Hank Williams and one other. I have to admit, the change in music was nice, but truthfully, they didn't hold a candle to the old timers that Dad loved. Back in the car, I practically pulled a muscle trying to get the blister pack open. Good thing Dad never leaves his house without his pocket knife. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Now I'm not nerd, but I do know we needed to also buy a memory card but I wasn't sure which, and since the camera was sealed tight I had to kinda guess.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"> I put the card in the camera, showing Dad each step that I knew he'd forget in five minutes. I powered it on and of course I got an error message. Curses! So I opened the quick guide that is in 3-point type (how do old people function in this world with letters that small!) Oh and it didn't help that I had contacts in to help me see distance but are utterly worthless for seeing close up. My heart rate was climbing. I repeated the steps with the same result. Maybe I bought the wrong type of memory card? Then I thought, What Would Ryan Do? Look at You Tube! Huzzah! I typed the camera model and question about memory card install into You Tube and the first video I clicked on was done by an old dude who knew exactly what I had done wrong and after watching it a couple times, I got the relic to fire up. I was so stoked! We had about a minute to spare on our itinerary so all was well! </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad with his new toy.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The <a href="http://www.gatesofthemountains.com/">GOM headquarters</a> is outside of Helena, Montana. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">According to </span><a href="http://www.lewis-clark.org/article/2844#" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Wikipedia</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">, its genesis came from a settler named Nicolas Hilger. He was a judge and rancher (we drove through his family's ranch to get to the tour site). In the late 1800s, he had a steam ship made in Iowa and had it shipped in two pieces via the new Northern Pacific Railroad. After it was assembled, the ship, dubbed "The Rose of Helena" steamed its way down the Missouri to his ranch. For almost two decades tours were given to select people excited to see the wild west. But those tours went on for weeks, to Great Falls and back. Can you imagine what that was like back then! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We arrived at our departure destination. There was a marina with both private and public boat docks and a wonderful lodge with a cafe and gift shop. Below the large deck that looks over the marina, was a historical timeline of Gates of the Mountains, Inc. complete with photos and objects, professionally mounted and displayed, unlike the original steam engine, "Rose", which sat rusting away between it and the boat docks. Oh the stories it knows.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gates of the Mountains HQ</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our boat for the day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This plate was on the original Rose of Helena.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I bought Dad a hat as a trip souvenir and a sticker for me from the gift shop. They also had books about the area. There was a historic fire that killed 13 fire jumpers in 1949. The author, Norman MacClean, penned the story about the fire titled "Young Men & Fire". He's more famous for the story that became a Hollywood film starring Brad Pitt called "A River Runs Through It" (one of my top ten movies). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Finally it was time to depart. Dad and I wandered to the docks early since it required him to walk down a long flight of stairs. He was wearing his Korean Vet hat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"Where's the hat I just bought you?" I inquired. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"In the car. I'm not sure if it fits." Of course.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Dad was first to board and he chose a seat outside, near the stern, on the starboard side, which was great, not only for the views but to keep Dad clear of potential Covid carriers! The Captain got on the mic and introduced himself and gave a few safety talks as we backed out into the lake. Slowly, we headed towards the canyon as the captain gave us the history of the Gates of the Mountains tour company, the land that surrounded it and the family who started it. That got us to the entrance of the canyon where his stories turned to those of Lewis & Clark and the Shoshone Indians that lived in the area. I noticed while he told these stories, he was looking up at the cliffs with binoculars and it made me happy to think that he wasn't just recalling a script but that he was still excited enough to be looking for something cool to share with us. And it paid off. We saw some deer, a giant eagles nest, and a smaller Osprey nest. He knew this area not only from the water's edge but also its backcountry, as a guide. One story in particular was about how he guided the grand child of one of the smoke jumpers who had died many years ago trying to put out the fire in Mann Gulch. He said it was very intense to be in the area that was the final resting place of this person's grandfather. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First to board!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">As we continued to float, my neck ached from all the cranking to look up the cliff faces. With the stories from the Captain fading in and out, my mind wandered to the time of Lewis & Clark and how these cliff faces affected the explorers (by this time Clark had taken another team on foot to find and make nice with Indians, so all accounts of the GOM are from Lewis's journals). From a few of the articles I've read, he wrote these were the highest cliffs they'd come across. I can only wonder what they would have thought of the Grand Canyon! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We reached a point where the boat had to turn around due to the depth of the water and as the boat turned the boat ever so slowly, the captain told the heroic tales of the smoke jumpers, pointing to ridges and cliffs directly above us to pinpoint where the dead jumpers were later found. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The last story as we turned our gaze back towards the direction we had just come, was how Lewis named this area the The Gates of the Mountains. As the Captain turned the boat around he pointed to where the space between the walls of the canyon were the most narrow at that very vantage point, but as we moved towards the center, the gate looked like it was widening purely due to perspective. It was a great way to visually understand how the name came about.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Gate" in the middle partially closed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Gate" is wide open.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">For the rest of the tour, the Captain said he would answer any questions but would remain mostly quiet so that we could take in what we were seeing and hopefully he would discover something new, as he claimed, usually was the case. We floated upstream on the other side of the canyon so we could see that side up close. The rock formations were interesting and very old. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indian petroglyphs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rhino Rock (Can you see the rhinoceros face?)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dirt Girl back on land.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">When we returned, Dad tipped the Captain and thanked him for the tour. I think it exceeded his expectations (and he got to use his new camera a lot, although I had to tell him what button to push at least 5 times)! As we stood around taking pictures of the boat, a man, probably in his 40s, came up to Dad and thanked him for his military service (his Korean War Vet hat was the giveaway). I'm not sure if this is a regular occurrence for him but this was the first of a few times to come when he'd get some appreciation from a stranger. The man was a 4th generation Marine. I could tell he was in a hurry to get back to his family when Dad began to tell a story, but he lingered respectfully. I've heard many stories from Dad about his time in the military but none with a bend towards "doing his duty" or "honoring his country". From my observation, his service was a job to him and a chance to travel to distant places. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">After Dad finished, the stranger shook his hand and thanked him again. It was a proud moment of witness.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Then I made him clean his hands when we got back to the car! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We were one of the last people to leave the marina. It was early afternoon and we had to make a choice about where to go next but the weather made it for us. The forecast for that region, starting that night, was predicting snow and rain for the next several days. I didn't want to wait it out, nor drive in potentially hazardous conditions, in a car that could probably handle it but I wasn't interested in testing the theory. Plus, if there's one thing Dad doesn't like to do, it's driving in anything but dry, sunny conditions. So, in order to stay out of the weather's path, we had to make our way east and south to Dad's next prerequisite stop: Cody, Wyoming to visit </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The Bill Cody Museum</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">. Dad is a huge, huge, huge reader of Western novels. He loves anything to do with the Wild West and its tales of cowboys and outlaws who wandered the frontier. I often wonder had Dad's station in life been different, would he have traveled more or ended up putting down roots in the Gates of the Mountains somewhere? After many days in the high country, he was probably wondering the same thing. </span>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-35199626431262521482020-07-20T13:48:00.004-06:002020-07-21T12:07:36.638-06:00Let Love Drive - A Road Trip with My Dad: Sister Act 2<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><b>Itinerary: Butte>Corvallis, MT</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><b>Miles: 162</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><i>In June, despite pandemic and civil unrest, my 85 year old dad and I went on a 5000 mile drive through the mountain west, in his Buick, to see his sisters in Texas and Montana.</i></span><div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The morning we left Butte, the skies were dumping rain. It was the first day of bad weather so far. Bummed that we weren't able to see the Berkeley Pit (see previous post) we refilled our coffee thermoses at the hotel and headed towards Corvallis to see Dad's other sister, Charlotte, who lived alone with two cats and a dog in a trailer court. She offered Dad the guest room if he wanted and I could share her bed with her cats. How old am I, ten? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The drive through the hill country was great despite the rain. At least we could get some radio stations and when the hit "Maybelline" came on, of course, we belted out the chorus because everyone knows that's what you should do. And it was then that the idea struck me. Maybelline would be the name of Dad's Buick but not just Maybelline—Able Maybel would be her moniker from that day forward. "Yeah, I like that", Dad said, and repeated the name. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Prior to arriving, Dad seemed hesitant about visiting Charlotte. Dad's prone to argue with her more than his other sister and their phone calls, many times, end with one hanging up on the other. More than once she has called me when she couldn't get ahold of Dad. He'd eventually call her. "She just wanted someone to complain to," he'd say.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">So, we took the long way, up through Missoula where we stopped for more coffee at a local shop and then south on a two-lane highway, minding speed limits as we passed through small town after small town. The Bitter Root valley was stunning. Mountains to the west and the Bitter Root River to the east. Large expanses of ranch land filled the voids between the mini metropolises. Despite it being a week day, the morning rush was in no hurry what so ever. I followed respectfully behind a new Chevy being driven by an old cowboy. This city girl had gone country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We pulled into the trailer court. It was much larger and more spread out than where Barbara lives and it felt more like a neighborhood with trees and flowers. Such is the difference between living on the edge of suburbia and the edge of wilderness. Her trailer was double wide with a nice large covered porch. Not too soon after we arrived, she gave us the dime tour which included her yard and all the aches and pains of trying to keep plants and flowers alive. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We spent all day, like we did with Barbara, chatting, or rather as Dad always says about their phone calls, listening. "I can't get a word in edgewise" he would gripe. That was indeed the case that day which was good because I didn't know any of the old stories and Charlotte was the keeper of the family history. She has one of those memories, unlike Dad and myself, where she can recall dates and names of family members current and deceased. She talked much of their mom but less of her dad, who is not the same as Dad's father. "I'm a bastard!" she exclaimed standing in her kitchen, wild eyed. "I'm not ashamed of it". And without missing a beat, Dad says, "I think it was the mail man." No wonder she hangs up on him! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Over the loud background of the TV (she was addicted to watching Northwoods Law on Animal Planet) her stories bled from one to the next, unless she stopped to pay attention to something interesting on Northwoods Law like finally figuring out who was poaching local deer. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"You know what I call those people?" Charlotte asked over the TV.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"No, what?" I asked, waiting from some kind of slur.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"Rebel rousers! People that cause a ruckus, that's what I call 'em!" I laughed to myself. I don't know that I've actually heard anyone say that word out loud. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Dad chimed in a few times to add to her story but mostly he sat in the recliner, lip reading the TV. When they did share a story, it went back decades to a simpler, obviously much more difficult time. But despite those times, they also seemed to have found joys. He spoke of having to steal whatever he could get to eat or sell to get money to eat. One daunting story was when his aunt fetched him from the doctor for some kind of illness and she had to carry him. They walked by a market that had a sign reading mule meat 10¢ lb. She told my dad that he had to walk because she couldn't pass up the sale and couldn't carry both him and the meat. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Dad told another a story about how his mom gave him enough money to see a movie but he had to pick between seeing a silent black and white film and have enough money left over for popcorn (which he still loves today, as do I) or see a color film but no snacks. He said he chose color because it was </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Pinocchio</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"> and he stayed in the theater all day watching it over and over 'til they kicked him out. Since Charlotte was younger, either she wasn't born yet or was too young to recall these stories. She shared stories of her high school sweetheart whom she eventually married ("But to the disapproval of his mother. I wasn't good enough.") From the photos she showed me, he was quite the looker and it seemed to me, despite her disdain for him at the present time (they separated long ago), she secretly longed for those days again of living a good life in California and eventually Montana. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">She had me get one of her albums off a high shelf that had pictures of her kids, which I had never met and whom Dad hadn't seen in over 30 years. She had no filter, telling me who she liked of her kids and who she didn't and why. And she seemed rather proud of that detail of her character, reminding me that you'll always get the truth, good or bad, from her. She told us we should go see her favorite son, Ray, in Cody when we stop there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">As the day wore on, Dad was blinking incessantly, enough to cause Aunt Charlotte to ask why he was blinking so much. Dad said because they were watering and itching. She admitted to using a strong cleaning solution because she hated her home to smell of animals (which it didn't). Either he was allergic to the pets or the cleansing residue. Either way, that gave us the reason to get a hotel instead of staying the night. After a simple meal she made, we said good night and left to check into our hotel. The evening was young so we went for a drive, just to see what there was to see. We found access to the Bitter Root River and like I did back in Salida, I put my hand in the water and then grabbed Dad's, not only to share the shock of how cold it was, but also to say I'm glad I'm here with you, by a river in the mountains. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">It's interesting to go through the exercise of thinking about your parents as young people, long before the weight of parenthood and adulthood have taken their toll. I love this photo of my dad with his nephew, Guy. I can see my brothers in his face. His ears haven't changed one bit ("There are two body parts that never stop growing, your nose and your ears", he and Charlotte would say). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The day's conversations shifted my perspective of my dad. For so long I've heard the same problems and struggles with his health and what-not, that I forget he was wild eyed and bushy tailed, like in the photo. I like to imagine the younger James Abbott as being similar to the character, Jack, in the movie <i>Titanic</i>: always hustling, street smart, kind, lean of judgement, and ready for adventure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">As we drove back to the hotel, I felt bad that after all the traveling I've done over the last twenty years, it took this long for us to travel together. But I'm sure glad we finally did. Can't change the past so let's be getting on with it, he would have most likely said, had I mentioned this thought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">And so we did, capping the night with more cribbage games and beers. </span></div>
Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-81048242510472734612020-07-15T10:03:00.002-06:002020-07-15T10:07:27.472-06:00Let Love Drive: A Road Trip with My Dad - Dinosaur CO to Butte MT<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><b>Itinerary: Dinosaur CO > Idaho Falls ID > Butte MT</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><b>Miles</b>: 619</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><i>In June, despite pandemic and civil unrest, my 85 year old dad and I went on a 5000 mile drive through the mountain west, in his Buick, to see his sisters in Texas and Montana.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The day's drive was going to be our longest of the trip. The end goal was Butte, Montana or somewhere close. Dad really wanted to show me this giant hole he'd seen when he lived up in the area in the 80s. It was the result of copper mining and from his memory, he kept saying how the hole was so big that the trucks driving down its walls looked like toys. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"Where is the hole, Dad?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"I'm not exactly sure. We'll figure it out when we get there. Just tell your phone to get us to Butte."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We would end up driving west along the top eastern corner of Utah before turning north into eastern Idaho and finally crossing into Montana by way of the Bitterroot wilderness. All said and done, we'd drive in four states that day!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Leaving Dinosaur, CO in the wee hours was like a vacation for the eyes. The high desert in the morning is an orchestrated dance of color and light, where the shadows get to dance before the sun burns them off. It wasn't long before we crossed into Utah and it looked much like the Utah I've been to in the more southern regions. Seriously, Utah is such an extremely rugged place. We've ridden bikes countless times in Moab and hiked around the Canyonlands. Bryce, Capitol Reef, Grand Escalante and Zion are absolute wonders of nature. I highly recommend <a href="https://www.visitutah.com/places-to-go/parks-outdoors/the-mighty-5/?utm_campaign=3Season&utm_source=PPC&utm_content=SitelinkExtension&gclsrc=aw.ds&">going to Utah</a> in the spring or fall when the temps aren't as hot and really getting into the interior. Capitol Reef and Grand Escalante are the lesser of the known areas which is fine by me. When we were there, we could get right up to the formations and see the lines of color at arm's length. Go. Now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I didn't realize our elevation until we started descending into Deer Valley by way of Daniel's Pass at around 8000 feet. It took a solid 20-25 minutes to get down the mountain and the terrain went from desert to pure alpine, with mountain sides thick with evergreens and budding aspens. Back country skiing is a big thing in Park City, home to the 2002 Winter Olympics. In fact, we could see they Olympic ski jump from the interstate. Dad thought that was pretty cool. We stopped at a gas station after the descent off the mountain. I needed to get gas and being back in the mountains, I thought I better buy another container of coolant just to be on the safe side. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We gained some elevation on the way to I-15 and the Buick handled it fine. I was still driving and being in 80-90 mph traffic was a crazy wake up call since it was morning rush hour. We were too far north to see the Great Salt Lake. We drove parallel to the railroad and passed the sign leading to The Golden Spike National Historical Park. I kinda wished we would have taken time to stop but we had a long day of driving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">By lunch we made it to Idaho Falls and while stopped Dad's sister called. I could hear both sides of the conversation and so could everyone else in the Subway restaurant. Dad has bad hearing and even with his hearing aid in, if he chooses to wear it, he still puts his phone calls on speaker and talks LOUD and when he's feeling ornery, he'll answer the phone with "What" instead of "Hello" and today was one of those days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br />"What?"<br /><br />"Where you at?" asked Aunt Charlotte.<br /><br />"Idaho Falls."<br /><br />"What are you doing all the way over there?"<br /><br />"I'm on vacation. I'm seeing stuff."<br /><br />"What stuff? Are you coming to see me or not?"<br /><br />"I'm on vacation. We'll get there tomorrow. Bye"<br /><br />This was the same conversation he'd had with his sister two times prior. He was getting bit over it. <br /><br />We drove over to the actual falls of Idaho Falls and parked along a popular walking path. From what I could discern, the falls are just a beautified flood water management solution. It had a developed River Walk around it with lots of points to view and art installations. The businesses around it were quaint so it seemed that the area was in the middle of a revitalization. It was a good leg stretch stop for sure!</span><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Idaho Falls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sculpture on the River Walk around the falls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The man himself at Idaho Falls</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">With state number 5 checked off the list, we made our way to the sixth state of the trip: Montana. I'd never been to Montana and I was excited to finally get to the place my dad talks the most about aside from his military travel. Ryan's been there and many friends. I've been to Idaho and Wyoming and now I was finally going to see what Lewis & Clark dubbed the Gates of the Mountains and the land that birthed the Missouri River.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I asked Dad to take the wheel for the next stretch. Before we got on the interstate, we stopped for gas. Dad noticed the truck at the pump in front of us had a sticker or something on it that related to Butte. Dad went up to the group standing outside the truck while I pumped gas. I hoped Dad wasn't going to be too annoying.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"The hole is still there", Dad said when he returned to the car. "They drove by it this morning."</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"Oh, yeah? Did you ask them where it was?"</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"No. I forgot."</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I rolled my eyes as I went around to the passenger side.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The next three hours was a mix of classic country on the radio where we got to sing On the Road Again and Ring of Fire before we lost signal. Then talk turned to Dad's days of living in Montana. He moved there after my parents separated. I was probably around 11 or 12 years old. I would hear from him occasionally by letter or by phone. He lived with his sister Barb and her family for while in Great Falls. His other sister, Charlotte, who we were on our way to see, had moved up there with her family as well so he had a support system. It seemed he bounced around depending on where the work took him. He had a fishing and hunting buddy and Dad claims his friend didn't like killing animals and would come along for the adventure but not actually shoot anything. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevFnPpBF93Lk1WknBwzsr-CVlmJeyICZJHW70p6MmrrUz1hgg9lWYPGhWZJsrx1pdsuAZ16QdMquGOan9dSn0VVYxrXvAvEA8CSvnWGrzJMf7PpHrb-z37RgfF6MolnQ5cevPKtoOAw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-06-24+at+5.15.33+PM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="626" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevFnPpBF93Lk1WknBwzsr-CVlmJeyICZJHW70p6MmrrUz1hgg9lWYPGhWZJsrx1pdsuAZ16QdMquGOan9dSn0VVYxrXvAvEA8CSvnWGrzJMf7PpHrb-z37RgfF6MolnQ5cevPKtoOAw/w640-h314/Screen+Shot+2020-06-24+at+5.15.33+PM.png" width="640" /></a><span style="color: #202122; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /><br /><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">By the time we arrived in Butte, it was close to 4pm. After the roach motel in Dinosaur, I thought we needed a place a bit more upscale, where we felt we could shower in safe and sanitary conditions. I got us a couple of rooms on the first floor but one wouldn't be ready for a few hours (the hotel was short staffed due to Covid). So we put our things in one room and headed out to find the elusive Big Pit.<br /><br />Dad remembered that the company running the mine was Anaconda Mining Co or something of that nature. There just to happened to be a town about 40 minutes up the road with the name of Anaconda. Seemed like a good place to start. What's another 1.5 hours of driving, right? My eyes were about shot but Dad was visually excited and unlike me, not exhausted, so I sucked it up and off we went. I looked up Anaconda, MT on Google and there was some kind of place where you could park and walk up to an actual smelter stack. Ok, things were looking promising. So we drove there and it was a pretty drive and we get to the stack and there are large mounds of coal, one after the other, along the road we were on. Dad was certain we were NOT in the right place. I asked him if it's possible the pit was back in Butte where the GIANT AF strip mining operation was that could be seen from the interstate. I believe his exact reply was "No. No. No." He told me to pull into the gas station we could see ahead of us and he'd go in and ask. I stayed in the car.<br /><br />As I'm Googling the shit out of this pit thing, a lady knocks on the car window. Dad is standing behind her. I rolled down the window and she said the mine pit is back in Butte. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I listened to her directions which were confusing AF and I asked her to just tell me what it's called and I'll plug it into the phone. Clearly, I was tired and hungry.<br /><br />Aha! We had directions, finally, to the Berkeley Pit. <br /><br />Forty minutes later we arrived back in Butte and went through an older part of town. When Molly said, "You've arrived" we were on a nondescript street. Our heads were spinning side to side. If this thing is as big as he said it was, like, it should be really noticeable. I pull a U-turn and then I see a sign on a shack-like building that says Berkeley Pit. I pull into the empty parking lot. The sign on the building door said it had closed at 5pm. It was almost 6pm! Dad looked confused. He looked up the hill next to the parking lot that had a fence at the top. He suggested we walk up to the fence. I disagreed and noted there was $2 entry fee that would allow us to get onto a viewing platform so we'd be trespassing (and Dad couldn't climb it anyway). Dad was deflated. His memory is pretty vivid of this place and he recalled seeing it from a high vantage point. Upon further research, as I write this, there is A LOT of information about the pit. It closed in 1982, about 2-3 years before Dad moved to Montana so I'm thinking at that point in time it probably wasn't a tourist site and he could walk right up to the edge. The pit is literally full to its brim of very poisonous water. The local who gave us the directions said it was supposed to hit its peak this year, as in it won't be able to hold anymore water. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jPb9u3Dv_mT1A5k723QMsQHaQKzsedSoSXkIIa3Hs1c4tQFu6_wfAR-wS3sUj5zMiZug_NZbvoxMS-_qPvOKSFsC5B0TvAvg1Qcc_CzScvENRd5oZWis1-4psHqNYuFGS2BQ4KdWng/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-07-14+at+5.30.44+PM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="1433" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jPb9u3Dv_mT1A5k723QMsQHaQKzsedSoSXkIIa3Hs1c4tQFu6_wfAR-wS3sUj5zMiZug_NZbvoxMS-_qPvOKSFsC5B0TvAvg1Qcc_CzScvENRd5oZWis1-4psHqNYuFGS2BQ4KdWng/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-07-14+at+5.30.44+PM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google Street view</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozQoJbuIQG96TWxc3z6Jr60m191gaztXbz_sEM06dH5K8S6nVZMJ1MIURMUGYI23J-xvhMHB8g8SsnnMjHfwL6tmGgfIoBeKKkABXEwtEbbREo1yhXm71Ijsr-TXm2Lun_PdvyDbWhg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-07-14+at+5.26.39+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="649" data-original-width="943" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozQoJbuIQG96TWxc3z6Jr60m191gaztXbz_sEM06dH5K8S6nVZMJ1MIURMUGYI23J-xvhMHB8g8SsnnMjHfwL6tmGgfIoBeKKkABXEwtEbbREo1yhXm71Ijsr-TXm2Lun_PdvyDbWhg/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-07-14+at+5.26.39+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google aerial view</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjcnsKx3LqAbhVP0kPe0zH_kklRRnotapcu567uucueVqTOrDFad3fc0-8qXHtjbMwVH6q5_oVA5BmNT8U2i2g_1rR2ZzwJVWzb3qfWwuMFGrfzPPuleVmUdrDRX9TMXzYSoQHd4MVA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-07-14+at+5.27.39+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="1052" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjcnsKx3LqAbhVP0kPe0zH_kklRRnotapcu567uucueVqTOrDFad3fc0-8qXHtjbMwVH6q5_oVA5BmNT8U2i2g_1rR2ZzwJVWzb3qfWwuMFGrfzPPuleVmUdrDRX9TMXzYSoQHd4MVA/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-07-14+at+5.27.39+PM.png" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">screenshot from the internet street view</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">One <a href="https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/berkeley-pit">website </a>says: The Berkeley Pit is a former open-pit copper mine in Butte, Montana and now one of the only places in the world where you can pay to see toxic waste. The sheer scale of the site is something to behold. In aerial photos, it appears simply as a huge black splotch. The pit is one mile long by half a mile wide, and over 1,780 feet deep, 1,000 of which are filled with acidic water with high concentrations of heavy metals and toxic chemicals, including copper, iron, arsenic, cadmium, zinc, and sulfuric acid.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">If only I'd had the name of the pit I could have planned this better. Considering all the info, even a <a href="https://pitwatch.org/">website</a> dedicated to the science of the pit, it's amazing I didn't find it online at first. My Google foo was definitely off that day. So, we decided we'd go to it in the morning. It didn't open until 9am so that meant we could sleep in a little. I was stoked.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">But before we could even think of sleep, I needed to get some food. My headache was reaching epic stage.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Dad had been wanting to get pizza so we drove to a place across the street from our hotel. It was packed with a 20 minute wait. (The town had just relaxed some eat in ordinances so people were taking advantage of the new freedom). I didn't want to subject Dad to a noisy, non-mask wearing environment so we went to another place a block away that was connected to a casino. Dad was hoping to play some black jack. (Dad, hello, pandemic). But when we went in, the casino side was closed, of course, and the pizza side had literally just opened that day and was only fulfilling to go orders. Dad didn't want to do that so I looked up a third place that was back towards the mine and same thing, only to go orders, and of course a long wait. When I went back to the car to tell Dad, he said to just go to Arby's. Deal. At that point I was ready to eat horse meat, which is probably what I did but the curly fries made up for it. At least we could eat without a million people around. It's not the ideal experience but I was slowly starting to side with Dad's way of doing things. Keep it simple. He doesn't care about having a good culinary experience. Give him a hardy ham sandwich or a tasty burger and he's good as long as there is Dr. Pepper to wash it down. Menus just confuse him and loud places make it hard to communicate. Plus, he'll hate the food anyway or get upset about the cost of "two pieces of bread around some meat".<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We got back to the hotel around 7pm or so. Before I went to my room I challenged him to a game of cribbage. Dad loves cards and he'll play with anyone who asks. (When he was in a rehab facility after he had surgery a few years ago, he was in paradise, playing cards with all the patients who were more than willing to pass the time with him). I went out to the car and grabbed one of his beers and one or two of my White Claws (it's all that the Cubby's had in Scotty City, Kansas. Sue me). I dropped off the drinks and went to my room to get a chair and a bag of popcorn I had bought along the way. Under multiple lamp lights (Dad needs lots of light to read and these new hotels do not have ceiling light) we snuggled up to the desk in the room. Dad and I played cribbage using an app on my phone for the board. It was fun. Dad has no qualms about winning or losing. He would make sure I had counted all my cards, even if it would put me ahead. Winning was not the point at the moment. After a couple games, I went back to my room, took a long bath and poured myself into bed, grateful to not have to worry about cock roaches or no air conditioning. It was heavenly.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The next morning, I got a call around 8 from the front desk. "Your dad wanted me to tell you he's up." I laughed. He was in the lobby getting coffee. I had been up so I walked out and could here Dad from down the hall asking the attendant about how to use the coffee dispensers. His suitcase was sitting next a chair. He was ready to go but unfortunately, it was raining like a banshee so we didn't get to see the pit. I didn't have any feelings one way or another but after looking at the photos on this <a href="https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/berkeley-pit">website</a>, it would have been pretty amazing to see.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"Well, we'll have to come back and see it", he said.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I totally agreed!</span></div></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-41775192229352855962020-07-11T13:48:00.001-06:002020-07-11T14:10:10.560-06:00Let Love Drive - A Road Trip with my Dad: Salida to Dinosaur CO<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><b>Itinerary: Salida to Dinosaur CO</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><b>Miles: 298</b></span><br />
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<i style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">In June despite pandemic and civil unrest, my Dad and I went on a 5000 mile drive through the mountain west, in his Buick, starting in Texas and ending in Iowa where he lives. </i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYIyRLaZZ91LfUo62ncnPJcUXtgNjEJ2hqTjRFD3MI_GxrCRjyCqtqdH0WUzmKCcMnOcoArCaSn5jhD5votpVNDSMe3OAroA8cmVEWAo3_2VLsRe82P1C61DoTNRZ1sTZoFjdkcMASJA/s1600/IMG_20200612_181358.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYIyRLaZZ91LfUo62ncnPJcUXtgNjEJ2hqTjRFD3MI_GxrCRjyCqtqdH0WUzmKCcMnOcoArCaSn5jhD5votpVNDSMe3OAroA8cmVEWAo3_2VLsRe82P1C61DoTNRZ1sTZoFjdkcMASJA/s400/IMG_20200612_181358.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">This day was going to be a day of reckoning. Either the car was going to go up and over Monarch Pass and we'd continue the journey or it wasn't and we were going to have to figure out plan B. (See previous post).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We were now in mountain time and getting up early was a synch, as my body clock was on eastern time. That morning Dad was up 'n at 'em when I called his room at 7am. For the rest of the trip, he wouldn't sleep in like he did in Kansas. But I'm pretty sure that was due to restless sleep at his sister's place. I made coffee for him after he tried brewing it himself using the coffee maker in his room without a filter. I had brought with me some instant Starbucks to-go packs which actually taste pretty good and are great substitutes for premium coffee stops. I prefer to support local coffee shops whenever possible, but a lot of small towns don't have them so I came prepared. For him, I just would add extra water to mimic something close to Foldgers. Dad is a hardcore coffee consumer, drinking it all day and into the night. But I suppose that's possible when it's as weak as he likes it. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Driving west out of Salida, the Sawatch mountain range was in plain view and hung heavy on my mind. I got a text from Ryan to make sure to ask Dad if he needed to "use the throne" before heading up to altitude. I did just that when we stopped at the last gas station to fuel up. Dad laughed and smiled and said no as he gulped down his coffee. I have no idea how he can drink so much coffee and not have to pee every hour. I did not get the camel bladder gene from Dad. My bladder is a force not to reckon with and when it's time to go, it's time to go. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Speaking of going, it was time to test out the Buick and our new information on how to drive it up a mountain. We didn't need the a.c. that morning as it was in the 50s when we started out. Dad, being the king temperature checker back home, was all over the outside temp gauge as we climbed higher and higher. I kept the car at a conservative speed of around 50 mph until I could feel the pull on the engine. I shifted into low and used the +, - buttons to control the shifting. Per Ryan's suggestions, I drove as if we were an RV pulling a yacht. Slow and steady would win this race. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We passed the spot where we stalled the day before and we let out a cautious yahoo. I rubbed the dashboard and gave the car some words of encouragement. I watched the temp gauge like a hawk and backed it off at the slightest indication it wanted to move up. We were alone on the road. We came up on a tanker and after thinking I'd just sit behind him the whole way, I actually took a chance to go ahead on a passing lane. The engine temp gauge didn't budge what so ever. The outside temp gauge was a different story and Dad was fixated. By probably 10K feet, the temps were in the high thirties and I could almost feel dad shivering. He hates being cold, hence the double layered flannel shirt over his other flannel shirt. The morning was glorious. Crystal blue skies and the sun beaming through the lodge poll pines that resided across the mountain sides. Dad worked in a gardening center in Omaha before he and my mom ran their own lawn service and he tries to recall types of trees, plants and shrubs out loud all the time. Most of the time I think he just makes up the name but it doesn't matter. What matters is that he's paying attention. He's making himself be present and notice the landscapes and views around him. It'd been a long time since he'd seen a mountain, let alone be driving up one, so I had a full heart believing he was having fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Then, we saw it. Or at least we think we saw it. For 85, my dad has great long-view vision. Comes from years and I mean decades of staring down the river, observing its soul and learning its temperament. Dad lives on the Missouri River and he's been fishing on it for much of his life. Once he returned from his military duties, he was never too far from that river for any length of time. Staring hard and squinting, we think we see a large deer or elk right smack in the middle of the two-lane highway. Not far up from it is a bend in the road so I fix my sights on it because that animal was not getting out of way for me. Its head was bent over as it was eating something off the pavement so I slowed down and swerved to the right. The beast looked up like it was annoyed that I was disturbing his breakfast. "You're going to get nailed, buddy" I said as we passed by. I continued up and sure enough as we went around the curve, a large truck with a trailer was coming down the mountain. I tried to get his attention by waving and then pointing to my eyes, military style, and pointing back over my shoulder. Just before we disappeared around the turn, I could see break lights in the mirror. We both hoped it turned out well for all parties.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We continued our accent. Dad decided it was a good time to tell me the story of when he and mom went hunting and had to be towed up this very same mountain. Oh, really? Gee, did it not have any transmission fluid in it? Not the right time to tell me this story, Dad. He rambled on about some part he tried to fix before getting a tow. But before he could finish his story, we made it to the top of Monarch Pass and the continental divide! We pulled into a lot that I've stopped at numerous times. The visitor center was closed (thankfully Dad didn't have to use the throne) and there was only one other vehicle in the very large lot that is usually packed. We parked by the famed sign marking the altitude and location. Luckily, the couple in the other vehicle offered to take our picture after I offered to take theirs with their dog. The image of Dad and l on that perch is one I'll always cherish, not just because of the adversity we overcame to get there but because it's a place we both have been at different times in our lives and at that moment despite all the craziness in the world, it was just me and Dad doing this thing, together. I told him my stories of being dropped off here only to ride up higher on the trails, while it was actively snowing, to get to the start of enduro race stages. He thought it was pretty neat but also that I was crazy. Yeah, I thought the same thing at the time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">As they say on Everest, getting up is only half way. You still have to get down and so it was on Monarch Mountain. I was pretty nervous since the breaks shuttered so much but we took our sweet time and made it down easily. The huge valley on the other side, I told Dad, is one of my favorite views of all the places we've traveled. It's like the earth sighed and took a break from all the violence and energy it used to create the Sawatch Range. It was beautiful, with a babbling river snaking below the green hills, lush with tall grasses and wild flowers. Puffy clouds, like a herd of buffalo, silently moved along above us, casting shadows on the ground below. I felt my shoulders finally relax and my grip loosen. We might actually make it, I hoped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I put in one of Dad's CDs. It was time to start having fun again. As Dad belted out one of his favorite tunes, I thought, how was it that he (and I) can recall such old melodies but our recent memory of detail is so crappy? It gave me an idea. Dad was having trouble remembering his pin number on his new debit card. He would sometimes punch in the last couple numbers backwards. Eventually, I just kept the card and would do all the gas pumping and purchasing but even I needed recalling the new pin number. So as we drove in the shadows of the mountains towards Gunnison, I made up a song that had his pin number in it and sang it like one of the old western tunes. It went like this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Fifty-three fourteen</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Is my new pin number</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">It will help me remember</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">If I sing this song.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Fifty-three fourteen</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Is my new pin number</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Singing'll help me remember</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">So I don't get it wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I sang it many times in a row to hopefully get it stuck in his head. It worked for me. I caught myself singing and even humming it the rest of the trip. I hope I never forget it. Even now as I recall the memory, I can see Dad's face in the passenger seat looking out the window smiling at my singing, unsure if it was at my self-claimed cleverness or its absolute absurdity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">By late morning we were just outside of Gunnison, Colorado. We enjoyed the solo tour through the rich ranch lands that were home to herds of cattle and goats. When we pulled into town, Dad said it was time for more coffee. Ok, dude, you're speaking my language. But I warned him that he may not like where I get it from. He didn't put up too much of a fight so I took his thermos into the shop we usually hit when in town. It had changed since we were there last with a new name and updated style. Since they didn't have drip I ordered two Americanos, one with extra water. Since COVID didn't allow them to pour directly into our thermoses I had to take them in cups and pour into the thermoses myself, which actually was a great way for me to control the amount of water and temperature. I ended up taking his into the bathroom and turned on the tap to hot. I poured out about a half cup of his Americano and filled it with water. Perfecto! He lapped it down, without complaint, as he dunked his gingersnaps. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We didn't have a real agenda outside of making it to Dinosaur, Colorado, so we drove to Crested Butte, another destination that is a favorite of mine and Ryan. We've taken our most bold riding friends here as the terrain requires you to be a good rider. As we drove up the only paved road into town, I told him a few stories, one being when we hosted our friend Larry's 50th birthday party up in a lodge that we could see from the road and that it was infested with mice I also pointed out the famous butte of Crested Butte and where Ryan and I camped next to the local school along with others when we were there for a multi-day stage race. The race promoters had not secured a location for campers until we brought it to their attention and that was the spot the city allowed. But to our luck, because the town was physically being taken over by Bud Light for a festival, the event's beer vendor wasn't allowed in the city boundaries, so they had to camp where we were. We had real beer for the entirety of the event, so thank you Budweiser! </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elk Mountain Range</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The town of CB was alive with travelers and locals milling about. Outdoor yoga was happening on a stage. Mountain bike skills were being taught in a common open space (no masks) and the main drag, Elk Ave, was open for business. We drove by Al's Bicycle Heaven and of course it was open, helping customers with rentals and such. I told him it was owned by an Omaha native and how I got to meet her when I was there for a race that she was also competing in. I pointed out that many homes had bikes in the yard and that CB has a long history with mountain biking. I tried to recall as many details as I could about the history and the legendary ride over Vail pass by those that are now considered to be the inventors of the mountain bike. Anyway, it was fun to share this place with Dad that is so special to us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We went back to Gunnison the way we came and Dad said he was ready for a coffee refill. I was caffeinated to the hilt so I decided to go through a drive through place on the edge of town. They didn't have drip either so I told Dad this was going to probably be stronger than the one he just had and he mumbled something about having to get over it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The next few hours were visually stunning. We drove by and over the Blue Reservoir, a large natural body of water that was so vibrant against the red rocks above them. Dad really enjoyed this segment of the drive, commenting on the types of boats that were out. I stopped a few times to read some of the site interpretations so I could give Dad some of the details of what he was seeing. Really fun was telling him how old some of the rock layers were. "They're older than me" he said. Yep, way older.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We weren't decided on if we were going to drive into the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, the 5th steepest canyon in America, where some sections only get about 30 minutes of sunlight per day. Ryan and I visited there one summer when we were traveling to Telluride. We got a glimpse of one of its canyons as we descended down into the Grand Valley south of Grand Junction. We got stuck in some construction traffic and that kinda took some air out of our balloon until we passed the crewman with the "slow" sign, who was dancing and waving at each car that passed by. Dad thought that was great. But the turn off to the Black Canyon came and went and we decided to keep going. I had to make a potty stop or I was going to pee my pants and it took me a few u-turns to finally find a place and a spot to grab a sandwich. Of course, Subway is everywhere and luckily, that's what Dad prefers because he can watch them put the extra jalepenos and banana peppers on his ham sandwich. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">W</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">e dawned our masks and got in and got out. I made Dad sanitize his hands on the way out! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Whew, it was hot! High desert and aired confirmed we were definitely in western Colorado. We pulled into Fruita </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">(I pointed out the mountain biker painted on the side of the tall silo and you come into town)</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">. We stopped for a quick bathroom break and to book our motel in Dinosaur. Then I drove Dad around the town circle before getting back on the interstate. I missed the exit on the circle so had to do another go 'round. Listening to the phone give me directions and trying to read the signs while traffic was merging in and out of the circle was stressful. Dad thought it was funny that "Molly" was telling us to go the wrong way. But she wasn't. The driver was just confused. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">On our way out of Fruita, I pointed to the Book Cliffs and told stories of riding on trails known as 18 Road and pointing in the general direction of my all time favorite trails in Rabbit Valley, where I've ridden and taken others to ride, along ribbons of trail above the Colorado River. Absolutely stunning. The exit to those trails was the exit we had to take to continue north. From there forward, I would be driving through unfamiliar lands. In fact, after we went through the town of Loma, we saw a sign that read no services for 70 miles. I prayed we wouldn't need them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The terrain in the north western part of Colorado looks similar to eastern Utah with lots of red rock cliffs towering above green pastures. We saw little sign of life and I couldn't get a radio signal for longer than a couple minutes. Towards the end of the valley we had been driving in, about 50 miles since the exit, the road started to go up. Like we did the first time over Monarch Pass, it was in the hottest part of the day and I had to pull down the sun visor on the side of my face b/c it was so hot (I ended up with a sunburn, actually). We put a flannel shirt on the dash to keep the heat from radiating off of it. I turned off the ac and turned on only the fan. We opened the windows and slowly started to climb the steep switch backs. I noticed the engine needle started to move up. SHIT!!! There was no shoulder and the other side was a sheer drop to the valley below. Come on car!! I told Dad about the gauge but he was not deterred. Shouldn't matter if it gets a little hot. Well, tell that to the car! I was going super slow. A group of motorcycle riders went passed. Chug-a-chug-a-chug. We were the little car the could. I think I can. I think I can. The road continued up and on one section where it was somewhat straight, we saw a cow crossing warning sign. My dad was like, wait, what? How does a cow get up here? I had to admit, I was just as confused about it. Maybe the highway guys installed the wrong sign. Maybe it was supposed to be a mountain goat and they were like, close enough. We went around a couple of pretty tight bends with just a railing between us and certain death. Wouldn't want to be here after dark, Dad said. I couldn't agree more and when we saw the top I was so relieved. We pulled over to get a picture atop Douglas Pass. The moto guys had pulled over as well, and as Dad does, he struck up a conversation about his old Gold Wing, and how he had driven it to Sturgis one year. They were great guys and had been on the road for some time, heading back to Salt Lake. When they asked where we were from, they had heard about the area and the scenic Loess Hills. When we said where we had driven from that day, they were all too familiar with our route. It was fun talking with them. Dad even suggested he take their picture. I was like, good job, Dad. Jumping on the photo wagon. I think he was just excited to be talking to someone else. Haha.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Literally a highway to nowhere.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back on the road we came up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad's got his captain hat on Douglas Pass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfEIQm3E5Gvo10p3QmLCntiUnXlmxqDXSY83IvCH5uBRoLizOSHc1eQzBcMUWL6f9Lfu5ce-PK_6xpuPV6itxoOt1xFf1xpyoxNily8mAjxnXGtGvA97VQit_nBmzi5fX3VTi9AUcXQ/s1600/IMG_20200612_143614.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfEIQm3E5Gvo10p3QmLCntiUnXlmxqDXSY83IvCH5uBRoLizOSHc1eQzBcMUWL6f9Lfu5ce-PK_6xpuPV6itxoOt1xFf1xpyoxNily8mAjxnXGtGvA97VQit_nBmzi5fX3VTi9AUcXQ/s400/IMG_20200612_143614.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A tad windy up there at 8268'</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5uT35zb5F_6lzB9m3LX4cCo7CeL5K1dpW4YX7p8uNxI7EPNQ7k0w40DTxAFYyrJNJurZcdMHqxwkfhnyM-fdC-QsfKD4ljbY9X-bJRNk2UxFvQMTad9UfkYw3eHAjFpd8-oDVwdWvw/s1600/IMG_20200612_144511.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5uT35zb5F_6lzB9m3LX4cCo7CeL5K1dpW4YX7p8uNxI7EPNQ7k0w40DTxAFYyrJNJurZcdMHqxwkfhnyM-fdC-QsfKD4ljbY9X-bJRNk2UxFvQMTad9UfkYw3eHAjFpd8-oDVwdWvw/s400/IMG_20200612_144511.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The long haulers' bikes.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We left our new friends and continued north. We passed through the small town of Rangley and Dad decided, when he saw the words ICE painted on the local mini-mart that he wanted ice cream. So I did a u-turn to get him some ice cream. He came out with two pints, one for each of us. Since I was driving, I put mine in the cooler. Dad got after his and it was hard as cement but he eventually got it soft enough to eat. By the time we pulled into Dinosaur, he had consumed the whole thing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">It didn't take long to find the motel, as it was the only one. The town was on the edge of the Dinosaur National Monument but I have to say, the town in and of itself was a dinosaur. It had two gas stations, two dispensaries and one bar. The motel was actually up for sale and that had me a bit worried. That worry was reinforced when I saw a family of kids hanging out the front door of one of the rooms on the end and another man on the stoop in front of his door. The lobby was once probably a barn-shaped shed and the check in was all virtual, using a phone and the doorbell app. After calling the number on the door, I was let in and then told to answer the land line phone if it rang. After filling out my check in card, the phone rang and I was told what keys to grab. So weird. I walked back to the car and gave Dad his key and then when I tried to get into my room, I couldn't get the door open. I called the number I used to check in and she said she'd ask the motel manager (aka the guy a few doors down who lives there) to come help. He got it open and he was very nice about it. The rooms were dark and run down. But they were cheap and you get what you get. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">It was late afternoon so we did what you're supposed to do when it's hot as a well diggers ass in summer- day drink. We drove across the street to the Highway Bar & Grill to belly up and cool off. The inside didn't match the weather-warn exterior. It had been recently purchased by the owners working the bar and the decor was a mix of old and new, with high ceilings and funny signs. And as luck would have it, a large pool table was the center piece of the space. There are two things that Dad loves more than anything: fishing and playing pool. He's been playing pool since he knew how to hold a cue and "back in the day" was a mild-mannered hustler. Now he says he's never hustled anyone in his life. He always played on the up and up, making sure both he and the other new the rules of the game. Even at his age, and weakening vision, the guy can still call the hole like a pro. My brothers can beat him more these days but Dad's no quitter. He won't make it easy. We played one match and he helped me with some of the shots. The bar owners' kid was waiting tables and asked if he could play. I was like, have at it! I knew Dad would have a blast playing someone who knew what they were doing and even more fun against someone 70+ years younger. We were the only ones in the bar by the second match. I ordered another round of jack n Coke and a beer for Dad (no Busch heavy!) and put some funds into the digital juke box.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"Hey, Dad. Hank senior or junior?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"Senior. Don't ever make that mistake again". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">So noted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We were the only ones in the bar. I sent this photo of Dad to my brothers reporting that Dad was in the middle of nowhere and Heaven all at the same time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">After Dad tired of playing, we ordered some burgers and ate them on the outdoor patio. Some local rowdies pulled in on their bikes and it was a sign that we were to be going. Instead of driving straight back to the motel, we drove to the entrance of Dinosaur National Monument, about 5 minutes away. I didn't plan on driving into the park, but that's exactly what we did. There wasn't anyone at the entrance so we just drove in and stopped at the first viewpoint we could see: Bull Canyon. It was stunning! And because it had a paved foot path, Dad got out and walked to its edge. We had fun reading the sign about the ages of the layers we were looking at. It was a bit breezy and the sun and clouds were dancing, creating some great color for our solo tour. From what we could tell, we were the only ones there. We drove on and stopped in almost every pull out to get a picture of the ancient expanse. Dad stayed in the car while I took full advantage of the scenery with nobody else around. I would hold my breath and listen to the wind try to tell me the story of the land it had help form. We probably drove for an hour before we decided to turn around. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plug Hat Butte, Dinosaur National Monument</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We went back to the motel. After a few minutes, I went to check on Dad and of course the TV didn't work. I tried the remote a few times and I couldn't even get a signal so Dad went down to the "manager's" room and banged on the door. I could hear him ask in his usual, crabby way, "Can you come down here and help us figure out this damn remote." The guy was very nice and didn't know how to figure it out any better than us. He messed with it and finally I told Dad that we should switch rooms so he could have the TV that worked and I could have the air conditioned room. Deal! The manager kept messing with the remote for a good half our, even calling the land lord. He even offered a different room but I was like, nah. I don't need it work, so can you please get the hell out of my room already! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">After he finally left, I read for a bit and then went to bed. I had a restless sleep and good thing because when a cockroach decided to crawl on me, I was on it like murder hornet, killing it with the closest thing to me, which was my Kindle. Yeah, my e-reader was a bug killing weapon. Sue me. Needless to say, I really didn't sleep worth shit after that. The next morning, Dad told me about his night's adventures that included killing not only a cockroach but a myriad of other insects. Sorry, Dad. I'll try not to book us in a roach motel again! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I was none to glad to get the hell out of Dinosaur, where even the streets were named after the prehistoric creatures. Imagine having to fill out paperwork with addresses that included Stegosaurus Street or Brontosaurus Way.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo credit to <a href="https://anorcadianabroad.com/">https://anorcadianabroad.com/</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgO35XAOTFAbdjrxfnUvTqT3dN8VfCMoOBv9uzOxxdNW9rVJEQ87y5O8QyisLjVN8fmd4NHXdQkxXdfD22KN7n2OLsFugS3HB6gr6WAG83duhXM-2eyxZj7sl_xUUqKOeaIK-eD7dKw/s1600/dsc06416.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgO35XAOTFAbdjrxfnUvTqT3dN8VfCMoOBv9uzOxxdNW9rVJEQ87y5O8QyisLjVN8fmd4NHXdQkxXdfD22KN7n2OLsFugS3HB6gr6WAG83duhXM-2eyxZj7sl_xUUqKOeaIK-eD7dKw/s400/dsc06416.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">photo credit to </span><a href="https://anorcadianabroad.com/" style="font-size: 12.8px;">https://anorcadianabroad.com/</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I guess not even having fun street names brought many people through town anymore. From what the manager said, the motel was used mostly by those coming to stop at the dispensaries. I thought about that as we drove out of town because I remembered I left the pint of ice cream Dad bought me in the freezer of the mini fridge. I laughed at the thought of the next person to rent that room, who after smoking a bowl, would go to the mini fridge to see if there was something to eat, and then imagining the joy on their face upon discovering a pint of Raspberry/Chocolate swirl ice cream. Good job, Dad.</span>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-8762481179384517202020-07-06T10:42:00.000-06:002020-07-06T10:42:37.616-06:00Let Love Drive - A Road Trip with My Dad: Scott City to Salida<div style="color: #333333;"><div><font face="verdana"><b>Itinerary: Scotty City KS to Salida CO</b></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><b>Distance: 309 miles</b></font></div></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><b style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></b></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMH8rJLluPbodF3GHFP_iIzOq3Rz3Ouqi9zud8UTMBQ8NKrGF_dCecnzyLUeHBFWNVOCafpunnAilXrBnE0m5NALYdQfZVvrQFAZndNVYNVMOhLtzhwffU2IvktJUgSCPvOhXErhDzNA/s3264/IMG_20200612_132216.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMH8rJLluPbodF3GHFP_iIzOq3Rz3Ouqi9zud8UTMBQ8NKrGF_dCecnzyLUeHBFWNVOCafpunnAilXrBnE0m5NALYdQfZVvrQFAZndNVYNVMOhLtzhwffU2IvktJUgSCPvOhXErhDzNA/w500-h375/IMG_20200612_132216.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><b style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></b></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><b style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></b></div><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">After visiting Dad's sister in Texas and his nieces in Kansas (see previous posts), it was time to answer the call of the mountains. The plan was to drive to Gunnison, Colorado and hang out in the area. Dad had been there hunting (with my mom) long before I was around and I thought it would be cool to take him back there. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">The drive through western Kansas was just as it's told in God Bless America, with its amber waves of grain, for miles upon miles. Luckily, the public radio broadcast was strong in the windy plains and with our early start, I was able to get a bead on the current status of our country, which as of that moment, was in the grips of civil unrest after the killing of George Floyd in Minnesota. Before leaving on this trip, I was much in need of an escape from the situation after being sucked into online conversations and getting in over my head. I even swore off the socials for the entirety of the trip, knowing full well their capacity to send me down rabbit holes of doomsday reading and getting nothing out of it, only to end up missing exactly what I was yearning for: personal connection and being present. (And I have to say I did a great job. Not once, even alone in motel rooms did I go back on my promise. Even a month later, I'm less prone to doomsday scrolling, preferring to live on Insta and looking at photos of national parks, art and baby goats). </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">ANYHOO, I kinda hoped that listening to the news wouldn't bring us down but rather open up opportunities for conversations. We had a few but nothing too in depth. I've always thought my dad to be a pretty fair guy. Never in my life have I heard him say anything about someone's race in a negative way or in any way, really. He seems to be a live and let live type. I've seen many photos of him in his younger days, maybe his 20s or early 30s with non-white people. Dad loves to sing and dance and I believe that was (and still is) his universal language for breaking barriers. I also believe his travels around the world while in the military helped give him a larger world view, though that is merely a projection. At 85 Dad is a very simple person, wanting for nothing beyond what sustains him on a daily basis. I say that knowing it was the cash purchase of the Buick Enclave we were driving that put this idea of his figuratively in motion. Or not in motion, as was the case when we tried to get over the first mountain pass.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">But I'm getting ahead of myself.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">We drove through eastern Colorado singing old western ballads from a collection of five CDs Dad threw together featuring singers like Hank Snow, Hank Williams (Senior!), and Bill Monroe. We saw a few bike packers riding the other direction as we came in the back way to Salida, a route that started out flat, then rolling and then became quite hilly. It gave Dad a chance to drive his new car in undulating terrain and let's just say, he was still getting used to her. ;) The breaks had a shudder to them that was very unnerving when applied at high speeds. They worked but probably needed to be looked at.</span></p><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: 14.49px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgvM7Yxlne0fT0HlJUJFMkvWZeAxLx451_VQAIHuFukaUaSiRN-xo8G_iPZj084atfdmHoROtw6QTVOL1699Y8BZmuCqilZR-zG1i9rRzJRVsBEE5CmR2B3i6D-vi9hK4lXVzwvB4Nw/s4032/IMG_20200611_110209.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgvM7Yxlne0fT0HlJUJFMkvWZeAxLx451_VQAIHuFukaUaSiRN-xo8G_iPZj084atfdmHoROtw6QTVOL1699Y8BZmuCqilZR-zG1i9rRzJRVsBEE5CmR2B3i6D-vi9hK4lXVzwvB4Nw/w500-h375/IMG_20200611_110209.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First sighting of the high country.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">The day was going to be hot. By the time we reached Salida, it was time for a break and I wanted to show Dad where I've ridden bikes. We drove to the old part of downtown and parked next to the Arkansas River where I walked to the edge and put my hand in to see how cold it was. I did this again a few times on the trip because Dad wasn't able to. I'd get my hand good and cold and then grab is hand so he could feel the river too.</span></p></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93qsQ2YcoJ92cmxo4uLjaCChfR6aeY51rO3f_SUZ7AhYv0J8-AtnNNMxq0kDeWwXh5S6bxX-8sYrgxf9kA3VI7eSrmTqVE7XH3QgXADxwRkC2sDiYgtqO8XBvcTrJ_6ssUMSEuz6hQg/s4032/IMG_20200611_115838.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93qsQ2YcoJ92cmxo4uLjaCChfR6aeY51rO3f_SUZ7AhYv0J8-AtnNNMxq0kDeWwXh5S6bxX-8sYrgxf9kA3VI7eSrmTqVE7XH3QgXADxwRkC2sDiYgtqO8XBvcTrJ_6ssUMSEuz6hQg/w500-h375/IMG_20200611_115838.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad's first photo using my phone as I dabbed in the Arkansas River.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeVESTVOsX4fWpHtpu_3Mo_2hgIStkufOuUruI29h0Ms6gN_Ib_GuxDVp8EnbWGyBDMS0sz9gWW2tKNNix-HlG8S_i0k5JUwBXScezI0bVTc4d2w2C86_O-82pW5tWRIgq9udDJ8V0A/s4032/IMG_20200611_115812.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeVESTVOsX4fWpHtpu_3Mo_2hgIStkufOuUruI29h0Ms6gN_Ib_GuxDVp8EnbWGyBDMS0sz9gWW2tKNNix-HlG8S_i0k5JUwBXScezI0bVTc4d2w2C86_O-82pW5tWRIgq9udDJ8V0A/w500-h375/IMG_20200611_115812.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Not always sure footed, I wasn't optimistic that he wanted to stroll around much. He did want to walk a few steps to a bridge that went over the river. To his joy, there were kayakers practicing barrel rolls on some rapids.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQ-t6laMIhjkj_gzEj1SowtUz8J-3_RET9SCFmNyANU2BNb_zSxBT0kKiCR6cEf1z5iiMtICPclbMKX7vF-HklSJNHWFKewDUxts-WYxjTkiORhgdZyXAptvtLoRLDVc2OKrJbl0LjQ/s4032/IMG_20200611_120430.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQ-t6laMIhjkj_gzEj1SowtUz8J-3_RET9SCFmNyANU2BNb_zSxBT0kKiCR6cEf1z5iiMtICPclbMKX7vF-HklSJNHWFKewDUxts-WYxjTkiORhgdZyXAptvtLoRLDVc2OKrJbl0LjQ/w375-h500/IMG_20200611_120430.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kayakers working the rapids.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">From that vantage point, I could see S Mountain, and I told Dad I had ridden around that hill many times to get to the mountains behind it. Riders were zooming by us on the road towards the hill and after a few minutes I'd have him look up and see how high up they had ridden.</span></p></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJyO6nep325GMcVTbr-5jx7wUspwHDuk-X4x_C3xXMZG7j9fwkoRRy2JfgEQt4EzOEpSkMfqNCiA4plYo2jtOqlMYRwTtdo24CCo7q3VV4u08oZUgleP5LWpDoIm0_nQZh4sMaPM1mDg/w375-h500/IMG_20200611_120513.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="375" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">S Mountain<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">We decided to grab a snack and it just so happened there was an outdoor restaurant right on the river so I felt a bit better about bringing Dad to it. I ordered him the palest beer they had (sorry, no Busch heavy, Dad) and some nachos with extra jalepenos. Let me explain something. My dad likes only hot food. His sisters said he's always been that way so when I asked for extra jalepenos and got extra green peppers, the mistake was noticed immediately. We debated saying anything because you don't want to piss off the people that bring your food, but we eventually gently said something and she came back and said they don't even have green peppers in the restaurant and she'd take it off our bill. (They were definitely chopped green peppers). </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">After our daydrinking, I asked Dad if he wanted to drive up to the top of S Mountain. Ryan and I had done it before and it was a cool view. But unfortunately, partway up, the road was gated off and locked but there was a large turn out and we could still see the town and the mountains that we had to go over in the distance. I showed him the trails I probably had ridden on at some point. It was fun to be at a place with him that I've been to and hoped it could help him relate to why I do what I do on bikes. Before we left town, I stopped at the local Wood Distillery, to get Ryan a bottle of rye whiskey. They make some killer spirits and we always get a bottle when we're in town.</span></p></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02dr0t3qiybjQE4sGVnaTL9WHaUPRgVYSpMBHVAbG0_v-vn9oICs4g29giAOSRDbf87b48drr-pRg57xs6VGrqqAhc1QE3eIc_X6hX_uhXwWD4RAHpLHr4zijPJ2lzMdIx8AJ_p8iGA/s3264/IMG_20200611_140148.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02dr0t3qiybjQE4sGVnaTL9WHaUPRgVYSpMBHVAbG0_v-vn9oICs4g29giAOSRDbf87b48drr-pRg57xs6VGrqqAhc1QE3eIc_X6hX_uhXwWD4RAHpLHr4zijPJ2lzMdIx8AJ_p8iGA/w500-h375/IMG_20200611_140148.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from S Mountain<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BaUZxn7OfnJsxoxy5lGiHVCW_aGv5fqoZgIZs5LhW9dKuA8P7SxOETPgpK19ZlNOsqvVmfX8dFeVdUprUdcD8LoU3Bc059vDoEsX61x-fjiMe7zE0Tjh-an1hwwfktIKdGjthjrKhQ/s4032/IMG_20200611_140118.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BaUZxn7OfnJsxoxy5lGiHVCW_aGv5fqoZgIZs5LhW9dKuA8P7SxOETPgpK19ZlNOsqvVmfX8dFeVdUprUdcD8LoU3Bc059vDoEsX61x-fjiMe7zE0Tjh-an1hwwfktIKdGjthjrKhQ/w500-h375/IMG_20200611_140118.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 14.49px;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">By the time we headed west towards Gunnison, it was between 2-3pm. Like I said, it was a hot day in Salida, probably in the 80s. The first pass of our trip would be Monarch Pass, over the continental divide at 11,300 feet. It's a long stretch of driving up and within about 20 minutes after leaving Salida, just as the pitch began to steepen, the car, without warning, shut off. Right before it happened I noticed that no matter how much I stepped on the gas, the rpm meter was going backwards and I noticed also that the temp gauge was slightly above the middle number. (Having driven multiple times in the mountains with Ryan who watches gauges like a hawk, I learned to pay attention to them as well). Luckily, when the car shut down, we were in the right lane and there happened to be a wide dirt shoulder where I could get completely and safely off the road. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"Dad, there's something wrong", I said. He was reading a book and seemed absolutely and frustratingly unfazed by the current situation once he became aware of it. This lasted the entire time we were "broken down".</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"Well, it can't be the oil. I had it changed just before I left home", he said.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"How about the transmission fluid. Did you have that checked?"</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"No. Decided not to."</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I shut off the car. I took out my phone. No bars. Fuck. My worst nightmare scenario was happening: stuck on a mountain with my dad, with car problems and no way to call anyone.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">We both got out of the car and looked under the hood. Dad was more mad that he didn't buy a new poll to prop up the hood than at the problem at hand. There wasn't anything steaming or leaking that we could see. Dad looked around for the transmission fluid cap. "Newer cars don't have those anymore", I said. Dad probably hasn't ever had a car that was less than 10 years older than the current year, so this was news to him. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"Well, how do you check the fluid"? </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"You don't. The mechanic does".</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"Well that's stupid. Let me get the car manual out". My eyes are rolling by this time. Yeah, the car manual will tell us. Right.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Dad flipped through it and got frustrated quickly, as I assumed and he slammed it shut. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"I need to use the throne" he proclaimed.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"Now, Dad? Really? You can't wait?" I knew this answer. Dad's bowels are looser than a whore house on pay day. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"I'll find a squat in the trees."</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"Dad, you can't walk five feet without help. How will you squat?"</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">"I can do it." And with that he took a roll of paper towels and disappeared down a double track path. I sat there worrying. I was going to give him 10 minutes and if he wasn't back, I was going in. I worried he'd end up going down the mountain in another direction instead of back to the car. I should have gone with him. To kill time, I got out and went around back to look under the car. I've blown transmissions before. I know tale tell signs but there was not a drop of coolant anywhere. I could smell it but the undercarriage was dry. I got out the manual. Turning to the pages about the radiator, and operating temps, it didn't give me any additional reason to worry but I did learn what the median temp was supposed to be and even though we were above it, we weren't that much above it before the car shut off. Traffic zoomed by. I secretly hoped someone would stop but nobody did. I finally see Dad making his way back but he's higher up from where we were parked. I got out of the car to meet him because I knew he's struggling. Not only was he on uneven terrain (which is really difficult for him) but we were also at 9500ft and it was dry and hot. I grabbed his arm but he resisted. I said I'm not going to go on ahead because you're about to drop. He leaned on a tree, breathing hard. The next step he took forced him to grab my arm because. We went slow and got him to the car. I ordered him to drink water, which he hates but the second he did, he drank all of it. I started the car again and turned on the fan and opened the windows. It seemed to be running fine. Dad said we should just go for it. Really? It's hot as shit, I don't have cell service and we have about 2000 more feet of climbing in a car that has something wrong, and you want to go for it? Is that ignorance or hopeful optimism? I said I wasn't going another inch up until we knew what was wrong and get it fixed if possible and he needed to be okay with the fact that our trip could end here. I said we were going to head back to Salida and see if we could get into a shop to have it looked at by someone who knows what they're doing.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Within a few minutes of going downhill, we were back in town. I had a signal, so texted Ryan to call me and then I started searching for auto mechanics, of which there were many. The first one was too busy (even though there was NO car in the shop's bay at the moment and he was sitting inside the gas station). He suggested another guy, so we went there. A woman came out the door asking what we needed. I explained and she said they were too busy. She pointed me up the road. We drove there but nobody answered the door nor answered the phone. I called another place. Nope. It was 4:30pm by then and we were losing time. I called another place and they said sure, bring it in. The business was an off-road jeep and ATV rental business but they had a sign out that said "licensed mechanic on site". We pulled into the only vacant spot on the premises. I opened the door and asked for Tim. Soon, he met us in front of the car and after some initial looking, assessed that it had most likely over heated. He added some coolant to the radiator and then did one last thing that saved our trip. He told us about the manual drive buttons on the shifter that would manually allow us to change gears or in the case of driving in the mountains, to keep it in a lower gear. Huzzah! That's what those buttons are for, Dad exclaimed. He thought they were for 4wd mode. I didn't even know they were there. The mechanic was our angel. Dad tipped him even though he said no charge. He was great with Dad, listening to his car buying story, even though it sometimes didn't make sense. The day was saved but I was not in the right state of mind to continue. I told Dad I'd rather get a room for the night and drive early in the morning when it's much cooler outside and we wouldn't have to worry about getting stuck when it's dark. I had a crazy head ache from the stress and dehydration and I needed to chill but before finding a place I called Ryan who had called while we were talking to the mechanic and he gave me some advice and would do further research on the model that we would need to consider before going forward, like it could be a failing water pump. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I found a great place downtown that was cheap and clean and not on the busy thoroughfare. Once I got Dad in his room and his TV working (luckily the hotel manager was right on site to assist) I felt I could relax. There was no AC in my room so I opened all the windows, took some meds and napped to get rid of the pounding in my skull. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">About an hour later, I got up and went into Dad's room. He was watching the movie Gladiator so I sat and watched some of it with him until I couldn't take another minute of commercials. I was hungry so I went to my favorite burrito place and then to the grocery store to get Dad a ham sandwich and some other snacks for the trip. We ate and continued watching the movie. Just before sunset, I told him I was going to go for a walk. I strolled a few blocks to the river where some guys were surfing the rapids on boogie boards. That was cool to watch! On my way back a couple of deer were walking down a side street. Yep, just another night in a mountain town. One of many, car willing, that were yet to come.</span></p></span></div><div><font face=""><span style="background-color: white;"><font color="#333333"><span style="font-size: 14.49px;"><br /></span></font></span></font></div><div><font face=""><span style="background-color: white;"><font color="#333333"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDVOwEjIWna6Ii6-pehKuwG5VYXNh1A-0WduKEgoSmeNy9LdONJq5ZgtpJ75qS-Q1XpLqLzI1n0kTO1Ai6hP9-GZmt40VPfVPJefsAMR26bEyFSdGjdtV9d4iMvkYiWM3l3oya8CSvSQ/s4032/IMG_20200611_204419.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDVOwEjIWna6Ii6-pehKuwG5VYXNh1A-0WduKEgoSmeNy9LdONJq5ZgtpJ75qS-Q1XpLqLzI1n0kTO1Ai6hP9-GZmt40VPfVPJefsAMR26bEyFSdGjdtV9d4iMvkYiWM3l3oya8CSvSQ/w500-h375/IMG_20200611_204419.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local art sculpture of a canoe.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIlZn8xT4U5A_9AgYgO1MJIsEeAHBIiXFM_8HhRxkvJtsSUhWLU7ubBLHqAKUwpfqQCWe7oAm1gKm2tz4SV6bV8BnqEWHKekApKDZPpRdvO-Pkju_0TWr58TFUeCmd9K_iR8YUfurgrA/w300-h400/IMG_20200611_204645.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our favorite bike shop in town.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYRodwqTvSB21aoKo57LbVhZfZs9H_i0bJ7No_jLjeENm3nWqJ8_QHZI9Ep_Ht-JE_0oH5XftkARjfG86niceWav4ZM30vodc8Rjo_N8-ywwkOrSKNdqhaahuTGft96UaZ_suCTbZeQ/w300-h400/IMG_20200611_210128.jpg" style="background-color: transparent; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even deer take walks at night.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div></font></span></font></div><div><font face=""><span style="background-color: white;"><font color="#333333"><span style="font-size: 14.49px;"><b><br /></b></span></font></span></font></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-74836198799313246682020-07-02T19:00:00.002-06:002020-07-04T06:34:33.397-06:00Let Love Drive: A Road Trip with My Dad (Texas to Kansas)<div><b style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Itinerary: Fly to Dallas; Drive from Flower Mound TX to Scott City KS</b></div><div><font face=""><b>Miles: 531 (driving)</b></font></div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>I flew into Dallas Fort Worth on a Monday afternoon by way of Tampa. The flight was full but the airports were not. It was easy to social distance until it was time to fly. I was in an aisle seat all the way in the back. One benefit of this virus, face masks helped stop the blain chatter amongst strangers sitting next to each other on a plane and cover mouths that lay open when sleeping. Within a few minutes of landing, I was in an Uber driving towards the Dallas suburb Flower Mound, Texas. My brother who had driven down from Nebraska had already left on an early flight and extended Dad's hotel stay and when I arrived to meet him, he was sitting in the back of his new-to-him Buick Elantra. I tried to wave as I went by but he didn't see me. The driver dropped me at the front and I walked over to him. He was surprised that he didn't see me drive up but I explained I wasn't in a taxi. What do you mean you weren't in a taxi? Never mind. </span><div><font face=""><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsK0VhE-1zjp_A5VDRWOVOMR16PiTKk97acC9SMklKO41MPvgCHAX4bGtWeZjH3YAsgiza8lGRzotlDhWpHm98OisZXXF8ArdbpU2F4yupADf0zq23UZYXKTisKfbCMnO3VzTruhaLg/s628/Screen+Shot+2020-06-24+at+5.19.46+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="628" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsK0VhE-1zjp_A5VDRWOVOMR16PiTKk97acC9SMklKO41MPvgCHAX4bGtWeZjH3YAsgiza8lGRzotlDhWpHm98OisZXXF8ArdbpU2F4yupADf0zq23UZYXKTisKfbCMnO3VzTruhaLg/w500-h311/Screen+Shot+2020-06-24+at+5.19.46+PM.png" width="500" /></a></div><font face=""><br /></font><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I plugged his sister, Barbara's, address into Google Maps and we were off. Of course I didn't exit the parking lot as he would have. Obeying "Molly", the name we dubbed the voice of Google Maps, I took a right instead of a left at a stop light as he directed me to and I exclaimed, "See Dad, aren't you glad I'm on this trip with you? You would've ended up going the wrong way". Dad has a terrible memory and though he recognizes the fact and often shames himself for it, he equally forgets this fact and continues on with life as normal, thus the cycle starts anew. I know this because I'm the same way. I may not be as bad as he is now, but I see what is coming to me and I don't like it. But like Dad, I can recall songs and details from my not so recent past with ease. Just don't ask us what we had for breakfast.</span><div><font face=""><br /></font></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCz-lpsy6eNyl7aQvFZuKMTtaom2ik9e1hyphenhyphenO_wt2p57oV1rPYvjhXQCzUrT3woLVwvLq2B_qeaj7J4ArQp7DnUtNY0GPR2OHC1cvn-6zo7WABOmKkAwhvDvLq1AMOLsCGS8DUziZbGaA/s4032/IMG_20200609_182944.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCz-lpsy6eNyl7aQvFZuKMTtaom2ik9e1hyphenhyphenO_wt2p57oV1rPYvjhXQCzUrT3woLVwvLq2B_qeaj7J4ArQp7DnUtNY0GPR2OHC1cvn-6zo7WABOmKkAwhvDvLq1AMOLsCGS8DUziZbGaA/w375-h500/IMG_20200609_182944.jpg" title="Dad & Barb" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad & Barb<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU2yhKuE35LISp1Rpk-mE7H9WE1907EwD_9nf25kfTFWown_xePO7xUR4gNvNaMC7qNIUAiO8r2RXUlrNHAYy0YOdRRoKu-aPkmLor1UjJH_h6FfFY4X9ds9L2M57HvMZkSR6Xafx2pQ/s3264/IMG_20200609_183114.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU2yhKuE35LISp1Rpk-mE7H9WE1907EwD_9nf25kfTFWown_xePO7xUR4gNvNaMC7qNIUAiO8r2RXUlrNHAYy0YOdRRoKu-aPkmLor1UjJH_h6FfFY4X9ds9L2M57HvMZkSR6Xafx2pQ/w500-h375/IMG_20200609_183114.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad, Barb & I</td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We arrived at his sister's place in a tight trailer community sandwiched between suburban sprawl and rural farmsteads. Barb is in her 80s and still works five days a week in security for Amazon. She's been in the industry for a while. She likes to work. Her kids are grown and away and so that's what she does. Work and go home. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We arrive on the first of two days she has off.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"> It was over 100 degrees in the shade. We knocked on the door and were greeted by Barb and her very excited dogs who look like a cross between a dachshund and a chihuahua. We spent the entirety of day talking and catching up. She made us dinner of microwave lasagna. After dinner we walked the dogs. It was hotter than a witch's cauldron so we didn't go very far. After, we watched the news, talking about current events. As kids of the Depression, I was curious about their opinions and they were, for the most part, what I expected of eighty-somethings. And now with masks, it was hard for Barb to do her job properly and some parts of the job went away but she was thankful to be working. Outside of work she didn't ever wear a mask. Dad's opinions were really a reflection of what the seed hats thought back home at the local co-op but I am truly relieved that he was taking the health risk somewhat seriously and would wear a mask and wash hands. Dad has outlived many people in his circle. It's a medical miracle, considering all he's done to his body. He will outlive this as well.</span></div><div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The next day, I was feeling quite antsy. I made a plan to get outside despite the heat. There was a large lake nearby and to my joy, mountain bike trails. So I put on my hiking shoes, grabbed a water bottle and drove to the trails. For a week day morning, the lot was busy. I hiked to the lake and found a nice spot on the water's edge to read. The wind was howling and there were white caps on the water. After a bit of rest, I took back to the trail and on the way, I came upon a doe that was staring at me in the middle of the trail, not knowing what to do. Hello, I said. And with that, it bounded into the grass where is sat motionless, hoping I'd just go away. But I was able to snap a photo of Bambi before it disappeared for good. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvZ5we_90wYWTKCkK0QmjQUjGJthXqp7WCNxopiSRbMI7I5Rcx75o-fK21aHnGsLD0JOVU-3yLR2HG4j9fgFQhFtK_BSsdI4-7_nRzvJU16rNjY9wzIAJxrTT92lwYw-zlumx3iV_7A/s4032/IMG_20200609_092245.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvZ5we_90wYWTKCkK0QmjQUjGJthXqp7WCNxopiSRbMI7I5Rcx75o-fK21aHnGsLD0JOVU-3yLR2HG4j9fgFQhFtK_BSsdI4-7_nRzvJU16rNjY9wzIAJxrTT92lwYw-zlumx3iV_7A/w375-h500/IMG_20200609_092245.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bambi sighting<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjINDTv3Z1NareRcETHlkhRqWuoe5MyAmeJujPGXqb4Vu4SDl7K3SVFI_1760rsqbuwzOn7TansNT9wF4K0OdL2-xx0DfDrbClJ7MjTehqe38lHfykqJGlXu0a0OAwDx9JLxuGY1cd1g/s4032/IMG_20200609_093621.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjINDTv3Z1NareRcETHlkhRqWuoe5MyAmeJujPGXqb4Vu4SDl7K3SVFI_1760rsqbuwzOn7TansNT9wF4K0OdL2-xx0DfDrbClJ7MjTehqe38lHfykqJGlXu0a0OAwDx9JLxuGY1cd1g/w500-h375/IMG_20200609_093621.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White caps on Grapevine Lake<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vqCQ0l5LAPQO0Adl6xrnUolrLJp45LQicLrb7PyvMrFcd6P0zqzxw3WlOXX3wjxSRNQO1l8pJx0-cjoCAokdmraF2R99uabewCaYtHJ5C30y89CGkNAcfIBcs7edQnB57eJwXm560A/s4032/IMG_20200609_084849.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vqCQ0l5LAPQO0Adl6xrnUolrLJp45LQicLrb7PyvMrFcd6P0zqzxw3WlOXX3wjxSRNQO1l8pJx0-cjoCAokdmraF2R99uabewCaYtHJ5C30y89CGkNAcfIBcs7edQnB57eJwXm560A/w375-h500/IMG_20200609_084849.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Northshore Trail Map</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">After the hike, I found a local coffee shop to cool off and I plopped myself down with my book and a large iced coffee. It was late morning. I called Dad to let him know where I was and that I'd be back for lunch. When I got back, he wanted to go somewhere also, so I took him to the lake to see the white-caps. Then we ran to Walmart to get some cooler shirts for him and then found a sandwich shop for lunch. Dad is always amazed at how much food costs. It's just deli meat and bread, he'd bark. Yeah, but someone has to pay for the labor.</span></div><div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">After lunch, we continued with stories of their upbringing and Barb got out some photo albums. The images were gold. They as children and then as teen agers and young adults. Stories of Barb being the one who got the art and music talent. She's an accomplished painter (but doesn't paint anymore) and could play the stand up base and other instruments. She traveled and went to college in Indiana where she mingled with people of color and lived fully. Dad ended up going into the marines and to his joy was able to see the world. I've seen many of the photos he took on those travels. Seeing him as a young man is so fun. I see physical traits of my brothers in those pictures. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: times; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKbnko9Du6txFUiO_yZ-JaQSxNR65uL47Q7bpTDpydYKXKTNTXmoMsLp26QTTo2rrseptR2ErKcfAxeOvbtR2NCT92M4P86RUpbx5J9i0RD8AQoADbHgdEWMJ7KgK3glKMgW-X8XKyQ/s4032/IMG_20200609_175227.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKbnko9Du6txFUiO_yZ-JaQSxNR65uL47Q7bpTDpydYKXKTNTXmoMsLp26QTTo2rrseptR2ErKcfAxeOvbtR2NCT92M4P86RUpbx5J9i0RD8AQoADbHgdEWMJ7KgK3glKMgW-X8XKyQ/w375-h500/IMG_20200609_175227.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young James with sister Charlotte<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">But the real treat was to see for the first time a picture of their birth mother, Cora Belle and her sister Florence. The Abbott nose (or I should say the Evan's nose) was the first thing I noticed. That's where it comes from! (Our noses are turned up on the ends and bulge out on the sides). I have the same nose as does my youngest brother and so does his daughter. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7pHlZRwtT-coHtiAcyt9YxBrWMOuzLewLbeX3AdLXFmYv5MDx-FbKYX7iIHmhBehAa9o66XXJGK6IqY8ySHxSixH5tsZk08Drp2ZiwbmqPT-RumhPSYHDg2MH35Uvd5_peJvbUewMg/s4032/IMG_20200609_180654.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7pHlZRwtT-coHtiAcyt9YxBrWMOuzLewLbeX3AdLXFmYv5MDx-FbKYX7iIHmhBehAa9o66XXJGK6IqY8ySHxSixH5tsZk08Drp2ZiwbmqPT-RumhPSYHDg2MH35Uvd5_peJvbUewMg/w375-h500/IMG_20200609_180654.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Cora & Aunt Florence <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Along with the pictures came the stories of their tough childhoods growing up in poverty during the Depression in South Sioux City, NE. But neither Dad nor his sister dwelled on the negative. They pointed them out, but it wasn't woh-as-me. It was just a matter of fact. Grandma Cora died young of pulmonary disease. Dad said she was pretty bad at the end, always on crutches or in a wheel chair. He was also sickly and was taken care of by his aunt after his mom died. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I've never heard D</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">ad talk so much about his parents. Clearly it was not a picture perfect home life and I'm sure many things were pushed deep down and until now long forgotten.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><font face=""><br /></font><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBxQCzouuYqqAA6ddhOpxKd_iUnwZpEv8_Xup3T6NfOuv4CAIkpP1RJxpdpWFwU2pyK9zYntxiWHiLcS6z_7y1WHJb_Kq4vbzNH8J01M9Uo56m4-BLQNgpvlMeQuKYzt4hUqCy8D1ug/s4032/IMG_20200609_175144.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBxQCzouuYqqAA6ddhOpxKd_iUnwZpEv8_Xup3T6NfOuv4CAIkpP1RJxpdpWFwU2pyK9zYntxiWHiLcS6z_7y1WHJb_Kq4vbzNH8J01M9Uo56m4-BLQNgpvlMeQuKYzt4hUqCy8D1ug/w375-h500/IMG_20200609_175144.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(from left to right) Bill, Wayne, Dad, Barb<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">This next photo of Dad and his siblings was such a treat. Never in my memory do I recall Dad wearing shorts. In fact he boasts of the fact ever since he got a terrible sun burn in the military. Well, this was evidence that his legs had once seen the sun. I sent the photo to both my brothers immediately after I saw it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja40je1tgcZuqoyySgjHQggu149-_QTB6AzCy9c7bFi-KLVO8jnpe-eLNZ3kjLMJWK-gfG5x1RjdyVVBFFfVBVtrwJZEvxwQeCq_CLGLzc2Wex5LtsjNnj0GXLxnEapTlv2RRYLBF3KA/s4032/IMG_20200609_180530.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja40je1tgcZuqoyySgjHQggu149-_QTB6AzCy9c7bFi-KLVO8jnpe-eLNZ3kjLMJWK-gfG5x1RjdyVVBFFfVBVtrwJZEvxwQeCq_CLGLzc2Wex5LtsjNnj0GXLxnEapTlv2RRYLBF3KA/w375-h500/IMG_20200609_180530.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad's shorty shorts!!!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Dad didn't mention anything more after we left the next morning. Not one to dwell, especially if it was a painful or unhappy experience, the past is past, he'd exclaim. I was glad to hear more about how he grew up and how he lived with his siblings. I was starting to see him in a new way and it was fun to imagine him as he was long before we came along, when fishing, singing and dancing were common pass times, if not ways to escape reality. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5IBMbg5NI61w4i0vxPli0AcaeW4jZeIi98Gle7PWSmd0Pk-kB6LMfHHjWGoWpIzxGbqfG1YzLKCpJg7Ovy7yy6dCXSpqZeg9lRbbGXGgXIoao-Nk5ogrNze8SWjBq4r8NM-lRfDjSQ/s735/Screen+Shot+2020-06-24+at+5.18.10+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="735" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5IBMbg5NI61w4i0vxPli0AcaeW4jZeIi98Gle7PWSmd0Pk-kB6LMfHHjWGoWpIzxGbqfG1YzLKCpJg7Ovy7yy6dCXSpqZeg9lRbbGXGgXIoao-Nk5ogrNze8SWjBq4r8NM-lRfDjSQ/w500-h233/Screen+Shot+2020-06-24+at+5.18.10+PM.png" width="500" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Our next stop was Scotty City, Kansas, to visit Barb's daughter, Peggy. I met here once at uncle Wayne's funeral (Dad's brother) but I don't remember (Abbott memory lapse). Before arriving, I made a plan to stop in Dodge City since Dad is such a huge Old West fan. The town boasts of Old West attractions like the Gun Fighters Wax Museum and recreating old west frontier town of Wyatt Earp's day, when shoot outs at sun down were common place. But our romantic idea of the town quickly gave way to a rough, cow town on the edge of know where. Yeah, there was an old street but it was in the back yard of a museum and the wax museum was closed due to Covid. Dad can't walk far so we did a quick walk down a boardwalk before realizing none of the stores were even open. So after a lack luster lunch and a quick drive around town to say we'd been there, we headed out to Scott City and to meet cousins, second cousins and even a new third cousin. </span></div><div><font face=""><br /></font></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMi1m6mn6dY6hbHpxSd-K7xPadQ2UJSwnT_W5C6FR_q3OVsxuemhIQzIE-djimufCjBxWuQ9FlyGomoy1WPtPlwMGpBTUHerAbqfVXc0WWa-uxY9qQNx-pjx13QaH_6FCDggFz2RE7Jw/s4032/IMG_20200610_082441.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMi1m6mn6dY6hbHpxSd-K7xPadQ2UJSwnT_W5C6FR_q3OVsxuemhIQzIE-djimufCjBxWuQ9FlyGomoy1WPtPlwMGpBTUHerAbqfVXc0WWa-uxY9qQNx-pjx13QaH_6FCDggFz2RE7Jw/w500-h375/IMG_20200610_082441.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the mother road with Dad.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQyEP2EwM9Jo3nQ4VZiGag2ARjwbMUqc587miHiepNLhSGmFf3Fsv0z-m-mXnbGg9fyf1xSMv_wQVO-k-134U7GE3j1UfOKZhLxVPaVva455TRhyphenhypheni3ysQzv9dvnxQRIH0y7HDZHv8FIg/s4032/IMG_20200610_131358.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQyEP2EwM9Jo3nQ4VZiGag2ARjwbMUqc587miHiepNLhSGmFf3Fsv0z-m-mXnbGg9fyf1xSMv_wQVO-k-134U7GE3j1UfOKZhLxVPaVva455TRhyphenhypheni3ysQzv9dvnxQRIH0y7HDZHv8FIg/w375-h500/IMG_20200610_131358.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dodge City is still a cow's town.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We stopped at our motel before going to the house to freshen up. The only way this trip was going to work was if we got separate rooms. Dad snores and if I was going to drive, I had to be able to sleep. He also likes it hot in the room and I like it cold. He likes TV and I don't. So to keep things cheap, I'd find these mom and pop motels that were like $50-60 per night. It was also easier for dad because we could pull right up to the room and he wouldn't have to walk very far. Our routine became the same. After I'd get us in the room, I'd call his room using the land line and ask him of he could get the remote to work. 99% of the time, I would have to go to his room to help him figure it out (only to find out the next day he'd hit the wrong button and then not get back to whatever he was trying to watch and end up reading). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We arrived at our family's house on a quaint street in this small midwestern town. It was a bungalow not much different than the one we moved out of in Omaha, with old wood floors and high ceilings. There Peggy greeted us along with her daughter Samantha and her 2 year old granddaughter Autumn, who put everything in her mouth from dirt to rocks to to leaves. When her husband got home from work, we were treated to an amazing grilled meal of brats and burgers with the most delicious steak fries and home-made pickle relish. To die for! We sampled her pecan bourbon (damn good) as we hung out in the back yard. Later we ended up on the front porch where we watched Autumn play and wave hello to neighbors. We shared a few stories and pictures of the kids. Dad had lived with her in Montana when she lived there with Barb. Dad was Peggy's favorite uncle and knew his idiosyncrasies. I could tell by how she would rib him with jokes and they would laugh. It was sweet to see him having these interactions. He loves children so the baby was just icing on the memorable cake. Before it got too late, we took some photos on the porch and said our good byes. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The mountains were calling.</span></div><div><font face=""><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkmaRRmwU1cccbdmKCXB8nqu_b0ILQ8jwvSMqEjQcdlnaZvW9abEfSFzgWU-uimhp-dJJgqzI00IN8zb_Bc8uvl7alJJblMnghn_gBe2rCRSBUtpohK6_mU80udl7qeUkQ21iWD-dbw/s4032/IMG_20200610_204856.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkmaRRmwU1cccbdmKCXB8nqu_b0ILQ8jwvSMqEjQcdlnaZvW9abEfSFzgWU-uimhp-dJJgqzI00IN8zb_Bc8uvl7alJJblMnghn_gBe2rCRSBUtpohK6_mU80udl7qeUkQ21iWD-dbw/w375-h500/IMG_20200610_204856.jpg" width="375" /></a></div><font face=""><br /></font>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"></span></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-61597098516309794372020-07-02T13:46:00.003-06:002022-07-26T13:37:40.677-06:00Let Love Drive: A Road Trip with My Dad - Intro<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span face="Trebuchet MS, sans-serif" style="font-family: Tahoma;">For record keeping purposes, when I look back on this post someday in the future after Dad's gone, his choosing to go on this drive was exactly opposite of what we were being told to do by our federal government. By June of 2020, the world was in month four of the Corona virus pandemic and non-essential travel was not recommended–especially if you were over 60, had health & memory issues and still wrote checks to pay for stuff. Okay, I made the last one up but it was true regardless. Yet, despite all the information telling him the contrary, Dad had his own plan: to see his two sisters, maybe for the last time. Dad is 85 after all and they only a few years younger. There was no way to stop him. He was going. He had his trusty road atlas of all fifty states to help him find his way and now for the first time ever, a new debit card. It was learning of this last detail that forced me to make a snap decision: I was going with him. I asked him if he was good with the idea, and once he agreed (only because, he said, so he wouldn't have to sing to himself the whole way) I had about a week to plan out the route from Texas to Montana and then from Montana to Iowa, where he lives. My brother Jim, thankfully, drove with him from Nebraska to Texas and then flew home. I flew from Florida, direct, to Dallas, hoping the whole way I wouldn't contract the virus before I'd be sitting in an enclosed car for hours and hours with him, and then be in close quarters with his elderly siblings. It was not ideal. I was not comfortable with the situation honestly, but I was of the belief that if he didn't catch the virus from me, he was likely to catch it from someone else along the way (Dad will talk to anyone). The idea of him being sick and alone somewhere, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me. I can act noble and accept all the accolades for doing this great thing for Dad but in reality I just wanted to protect him. I wanted him to have a memorable adventure. I was proud of him for not letting his age, nor his declining health, nor a world that was sickly and suffering from civil unrest, keep him from his promise to visit his sisters. After all, this simple act of love and kindness was exactly what the world needed. And if truth be told, it's what I needed too.</span><br />
<br />Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-49514483612277883962020-03-09T07:36:00.001-06:002020-03-09T07:44:29.097-06:00Dirt Girl Discovers Brown Ice at the Santos Fat Tire Festival<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">This is my first DGD entry as a new citizen of Sarasota, Florida. Wait, what? Yep, me and the Husboy packed up camp and followed a new job to this land of sand about a month ago. Long story short, Ryan was head-hunted by one of his clients last summer and the idea of uprooting ourselves to come to a place like this took every ounce of our brain power to justify (hence no DGD posts all year). And then the impossible task of telling everyone and then saying good bye was absolutely the hardest thing we both have had to endure. Driving away down I-29, as we've done hundreds of times with friends to fun places, was a road trip we'll never forget. But as soon as we began to see new terrain in Tennessee, Alabama and then northern Florida, the seed for new adventures was being planted. We could do this. We made the choice to take this chance and here we are. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We've slowly ventured out to see what there is to see and have discovered where the bikers are and also that Florida State Parks seem to treat mountain biking as a viable form of recreation. So much so that at </span><a href="https://www.floridastateparks.org/Alafia" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Alafia State Par</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">k, there is a bike shop IN the park at the main trail head. Many trail systems share the space alongside hikers and equestrians, but so far, there's usually separate trails for all users. We've also ridden at </span><a href="https://www.mtbproject.com/trail/5845174/best-of-balm-boyette" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Boyette</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> as well as </span><a href="https://www.mtbproject.com/trail/6190288/loyce-e-harpe-park-carter-road" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Carter Road Trails</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> near Lakeland. All of these systems are pretty technical, some with raised wood features, that without, there'd be no way to connect ridge lines. One such trail at the Carter Road trails was a steep wooden climb and yours truly almost fell on her head when I didn't make it to the top and pogo-sticked my way back down so as to not fall down the slope. Luckily, I wouldn't have fallen into a gator-filled pond, but there were definitely places where one could and I pretty much avoided those. I'm out for a bike ride, not an adult swim, and certainly not with large predatory reptiles ready to gobble me up! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">All the trails we had ridden so far, from what we were told, were no comparison to Santos. Get to Santos. You'll have a blast at Santos! So, since everyone seemed to be in agreement on the fact that this was the holy grail of mountain biking in Florida, we signed up for the 50 mile ride at the </span><a href="https://www.santosfattire.com/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Santos Fat Tire Festival</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">, a fund-raising event for the local trail club </span><a href="http://omba.org/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">OMBA</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">. The website boasted not only awesome trails but food, vendors, camping and all the stuff us dirt bags love. We were in. And not being in any kind of shape we were happy to find out that it was not a race nor timed event of any kind. Just a big ride in the dirt with 800 friends.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Since we were late to register, all the on-site camping was sold out so we got a hotel near by. Not knowing what the day would bring, we packed up sleeping bags, the sleeping mattress from the MTB Wagon (we sold the van last November but kept the mattress b/c it's that awesome) and some snacks and a cooler. We hadn't slept in the Toyota Forerunner yet so this was going to be a test run. We were pretty sure* the mattress and us would fit. ;)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We hit the road Friday afternoon. Driving through central Florida, off the interstate, near the town of Ocala was gorgeous. From what I read, Ocala/Marion County is horse country. Supposedly, it has the most horses and ponies in the US and has produced many champion race horses. But what was so stunning were the estates, with miles of fence parallel to the canopy-covered roads and the homes on these estates that could be seen atop rolling hills, behind regal entrance gates. These were homes of champion thoroughbreds and their owners! It would be a great road ride or motorcycle ride for sure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We drove to the event site, the Santos State Park. Ryan's mom gave us a Florida State Park pass for Christmas, and so far we've used it more in a month than we used our Nebraska pass in many years. So many state parks here to keep all the tourists busy, that's for sure. We arrived to a full lot and mtb riders and vendor tents as far as I could see. Skills clinics were going on and we could here music playing. We were in our happy place. We got registered, got some intel, bought some raffle tickets, walked around the vendor tents and then went for a quick ride to get a lay of the land. Now, it was super busy since it's a state park open to the public and they were also debuting a new trail built by non other than Cam Zink who was at the park. We didn't make it to the new section but we did see the famed free rider in line at the burrito truck. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The pre-ride didn't give us a very positive feeling about the course. We downloaded the map thankfully b/c many of the directional signs had been torn down by some whipper snappers. It was a tad frustrating so we mentioned it to an event organizer who had told us that they'd been trying to replace them as fast as they could. So, at least they were aware. After the ride, we walked around some more and put many of our raffle tickets into the bucket at the </span><a href="https://www.mulberrygap.com/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Mulberry Gap</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> tent. A $250 gift card was the best thing going in our opinion and there were only a handful of tickets so we thought we had a chance! We left the park to check into our hotel and get some dinner. We found a Thai place that was pretty busy (found out later it was the annual Ocala Horse Parade) so there were a lot of people in town but the food was excellent and we didn't die so no complaints. We ended the day exploring a local park that had some progressive features in it and a cool sink hole.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next morning, we were up before sunrise because we were told by an event volunteer to get to the bike park early to get a good parking spot and to start the ride to stay ahead of the crowds. The day before Ryan found out that the trails are home to banana spiders and they like to make webs across the trail so we had to make sure we weren't the first ones out there because having a banana spider hit you in the face sounds like being at the eighth level of hell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The morning was pretty chilly but typical of fall weather rides that we're used to where it's warmer later, so summer kit it was. But since there were no hills to warm us up, and lots of shade, we were pretty chilly for the first hour. And as predicted from the day before, we had to rely on the digital map to find our way. Many intersections were not marked and at one point we were on the trail that we were supposed to take to get back later that day but Ryan with his stealthy trail seeking skills got us back on target. We made it to the end point and then was told lunch was waiting for us on the way back at this one sag stop. Cool.The ride back was signed better but we had to deal with riders coming at us in sections. One thing we had to contend with was not only the sand but all the leaves on top of the sand: brown ice as they call it here. Feels kinda like you have a flat tire or riding on jello. And as I predicted would happen, I took a pretty good stab to the quad from my bar end when I hit the deck on a corner. Got a bit of whiplash with it to really make the sleeping in the Forerunner a good time. But the bright side, I haven't been this soar since BT Epic last October and I didn't care one bit. It felt good to be riding bikes in the woods or jungle-forest, in this case. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The best part about the whole fifty miles was the new snack we discovered and will now make sure it a staple: peanut butter and banana on an Oreo cookie. Yes, it's fucking delish and I ate 3 of them at one aid station and was pissed when the next one didn't have them. Just plain Oreos. WTH?</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, our friends who are in the know about this trail system will be disappointed that we didn't ride any of the cool stuff. Not the Vortex, not the new Indigo Blue or whatever that was partially built by Zink or any of the stuff that the knee-pad wearing crowd was there to shred. We decided we'd leave it for another day. After 50 miles of pedaling, we were done being on bikes. The trails we did ride weren't really all that memorable so we'll have to come back to see what the "real" trails are like. We changed out of our bike clothes and jumped in line behind 20 other hungry bikers and proceeded to wait in line, as seems to be the norm in this state. But the food was worth the wait and as we ate, we chatted with the ladies who were running the skills clinic and we got some intel on the ladies' group rides around the state and trips they take (mental note). As the food settled, all I wanted to do was go into a post-lunch, post ride coma. The warm sun and the cool breeze was calling my name. To stay awake, we walked around the vendor village and put in some more raffle tickets at the Mulberry Gap tent. There were many more tickets in their bucket than the day before but since we put the rest of our stash on top, and we had some near the bottom, I was convinced we had great odds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The vibe around the place was just electric. Kids were everywhere, riding the pump tracks and progressive features, women on bikes, like legit-bikes, not the hand me downs. There were several bike brands sporting full demo fleets and people were riding the crap out of them for sure. Families just having the best time. It was definitely a festival. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And we didn't want to leave so Ryan, doing what he does, bought his way into the camp site and we had a great time. Part of the camp fee covered a bbq dinner and hot breakfast. And after dinner, as we were sitting around, a truck came by blasting over a loud speaker that they had left over lunches from the 50 mile event so we grabbed two for our lunch on Sunday. What a deal! The evening concluded with a movie under the moon in the middle of the camp ground. Chilly, spring air was keeping us all in coats and under blankets so in other words, it was the perfect set up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After the movie, we piled ourselves into the back of the Forerunner. The mattress was too wide and too long actually but we squished it in so that it was more like sleeping in a hammock. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst either and I was self medicated enough to just want to go to la-la land. Let's just say, I visited it a couple times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Due to day light savings, we got up at 8am! Late for us and we were almost too late for coffee but we got the last of the 4 large coffee dispensers along with some sausage with biscuits and gravy. We sat with one of the trail's volunteers and got the scoop on the club and the park and all the momentum of the weekend. Great people, great passion. We could tell they were in it 100% for all who came to ride and camp. It was worth the admission despite the XC trails being pretty lack luster. Meeting folks of similar mind about events and sharing the stoke is reason enough! Soar and too tired to ride, we decided to pack up and head out and see what there was to see on our way home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We saw on Google Maps that<a href="https://www.visitflorida.com/en-us/things-to-do/outdoors-nature/glass-bottom-boats-silver-springs-park.html"> Silver Springs State Park</a> wasn't to far away and I read that had awesome natural springs so we headed over and it turned out they were having their annual Spring Festival. We were there before church got out so it wasn't yet busy. We bought a couple tickets to take a glass bottom boat tour of the spring and learned ALOT! Seems many movies were filmed there, most popular being the Creature from the Black Lagoon! Also the spring is the 3rd largest in the world and water from it takes about 2 days to get to the ocean. And it's made up of rain water that seeps in to the ground, which takes about 20 years to cycle through the aquifer up to the spring so the water we were floating in was from rain in the year 2000! We only saw fish but manatees do come in the area when it's cold other places b/c the water is constantly 72 degrees year round. After the tour, we hiked a bit and was hoping to see some gators or wild monkeys but neither appeared. It was still a wonderful place to discover and hope to return to do some kayaking!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There are so many interesting places to discover down here in Florida. Though it's not what we're used to, that's OK. It's outside our comfort zone where the growth happens. We're learning new things and seeing new places. Sounds like we're just where we're supposed to be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">OH - I almost forgot. On our way home, I missed a call. We WON the gift card to Mulberry Gap Mountain Bike Resort!! We've been wanting to go there for the last 3 years but we could never make it work. Well, we're going to this year! Look for that post come this fall! </span>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-4241793473814221762019-05-23T14:47:00.001-06:002019-05-23T14:47:52.689-06:00R&R New Zealand 2019 - The South Island <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A couple recent gatherings with friends we haven't seen in a while was spent recalling and waxing poetic about our trip to New Zealand. Such great memories and stories to tell. After these conversations, I realized I had not written about it in my "diary" and that I better get to it as my summer travel season is days away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our trip across the Cook Straight landed us in Picton, the doormat to the South Island and wine country. Our first steps on land were on a small beached inlet where tourists and locals lounged and took in the unfiltered sun (there's a hole over the ozone over NZ). Of course the first thing we do is start looking for shells. Instead we found an instagram worthy arrangement of stones so yes, we took a photo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Picton was a sleepy little port town. It had a quaint little shopping district about two blocks by two blocks with art galleries, knick knack traps and pubs. One of its main "attractions" was the Edwin Fox museum. The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edwin_Fox">Edwin Fox </a>is the world's second oldest surviving merchant sailing ship and the only surviving ship that transported convicts to Australia. We had time to kill before checking into our rental so we took the tour. The ship was dry-docked under a large hanger but we could walk around the main floor as well as in the belly. It was pretty crazy to imagine people living in such cramped quarters for weeks and weeks at sea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After the tour and some ice cream, we checked into our rental which was a condo overlooking a marina. The shore was busy with many birds hanging out before the tide came in. We went for a nice hike close by to wear off the sea legs and to work up our appetite for dinner. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next day we did what you do in the Marlborough region: drink wine. More specifically, and more fun, we took a wine tour by bicycle through a local guide service in a town about 45 minutes away. At first I was afraid it would be lame and foo-foo but it was actually quite fun and the sommeliers were awesome to listen to about the history of their wines and all the nuances of the samples we drank. Yeah, wake and drink was a new thing to me and pretty awesome (but only on vacation, right?) Thankfully, we were offered water with our wine so as to not get too tipsy. We stopped once at a winery that had an outdoor cafe where we snacked off of a beautiful charcuterie board full of wine-friendly meats, cheeses and sweets, and of course more wine. ;)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This region of NZ is world renown for its whites, mainly Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Gris (not Grigio) which as this <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Zealand_wine">Wiki article</a> says, came out of nowhere in the 2000s. The area is home to acres and acres of vineyards, much like we have acres and acres of corn or soybean fields. The cool, moist climate, mostly the result of winds blowing inland from the sea, makes for perfect grape growing conditions. I really enjoyed the tour and the wine, of course. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our next stop on the map was Kaikoura. Well known for its natural whale habitats (and whale tours) this was one of the first things I booked once we determined our travel plan. We were so looking forward to this but mother nature said not today! All the tours for that day were cancelled (full refund) due to high winds and rough seas so we made the best of it. The town had a pretty interesting museum and once the weather subsided, we took a walk along the shores. An earthquake in 2016 shook this part of the island, raising the sea floor a couple meters (I learned that at the museum), thus forcing the water's edge to start anywhere from 50 - 200 yards out from what was the shoreline. So when we climbed down the steps from the parking area, we were literally on the seafloor. It was so interesting with many shells, seaweed, small bugs and fish caught in shallow puddles. The actual beach was made up of black, smooth volcanic rocks with occasional white ones scattered about. We crawled around rocks that had been underwater for who knows how long and it was just a surreal experience that certainly wasn't planned. Those are the best ones!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By the time we checked into our hotel, I was full on sick with whatever April had. Though our historic hotel was on the beach with lots of views, all I wanted to do was see the inside of my eyelids. I didn't care that I could hear the lunch crowd moving their chairs and stacking dishes below our room in the hotel's restaurant. Nor did I care that our room didn't have a bathroom and had to use the one off the hallway. I stuck in my earplugs, downed some meds and took a nap. By late afternoon, I was feeling better and we found a hiking route somewhat close by, about a half hour drive through the country. The route was an out and back that pretty much just up for an hour on what was more like an ATV track. My knee was feeling pretty good on the way up. I was worried on the descent because it was so steep and loose so I took my time. By the end, it was feeling fine and I was almost able to walk with a normal gait. Huzzah! We had so much more physical exploring to come and knowing my knee was getting better was such a relief! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Upon our return we ate at an authentic Indian restaurant and it was some of the best we've ever had! </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">During our meal, we decided we'd get up early the next day and watch the sunrise before hitting the road, and if we timed it right, we'd be able to see the sun set on the other coast! The sun rise was amazing. We were hoping to see the famous seals up close but now that the sea bed was higher, and the water's edge farther out, we were reduced to seeing them from afar, but we did get a nice good morning from the locals!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">From Kaikoura and all that is coastal living, we headed inland, to tour a working sheep farm. Long story short, we were bringing Sweater home to meet his brothers and sisters! If you know us, you know we love sheep so this was something Ryan wanted to do for sure! So in my research I found a working sheep farm, aptly named, Middle Rock, that gave tours. We didn't know what to expect when we pulled into a well-manicured lane, lined with evergreens, shrubs and flowers. We were welcomed warmly by Lyn Nell and her grown daughter and grandson. And I mean truly welcomed as if we were old friends and they had been awaiting our arrival. They brought us into their home where we were introduced to the "farmer" and learned he was the third generation to farm the land. He was a soft-spoken man, tall and lean, who told us all about the farm and the farming industry all the while driving us around in his new Toyota Land Cruiser. And we weren't taking quaint country lanes. We were going straight up grassy, lumpy hillsides. And while us city folk were white knuckling the door handles and double checking our seat belts, ol Farmer Bruce was waxing poetic about the thousands of ewes he raises. He took us around most of the property, stopping at the edge of a milky blue river to let us walk around the shore. It was stunning. I told Bruce, to us, he was living in a National Park. After our drive around, we returned to the house, where Lyn had set out many bottle of local wine. Of course we had to please our hosts and have some. They led us out to their back patio where they had lamb chops on the grill. The rest of the time was spent just conversing about whatever came up and it was just lovely. No forced words or odd silences. They did get some Trump jabs in but all in good fun. They were a warm, welcoming family, gracious and proud of their livelihood. It was a wonderful experience that I won't soon forget. (And we did get to introduce Sweater to one of his brother sheep)!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We had a long drive ahead to get to the west coast and our wonderful hosts gave us some good advice to cut out some of the drive. Along the way we stopped for a hike at The Devil's Pool, a tall waterfall with a deep pool at the bottom. The hike was a bit strenuous as it was mainly a wooden walkway made of hundreds of steps. By the time we got to the top, we could see the falls that cascaded in ribbons down the canyon wall but we couldn't see the pool. Ryan noticed a trail leading away from the top landing so we climbed over the rail and went to see what we could see. My knee was feeling great but I still was being overly cautious, not wanting to tweak it by doing something dumb. When we made it to the top of the overgrown cow path, we found the pool alright and so did the skinny dippers that were splashing around. They paid us no mind. In fact, there was another group of youngin's starting to undress to also splash around. That was our que to get out of there!!! Upon our return, we didn't see the Eybergs so we went back to the car where we found them trying to take pictures of a local bird that was chewing on a car's weather stripping around a window. There were signs not to feed the birds nor leave valuables unattended as they will take them. Todd said when they got back to the car, it was chewing on our antenna! What a dick bird! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The drive from there was straight out of Lord of the Rings. Huge glacial valleys surrounded by dark, craggy peaks of the Southern Alps put me right in the scenes where they would ride horseback at top speed to get to their next destination before the bad guys came. I could just picture giant flying dragons lofting from the mountain tops. There was a tourist trap along the way that had a giant Golem on the front of it. Supposedly there was a giant Gandalf on the property as well but we didn't stop to see it. Had we known this area was so amazing, we all agreed we wished we had planned to stop for a day but the sun was setting and we had to get to Hokitika to see it set.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We made it with 15 minutes to spare. And it wasn't a grand sunset but still pretty cool. And to our luck, another Instagram moment where New Zealand was spelled out with driftwood right on the beach. But before we could even get to the beach we were practically accosted by a local who mind-dumped why he lived there (hey, I'm American too) and finally as he left, gave both Todd and April green stones that he claimed were actual jade aka "green stone" as its locally called. Seems we had hit ground zero for jade carving, now a minor industry in a town that was once famous for mining gold among other things. The beach was also well known for the exorbitant amount of driftwood that makes its way to its shores. So much, that locals have sculpture contests with it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our rental condo was right on the beach and also across the street from a forest where </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arachnocampa" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">glow worms</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> lived in a grotto. We heard about such creatures and read about them but not sure what it would be like to actually see them...well, see their excretory organs, actually. And I have to admit, it was pretty damn cool. It was likened to looking up into a starry sky, only closer. There were other people in the grato, and the worms will retreat if there is a lot of noise or wind or light, so everyone was whispering and pointing their phones to the ground to see where to walk. At times there'd be no sound or light and we could see thousands of tiny, glowing pin-pricks of blue light. It was pretty impressive and a great way to end a very long, memorable day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next morning Ryan and I got up early to see the sun rise on the beach. And just our luck and good timing, we saw an actual Keewee bird, which is really rare, especially in the daylight since they are nocturnal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Next on the itinerary was a couple nights in Franz Joseph, to see its famous glacier that used to flow right down to the sea. But nowadays with ever warming climate, the glaciers are retracted far back into the mountains and can only be visited by guide. Helicopter tours were a thing there and it was obvious. The sound of choppers buzzing tourists was something we had to get used to. It wasn't until the weather turned cloudy did we get some respite from the constant noise pollution. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Upon arriving in town, our plans to hike to the glacier were thwarted. The issue was the only bridge from town to the glacier trails was under construction and they shut it down to traffic just as we arrived for an hour. So instead of wasting time in line, we parked the car in a nearby lot and went to the nearest info center to get some intel on where we could hike on this side of the bridge. After a nice cup of coffee, we headed out on a hike that would take us through some pretty dense rain forests and to a bridge that dead-ended on the other side of a shallow river that was also being dug out by some heavy machinery (so much for being away from the industrialized life). And though the hike was short, it was beautiful and rich with color and plant life unlike anything I've ever seen. We went back the way we came and then took a different trail the info center told us about that eventually took us to an abandoned mining tunnel that would be full of calf-high water. We all brought hiking sandals to change into and so glad we did. Even though the tunnel was short, we had to walk through the water, which was very COLD! But the cool part was there were glow worms in the tunnel and because it wasn't very high, we could see them close up. It made for a pretty spectacular hike and on top of that, I found a rock in the shape of Nebraska on the way. Ryan's mom collects them so I carried it all the way to the tunnel and back (and eventually home).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were back by mid afternoon, wet and tired of being wet. We checked into our hotel which would have had an amazing view of the glacier had it not been for the low clouds that were currently the cause of all the fun killing. Not wanting to waste the daylight, Todd and April went into town to see some baby kritters and soak in a hot tub. Ryan and I opted for some more exploring so with the bridge open, we drove over to the glacier parking lot. We hiked a short way and could see the glacier at a distance, but because it was pretty late in the day, we decided it probably wasn't a good idea to try to hike to it so did a shorter hike, which actually was pretty cool. We came upon this interactive contraption, which when you cranked it, would play recordings of local birds. It was awesome. And then at the end of the trail we were on, we heard the very distinct song of a bird that sounded like R2D2. We had heard it earlier in the day when we were hiking but couldn't ever see the source. But this time, as a light rain started to fall, we were in a small clearing next to a small pond. We heard the song and within a few seconds the bird appeared on a branch above us. Ryan took a recording. It's so awesome how it seems to take a big gulp of air and then belts out this computer-sounding call! We were so stoked! What luck! We walked back to the car in the rain but the forest was so dense, we really didn't get rained on that much. We were the only ones on the trail. We took our time and noticed all the details, the smells and the textures. It was a wondrous place that once only existed in our minds. But to be there and physically experience it was another thing altogether. I'll always look back on that day fondly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next morning we woke again to low clouds so hiking to Franz Josef glacier wasn't to be but not too far down the road was another, Fox Glacier. The travel books said it was equally spectacular and less crowded than FJ. That was enough for us and off we went. We arrived to an almost empty lot. The trail looked to be more of a service road built along the edge of a dried up river bed, which I assumed was where the glacier had once resided. About an hour later we were at the stopping point and could go no further without a guide. We could see the glacier but it just looked like an old dirty snow pile, like what we see at home after the snow plows have gone through the neighborhoods. Meh. But the valley that we hiked through was amazing! Sheer black, jagged walls stood at attention over the valley. A narrow river of snow melt flowed downstream from the glacier in the middle of the rocky field. Every so often a sign on the trail would say "this is where the glacier ended" and give the date. At one time it was almost to the main road that we drove in on. From our vantage point, it was barely visible from 700 feet away and only accessible by heli or guided hikes. From where I stood, it didn't seem worth the cost for either, but I have to admit, I was curious as to what it looked like higher up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As we hiked back to the car, the barrage of tourists was coming at us. We were glad to be going the other way. (We really wanted NZ to ourselves). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our next destination was Wanaka but we took our time getting there as we had a free day to explore, with no commitments. So when we stopped for a coffee at what we thought was just another roadside cafe, and discovered it was also a salmon hatchery, we decided to have our lunch to stay. Outside of the rickety wood structure were 4 hexagon shaped tanks with large nets hanging over the sides. We watched as others through fish food over the railing into one of the tanks causing the waters dark, smooth surface to suddenly come to life with hundreds of salmon vying for the nibbles. And just like that, they'd all disappear below the surface and all was calm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We had a wonderful lunch of fresh salmon sandwiches. I bought some souvenirs as well in the gift shop next door. As we left, April decided she wanted to feed the fish. While watching her, we chatted it up with a couple of the workers and learned there were thousands of salmon in each of the tanks. It didn't seem possible!! And each tank was for the salmon at different stages. It was so cool. Kinda smelly but very interesting! So glad we stopped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As we continued down the coast, most of the views were of forested hillsides. A couple times when we were close to the water, we pulled over to explore a beach or a view of the Tasman Sea. One had a viewing tower and some pretty cool rocks on the shore. You never know what you might see at these little inlets, so it was always worth a look. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Soon enough the highway went inland and again we were surrounded by forests and rolling hills. When the horizon finally opened up, we were awarded the views of a giant lake and then another. The hills seemed, with not beaches, seemed to be growing right out of the water. It was breathtaking. The town of Wanaka was butted up against one of the bodies of water, Lake Wanaka NZ's 4th largest lake and not far from it was Lake Hawea. Lake Wanaka was glacier fed, its deepest point some 300 meters. That's deep! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our rental was right off their little shopping and restaurant district, similar to the Old Market, and walking distance to a tiny lot of various food trucks. SCORE! Being able to walk around was such a nice relief after being in the car for hours. We found a hiking trail close by that gave us a view of the town and the lakes. It seemed clear to us this was ground zero for big adventure activities. The town seemed younger and had a hip vibe. Lots of people zipping around on skateboards and bikes. We felt right at home! After a nice meal at an Indian restaurant, we relaxed at the house. It had a wonderful sun porch perfect for just that kind of activity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next day was our big day out and honestly, the one I was the most nervous about. We signed up for a guided canyoning excursion. When we arrived at the outfitters office on the beach, it was closed up and locked. Seemed we were a bit early. The sun was out so we hung out and watched the water. Soon enough the doors opened and we were greeted by a guide. More people started showing up and we were informed that all the canyoning routes were cancelled due to rain except for the easiest route. There had been a pretty strong storm the night before and the water runoff</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> was just too dangerous or the crossings just too high. The four of us were able to still have our own guide while the rest of the group, about a dozen or so, went with two other guides. We drove for about 45 minutes through some farmland until we went through a cow gate and pulled off the road. There, we stood while the guides pulled out all the gear. We were sized up and each given harnesses, wet suits, undergarments, helmets, etc.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> The showed us how to wrap them all up in the wet suit to create a </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">makeshift backpack</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">. We had to hike up a steep, grassy cow pasture and it was hot. They didn't want us hiking up in the hot sun in all those layers that were meant to keep us warm! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As the four of us and our guide, who was this little stocky woman from Argentina, and a total badass, made our way up the field, the sun beat down. She would stop a few times to give us some tips and to let the group above us move on before we got to the next meeting point. At the final stop before "dropping into the canyon" which, by the way, we couldn't even see as it was in treeline, it was our last chance to pee before getting into the wet suites. Peeing on a steep hillside in the presence of strangers is just a funny situation. The tall grass hid our hinees luckily. I have to say, putting on a skin-tight wetsuit with a bum shoulder is freaking impossible. Ryan had to help me and it was even hard for him!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After a few more meters of hiking, we entered tree line and we could hear the water roaring like an airplane engine. Our guide had given us some sign language earlier for just this reason. We would not always be able to hear her commands. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There aren't enough words in my vocabulary to describe this experience. I was terrified. I had full confidence in my guide but zero in myself. Thankfully, Todd was canyoning like a champ, going first of every descent, so at least I knew someone could keep me from drowning. Or at the very least, laugh as I went under for the last time. But in all seriousness, I was so freaking glad we didn't do the other route we signed up for, which was more intermediate level, whatever that meant. This was already over our heads but our guide was in total control. We were always attached to a rope (except for the time that I unhooked before hooking back in and got my ass chewed for it). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The first and hardest rapel was the first one. We had to rap down the wall next to a gushing fall and then midway, she would give us the signal to kick off the wall really hard to get to the other side of the fall, where we would continue to rap down to the pool at the bottom. Todd made it look easy but I knew that sideways effort was going to be my undoing and after watching April struggle, my thoughts were getting less and less positive. When it was my turn, I stood on the edge, leaned back and leaped. My feet hit the wall and after a few raps, she gave me the signal to swing over. I pushed off as hard as I could and didn't make it, only to get pummeled with water. I started to panic. I swung back to the wall and tried again. Our guide said there was a lip in the middle of the fall where water was being pushed over creating an arc or a bubble and if we could make it there, we could rest before continuing on. When I made it to the bubble, I was a mental wreck. I was hyperventilating. I couldn't see and of course it was so loud! I hung there for probably 30 seconds while I calmed myself down by taking long breaths. My attempt to get the other side of the waterfall wasn't graceful but I finally made it and down into pool. All I wanted was to be out of the water. I swam towards the Eybergs who were hanging onto a rock with arms extended. I was so glad for them!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The remaining rapels, slides and scrambles were just as exhilarating. At one time we sat down in the rushing fall at the edge of slanted wall and our guide said lay down, put our hands on our chests and under no circumstances were we to extend them or look down or do anything else until we hit the water. And hit we did. It was probably a 20 foot slide down and I hit with such force! Later, when asked why we weren't supposed to look down, she said because our body would most likely follow causing a face plant or belly flop. Glad I did what I was told. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After a few hours, we came to the end of the adventure. We ziplined from one side of the canyon to the other and then again and before walking back out of the woods where we started. I was so glad to not only be done but also relieved that my knee did great! And my shoulder wasn't as much as an issue as I thought it would be. I figured if I was going to injure my knee again, it was going to be scrambling over wet, slippery rocks. And I wasn't sure if I was going to have difficulty repelling but it all worked out just fine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Arriving back at the van, an array of lunch foods lay on tarps on the ground for us to grab. It was a bit low budget for such an expensive experience, eating in a cow pasture basically, but we didn't have a choice and I was starving!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Later that night we celebrated on the beach with much better ambiance: a burrito from the neighborhood food truck and some Feagan-made cocktails and local beer. After dinner, we strolled the beach and watched the sunset. We were in love with Wanaka and felt like we bonded with it more than the others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next morning was a long drive to our next destination but we broke it up with stops along the way. One was the famous Bradrona started as a breast cancer awareness stunt that went viral. Thousands of bras adorn this fence along the main highway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We just had to stop at this viewpoint!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our next adventure: Milford Sound and Fiordland National Park, one of the wettest places on earth, getting upwards of 250 inches of rain a year. Natural and temporary waterfalls are its draw, as well as its purity and remoteness. After a rain, hundreds of waterfalls can be seen cascading down rock faces, as the rain-soaked moss from above release all but what they can hold. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We rented a place in the town of Te Aneau. It was a sleepy little tourist town on a small lake and the typical business district full of little tourist shops and restaurants. We walked off our car ride with a stroll to the lakefront via the neighborhoods, which were clean and quiet, with many yards landscaped with beautiful flowers and tropical plants. It was very green, expectedly, and had a clean smell to the air. On our trek around the hood, we found, of course, an awesome food truck that we returned to again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our guided ship tour started early the next morning and we were instructed to get there early to avoid the traffic. One road in and one road out. The drive was pretty, lots of green rolling hills and then we entered a </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homer_Tunnel" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">tunnel</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> that went down, down, down and upon exiting, it was as if we had traveled through a portal back to the ice ages. Rolling hills were replace by grand, black walls. And because it had rained a bit the night before, a few waterfalls were visible. The road continued down, switchbacking in and out of the canyon. I stuck my head and phone out the window more than once because I couldn't always see the top of the canyon sitting in the car and I didn't want to miss a thing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We finally reached the bottom and the road flattened out. We found the parking lot, which to our surprise, was empty but for one other car. We had beaten the mass of humanity that was to come so we gathered up everything we were going to need and made our way to the marina. The doors were closed and luckily, it was a gorgeous morning. Aside from a couple other people, we had the area to ourselves and took full advantage it. The moon was still in the sky as the sun had yet to rise above the edge of the cliffs. The bird songs and insects were a joyful noise, bringing us completely present in the moment. If we held our breath, time would stop and we could imagine what it may have been like before Captain Cook found this place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Soon the doors to the tour company opened and we quickly found our ticket counter and got all of that handled before the rest of the world descended upon it. Eventually, we were wandered outside to the docks to our waiting vessel. There were about a dozen or so tour boats, ours being pretty large with a top deck and main level. Our tour came with breakfast and it was the first thing we did when we boarded so we could enjoy the rest of the time outside. We learned a lot about the Sound itself, which is actually a fiord, and it's unique in that it's fed by not only the sea but also by glaciers causing a phenomenon known as deep water emergence, where fish and wildlife who normally live in deep, cold depths, live at shallower depths in the Sound because the cold glacial water mimics the same temperatures. The second part of our tour was visiting the The Milford Discovery Centre & Underwater Observatory, a floating museum of sorts, where we not only launched kanoes into the sound but also were able to walk down a spiral starcase into a round, windowed room that looked out into the murky water. The guides were clear that they don't feed the animals that live there. They strictly observe, so whatever comes in view is natural. We saw all kinds of fish, coral, snails and jellyfish. It was all very very cool. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were done by lunch time and because it was sunny, we decided to take advantage and go on a hike or two. We grabbed a sandwich at a little cafe and drove to a trail head that took us over a gushing gorge. (After our canyoning trip a few days ago, I'll never look at a waterfall the same way again). It was a short out and back so we decided to do a longer hike to get up above treeline. And the views were beyond words. The colors, the plantlife, the air, the sounds...all new and all wondrous. It all just confirmed that we wanted to stay longer, see more and go deeper into this mysterious place that time forgot, and thankfully, despite seeing up to a million visitors a year, man hasn't managed to destroy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our final stop on this tour down under was Queenstown. After being away from humanity for a bit, it was a bit of a let-down to be in such a busy town but at the same time, there was a lot to do and see. The town is built on the edge of Lake Wakatipu, with most of the quaint entertainment district at its shores with the neighborhoods built above it on steep slopes of the Remarkables mountain range. Think San Francisco, but on a small-town scale. The roads in the neighborhoods went straight up or switch-backed to accommodate the slope, which made for awesome views from our rental! We had five days here and the menu of to-dos was long and full of firsts! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">First on the list was making my dream come true: bungee jumping off of the bridge where the adventure sport was invented. I read about it in Outside Magazine over twenty years ago and had hoped one day I could go there and do it. I've already parachute jumped and loved it so I knew this would be on par. Before we even checked into our rental, we decided to do this first to take advantage of a warm, sunny day. Upon arrival, there wasn't much to see but once through the doors of the AJ Hackett Bungy visitor center, it was all thrills and Disney-esque eye candy. We had to walk down a winding walk-way to the floor of the place where you could see out to the wooden bridge and the gorge. Inside where tv monitors showing live action of the jumpers and footage of other jumpers who were purchasing their videos. At $200 a jump, this place was bleeding money and it was glorious! And also confidence inspiring. They weren't sparing a dime and my hope is that also applied to their safety protocol. They weighed me when I checked in and then again when I went out to staging point where they filmed each participant to get them in the zone. Thumping club music was cranked to 11 and even at ten in the morning, the mood was energetic. As I stood in line, two women in front of me were having second thoughts. One finally jumped (the mom) which finally prompted the daughter to follow her down. Then it was my turn. I sat down on a bench while a team of two got me locked and loaded, each checking the work of the other. I liked that I was tethered to one of them the entire time until I got out on the diving board. Once there, I waved to the camera that was mounted above me and then to the one that was mounted next to me and also to Ryan who was standing at a viewpoint on the side of the canyon. I peeked over the edge and for the first time, I got a bit queasy but no turning back now! Standing out there, I told the guide I'd like to touch the water, and though they can't guarantee that I would, I had to prepare so he said to keep my hands above my head (shoulder didn't like that) and to tuck my chin to my chest (no face planting). He counted back from 5 and after one, I bent my knees and dove off into the abyss. I naturally shut my eyes and waited for the water to meet me but that never happened. When I finally peeked out of one eye, I was already bungeeing back up towards the bridge. Oh! I thought, that was really smooth. I was expecting more of a jolt but that never happened. The video looks kinda violent as I rag doll mid-air but it didn't feel that way to me. Maybe because I was laughing so much. It was so much fun. When I finally stopped boinging around, I was rescued by the two guys sitting in a raft. I want that job! They hoisted a long PVC pipe up to me as I was hanging like Spider Man, until I could grab hold. Then I was lowered down into the arms of a Frenchman who, in his best swooning English, was saying, "Come to me, my baby." I was a giggling toddler, drunk on adrenaline. As soon as I saw Ryan I ran up to meet him and his hug. Not sure who was the most relieved. HA! Afterwards, we of course, bought the entire photo/video package to be relived again and again. Totes worth it. Jumping from that bridge was a huge check mark on my life's bucket list. Not sure what can top it but I should probably try to find out!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The time in QT was more freeform. With so many outfitters in the area (seriously, there were more outfitter stores than actual stores) we left it open to whatever we were feeling that day. April's cold came back with a vengeance and they guys were now suffering as well. We didn't let it stop us! On a day that April gave in and rested, Ryan and I went for a long hike up a popular route called the Queenstown Track. It wound its way above town through forests of large evergreens that were brought to NZ to help give it a more ski-town look. Unfortunately, they overtook the native trees and killed all the fauna so there was a program underway to get rid of them and there were signs allowing people to pull out sapplings that they were growing along the trail. The climb was easy and wide. We came upon a cairn garden, where many stacked stone sculptures, put there by hikers of bygone days, stood in remembrance of their makers. Some of the large trees had tiny doors nailed to them and if they opened, lay notes and trinkets; tokens to the forest gods? Anyway, made for cool instagram photos! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At the top of the hike was a remarkable view of the Remarkables and Lake </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Wakatipu. A giant sculpture was at the top named the Basket of Dreams and the view beyond it framed those dreams beautifully. It was one of my favorite views of the trip. Also, there were goats up there and we had a fun time trying to get close to them for photos!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some other adventures we had involved water and air. We did a Jet Boat ride through a canyon on a shallow, winding river. What is a jet boat ride? Well, in short, picture flying down a twisting river at high speed, directly into a wall of a canyon or a large rock, only to turn at the last possible second and avoid sudden death. Do that about 15 times as well as turning 360s at said speed and then turn around and do it again on the way back. OMG that was AMAZEBALLS! I was laughing and screaming, happy and terrified all at once and all I could think of was how I wished my 84 year old dad could be there. Wow, that was a riot. And I have to note that April was being a sport. She was not feeling good at all, yet was a trooper through the whole thing! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We did another hike up to the top of where the gondola drops the world off. OMG, that place was a zoo but understandably. Not only were there parajumpers launching off one side but mountain bikers were dropping in on the other. Not to mention the go-cart track that everyone (but me) took turns doing. Though the view again was ridiculous, so were the crowds and I wanted to get out of there yesterday. We took the gondola down and walked around a bit until the rain forced us back to the house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On our last day, we didn't have anything planned. April was feeling more like herself but wasn't up for anything to extreme. So how about hang gliding? Though she wasn't on board with that plan, she was cool with going on the same hike up the Queenstown Hill Track while the rest of us made plans to launch ourselves off the side of a hill. Because when in Rome, er, New Zealand! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have to say, hang gliding, if I lived in a more mountainous state, could easily become my new mountain biking habit. It was really fun, quite calming actually, almost meditative once we got off the ground. I was surprised that Ryan, who's afraid of heights, agreed to try it and admitting later that day, he was scoping the internet for costs for a hang glider. Yeah, it was that cool! All I can say is it's exactly like you thought it would be like as a little kid, which I pretty much turned into as we flew over the hillsides. It was a great ending to a magical dream trip.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And we certainly didn't want it to end. The trip home was not something we were looking forward to and it sucked. We spent that last remaining hours before our drive to the airport outside. Once past the check in gate, it was air travel hell! As we landed in the US, we were told our connecting flight was cancelled so we had to spend 10 hours in San Francisco before the next one. So instead of walking like the dead around the airport, we opted for an Uber to the Warf and despite the cold and rain, we walked around, drank coffee, looked at seals, stopped at a pub famous for hot toddys (perfecto) and topped it all off with a giant boat of sushi, because you know, San Fran! We finally made it back home about 12 hours later than planned. It was lunch time here and snow on the ground. I went directly to work so I could stay awake (I was out of vacation time actually) and try to get my biological clock back on US time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />It wasn't until days later that I really was able to bring the whole trip into focus. I relived it all each time we shared a story or a photo. If we are ever to go back, we'd definitely go the route of just the South Island and all backcountry. Seeing it the way we did, as tourists, was not our usual way but it was the best way to see as much as we could, which was the plan. The country is set up for tourists. In fact, it was pretty rare that we met a local. Most were from somewhere else, drawn by the mystery, the magic and the natural beauty. I can relate. </span></div>
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Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11314360133928518.post-83491440313225539262019-03-09T14:09:00.002-07:002019-03-09T14:21:23.905-07:00R&R in NZ 2019 - North Island<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Me haere kaatahi taatoni tenei haereka. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We should travel together on this journey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I wish I could find the original article I read in <i>Outside</i> magazine some 20 or more years ago. It was about bungee jumping over a canyon in New Zealand and I wanted to do it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The extreme adventure attraction was invented in 1988 and now that I've visited New Zealand, it makes perfect sense how it was invented there. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Extreme. It's a word, though over used, explains easily the current of the island country. And not only in terms of the bustling adventure sports/tourism scene but also in the context of things such as its vast spaces between rugged, glacial mountains; the extreme good nature of the locals and the head-scratching juxtaposition of ecosystems that, like the humans they surround, live quite contently right next to each other. Rain forests stand next to beaches; mountains seem to grow right out of lakes and seas, and cities are built on top of dormant volcanoes where cars whiz by poisonous geothermal lakes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">New Zealand was one of the last places to be discovered by humans and during its time of isolation it "developed a distinct biodiversity of animal, fungal, and plant life". </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Save for maybe a rare spider, t</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">here are no predatory animals on the islands: not a snake, not a bug, not anything flying or four-legged could kill a person or another mammal. Birds live their best life on these islands. There's no big hunting culture (what a relief), and deer and elk are actually farmed. The kiwi's love their land and they take a lot of effort to care for it and the animals and plants that live there. We saw options for recycling in every town and many signs asking for eco-engagement at many levels, be it removing saplings that were not native to the area, help saving a bird's habitat or simply taking a used box at the grocery store instead of a new paper sack. It was refreshing to see the drive for consumerism that seems to be everywhere else taking a back seat in NZ. There weren't any Walmarts or shopping malls. Billboards were few and far between. The two biggest cities we stopped in, Auckland and Wellington, its capital, were rather underwhelming compared to our sky scraping metropolises, but as a visitor, that was fine by me. The main attraction was beyond the lights, beyond the cruise ships, beyond tourists and for a new visitor, beyond imagination. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">THE NORTH ISLAND</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There are so many ways to spend time in New Zealand. It was hard to decide where to start so between April and I, we used peer traveler reviews from Tripadvisor. She was turning 40 on the trip so that sort of helped give us a goal to hit and after about 3 months of planning and making reservations, we had a plan. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KGfFd1XSJmEAo8_ox3Rc8H4cTah7LbHdAV3xLr5gn_GKK5T0Nvbpt9OtfBoaIqkf7Yxt0st_4Ab9nORTysQaWaLDd0HcPedPhhOQInRUaVyelyQuLPpfghOLHvs5EzpR836A1Z18zA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-05+at+11.48.14+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08hpapI-6sD2akuqbUVfxdt3UomtqYBrlMQ_5VvJsdJj4K2RC6rsfqH_H1QkFdyhkJ779MHt0XoFf9OZ3piAgrd478nUz5kDjxOZD0XLaadqaNkAyaZziGMcMja0ln-cCUKqy4ZIUxA/s1600/VID_20190207_231233.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08hpapI-6sD2akuqbUVfxdt3UomtqYBrlMQ_5VvJsdJj4K2RC6rsfqH_H1QkFdyhkJ779MHt0XoFf9OZ3piAgrd478nUz5kDjxOZD0XLaadqaNkAyaZziGMcMja0ln-cCUKqy4ZIUxA/s400/VID_20190207_231233.mp4" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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Digital reenactment of our flight from Northern hemisphere to the Southern. In short, splurge for the leg room. Just sayin'.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The four of us, me and Ryan and our good friends April and Todd Eyberg, flew into Auckland and stayed the night before heading out early for a two hour drive to Matamata, home of Hobbiton and the Shire from the <i>Lord of the Rings</i> trilogy, where we took a morning tour. From there it was another couple hours to Rotorua where we saw geothermal pools and took a stroll at night on an elevated walkway among a forest of redwoods and spent a whole day to mountain biking. April wanted to turn 40 doing something cool so it was in the next stopover, in the Tongariro National Park, where she and Todd would try to hike the famed Tongariro Crossing. But due to heavy cloud cover and rain, they were not able and had to turn back. Ryan and I headed to Lake Taupo that day about an hour back the way we came and enjoyed a sunny kayaking adventure with a Canadian guide and a couple travelers from Whales. Upon our return to Tongariro, we brought local bourbon, beer and chocolate cake back to celebrate April's birthday. Our final stop on the North Island was in Wellington, the country's capital, an inviting, bustling city. We had a half day to kill and discovered an active harbor, a gorgeous botanical garden, lots of public art, and a weirdly placed and very old cemetery. As extremes go, the North Island had it for sure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Auckland</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Hung out around the harbor mostly. Lots of tourists off a cruise ship so it was pretty busy. And holy overpriced fish n chips, Batman. But the dish was cool! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqkdHw3gJztYIxgUPTDDvskdKuQX9E7hUEcNQKzK9xWY3YOK3SL00aGyjVlBwCNHui04WFvUFSOq_NvFvPVjZ3o2Q_5JExVndp8eF_dqfWbbx54kR_pcbgO7f14uE4adGJ8c-IitiXA/s1600/IMG_20190209_202454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqkdHw3gJztYIxgUPTDDvskdKuQX9E7hUEcNQKzK9xWY3YOK3SL00aGyjVlBwCNHui04WFvUFSOq_NvFvPVjZ3o2Q_5JExVndp8eF_dqfWbbx54kR_pcbgO7f14uE4adGJ8c-IitiXA/s640/IMG_20190209_202454.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Famous Sky Tower. After spending a wad on dinner, we didn't have the stomach for the admission fee to go to the top (nor spend it with a zillion tourists) so we opted for the ground view.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVNn2mdRlSTJMqYVLMO_30EB9vxe9bA6x_8Jf5T_XTqBuYmMgtNGa_ZzDa-kAoSCe1TBTBB46DPpJWPNES3F0XUsoeppHDrEiFrAqnfyXNdVSB9hXmCD4nw-vJSWqZVBQCMmKKxk29lw/s1600/IMG_20190209_192638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1398" data-original-width="1600" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVNn2mdRlSTJMqYVLMO_30EB9vxe9bA6x_8Jf5T_XTqBuYmMgtNGa_ZzDa-kAoSCe1TBTBB46DPpJWPNES3F0XUsoeppHDrEiFrAqnfyXNdVSB9hXmCD4nw-vJSWqZVBQCMmKKxk29lw/s640/IMG_20190209_192638.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overpriced fish n chips - the staple of the country, but check out this amazing platter!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4dd-KHpIdoN84q2RhRJQQcSNtfl5E98eQFEZUiXv2BvsdIivSFimCkAc6o5SuWWNAwQ3Q7d4UVBdjeYBUh88QMj7CHKwcUr9VMdibZVpNfUf23zeu2-BCmo3W7WzvaxQnY8e7zIja9g/s1600/IMG_20190209_154203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4dd-KHpIdoN84q2RhRJQQcSNtfl5E98eQFEZUiXv2BvsdIivSFimCkAc6o5SuWWNAwQ3Q7d4UVBdjeYBUh88QMj7CHKwcUr9VMdibZVpNfUf23zeu2-BCmo3W7WzvaxQnY8e7zIja9g/s640/IMG_20190209_154203.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How many gingers does it take to drive on the opposite side of the street?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">MATAMATA</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Not sure why else anyone would come to this area other than to farm and raise horses but this is ground zero for the actual filming of the Shire in the Lord of the Rings movies. There were tons of people but the tour was pretty cool. It took about two hours, including standing inside one of the Hobbit holes (they're empty) and drink in the actual pub! Yes, we were given beer at the end of the tour and a snack. One thing's for certain, Kiwi's love their elevenses, lunch, high tea and second dinner!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8sWMfDQpJtDVFgpARp4Ga8G3spWdA5hn5tgXsg_qvu_6PAIPJGilGcEx-iW0PN2842IzlynCyPIB5wdI8aNPwcieP1A8yStSoJy2MYC0CL71Plogu9zsQfXE-fBp0qcWap7kO7JN7g/s1600/IMG_20190210_124603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8sWMfDQpJtDVFgpARp4Ga8G3spWdA5hn5tgXsg_qvu_6PAIPJGilGcEx-iW0PN2842IzlynCyPIB5wdI8aNPwcieP1A8yStSoJy2MYC0CL71Plogu9zsQfXE-fBp0qcWap7kO7JN7g/s640/IMG_20190210_124603.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tour guide / comedian.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz3cmabtlmMaZh5nOqa5_88FnFz9yz49fxsv-oRQSEfuntgSvt2zrgHTZR_ImCWYOh2Bu9ywzq7ZhKSFdUbavjtRONr86nCVueJGkCIEtF3lcGAiAeCDTywIXDpIYGFxxuJcu57JE-JA/s1600/IMG_20190210_132717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz3cmabtlmMaZh5nOqa5_88FnFz9yz49fxsv-oRQSEfuntgSvt2zrgHTZR_ImCWYOh2Bu9ywzq7ZhKSFdUbavjtRONr86nCVueJGkCIEtF3lcGAiAeCDTywIXDpIYGFxxuJcu57JE-JA/s640/IMG_20190210_132717.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of over 70 Hobbit holes on the set.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April's dream! She didn't even have to duck to go through through the door.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBg0ZGL8-4mA8aZtVzAlynuC85Y5a4eEnEq-qNW75fqQ59tju5XMNhVppU7MW-2eLXEfDEFl5UkLK_Y2LTcO_cAB6eYy_w-eINhFJMLNOz61JkH33idWMhLG10qAcfxKC9WNtqrZj1w/s1600/IMG_20190210_141047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBg0ZGL8-4mA8aZtVzAlynuC85Y5a4eEnEq-qNW75fqQ59tju5XMNhVppU7MW-2eLXEfDEFl5UkLK_Y2LTcO_cAB6eYy_w-eINhFJMLNOz61JkH33idWMhLG10qAcfxKC9WNtqrZj1w/s640/IMG_20190210_141047.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bilbo Baggins' Hobbit Hole</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The giant Oak tree is actually fake!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't take him anywhere.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wagon prop. I must need to pee or something.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pub!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Party tree (it's real). This is the reason why Peter Jackson picked this location for the films.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">ROTORUA</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Roto means 'lake' and rua means 'two' or in this case 'second' – Rotorua thus meaning 'Second lake' and it was a town we all liked. It had a chill vibe with a nice market area with shops and cafes. After a visit to the market area we discovered an amazing space called the Government Gardens that was, back in the day, a bath house and a place for fancy folks to come and play croquet n such. Now it's a museum (but it was closed for repairs) but the grounds were just gorgeous with wonderful flowers and landscaping. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We also walked around a local park that had geothermal pools and steaming mud pots. April was pretty thrilled with these stinky puddles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A fun attraction was walking on a suspended path about 20 feet above the ground in the </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Whakarewarewa Forest in Rotorua. We were told to go just as the sun sets and before the night crowd. Glad we did. There was an hour wait when we exited!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieH8s19kUlpmyr9oQPSShucNwj7fNXFM4_T2BZPVAqyS1__RS0_c37l-zxnPRIRAAdJ9a4gXFAxbgUveV62ACuKZlh8s1DasxJR1B6Nj3ddGT4-tw77QcEg7TFSoWMMFSrRzV5vlqjAQ/s1600/IMG_20190210_211505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieH8s19kUlpmyr9oQPSShucNwj7fNXFM4_T2BZPVAqyS1__RS0_c37l-zxnPRIRAAdJ9a4gXFAxbgUveV62ACuKZlh8s1DasxJR1B6Nj3ddGT4-tw77QcEg7TFSoWMMFSrRzV5vlqjAQ/s640/IMG_20190210_211505.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And I thought I was old...</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MtvD-_vF1VjpOckWnn2vVFWOJPGJMijuIwQbS-pGYeGu5y_W0PiXhENFMRTWzP8vGy1M0ZuitXD04_mX3vjeu7r6Zi-o1Y9sGwqwlcf1smWd6R9gPR5A720SP8rPfp0vQTMoaT3lrQ/s1600/IMG_20190210_205258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MtvD-_vF1VjpOckWnn2vVFWOJPGJMijuIwQbS-pGYeGu5y_W0PiXhENFMRTWzP8vGy1M0ZuitXD04_mX3vjeu7r6Zi-o1Y9sGwqwlcf1smWd6R9gPR5A720SP8rPfp0vQTMoaT3lrQ/s640/IMG_20190210_205258.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3951BAOA2Bvmk7sOvDbJ4vm0oHfHgkFPiTuKtP8yu2do9jPiK8bEC_BY4cbhXsCa_IUOF9km_DHTWlDo37sHCkRRkfHzmJ-pDbSnlQtz6hyphenhyphenNzRmpGRTB86yNYiG1Nb8V0u0wwTsZnkA/s1600/IMG_20190210_204536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3951BAOA2Bvmk7sOvDbJ4vm0oHfHgkFPiTuKtP8yu2do9jPiK8bEC_BY4cbhXsCa_IUOF9km_DHTWlDo37sHCkRRkfHzmJ-pDbSnlQtz6hyphenhyphenNzRmpGRTB86yNYiG1Nb8V0u0wwTsZnkA/s640/IMG_20190210_204536.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These lanterns were made by a local artist.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8mIYoHE3gqJraRYdhDdupsoX7x4tULd3rcmrKgFYxxhBn4dpy0w1aYds6VtCLoohXnyYFxKHJE-fX6cINbpPa_0l2iwXyi8Ouxv6nly31-Gf4_yqfvQTXW3Xv3yVWjb9EPonrh_TQA/s1600/IMG_20190210_203204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8mIYoHE3gqJraRYdhDdupsoX7x4tULd3rcmrKgFYxxhBn4dpy0w1aYds6VtCLoohXnyYFxKHJE-fX6cINbpPa_0l2iwXyi8Ouxv6nly31-Gf4_yqfvQTXW3Xv3yVWjb9EPonrh_TQA/s640/IMG_20190210_203204.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note that the distance from equator NZ and California is about the same making each a good climate for the Redwoods.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And it wouldn't be a successful trip to the other side of the planet if we didn't get on some single track, now would it? We rented some pretty hefty bikes but amazingly, we all did just fine climbing some of the roads that went straight up.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> The area we chose to ride was the </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Whakarewarea Forest because of its back-country feel without the bike park / resort craziness and it was perfect. The area didn't have a lift but instead some dude would shuttle us up in a rickety old bus pulling a flatbed trailer that held many bikes. We were dropped off at a point where many trails started and ended. We chose to ride higher and go out farther on our first ride being that we were freshly caffeinated by way of the cafe that was at the base of the park. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Riding bikes in a rainforest was a first for us. The large fern trees blocked out the sun so our regular riding sunglasses were useless! The trail bed was tacky and delicious in the trees and dry and dusty in the open. Some of the trails wound through a recently de-forested area (they do this on purpose throughout the country) but so fun. Deep dips with high banking turns made for a pretty crazy ride. I ended up flying over a lip of one of them but luckily the dirt was so soft, I just kinda stopped. Whew! With me nursing a strained knee (from a wreck a few weeks prior) I was so relieved. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On our last run, we went on a trail that wasn't on the area map and kinda got a bit turned around. Luckily a couple of locals gave us some advice and we eventually found our way back. It felt great to be riding in shorts in February and the views were ok, I guess. Wink, wink.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Base of the bike park. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">TONGARIRO<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> NATIONAL PARK</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This was April's 40th birthday and it was up to her what the plan would be and she chose to hike the famed <a href="https://www.tongarirocrossing.org.nz/">Tongariro Crossing</a>, a 12 mile trek famous for its volcano craters and recently, its access to Mount </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ngauruhoe, aka Mount Doom in “The Lord of the Rings" films. It was to take them all day and because my knee was still not 100%, she and Todd were going to tackle it without us. We dropped them off early at their shuttle stop and Ryan and I did a short hike to a waterfall and then drove to a nearby town to drop off postcards at a local hole in the wall cafe/postoffice and of course eat!! Nothing like beans n bacon with my eggs! So good. We scheduled a guided kayaking tour at Lake Taupo for later that afternoon, so we needed the fuel - at least that's what I told myself.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Lake Taupo is the largest lake in New Zealand, 238 square miles of surface water, with the deepest point being around 600 feet. It is a caldera of a volcano after all. The water is tropical in color and clear many feet down. On that hot, windy day, this was the perfect activity. Before we found the outfitter, we played in the water off a small beach where a couple black swans came right up to us! The outfitter was based out of a house where we met the guide, Oliver, who was from Canada. He was a bundle of energy and hadn't much of a personal boundary, asking us about our relationship and feeling comfortable enough to divulge his opinion on relationships when one is a vagabond/adventurer/guide such as he. Made the time pass when we had to paddle into a headwind. :) </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He took us to a famous Maori carving site that is only accessed by boat and though it wasn't divulged until we arrived, these were not ancient carvings but only a few decades old. However, they are carved to memorialize a family. Then we took a snack break on some rocks (the guide brought hot tea and pudding-filled muffins) and then he encouraged us to jump and swim in the lake. Wow! It was as refreshing as it looks in the pictures. The trip back was tough after already paddling a few hours (I also had a bum shoulder) but the guide was great at breaking up the paddling with stories and facts during rest breaks. It was a super fun experience and made Ryan more interested in kayaking in the future.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After kayaking, we stopped at a local liquor store in Taupo to find April some local birthday beers. We also grabbed a nice local bourbon to sip on for the rest of the trip. (Yes, it lasted almost to the end of the trip). Taupo is a crazy tourist town and we couldn't wait to get the heck outta there and back to the wide open. When we got back to the rental, Todd and April were outside taking pictures so we thought it'd be funny to lock the doors and hide. Man, it took them like 15 minutes to come back in and they actually had seen us sneaking around so it wasn't quite the joke we hoped but it was still fun. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount Doom! </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We spent the evening celebrating the day and April's start to the bottom of the aging hill. There was an old ski lodge down the road run by an Indian expat that was a time capsule from the 80s. Great snacks and cocktails and beer in the middle of nowhere was exactly the gift we hoped for April. And chocolate cake to wash it all down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We left mid morning the next day for a long drive to Wellington, stopping along the way at another LOTR filming spot where Gollum was discovered but the fall was dry so we continued onto Wellington but not before we stopped at a park that had a giant carrot sculpture and I recalled that the carrot capital of NZ was in this area. So, because we're really childish most of the time, we played in the kiddy park that had cartoon vegetable characters in it with a creepy parsnip that looked like an alien (look to the right of the rather ripped Mr Turnip). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But the best part, and this is so stupid, was the futuristic toilets. The door opened by way of waving a hand in front of the open light. Once closed, inside there was beautiful music playing and it was quite an oasis. The toilet paper came out by waving your hand in front of it and the toilet flushed when the door opened. It was seriously cool! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">April had caught a cold and had fought hard to keep it at bay but that day she was down for the count and slept most of the drive through the rolling hills of sheep country (which looked a lot like the middle of South Dakota) until it gave way to four lane highways and tall buildings that was downtown Wellington. (It wasn't long before I started getting symptoms of a cold as well). We drove past the harbor where we'd be ferrying to the South Island the following morning so our time in the city was short. Our rental was in a high rise downtown so we were able to walk right to the shore. By the time we were ready to explore, the streets and sidewalks were full of people leaving work and heading somewhere. We pulled up a bench at a cafe right on the main pier where we had a great view for people watching. Lots of folks on nice mountain bikes rode by so clearly there were trails nearby (found out later it was national bike to work day). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After our early dinner, we strolled around the pier. There were people swimming after jumping off a public diving board right into the sea! It was also a popular area for rowing teams to practice being that we saw about 4 boats doing laps. As we walked we we saw lots of public art and there seemed to be lots of younger people hanging around so the vibe was less touristy and more local. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">knit bomb monsters were on every post along the boardwalk</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">public diving board</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking bridge over a busy street</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On top of bridge</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sculpture that hung above a liberal arts courtyard</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Still with daylight to kill, we made our way to the <a href="https://wellington.govt.nz/recreation/enjoy-the-outdoors/gardens/botanic-garden">local botanical garden</a>. We walked to the top of the city, literally, up a walkway deemed City to Sea path that was really steep in places. At the top was the terminus of the city's cable car system. Wait, we didn't have to walk up that far?! We had a great view and there was a boy scout troop just having a crazy (and loud) time playing king of the hill. We continued to follow the trail signage through the botanical garden and it was just mind blowingly huge, at over 60 acres of hilly terrain full of flowers, trees and plants, both native and foreign. The air was fragrant and the birdsongs echoed throughout the canopy. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then as we exited the garden, we were surprised to be discover a public cemetery that was clearly very old and April being the one who loves to experience haunted buildings and all things creepy, we entered it. At first I didn't notice it but the headstones were really close to each other and by the time we reached the other side, next to the expressway that divided this neighborhood from the business district, they were stacked next to each other, within inches sometimes. Turns out the city had to exhume over 3700 burial sights to put in the expressway. The headstones were relocated but it wasn't said where the bodies and caskets went. These were 100+ year old headstones and made for some pretty creepy photos. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Overall we liked Wellington. It had a vibe being fun and progressive with seemingly lots of access to art, culture and the outdoors. If we ever go back, we'd probably fly into Wellington and spend a bit more time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next morning, Valentines Day, we arrived at the ferry entrance around 8am and sat in line for about 45 minutes before driving onto the Inter Islander Ferry. It was just like driving into a parking garage, actually. The ride took about 3 hours and we could walk around inside or outside. There was a movie theater, a few cafes and bars and plenty of seating. It was a mini cruise ship for the most part. The day was sunny but windy so there was some chop in the water. Supposedly some dolphins popped up on one side but I didn't see them. It was the first time I had ever been on open ocean water and it was a bit intimidating but beautiful and wild all at the same time. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading right to left, our route from North Island to the South Island (about 14 miles)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioe0nEfV2nlpwh4lVMd20pCrpZRkm6MCv6auTLgFSPqDG8u8JjGJTvu_fbh0mJYXC7fcECJMBg_j7u7waMUcejvCmYwKG-VVPw_6X5D84Rpre9aOtQJKzO6sX2tLg3kjCZk80gCeb4tg/s1600/MVIMG_20190214_090550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioe0nEfV2nlpwh4lVMd20pCrpZRkm6MCv6auTLgFSPqDG8u8JjGJTvu_fbh0mJYXC7fcECJMBg_j7u7waMUcejvCmYwKG-VVPw_6X5D84Rpre9aOtQJKzO6sX2tLg3kjCZk80gCeb4tg/s640/MVIMG_20190214_090550.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWCFJpsMBeMgPXKQhoiwQtVlleQJdkU-MnIP62wlaklq6050uZTfXbSemRxddAUrTa5XKlWd0Akt-fw9VgxTBIgCz_AmXvS-NBvZVRH7iwuuK39xOU8T5RjV7WI3mC4ivfg5x9DKIMg/s1600/IMG_20190214_092521_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWCFJpsMBeMgPXKQhoiwQtVlleQJdkU-MnIP62wlaklq6050uZTfXbSemRxddAUrTa5XKlWd0Akt-fw9VgxTBIgCz_AmXvS-NBvZVRH7iwuuK39xOU8T5RjV7WI3mC4ivfg5x9DKIMg/s640/IMG_20190214_092521_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">entering open water</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZqfEebLcqJ03AvWchJUz1iLEZdoWUDu9YF3FGxc0VWm88ma1DfygVvRLkPiDGISwFqv1OP2Mh8sR4mMD9_7Psr-E3xpxD0Mce8C330_jsmgxJfxWIXIUWrlBorpuR4P0E70QJLi5fA/s1600/IMG_20190214_113026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZqfEebLcqJ03AvWchJUz1iLEZdoWUDu9YF3FGxc0VWm88ma1DfygVvRLkPiDGISwFqv1OP2Mh8sR4mMD9_7Psr-E3xpxD0Mce8C330_jsmgxJfxWIXIUWrlBorpuR4P0E70QJLi5fA/s640/IMG_20190214_113026.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ferry going opposite way to North Island </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiID3JGMPhjUFlq8Z8oOB3rRIKKekChFtWEkunoNuFH1gz-88tHcuhqazMD6DcdVbMaEDQH9RuCUPpnS8bCvlVZFDd7bPAAAfe3tHibhhPKpfM8VqnZvDAA9pQiz0if4TIqdonJIxYXiw/s1600/MVIMG_20190214_112734.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiID3JGMPhjUFlq8Z8oOB3rRIKKekChFtWEkunoNuFH1gz-88tHcuhqazMD6DcdVbMaEDQH9RuCUPpnS8bCvlVZFDd7bPAAAfe3tHibhhPKpfM8VqnZvDAA9pQiz0if4TIqdonJIxYXiw/s640/MVIMG_20190214_112734.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our car is the black on right next to the semi </td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6OhvGyUsZzeQVxB3lgmpoQ1gWHU43MgHkqLQO8moDdDHX8fi4HTzwbF7BY_y0XYPnf9VIAx_KqTFpDmO27NmJVt3T6SlS5GvtLQmbwhN5X6YSkPHOLibjVuJ9o5vd004lshooYpopA/s1600/IMG_20190214_091746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6OhvGyUsZzeQVxB3lgmpoQ1gWHU43MgHkqLQO8moDdDHX8fi4HTzwbF7BY_y0XYPnf9VIAx_KqTFpDmO27NmJVt3T6SlS5GvtLQmbwhN5X6YSkPHOLibjVuJ9o5vd004lshooYpopA/s640/IMG_20190214_091746.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As we began to get closer to the South Island, my mind buzzed with wonder as to what was to come. Our biggest adventures were ahead of us. For two more weeks we were going to be zigzagging our way down to the bottom of the South Island</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">. We couldn't wait to get off that boat and see what there was to see.</span>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993123328534629489noreply@blogger.com1