Pictures

Jasper Peak, May 21st

Tasting bench view

The 2 tasting choices by TimmyP

Pasque flowers finally getting their day in the sun

James in the rain

Guppies on a hike

Riding Gold

Drinking gold

Sunspot

May 15th. (Delayed post)
The sun is shining today but it's been a pretty rainy and snowy spring here. I haven't been riding much at all. But the other day I got out on a ride on Tank the Crosscheck and was unsure if I'd be making it home before I got drenched and frozen, once again. I started to head north towards the local spring ski spot to see if the road was rideable yet, but Ned looked pretty ominous with dark clouds and snow starting to fall. The road that separates the peaks from the foothills is such a funny separator. "They" placed the road in the right place somehow, so you can have one weather pattern to the west of it and another to the east. So, I about-faced and headed south to my regular route of this year. Only some flakes hit my face before heading east to the sloppy dirt road seen above.

Fenders...they simply rule. Nobody rides with them in Colorado because it doesn't really rain here except for during the summer monsoon season where we get intense 20 minute afternoon thundershowers.

My route seemed to stay in the sunspot today. A big loop that had snow to the west and pretty dark rainclouds to the east (above). (On the pod was the new Leatherface, who was supposed to be in Denver on the 19th...but their tour of the US got canceled. Such a bummer as this veteran UK band has never been to Denver and rarely comes to the US.) I have yet to see another rider on this route. I know this area is seen as 'redneck-ville' but I've mostly been met with wide-berths, waves, and very few cars. Times must be a-changing.

May 12th.
16" encounting of Sierra cement in the Rockies...

I am The Monkey

I can see my future. I can see that my body will some day not be able to keep up with my mind. I can see that one day I will head out on a ride, a run, or a ski, and just keep going, not wanting to turn that homing device on to return, so I will just keep taking the other turn and finding out what's around that other corner. Then, one day I will not be able to make it home because my body simply will not be able to make it back.

I had that feeling today on a run. I just starting running in a place that I had never been before. But it seemed logical enough - I'd do an out-and-back. One can't get lost on an out and back, can they? I started noticing the flaws in that logic once I saw how many fire-roads starting breaking off the main road that looked exactly like the one I was on. I didn't bring my friend Spot, or a GPS and I didn't have the option anyways. But the good thing was, after jumping off the pave' and then onto the dirt, the spring snow started up pretty soon and I was running on mostly frozen snow. I thought, 'I should be able to return by following my own tracks.' Similar to running on sand but this being more slippery (duh) I just kept running, following the way of The Monkey. At every turn I'd take the one not going even vaguely closer to home. "Just to the next one," I'd say to myself each time.

I'm not a runner. That fact is lost on everything but my body (i.e., my mind). I have bike and ski fitness, so I don't get tired, but my body gets extremely beat up from running. Nonetheless, I keep running even when I probably should not be running. (Logic to me is not necessarily logical to you...you should know that by now.)

After an hour or more, i really have no idea, I saw some tracks from either a really fat and clawless coyote or a young lion - the tracks were more round than narrow and were way out there so it definitely wasn't a loose dog. I followed the route of these tracks for about a mile before they left the trail not to return. At the next turn I decided I should probably turn around because although I wanted to keep going, to get a look at the lake, but my internal logic-clock started ringing (it happens occasionally). I had no water or food and the nearest town was at least 10 miles away.

The thing about snow and sun is that snow melts and tracking yourself is pretty difficult when you can't see your tracks anymore. As I got closer to home, the tracks got more infrequent and less noticeable. Each trail off the one I was on looked exactly the same. Being in an area with huge trees doesn't help navigation - views and high points were not available to help. So I just followed The Monkey, my internal GPS, that something inside that led me the several miles back home to the couch and full pint glass of beer, and the thoughts of when I won't be able to be so lucky to do that any longer.

Tunage

Music.

Depending on the band, the song, your mood, or the interaction of all those things, music is simply a force of nature. It can change your mood from happy to sad, make you sing aloud forgetting whyever you were in a bad mood, or simply accentuate whatever mood you're already in. I hear the lyrics talk to me some days more than others - like somehow my iPod in it's somewhat random shuffle knew that it had something to tell me.

I can end a bad day with the iPod landing on songs that make me sing aloud to the words of NoMeansNo, the Hanson Brothers, or Descendants allowing me to come home exuberant and happy, or get extremely melancholy at the overwhelming tone and power of Kinski, Mono, or Mogwai. I get empowered to try to change the world listening to old-school punk like Dead Kennedys or Minor Threat, and have more fun that I probably should trying to sing along in thick Brit-accent with the political/love songs of Billy Bragg.

There's really not much that can exert such emotion over me like music; we enable songwriters to speak through us and share their experiences through words and tunes. For these reasons, I wish I had stuck with it, stuck with playing guitar and bass and playing in bands. But I guess there's only so much one can do in one lifetime. I just take heart in the fact that there will always be new stuff out there to experience.

Snow to Sand

Some pictures and words can be found here. Whirlwind trip, but so worth it...

The almost annual spring trip to Fruita

...there's really nothing that can start off the cycling season like springtime in the desert. Next
year Pilots, we are having a reunion here during Fat Tire Festival, like old times.

I'm here with Timmy and Heyride and some other Ned locs. It's threatening lots of rain but luckily we haven't been caught in any storms while riding. Several hours of riding singletrack on the singlespeeds today ending with the traditional sunset ride on Horsethief Bench with beers at the cliffs midway through overlooking the Colorado River.

While riding the rim trail i had one of those "lost" moments. In a trance almost.

Simple.

The only sound you hear is that of your tires on the different soils, the slickrock, rolling along with hardly a sound, no swooshing of suspension, no chainslap. Your shoulder brushes lightly against a juniper, the breeze cooling you off. The desert flowers blooming everywhere. The steep grunts up short hills, the rolling singletrack that seems to go on forever, the single simple pleasure of riding a singlespeed in the desert, that although hard always ends in effortless spinning.