The fury of the mountains - a close call

This morning, I found photos of a gorgeous coyote on my wildlife camera. His rusty coat almost glowed in yesterday afternoon's light. In the other photos that the camera captured, he looked chubby, with his belly almost bulging! I think that our coyotes have had an excellent summer, leaving them strong and ready for winter. I've never seen them looking so well fed.

It was a warm Indian Summer morning. During our mountain bike ride, K and I stopped and relaxed in the sunshine. Or, I should really say, that I relaxed in the sunshine. K seemed convinced that something very dangerous lurked behind some pine trees and fixed her stare on it.

K eventually relaxed in the gorgeous grove of aspens, with reddish leaves that went beautifully with K's chocolate coat (in the background of the next photo).

After K had run as far as I could allow her to go, I set off on my own, still in a warm and sunny world. I was dressed for a warm autumn day and had no reserve layers in my backpack. My trail cam caught a photo of me.

I stopped to photograph some autumn colors, rose hips with maroon rose leaves and yellow aspen leaves in the background. I took off my jacket because I was too hot in the sun.

As I rode, I kept tabs on the growing angry bank of clouds over the Divide. The wind came to life and whipped through the aspen trees, creating a storm of yellow leaves flying through the air. At first, the wind was warm but soon it turned frigid.

I started pedaling harder, trying to get home fast. As I amped up my effort, the rain and snow started. I pedaled even harder but there was no way to keep my body temperature from dropping precipitously. As I approached home, I navigated what's usually an easy trail for me but I was becoming clumsy because I was cold all the way to my core. Fortunately, I realized that I was losing my coordination and took precautions. I forced myself to get off my bike and walk the "hard" parts (usually easy for me) to avoid crashing and being in even more serious trouble.

Soon, I felt my mind starting to lose it from being so cold. My brain was swirling in circles as if I had low blood sugar, but I knew that I had plenty of sugar in my system. So, I started talking out loud to myself, growling out jumbles of words like "go girl, you can do it, you can make it home". I yelled some unmentionable words when my fingers started hurting so badly from the cold that I could barely brake. I must have appeared to be a lunatic to anyone who heard me.

I made it home, just barely. My first challenge was opening the door. I couldn't feel my hands to work the key - but, by dumb luck, I eventually (after about 5 minutes of fruitless tries and a temper tantrum) got the door open. By then, I felt like I was on the verge of collapse. I couldn't manipulate my fingers to take off my shoes, helmet or backpack. So, with all those dripping wet outdoor accouterments still on me, I curled up with K on her dog bed, trying to borrow as much body heat as I could. After a little while, her body heat started to work its wonders, and, as soon as I was capable, I dragged myself into the shower and sat in its steaming hot stream.

It was one of my scariest bike rides ever. I've lived in the mountains for a long time, and I should know by now that winter can arrive at any instant in September or October. Instead, I was stupid, stupid, stupid, and I brought no warm clothing. The thermometer read 38 degrees when I arrived home in the rain and snow mix, and I was dressed for the summery sunshine and 50 degrees that had greeted me this morning.

I took this one photo when it started to snow but I wasn't too cold yet. After that, I had far more serious things to worry about. I honestly questioned if I would make it home at various times during my frantic pedaling in the winter weather.

The mountains reminded me of their power today. They'll kill you if you don't respect them.