A day of gifts

Our blogging break was comprised of a little not-so-fun stuff and a lot of very fun stuff. Near the middle of our blogging break, we took a camping road trip to western Colorado.

Our first stop was near Leadville, a town that sits high in the sky. We camped in National Forest in the mountains above the town. Towering aspen surrounded us.

We visited this same place in June (it's a convenient first stop on a trip westward), and K had a serious kidney infection so she couldn't mountain bike with me. This time, although she was *still* taking antibiotics for her kidneys, she was allowed to romp, albeit carefully.

During our single day visit to this spot, K and I took a mountain bike ride, wending our way through the aspen forests on a thread of a trail. The ground was moist and soft, perfect for mountain biking or dog romping. I truly appreciated having my girl next to me again for a short ride through our glorious world.

After I rode with K and left her to rest with the pack, I wanted to tackle the famous Columbine Mine climb, the toughest part of the Leadville 100 mountain bike race. It climbs several thousand feet to an abandoned mine high above treeline.

When I last rode this climb in June, I didn't see another soul during the entire ride. This time was different. Within a half mile, I spotted a laboring mountain biker ahead of me. I stopped and fiddled with my bike, hoping that he'd pull away from me. I hate passing guys because it tends to turn into a competitive event so I try to avoid it if I can.

Alas, I had no choice because he quickly reappeared when I remounted my bike. I slowed and chatted with him as I passed. He told me that the race was slightly more than a week away, and many racers, including him, were out training on the climb. I wished him good luck and headed upward at my own pace.

Soon, another rider appeared in my view. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. I chatted again with the racer before resuming my own pace.

Finally, about the 10th rider who I saw in my distant vision turned out to be climbing fairly fast. He and I settled in to ride together for a while. He asked if I was going to do the upcoming race. When I said "no", he guffawed. He said that I'd do great in the women's field because almost no one could climb so effortlessly. With that comment, he informed me that he couldn't keep up with me any more, and he dropped back.

After spending so many years as an "ex-racer" with a badly injured spine, it was great for my morale to learn that I am still reasonably fit, and that climbing is still my forte. I used to love the uphill parts of races, feeling invinceable as I propelled my tiny frame upward. I know that I'm a shadow of the rider that I used to be but it's still fun riding hard every now and then.

I reached the top all alone, just as I like it.

The views of the 14,000' peaks awed me.

In June, I'd been halted partway up the climb by an endless snowfield. On this day, flowers sang their joyful songs where the snow had lingered until late July.

Alpine Sulphur Flower...

Yarrow...

Bistort...

My spirits always soar when I'm above treeline and looking down on the rest of the world. Each time I visit the alpine world, I fall in love with its beauty all over again.

Alas, it's cold up on the alpine tundra. All too soon, I donned some warm clothing and started the descent.

I don't love going downhill as much as I love going uphill. I fear for my spine so I am cautious - probably more cautious than is safe. Momentum helps a biker to negotiate tough terrain.. Yet, I tend to kill all my momentum when the fear strikes.

Happily, this was an easy descent. I coasted back down into the trees feeling giddy.

Just as I re-entered the forest, I spotted yellow flowers leaning over a mountain stream - Monkeyflowers - a favorite of mine that I rarely see.

One last gift in a day full of gifts.

I'm enjoying catching up with your blogs but I have a lot of reading to do!