Our Big Adventure

Life is, again, seeming to return to normal. We've had a whirlwind August, filled with lots of fun and adventures. I'm tired, in a pleasant sort of way - from doing the things that we love so much.

We spent the vast majority of August living in our LabMobile, a modified high-clearance and 4wd camping van (commonly known as a SportsMobile).

We spent a number of days in the San Juan mountains, high in alpine territory. Shyla and I had our biggest adventure together so far. We took a long mountain bike ride to an alpine pass. Although Shyla visited this area with us last summer, she wasn't strong enough for such a physically demanding ride yet. Moreover, last summer, she didn't have the training for me to feel certain that I could count on her to stay by my side for such a long ride, no matter what we might encounter.

This year, with a tiny bit of trepidation, we undertook the ride together. The first mile was on a rarely used 4wd road. You can see that the sky was blue, and Shyla was bursting with energy.

I took almost no photos on our way to the Pass, partly because I wanted to beat any brewing thunderstorms to the treeless world near the Pass. Physically, it seemed to be an easy run for Shyla.

Here she was, as she arrived at the top.

On our way to the Pass, we had passed a woman backpacking with llamas. I called out to her from behind so she'd know that we were there, and I watched Shyla's reaction to llamas. I know that Shyla is great with horses... but I didn't know if that training would extend to llamas. It turned out that Shyla was afraid of llamas and kept a pretty big distance from them. I liked that - no llamas were spooked!

After we reached the Pass, we could see the Llama Lady climbing up behind us. The llamas were carrying all her gear for about 10 days out in the wilderness.

For sentimental reasons, it was heartwarming to see Shyla stand atop that Pass. The reason is that K and I did this ride together several times in her life. Indeed, I suspect that K stood exactly where Shyla was in this photo.

It felt like Shyla also knew that this was an important moment. She stood tall, head above the mountains.

The wind picked up while we lingered on the Pass, enjoying a rare alpine day when the sun was strong enough that we weren't cold in the wind.

Alas, we couldn't linger too long. Clouds were building all across the horizon. We needed to start making steady progress back to camp just in case a thunderstorm developed.

The meadows below the Pass were crowded with bright wildflowers so I had to stop for one photo.

We followed a breathtakingly beautiful trail back to camp.

When we returned to camp, it felt as if Shyla and I had achieved a big milestone. I sometimes feel as if my bonds with my dogs are built through our shared adventures. That evening, Shyla's eyes seemed more mature and softer to me than I'd ever seen them.

I feel as if Shyla is reaching that "sweet spot" in a Lab's life when they are physically so strong and their training is getting good enough for big adventures. I'll admit that Shyla has had her share of "teenage" moments this summer - but she was wonderful on our big ride together that day.

After K's death at a relatively young age, I find myself hoping with all my heart that Shyla and I get to climb many more mountains together, like these ones that we gazed at as the sun set that evening.

Icy Journey

We went to bed early after that epic storm because it was too cold and cloudy to sit outside and watch the Perseid meteor shower. The next morning, the skies were clear but the air was frigid.

We needed to start moving toward home, which meant that I had a point-to-point mountain bike ride scheduled for that day to avoid a long bumpy ride on a 4WD road. It was so cold outside that the water clinging to my bike chain was frozen. I was worried about the start of my ride, knowing it would go through deep subalpine forest where there would be snow and ice.

I procrastinated a bit, hoping that the warm sun would work its magic on my route while I waited. But, it was a tradeoff - by waiting, I was more vulnerable to being caught in the afternoon thunder storms in the forecast.

I headed out, saying goodbye to our campsite until next year, saying a secret little prayer that our pack would be as healthy and happy then as now. Life is uncertain. I departed this campsite a couple of years ago assuming that K would be back many times, and I was wrong. The tough stuff in life teaches you to appreciate when things are good.

As I started my ride, I was wearing a winter hat, neck gaiter, winter cycling shoes, mittens, and many layers. It was COLD. But, the start of the ride was through open land where the sun had already melted the snow and ice on the ground so I could pedal without worrying about ice.

I pedaled across the meadow and toward the forest, which you can see the start of in the next photo. Unfortunately, the trail became very hazardous in the shade. Every root, water bar, and other wood object on the ground was covered in ice. After trying to negotiate a few of these icy obstacles on my bike and nearly hitting the ground hard, I decided that I needed to be more cautious, especially given my delicate spine. So, although it was slow, I hopped off my bike and walked over all icy obstacles for about the first hour of the journey.

Eventually, I worked my way out of the forest and into the sun again. The trail was ice-free so I could ride continuously! But, as you can see, the mountains still sported their beautiful layers of snow.

Soon, I was climbing toward the highest point in the ride. For a moment, I thought that the mountain pass that I was aiming for was the snow-covered slope to the far left in this photo. Thank goodness that I was wrong!

This is a pass that I always end up calling "Endless Pass" in my mind. When approached from the south, it is a really long and hard climb.

It seems to go up and up and up. I was running very late due to the ice at the start of the ride, and I thought that maybe I could make up some time by climbing to the pass extra fast. Ha! There was no way to go fast without going too far into the red zone. Around every blind curve, I assumed that the top was waiting. But I was wrong many times before I actually made it to the top.

Finally, I got to gaze at the mountains from the top of the pass and then coast down the other side.

I could see my path laid out in the alpine tundra ahead of me. Clouds were building in that direction but didn't look too threatening.

It turned out that I had a tough time for the last quarter of this ride. I think that I hadn't been drinking enough fluids. At our last water refill station a few days earlier, we'd filled the LabMobile's tanks with water that I thought tasted horrid. I was carrying that awful water with me on this ride but I really hesitated to take sips.

I pedaled powerlessly through the last miles, about as fast as a snail. Climbs kept appearing in front of me that I'd forgotten existed. In the view below, I was getting close to where I was meeting the pack. I was hot and tired, and it was very hard to believe that I was running late due to ice on the start of the trail!

I finally made it to my patiently waiting pack. We found some good water, and I tanked up (and ate a lot of food), which made me feel much better.

As a side note, many of you asked about the hikers in the storm the day before. I didn't see those particular people but I asked the two "through-hikers" who I saw on my ride what they'd done during the storm. They'd set up their tents and hunkered down for the afternoon and evening. They were warm, dry, and safe.

I did, however, suspect that someone might have been lost in the area because a small airplane kept patrolling the Colorado Trail during my point-to-point ride. The pilot spotted me three times, and each time, he circled me. I didn't know how to signal that I was okay except to keep moving. Since I didn't hear any big news after arriving back in civilization, I guessed that there was no big crisis. Most people out in this wilderness know what they're doing... and I'm glad for that when big storms hit!

A Storm to Remember

I love our days in the high mountains. As I awaken, I sleepily shuffle out of the LabMobile and gaze around me, feeling utter happiness that I get to spend another day in my favorite part of the world with my Pack.

On one day near the end of our trip, I started the day with a short mountain bike ride with Shyla. She's becoming a trustworthy trail companion... and I can't tell you how much I love having her by my side. We kept the ride brief since she was still recovering from her upset tummy.

Then, I headed out to ride to a mountain pass on my own. As I rode, I could feel the restless breeze shifting from one direction to another. And, I could see the clouds building. I could feel that Mother Nature had something big in store for us.

I hustled, pedaling hard to make it to the viewpoint ahead of the weather.

As I took in the panoramic view, I realized that two major storms were closing in on me from the north and the south. I put the pedal to the metal, racing Mother Nature back to camp.

As I rode, I came upon a couple of hikers who were hiking the entire Colorado Trail from Denver to Durango. They'd been living on the trail for more than a month. They were happy and upbeat, and seemed to want to chat idly for a long time. I mentioned that the air felt like "all hell was about to break loose", and they laughed, saying that the storms were going to miss us. Despite their forecast, I bid them "Good Luck" and continued my sprint back to camp.

As I arrived and propped my bike against the LabMobile, all hell did break loose in the form of snow, hail, rain, wind, lightning, and thunder. It went on for hours and hours. The clouds had surrounded us so we couldn't see further than 10-20 yards from camp.

Then, around dinnertime, the swirling inpenetrable clouds suddenly lifted, and we were astounded by the sight of the world around us.

Across the valley...

It was gloriously beautiful, especially with handsome R in front of the snowy mountains!

Obviously, the snow hadn't "stuck" to the ground right where we were camping but it had in nearby places. And, the sun even shined for a brief period, making the snow on the mountains look even more beautiful.

But, the warmth of the sun was brief. As we stood on our perch, the clouds started flowing past us for the southeast and southwest, forming streams of misty air. And, the temperature plummeted. It went below freezing that night.

Watching the clouds flowing around the mountains and our campsite was better than any movie I've ever seen!

Then, as the sun set, it turned the clouds to gold.

The light was surreal. It was a warm and golden light from the setting sun being filtered through the clouds.

Then, the sunset painted the most beautiful picture through the clouds.

At dusk, the light faded with the Lizard Head (the pointy mountain) peeking through the clouds.

Despite all the time we spent as captives in the LabMobile during that stormy day, it was one of the most wonderfully wild days I've ever lived through in the high mountains. It reminded us of who is the boss, and it's Mother Nature, not us.

What a glorious world we live in!

Stormy Days

After some nice weather at the start of our vacation, it became tumultuous. Normally, in the high mountains, there's a clear and sunny time every morning, and then threats of thunderstorms in the afternoon. That's easy to deal with - because we simply plan our fun in the mountains for the mornings. Near the middle of our vacation, the pattern changed, and the thunderstorms started very early. We saw almost no sun on those days.

When you're on exposed alpine ridges, thunderstorms are dangerous, to put it mildly, so our plans were derailed.

We camped near an enticing trailhead for two days. It leads to a high and exposed ridge that is said to have "cascading wildflowers". Everyone says that the area is gorgeous, and we've wanted to visit it for years. It even looks gorgeous in the rain.

On our first day there, we made it to a lake below the ridge before the skies opened.

A gentle rain rapidly became pelting hail, complete with thunder boomers. We sprinted back to camp and spent the majority of the day staying warm and safe in the LabMobile. At least the view was nice...

The next day was similar. I was going stir crazy from sitting in the LabMobile, and there was a brief break in the weather. Shyla and I headed out for a bike ride, never going too far from camp.

On one foray, we climbed up the road in the photo above, and the sun shined when we made it to the top!

The road went through a notch in the rock cliff.

On the other side, there was a ledge... but the drop-off was very mild (don't worry about Shyla in this photo!).

The weather was seeming so good that I decided to start heading toward that ridge of "cascading wildflowers" again. This was the pretty trail we followed.

Alas, it was not to be. Within 10 minutes of starting the trail, it was hailing on us again, and we were sprinting back to camp to avoid being out in lightning.

Of course, just to drive us insane, the sun shined ever so briefly again just after our arrival in camp, tempting me to try for the ridge yet again. But we didn't.

We did have a family of marmots to amuse us as we hung around near this trailhead. They lived in an abandoned mine. You can see that the right-most one was a lactating female. We didn't see the babies.

Before the end of that day, we decided that it was time to give up and move on. Maybe we'll see the "cascading wildflowers" next year. We moved onto another site, where even more "excitement" awaited us. The middle of this vacation was not stress-free. That's for sure!

At least we had beauty all around us during this part of our trip!

A Thin Air Adventure

Early in our trip, we wanted to go to a campsite that involves seriously rough 4 wheel driving. My spine can't handle rough driving. Our solution is for me to ride my bike via singletrack trails to meet the pack at the campsite. Thus, I do a "point-to-point" ride that goes far from any road.

Unfortunately, the morning of my point-to-point ride dawned cloudy with a very high threat of thunderstorms. These point-to-point rides normally scare me, due to how isolated I am during the ride. But, when you add storms to the mix, my fear goes into overdrive.

When I took the photo below, we still hadn't decided if I should "go for it" or not. I tried to focus on the pretty flowers rather than the early-morning stormy mountains.

We did the first half hour of the trail as a pack to assess the weather. The sky was gray but the beauty kept shining through.

After the half hour, I was still not sure what to do. Finally, I simply decided to go for it. I had good rain and warmth gear with me plus an emergency beacon. Despite my niggling worries about these point-to-point rides, I do love them, and I didn't want to miss out on a favorite.

Shortly after I made my decision to go for it, I found Northern Flicker's feather on the trail in front of me. For some reason, I felt convinced that it was K's way of sending me strength and courage for the day. I tucked it in my pocket, where it gave me strength all day long.

As I rode, I realized that, as long as I looked forward, the weather looked decent. I could even see some blue sky.

When I looked behind me, I tended to panic because the clouds threatened to engulf me.

So, I decided that I would not, under any circumstances, look behind me again. It worked! And, as I pedaled, I realized that it was a good metaphor for how to live life. Eagerly seek what's ahead of you but don't brood over what's behind you. That's easier said than done, I know.

After a couple of hours of pedaling, I was climbing up toward the highest point in the long ride, a pass over 13,000' high. The flowers were getting more beautiful as I climbed.

It's a long climb but, before I knew it, I was ever-so-slowly approaching the top of the pass, and blue sky still peeked through the not-too-threatening clouds.

I paused briefly at the top, gazing at the craggy peaks all around me before I started the rocketing descent from the pass. Actually, I didn't "rocket" for long because the flowers on the other side of the pass were awe-inspiring. I stopped to look at the hillside above me. Wow. Nature puts on quite a show!

So then, I had to stop and smell the wildflowers.

They were the best I've seen this year.

Alas, even though I was keeping my promise not to look back toward my starting point, I still worried about the storms behind me. And, I knew that I still had thousands of feet of climbing before I made it to our campsite.

So, I tore myself away from the flowers and continued the hard work of pedaling. The next section of trail was in the subalpine forest, with numerous creek crossings and technical trail. I plugged away, and I eventually emerged to this brand new view! I knew that I was almost "home" when I saw this.

I had paced myself reasonably well so the gargantuan steep climb up to our campsite didn't floor me like it has in the past. Indeed, I felt like I could've ridden further. That was a nice feeling for this old girl.

I pulled into camp to hear the excited welcome barks of our pups. I was so glad to see the entire pack, all safe and sound. Moreover, our campsite, bar none, has the best view of any I've ever stayed in.

So, I'd beaten the storms, which never exploded with their full fury that day. After arriving, I was able to laze around in the intermittent sun with the pack. I'd say that was an amazingly good day!

To top it off, the sunset left me speechless. This was one view of it... and I'll save the others for another post!

I learned that day that sometimes it's really worth pushing through your worries and going for it. I had one of my most memorable days of the summer because I found the courage to face what scared me.

PS Tomorrow is the last day to vote in the Trail Camera photo contest that I've entered. If you're interested, there is more info about my entry and how to vote in the last paragraph of a recent post. I am so grateful for your support!!!!