The Desert Life - Now and Long Ago

Yesterday, I told you about camping inside the walls of a deep canyon. As soon as we could, we moved to a nearby site that was much sunnier! This photo sums up what I love about the west. If you want to get away from it all in a spectacular setting, it's still possible. We completely relaxed in this warm and quiet site.

Some of the canyons and land around us were designated as "Wilderness Study Areas" so bikes were not allowed in them. However, I found an awesome high trail that was free of those restrictions. Parts of it were open to ATVs but it was mostly deserted.

Each day, I'd start with a morning ride with my sweet chocolate girl on that trail.

A great thing, for Shyla's sake, was that this trail was mostly sandy so she didn't have to wear boots. The rocky sculptures all around us were gorgeous.

Along the trail, there were the remnants of a miner's cabin.

In front of the cabin, a child's tricycle frame sat. It caught my imagination, thinking about a family living out in these harsh conditions, probably 75 years ago or so. And, in the midst of it, a toddler pedaled a tricycle around the cabin.

I wondered where they got the tricycle, back in those days of much more limited commerce than now.

And, I wondered if the child is still alive. He or she would be elderly by now.

It's amazing how visiting a new place can inspire me to think. I bet those miners saw many incredible skies like we saw while we visited. However, I wonder if the hardships of their lives made the beauty less intense than it was for us.

Happy Saturday. I love my home in the mountains but I already miss the desert.

Mountain Biking with the Labraduo

I had two days of the Labraduo joining me for my sunrise bike ride. I had never seen how R's fur turns color when the sun barely peeks over the eastern horizon. He has a reddish glow!

The same is true for Shyla's chocolate coat. It looks almost fake because it glows so brightly. This bright glow lasts for only about 10 minutes after sunrise.

After the sun was a little higher in the sky, we played some games. As I looked through my photos of them, I noticed a very funny thing. When I called the Duo to run to me, they almost always simultaneously licked their noses with their tongues. I've read that "tongue flicks" are a sign of stress but I truly don't believe the Duo was under "stress". Perhaps it was a sign of excitement in this case.

Atop Hug Hill, they did the same thing. Their synchronization was remarkable!

The Duo played together, and they totally relaxed together in the warm sunshine. Shyla actually snoozed, which she'd never do without her trusty big brother by her side.

It's definitely a bit more stressful for me to keep two dogs under control than when I have only one with me. When mountain biking, the dogs have to be truly under "voice control" because I also have to pay attention to riding my bike and not crashing. But, it was good fun, and the Duo was generally very well behaved.

This morning, Shyla and I were on our own again. We look forward to the next time that the black tornado can join us!

A Slickrock World

Desert slickrock can hurt a dog's paw pads very fast. So, we have boots for our dogs to wear when they run on slickrock.

The hard part is Shyla simply doesn't like boots. She moves in a funny way when she wears them. The next photo is of Shyla running in her boots. Obviously, her gait is not at all normal when she wears them!

On this trip, her dislike of the boots seemed to grow more intense by the day. This was still on the first day of boots, and she already looked forlorn in the middle of one of our rides.

My vet has suggested another type of boot that Shyla might like better. On slickrock, a dog's boots need to be very tough. On our first trip there, we used simple nylon boots, and they were shredded by the slickrock within a day.

So, during this section of our trip, I kept Shyla's runs pretty short, and then I headed out to ride on my own, while she relaxed in camp with the boys.

I love visiting buttes that have large slickrock aprons around them. My bike size puts the butte's size in perspective!

I particularly love how quiet these places are in November. I had the entire slickrock playground to myself. Do you see the snowy peaks way off in the distance? I love the contrast with the red rock.

In between slickrock areas, I rode on sandy 4wd roads like this one. As I tried to pedal through the deep sand, I wished for my snowbike because its wide tires would be ideal in sand.

After my ride and some relaxation time, we'd go for a walk as a pack around sunset. At this campsite, there is rock art all around us so we'd visit it each afternoon.

Entire sections of wall are covered in it. It's incredible having relics of human history surrounding us. But, it's sad to see that modern humans feel the need to deface some of these walls. A few more sets of initials appear each year in the midst of the petroglyphs.

As we finished our walks, the moon would look beautiful among the red rocks.

The intricate shapes of the rocky buttes were mystical at dusk, particularly with the moon over them.

After our evening walk, we'd quickly jump in the van to warm up. Then, I'd get out my tripod and start shooting the stars. It was an incredible trip with clear skies every night except for one. I'll save more star photos for a future post but, be forewarned, I have lots of them after such great weather and long nights in the desert!

Our Days in the Desert

One of the things that I was excited to do in the desert was to ride a regular mountain bike, not my monster snow bike, which will be my main steed for the winter.

We never got an early start on any of our rides. It was quite cold at night, falling into the teens at least once. So, we'd laze around in our sleeping bags until the sun warmed the world a little bit. We brought sleeping bags especially for the dogs but they always ended up in ours instead! This was the first time that Shyla was totally comfortable with snuggling all night long with the pack. Previously, she'd retreat to a more solitary sleeping spot after everyone was asleep.

After our slow morning start, Shyla and I went for a mountain bike ride while the boys went for a trail run. Shyla was incredibly well behaved - an amazing mountain biking companion. She just turned three, and I think she's perfect! But, then again, I'm biased!

You perhaps can see the leash on her in the photo above. We rode in an area with BIG cliffs (like 2500' high) so I leashed her whenever we were close to them.

The view from the cliffs was breath-taking. We stayed back from the edge.

Later in the trip, we took a sunset hike down in the desert sculptures below the cliff in the photos. I'll share some photos of that landscape in a future post.

We both kept all feet on the ground the whole time!

After our daily ride, it seemed like sunset snuck up on us almost right away! The days are so short now. The next photo is what we call "K's Rock", glowing in the light of the setting sun. We discovered a hidden campsite below it on K's last trip to the desert.

The rock got warm in the sunshine, and we all reveled in it for the brief afternoons. I love seeing Shyla enjoy the desert like I do.

All of us relaxed and even snoozed at the base of K's Rock at one time or another.

And then, before we were ready for it, the sun would sink to the western horizon, and I'd snap some warm sunset photos of our chocolate girl.

As soon as the sun set, the air would become truly cold, and we'd retreat to the LabMobile. I'd set up my tripod just outside it, and I'd quickly go out to capture photos as night fell. I loved being able to see a few stars twinkling in the sky still painted bright colors by the sunset.

As much as I love the mountains, I love the red rock desert too. It is such an alien landscape that reminds me, time after time, that I am a tiny speck in the history of the world.

A Long Journey - Part 2

This post is about the second half of my point-to-point ride in the San Juan Mountains during our recent trip. When I left off the story on Tuesday, I'd just arrived at the high point of my ride at a Pass that's almost 13,000' high. I was about halfway to where I was supposed to meet the Pack. The problem was the weather...

As I stood on the Pass, the threatening clouds started bombarding me with hail. I didn't linger but started downhill at a good pace. As I lost elevation, the ice balls became drizzle, and I started noticing the world around me again.  Pretty flowers in the foreground. Hmm, what are all those white lumps in the distance?

It took me a moment but then I realized that they were sheep. Hundreds of them.

Soon after that realization, I heard angry barking, and I remembered reading that these flocks are protected by specially-bred sheep protection dogs. The dogs work independently so there isn't usually a person nearby to control them. I'd also read that hikers and bikers needed to be careful around these dogs because they will go after anything that seems like a threat to their sheep. In my case, I simply got off my bike and walked (since some dogs are provoked by fast-moving targets). The one dog that I could see kept his distance as he barked at me. He was a great deterrent - there was no way I'd approach those sheep with him around!

The huge flock of sheep reminded of the poignant stories of the demise of the Grizzly Bear in Colorado. They were driven to extinction by bounty hunters who were paid to kill them to protect the sheep being raised in the mountains. Some people believe that there are a few extremely secretive Grizzlies left in the San Juan Mountains (a book called "Ghost Grizzlies" tells the story - it's fascinating).

After I'd passed the flock of sheep and their canine protectors, I resumed pedaling, mostly downhill from the Pass for a while.

For a brief time, I thought that I'd escaped the storms, and I slowed to enjoy the flowers.

High above treeline, they were endlessly glorious!

I even got down on the ground to drink up their beauty and their scent.

Alas,I was wrong to be so complacent. As I slowed to enjoy the wildflowers, the iceballs resumed their aerial assault. Even more scary to me, the thunder started booming from behind me. As you can see, I was still way above treeline. However, I had descended from the zone were the purple flowers dominated to a lower zone where the yellows were out in force.

I pedaled as hard as I could, forgetting the "no red line" rule. Then, the oddest thing happened. I hadn't seen a single cyclist all day, and suddenly there were a couple of large groups of mountain bikers heading uphill directly into the storm. I was aghast that they were so brash. In their shoes, I would've at least waited out the storm at a lower elevation - lightning above treeline is no joke.

Because the brash cyclists were going uphill, I had to yield the right of way to them. I stepped off the trail to let them pass and wasted seemingly endless time with crackling lightning and booms of thunder nearby as a couple of large groups moved at a snail-like pace past me. It wasn't my happiest moment in the ride...

One cyclist decided to turn around rather than face the fury of the storm, and she became my downhill guide for a while. She was a local and knew the trail very well. As we continued the long descent from the Pass, I watched her from behind so I could be forewarned of obstacles too tough to negotiate at full speed. We talked a little, and she was in disbelief that her friends had chosen to pedal up into the storm.

Eventually, the descent from the Pass was over, and the trail started undulating up and down as it crossed snow-fed creeks tumbling down from the high peaks. I took a moment to appreciate how strong I was feeling. Before the ride, I'd expected to limp to the end but instead I felt like I could power up the finishing climbs. What a great feeling! I guess my body hasn't totally betrayed me yet!

I didn't take any more photos for a long time as I continued to flee the storms that seemed to be nipping at my heels. Only when I was within about 30 minutes of my destination did I take one more photo. There were storms on all sides of me by then.

I was a little worried about whether the Pack was at our rendevouz point yet. We were using Delorme satellite communicators (there was no cell reception up there) - and I hadn't yet received the message that they had arrived.

I rolled down into the trailhead parking lot just minutes after they'd parked the Labmobile. I was so happy to see them! They'd stopped for a long run to break up the drive, and they'd had a lot of fun too.

After the ride, I tried to distill some sort of wise lesson from it. I'd totally surprised myself with how strongly I could pedal my bike over a long distance and lots of elevation change, despite all the health challenges of 2014. Perhaps the best advice is not to doubt myself so much. I'm a champion self-doubter... and it wasn't necessary this time. As I look back at my cycling life and my everyday life, I usually am stronger than I expect to be.

I will keep doing these high alpine adventures every year, for as long as my body will let me. I adore them - the beauty and the adventure make my heart sing.

A Long Journey

One of the hardest days of the year is the one when we have to leave our idyllic campsite in the San Juan Mountains. It's a campsite replete with an incredible view of the mountains and amazing wildflowers.

It even has a nearby cluster of six small lakes that no one else ever visits. The Runner found them by studying a very detailed USGS topo map. The Duo adores playing there! I am already looking forward to visiting again next year.

But, it was time to go, and I had a big mountain bike ride ahead of me. I was planning to ride a rugged trail through the wilderness from our campsite to a main road, where I'd meet the pack. It's a very tough ride that I've done several times in the past but I was honestly scared of it this year.

The reason is that I feel as if my body has not completely recovered from my surgery last February and the subsequent trains of cluster migraines. I'm now on medication to prevent migraines, but the medicine leaves me bone-tired and in a brain haze. Over our trip, I'd felt like a shadow of my usual self on my mountain bike rides - I was so tired all the time.

So, I seriously wondered whether I could trust my body to get me from point A to point B through a long trek of roadless wilderness when there would be NO option of turning around. I pondered it for a few days ahead of time. I tried to rest up, eat well, and get lots of sleep, and I started to feel a little better. After a couple of good shorter rides when my body felt strong, I finally decided that I was going to take on the challenge.

Due to my medical issues, my rule for the ride was to stay well below my "red line", or that threshold where the body is working too hard and can't recover quickly. I started out pedaling easily through a big meadow with the last views (for this year) of the mountain ranges that I've come to love so much. I took this photo as I looked backwards bidding them farewell. I was about to climb a ridge that would lead to the next mountain range on my bike journey.

After the initial huge meadow, the trail wended through pine forests and across numerous creeks for miles and miles. Near one creek, a hillside was covered in Columbines.

While in those forests, I couldn't see the full sky so I didn't know that thunderstorms were brewing. The forecast had called for the "usual" 20% chance of thunderstorms "in the afternoon". I took the next photo well before "afternoon". Uh oh. Regardless of the threatening clouds, I still had a very high mountain pass to cross.

The urgency of my pedaling ratcheted up a notch but I still stuck to my "no red line" rule. As I climbed, the sun would occasionally break through the clouds, and the world would look safe and cheerful, once again.

This climb is one of the hardest I've ever pedaled up. However, the wildflowers were awe-inspiring and constantly distracted me during the seemingly endless upward grind.

I had to stop every now and then to photograph the flowers. They are a natural wonder - one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. I wish the sun had been shining on them!

 There were even Columbines in the mix!

After almost an hour of pedaling uphill, the purples took over. The scarlet paintbrushes were like a carpet.

I lay down on the ground to look at the world through the scarlet forest.

After that short break, I kept pedaling steadily and patiently, peering upward as I rounded each curve, hoping to see the top.

Finally, I topped out with big views in all directions!!! I took a photo looking backward from the top, feeling elated to be so high. I'd started my ride on the other side of the mountain range in the distance of this photo.

I wanted to linger, rest, and enjoy the views but the clouds chose that moment to start hurling ice balls down at me. Grrr. So, I started pedaling again, now downhill, with even more urgency than before. Because I'd been so conservative with my effort level for the first half of the ride, I felt like I still had energy to spare.

And, I was going to need that energy because storms chased me for the rest of the day. The second half of the ride was a bit harrowing but I survived! I'll save the conclusion of the story for Thursday.