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.

Wildflowers Galore

Yesterday, I talked about arriving at our Crested Butte campsite and being so happy to see the sunshine. Even better, the sun was lighting up one of the most incredible wildflower displays I've ever seen.

I went for a mountain bike ride on a classic route, while the Runner took both dogs for a high mountain run. Unfortunately, it wasn't a place where I could take Shyla mountain biking with me.

But, the flowers on my mountain bike route blew my mind. The Aspen Sunflowers were taller than me.

They lined the high part of the trail. I literally stopped at least a dozen times to take photos of them. I got a moderately early start on each day we spent there, and I had the trails all to myself. Lucky me!

In some places, purple Fireweed mixed in with the sunflowers. The trail was smooth and tacky - lined with flowers the whole way.

As I look through these photos, I am reminded, yet again, why we try so hard to seize each summer day in the high mountains. Mountain wildflowers have fleeting lives at high elevations. I'd bet that this display is almost finished by now. I feel so lucky to have seen it.

We spent three glorious days enjoying this heavenly wildflower capitol. We'd run/bike/swim in the morning, and recline in the sun in the afternoons.

After those blissful days, we awakened to a change in the weather one morning. Because we were camped so high, we were literally *in* the clouds. We headed down about 3000' in elevation for some exercise. I rode on this pretty trail at about 8000' in the rain.

And then we visited the town and its wifi to research the weather again. We discovered that a stretch of clear and beautiful weather was approaching out in the San Juan Mountains. We immediately hit the road to get there as fast as we could!

We had a super stroke of luck. Normally, we spend the first night in the San Juans camped near a main road, and then I ride a cross-country route to our favorite campsite, meeting the pack there (they drive a 4wd road). For some reason, I started thinking that we should drive directly to our campsite that night, even though it would be a bumpy and painful van ride for me.

As we drove up the 4wd road toward our campsite, we reached a "road closed" sign after about 10 miles. At first, we were morose. Then, we read the sign more carefully, and we saw that the road was closed for the following day - all day long. So, we went around the blockade and made it to our campsite that night.

That was a fabulous stroke of luck because, if we'd followed our usual plan, I would've arrived at our campsite, after 5 hours of hard mountain biking, to discover that the pack wasn't there due to the closed road. We did have satellite communication devices (DeLorme) so I'm sure we would have figured out a solution but it would have been a very rough day. Thank goodness that we decided to break with tradition and go straight to our campsite!

When we arrived at the campsite perched on an overlook, the moonlit view was incredible.

What a great trip we were having!

Friday Skyday

We were beyond thrilled when we arrived at our new campsite outside Crested Butte to find clear skies! Based on our web research, Crested Butte looked like an island of drier weather in the midst of our rainy state - so we immediately made a beeline for it.

Our campsite had incredible wildflowers all around it with sunshine making them glow.

It also had a pond about 50 yards away! R perfected his takeoff technique over the coming days. Lift off...

... and flight!

Shyla was watching his technique, and we saw her take flight for the first time in her young life. After leaping and flying for her first time, Shyla decided that she loved it, and we saw her do this many times in the following days. The "butt up in the air" pose was Shyla's unique twist to the Lab diving technique.

On that first evening, the sunset was beautiful - even more than usual because we hadn't seen sunshine in days.

The few clouds in the sky dissipated after the sun went down. The stars twinkled overhead with the bright moon up just after sunset. It was so bright that it was tough to see shooting stars, although there is one short one toward the upper right of the photo. This photo was taken with the camera pointed to the east while the moon was still up.

Then, after the moon set, I programmed the camera to take photos while we slept. The camera took many 4 minute exposures (with 5 seconds breaks between them) over the course of two and a half hours. You can see how many more stars were visible without the moon in this photo than when the moon was out (above). The North Star is at the center of all those circles.

While my camera was making star photos, we drifted off to sleep, eagerly anticipating riding/running on the many gorgeous trails near us the next morning. It was amazing how sun and clear skies lifted our spirits!

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!!!!