tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24248964064229562372024-03-05T01:31:56.357-07:00kurt's going nuts . . .Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.comBlogger291125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-69626106494976057212016-06-15T12:28:00.002-06:002016-06-15T12:28:17.206-06:00Rejuvenation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhmaNVlKw9jAYEViubfBDBqCB4LKxPcEE_i64st-i7hMzA8znnH2O0YdwBEwWqOalGwZliD_D073Pl3w8JJm1eUbLZoprGmhwU5aQuTjakzxPOPMM8kTCDuzKDuQowdXWkAjN6Bpsqyg/s1600/DSC02430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhmaNVlKw9jAYEViubfBDBqCB4LKxPcEE_i64st-i7hMzA8znnH2O0YdwBEwWqOalGwZliD_D073Pl3w8JJm1eUbLZoprGmhwU5aQuTjakzxPOPMM8kTCDuzKDuQowdXWkAjN6Bpsqyg/s640/DSC02430.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073786111 1 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Things on this blog have obviously been quiet for quite some
time. It’s been a busy Spring. Much of that has been self-inflicted, though, stacking
my Ultra MTB coaching and training camps on top of my day job. And now there’s
an additional and more ambitious new project building momentum beyond all that.
It’s exciting, but between those demands and some lingering fatigue issues that
began last summer, I’ve been craving some time to disconnect and get out on
relaxing adventures. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks ago, I took some time to explore up on the
Navajo Nation, racing in the amazing little Cove Classic event and hanging out
in the very welcoming community of Cove and making new friends. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZSMcJDO0-9SRVp3UqbdUVHeH5x8roO8xQthXRYSItb_HjgSK_qqupO_RrSQQ-_B1PRs3iqMbldTtabxbzsRZSew7biOySedEIpSC2HpK0wRfCC9C-ATBGcFJqqPA77_p3q09k3PW1oc/s1600/DSC02354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZSMcJDO0-9SRVp3UqbdUVHeH5x8roO8xQthXRYSItb_HjgSK_qqupO_RrSQQ-_B1PRs3iqMbldTtabxbzsRZSew7biOySedEIpSC2HpK0wRfCC9C-ATBGcFJqqPA77_p3q09k3PW1oc/s640/DSC02354.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBfNCIJV1zZrK5npE7qNGtAukgu_D1SWI1fO95N79SoiD9_Sj_NTtLViI4ZRHLqky-_kDiJ9ovTfREKlmxgh2BzayLYeJVw1lMwkT3QK_jSEoDv__hRlHR9XCpDqg9AvIqoti8e1F_jEU/s1600/DSC02147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBfNCIJV1zZrK5npE7qNGtAukgu_D1SWI1fO95N79SoiD9_Sj_NTtLViI4ZRHLqky-_kDiJ9ovTfREKlmxgh2BzayLYeJVw1lMwkT3QK_jSEoDv__hRlHR9XCpDqg9AvIqoti8e1F_jEU/s640/DSC02147.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61uksP6pCZt7yXaGEArIeE_nbPcc0glxb8Az56GrbSslQZ66Yo-N20WRkekXxfjPFyQkx9q3qhYdggPwAn-IvwsVRxuIS1Okrw4V9RPObt7DlDOZzuS02EAX444VDTFb03Wf6_iFL08A/s1600/DSC02224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61uksP6pCZt7yXaGEArIeE_nbPcc0glxb8Az56GrbSslQZ66Yo-N20WRkekXxfjPFyQkx9q3qhYdggPwAn-IvwsVRxuIS1Okrw4V9RPObt7DlDOZzuS02EAX444VDTFb03Wf6_iFL08A/s640/DSC02224.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073786111 1 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I wandered west, picked up a backcountry permit, and
struck out solo on a little loop on the Arizona-Utah border that had been on my
radar for the past few years. Old, rugged trails, big canyons, naked sandstone
abound, and flowers abound! Over parts of three days, I rode, hiked, and hiked
some more through that wondrous place. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjus4gzCVb6NS8rFR_3t4DR-H6VF8gp3oXTETVp6CAGta6iJN4IlChyphenhyphenMYfMpFKgNQOtZlQWNjxEsOKMI7UReYZycjn9KyV0SflZUpqlscmXcKntWOA_dgcv6eaaTh5SLoPRngwscKx-y5U/s1600/DSC02240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjus4gzCVb6NS8rFR_3t4DR-H6VF8gp3oXTETVp6CAGta6iJN4IlChyphenhyphenMYfMpFKgNQOtZlQWNjxEsOKMI7UReYZycjn9KyV0SflZUpqlscmXcKntWOA_dgcv6eaaTh5SLoPRngwscKx-y5U/s640/DSC02240.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2VaZY0IZo1L03rs9eZp-_O9erGopyad5qDfC_m9oWfn-HE1m9JsddCuSW-t-nE7qU_DXqH8qfXtAMynmU43yFAzgSgzLAcliuQ0rYzmKKwaQrw9vkxe0q3mhbiQfKdlBnlw8kN80ufg/s1600/DSC02324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2VaZY0IZo1L03rs9eZp-_O9erGopyad5qDfC_m9oWfn-HE1m9JsddCuSW-t-nE7qU_DXqH8qfXtAMynmU43yFAzgSgzLAcliuQ0rYzmKKwaQrw9vkxe0q3mhbiQfKdlBnlw8kN80ufg/s640/DSC02324.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073786111 1 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was just me out there, feeling so distant from the rest
of the world and loving it. There were no signs that anyone else had been on
the trails yet this year. The only conversations I heard were between raucous
tree frogs scattered in streambed puddles and between the wind and the trees. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUbCl80xRDDBGvBcH7ePkSy_ZnEsICX0S7ailMi-54YR6R-lhKSRkWiEzyc9Ufw5jPaQDYQgMSgtya96lZy6bqa_viy6mo6FFECbV9gCdWDVOrUqMZFFDABp1wVexqUG1QRYymHlUChw/s1600/DSC02475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUbCl80xRDDBGvBcH7ePkSy_ZnEsICX0S7ailMi-54YR6R-lhKSRkWiEzyc9Ufw5jPaQDYQgMSgtya96lZy6bqa_viy6mo6FFECbV9gCdWDVOrUqMZFFDABp1wVexqUG1QRYymHlUChw/s640/DSC02475.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDc7_cx78SiH9v5k0X2jDyp1BTUdPy519fPo6Yfuv1d8MeKaWZFEUnhe1BsYzXzCXwdYa9gEBhtuT_8agicMGNWz7rNIa_WoVATfn9naxJBlog4uJLLLG0tjTiQ_BvSuCaf4W5Ga8TSfw/s1600/DSC02547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDc7_cx78SiH9v5k0X2jDyp1BTUdPy519fPo6Yfuv1d8MeKaWZFEUnhe1BsYzXzCXwdYa9gEBhtuT_8agicMGNWz7rNIa_WoVATfn9naxJBlog4uJLLLG0tjTiQ_BvSuCaf4W5Ga8TSfw/s640/DSC02547.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073786111 1 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My route was easily navigable in the three days I devoted to
it without feeling at all rushed. I spent the evenings sitting atop sandstone
domes watching the sun set over the dissected country to the northwest. I
enjoyed breakfast surrounded by chatty birds. And the afternoons were
interrupted by time spent in the shade among scurrying lizards. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC5-CQbO-gjh99rvD9emzYvPbpaYbYonHHQs-vBWst8RUtiLFbgp4337BqckVovj1JQya9qXSuWXAfVGykrLZ-QOcvLH6ZaNOrocOjmhMHBE_qRGwYFdbLmRo-LVQXRSjEH86TiYzmIp8/s1600/DSC02488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC5-CQbO-gjh99rvD9emzYvPbpaYbYonHHQs-vBWst8RUtiLFbgp4337BqckVovj1JQya9qXSuWXAfVGykrLZ-QOcvLH6ZaNOrocOjmhMHBE_qRGwYFdbLmRo-LVQXRSjEH86TiYzmIp8/s640/DSC02488.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ABGCXILJU3onxrWCTB5wEmwUBkw1WhzGSm80l6358_l8BHSda49pzk4VR6GMGPRyGgfh11hxoGaXkyJUax-p9p619PpL-Pk1AGrcmeLM9PJW-O_sask5zP_-v1tk-f5SJroHSgp9Hdk/s1600/DSC02147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Q_vbPTeVbqoZYAoLPiUHc_QNw7ALE6McauLoW6qCywwraRaNRam_kwiJT6zKC_v-4peV9MKdzPO61bRwDNAX0w92tNHh7lPjYY4Rd6fopy7QNU4sg-jOyUdIi4WtNZ2xSG_ELP1qDi4/s640/DSC02478.JPG" width="640" /><br /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The trail itself was continuously remarkable - down talus
fields, through slot canyons, over surprise passes, and into hidden valleys.
While not the most rideable route I’ve done, it was one of the most remarkable few
days I’ve spent on (or with) a bike. I came out feeling refreshed and rejuvenated,
eager to dig into some of the work on my plate, and cognizant of my need for a better
balance between adventure and work. </div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-35284640177663347812016-02-21T14:15:00.001-07:002016-02-22T21:33:04.643-07:00Chasing summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTQ1q-7BJ3ux1NUjX1O68g_hGKRnwuc6j3WQoeG2dikT5bdKYBt5MoTuswUw8gOhJxezdxcS5ohHM1vP92ZbueuYMXkgHDC2oVKK7eoMA46wq6OTO6AU6sH3sFYcI5v2ziBD_1feg6hs/s1600/DSC05708.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTQ1q-7BJ3ux1NUjX1O68g_hGKRnwuc6j3WQoeG2dikT5bdKYBt5MoTuswUw8gOhJxezdxcS5ohHM1vP92ZbueuYMXkgHDC2oVKK7eoMA46wq6OTO6AU6sH3sFYcI5v2ziBD_1feg6hs/s400/DSC05708.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Somehow Kaitlyn and I ended up with a lot of time "off" work this winter. With winter break followed by a no teaching during our January block, we were able to plan an adventure that would take us to distant mountains. We settled on the Andes, struggled with figuring out what small section of the enormous mountain range to explore, and eventually settled on northern Patagonia. We schemed up a big loop that would take us through the Chilean lakes, jungles, and volcanoes, followed by the Argentinian mountains and [more] lakes. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkMtHSRxnz8TUGy6IirzumUB8qlYVHzSCzsrspg1CurVgHdxI17Yygp9EIhlOsxtLOuhWHdjKyrIRiYDbFDrsEDyCYuEWbnM3lCr1CUc60gXCGrFXLPMa9cJTu-jMCLOUXZNIFth06W8/s1600/DSC05910.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkMtHSRxnz8TUGy6IirzumUB8qlYVHzSCzsrspg1CurVgHdxI17Yygp9EIhlOsxtLOuhWHdjKyrIRiYDbFDrsEDyCYuEWbnM3lCr1CUc60gXCGrFXLPMa9cJTu-jMCLOUXZNIFth06W8/s400/DSC05910.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg402DODOpXDZqrb6a8BBp2e3q0tIlJjsJknJBtl9ayTl5EmzzLkBihOKZbIl1fIUTXHQtw2cQFUHtjt7BC42eQr3JsyhZzyg7hp5iE_MovLzrvwJCDUJfcjBQVqSpcpdWxIgjHXCqiNXM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-02-22+at+9.31.49+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg402DODOpXDZqrb6a8BBp2e3q0tIlJjsJknJBtl9ayTl5EmzzLkBihOKZbIl1fIUTXHQtw2cQFUHtjt7BC42eQr3JsyhZzyg7hp5iE_MovLzrvwJCDUJfcjBQVqSpcpdWxIgjHXCqiNXM/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-02-22+at+9.31.49+PM.png" width="313" /></a></div>
<br />
Salsa Horsethiefs ended up being our bikes of choice for the trip, loaded up with a mix of Revelate Designs and homemade bags. Our bikepacking gear was all the tried-and-true gear that we've been using on trips for years. We added a better camera (that subsequently broke) and a handy Spanish-English guide to assist our minimal Spanish abilities. Aside from that, we kept things as simple and minimal as possible, knowing that we'd probably have some huge climbs, long hike-a-bikes, and rugged trail. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRoZXJ1OfsCXjnbf1s_1ss_hOQp2313ii2KCaM_7DCSP5dOvth3vnLIYRsohoOtbW2ro9b6KK8xXhuDtL91LMWZPz2ybInSZQ6LL3pNBjzYjzWwNcwxuekmjjqVJOBNslNZp7Sbr3DTM/s1600/DSC05783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRoZXJ1OfsCXjnbf1s_1ss_hOQp2313ii2KCaM_7DCSP5dOvth3vnLIYRsohoOtbW2ro9b6KK8xXhuDtL91LMWZPz2ybInSZQ6LL3pNBjzYjzWwNcwxuekmjjqVJOBNslNZp7Sbr3DTM/s400/DSC05783.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNlsWy0CswZ45cHKI63nuEBibfAl6mWep6EQ3gLVQhkSVvOp-r3D9cxPpyn6lCzxHIWcSJY1ou0zAL4IJJf80jEy3WEDOTjA2MrDFhPUMi1tOYPLl0quJQJt6PfxTNRbH3ilVJ92kkE8/s1600/DSC05801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNlsWy0CswZ45cHKI63nuEBibfAl6mWep6EQ3gLVQhkSVvOp-r3D9cxPpyn6lCzxHIWcSJY1ou0zAL4IJJf80jEy3WEDOTjA2MrDFhPUMi1tOYPLl0quJQJt6PfxTNRbH3ilVJ92kkE8/s400/DSC05801.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1O04MzxEim7WycynFqMzz8-hzlH1KS1Aps_z5Iko7zlYA3kpjYpcJpyM-dIBS38NZd7JsD0lGrHrQiYLwrYkYypz6OleyX6Lewcc7PyBHcnOX9xOD_M99LvUSrfMuWqNnCo4SoynivyM/s1600/DSC05816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1O04MzxEim7WycynFqMzz8-hzlH1KS1Aps_z5Iko7zlYA3kpjYpcJpyM-dIBS38NZd7JsD0lGrHrQiYLwrYkYypz6OleyX6Lewcc7PyBHcnOX9xOD_M99LvUSrfMuWqNnCo4SoynivyM/s400/DSC05816.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HgD04W-JuwWP9Nb2183pIlUlNw1J_R3E3bw3WF_OwKfg_7ibl-wKrKVnHr7S_aS0IxzI6YNmel6qKJyecs0Y01-Drw54baLHCKE1MYXmuzDoy6eHNEXYpWfJH_el14yviIHDZxtMImw/s1600/DSC05829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HgD04W-JuwWP9Nb2183pIlUlNw1J_R3E3bw3WF_OwKfg_7ibl-wKrKVnHr7S_aS0IxzI6YNmel6qKJyecs0Y01-Drw54baLHCKE1MYXmuzDoy6eHNEXYpWfJH_el14yviIHDZxtMImw/s400/DSC05829.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Over the four weeks we had on the ground, we pedaled ~1,200 miles,
covering a big mix of trail, dirt road, dust road, and pavement. We were
turned back from where we had planned to ride more times than I had
ever been on a trip before. We learned to accept that in a trip with so
many unknowns, we had to roll with the punches and enjoy the new
countryside that we unexpectedly got to see. We took time to relax and
slow down the pace whenever it seemed like we were getting too focused
on getting to a certain destination by a certain time. After all, the long, warm days of the Austral summer made it too easy to ride late into the evening. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLIM9Vwei0B6eNN_fjdghHmbcrpGMu-hWBU8wVWFHIITxceoz_Msy6lDHC5wifBaKMzYrnRXAiaYjb8qJsvduntjO9TQ2Ruz80_acPVTMmPKk5_4zY-ZCzdc8W-kFx5F_brj8eXY85Vo/s1600/DSC05858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLIM9Vwei0B6eNN_fjdghHmbcrpGMu-hWBU8wVWFHIITxceoz_Msy6lDHC5wifBaKMzYrnRXAiaYjb8qJsvduntjO9TQ2Ruz80_acPVTMmPKk5_4zY-ZCzdc8W-kFx5F_brj8eXY85Vo/s400/DSC05858.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6H3ukZXXWv1TbcttUBXTOe4RS7bIJCmv8fwznhlH27Pn5hM436G63dM1xB8QUC6yKCOGEDyWnEz9RcWT3TLnk78Zz4xQd5uVywDJtvHCtqTUAvxhFPeqNEC5z7HeLnfoEHOAqw1uXZoY/s1600/DSC05958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6H3ukZXXWv1TbcttUBXTOe4RS7bIJCmv8fwznhlH27Pn5hM436G63dM1xB8QUC6yKCOGEDyWnEz9RcWT3TLnk78Zz4xQd5uVywDJtvHCtqTUAvxhFPeqNEC5z7HeLnfoEHOAqw1uXZoY/s400/DSC05958.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NHQ_1CggjXMzaSnC0lb0LKmgkb2zpb4VscI_OWSLvSsXNPMqjMHZVFwTJUqdgKfCzHzq1KtCP7L8wF3BY9XxFAUnPIDyE6wv-MMyS3Tbl5h1wzUX5FgUPKK7Hu4ghnpc5DKtBBKePko/s1600/DSC05990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NHQ_1CggjXMzaSnC0lb0LKmgkb2zpb4VscI_OWSLvSsXNPMqjMHZVFwTJUqdgKfCzHzq1KtCP7L8wF3BY9XxFAUnPIDyE6wv-MMyS3Tbl5h1wzUX5FgUPKK7Hu4ghnpc5DKtBBKePko/s400/DSC05990.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6c54tuSf9Bq8oS1kIfQUBapZiy3eOOcybBoK_gOTag70v5tMqLghqbcz9kU-oPNg1GkI_unGI4wnD5Pj952snN1LmH2kDVULsWygw7iZu_j19V5wMl1GX2Vrxie2j3GlsTsz11vbyWZg/s1600/DSC06031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6c54tuSf9Bq8oS1kIfQUBapZiy3eOOcybBoK_gOTag70v5tMqLghqbcz9kU-oPNg1GkI_unGI4wnD5Pj952snN1LmH2kDVULsWygw7iZu_j19V5wMl1GX2Vrxie2j3GlsTsz11vbyWZg/s400/DSC06031.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Our route, which ended up deviating significantly from our planned route, took us high on smoking volcanoes, through thick, nearly impenetrable rainforest, past almost countless scenic lakes, and gradually into a landscape that felt increasingly like our home in the Southwest. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuD4fDy-Tm_iLXL000MimFbIXTjs3uwJ6V125UBBFAmUCgP7K2-fLXJbzH2213Aq838mGzPjsZCwNdemB1-QrtLxgLqvRGRQdUwhhiez8pUklZER4bqARRVf1mkBou1XuzdB2yqoPoB4/s1600/DSC06065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuD4fDy-Tm_iLXL000MimFbIXTjs3uwJ6V125UBBFAmUCgP7K2-fLXJbzH2213Aq838mGzPjsZCwNdemB1-QrtLxgLqvRGRQdUwhhiez8pUklZER4bqARRVf1mkBou1XuzdB2yqoPoB4/s400/DSC06065.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioTV3eUw5In57O3Zabq7kt6azm6BFBJNzVPEUTDGwsrsSr995lqpcs90POFGUoiIGt0ut2Dd4NeEWynuVBioLxt7KBpNNn9Vpp4bLpLnV71U9LGfx5I_DUncxF8vyefaeD3L5QY6PJ15E/s1600/DSC06154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioTV3eUw5In57O3Zabq7kt6azm6BFBJNzVPEUTDGwsrsSr995lqpcs90POFGUoiIGt0ut2Dd4NeEWynuVBioLxt7KBpNNn9Vpp4bLpLnV71U9LGfx5I_DUncxF8vyefaeD3L5QY6PJ15E/s400/DSC06154.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4mcCVqwNVUW-UiU2w14QO1klF4YTdc9wpN1ZrTWj8zcBuaeBPw_BtMxyI0Lw29aHy7DdCHVCht4MMJfXMoZjGnIJeCu0BzH9Wu1G6IneCxfZOQ79b_IkBOxMxXByC1n4hP9PJUngyl8/s1600/DSC06169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4mcCVqwNVUW-UiU2w14QO1klF4YTdc9wpN1ZrTWj8zcBuaeBPw_BtMxyI0Lw29aHy7DdCHVCht4MMJfXMoZjGnIJeCu0BzH9Wu1G6IneCxfZOQ79b_IkBOxMxXByC1n4hP9PJUngyl8/s400/DSC06169.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyK4P60d3ciFc7CZ7lO4Jgrau46HbHJ4H7pATQj0oxPMqmXQepJdxjd3HdYxYXUuxgJNEmW6c8gIXlGwep6jixEZyqGAb6QvBN4EpBqk41NZR2z2CA53Wq4Zzj-nl7RMpJUdR0H2ajzo/s1600/DSC06294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyK4P60d3ciFc7CZ7lO4Jgrau46HbHJ4H7pATQj0oxPMqmXQepJdxjd3HdYxYXUuxgJNEmW6c8gIXlGwep6jixEZyqGAb6QvBN4EpBqk41NZR2z2CA53Wq4Zzj-nl7RMpJUdR0H2ajzo/s400/DSC06294.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
We befriended countless stray dogs who seem to have adapted to a "survival of the cutest" approach to fending for themselves. The many odd and new-to-us bird species kept us entertained as we tried to identify them. And we quickly learned what plants must be avoided when bushwhacking. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlW_xsRgkuZY4VckMbGTIhJ-5y9ZwmiiwVJqHYbCbz07tc02ub9GLitcoQNdmSppSDZwqTuwsxezJxwmP4pHrt5ewRjrZ6PrfISbf72tQOz1Xz1PllJLpnAgNfy1R2NTLOktZD3jEsmY/s1600/DSC06367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlW_xsRgkuZY4VckMbGTIhJ-5y9ZwmiiwVJqHYbCbz07tc02ub9GLitcoQNdmSppSDZwqTuwsxezJxwmP4pHrt5ewRjrZ6PrfISbf72tQOz1Xz1PllJLpnAgNfy1R2NTLOktZD3jEsmY/s400/DSC06367.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2u0ko-qWAuo-JLwMcOL5A8RFHjPfP1vLf9hNCzGCo9sdsuLJiVMJoxTaGVrkOfQojOcFhMZn9EastiNI3orZHD1qPOiX5_SpLpIvU_WfmaqrpjEiZVatHthbZ2d8QpgkoVpNhihVYr5g/s1600/DSC06403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2u0ko-qWAuo-JLwMcOL5A8RFHjPfP1vLf9hNCzGCo9sdsuLJiVMJoxTaGVrkOfQojOcFhMZn9EastiNI3orZHD1qPOiX5_SpLpIvU_WfmaqrpjEiZVatHthbZ2d8QpgkoVpNhihVYr5g/s400/DSC06403.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWvdeZIBxgKt78tBu_dtWr3LNhkmDaFCw4Shj6FyD0cyLTDO5JAJxVKRAgYb07RHj9b8dvYVPtYRQJ5F9uXmXh7KvqWEMuYXCk2G_uFzmPFoG8yi_w-AbyJ1brCXo-mHqHUZ1ML4g75U/s1600/DSC06453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWvdeZIBxgKt78tBu_dtWr3LNhkmDaFCw4Shj6FyD0cyLTDO5JAJxVKRAgYb07RHj9b8dvYVPtYRQJ5F9uXmXh7KvqWEMuYXCk2G_uFzmPFoG8yi_w-AbyJ1brCXo-mHqHUZ1ML4g75U/s400/DSC06453.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXYGJWhRZ75jOs7YznSWVlypSkmfiXWsVGhVb-x32LFNfFOh_D9A3yW5ipg_AShqKM3GNcmR_6P_bAZQj4VtlRXGmZ9b_ZmT3Lu__yHVC1ktn-9SHb9saB1SaiQM3PY2x-Q7y5HaUtLo/s1600/DSC06507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXYGJWhRZ75jOs7YznSWVlypSkmfiXWsVGhVb-x32LFNfFOh_D9A3yW5ipg_AShqKM3GNcmR_6P_bAZQj4VtlRXGmZ9b_ZmT3Lu__yHVC1ktn-9SHb9saB1SaiQM3PY2x-Q7y5HaUtLo/s400/DSC06507.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
We'll be sharing much more about our experiences and stories from this trip in the next couple months on Salsa Cycles' website and in <i>Mountain Flyer</i>. So stay tuned for more . . .<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWYMTtCjwYN3HM4WZkWu6dpaGdxkYirkmCFq8IreUzBsFYQAFBO7SgAlxg3LxwhHzgy2mals-EpJWucXhbG5vywe2u5Tqh-JRqWrTCphEp5vmE0tHqiW_gpsU-GfSEDwpXci9lNGo3BNk/s1600/DSC06538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWYMTtCjwYN3HM4WZkWu6dpaGdxkYirkmCFq8IreUzBsFYQAFBO7SgAlxg3LxwhHzgy2mals-EpJWucXhbG5vywe2u5Tqh-JRqWrTCphEp5vmE0tHqiW_gpsU-GfSEDwpXci9lNGo3BNk/s400/DSC06538.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8frR9K09OvZ4YXIVMr63Jwbn8hVC80kyFXUBH23dxKSNhSjCjlngMoJAD5rRaXNp8yHXnJ_m79PyVnE1VqRGvwR-ZIRY8EpieVCKxs2IWuacPd7ATc3ML8ucecTRRmGUkYvxYzf3iWrM/s1600/DSC06547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8frR9K09OvZ4YXIVMr63Jwbn8hVC80kyFXUBH23dxKSNhSjCjlngMoJAD5rRaXNp8yHXnJ_m79PyVnE1VqRGvwR-ZIRY8EpieVCKxs2IWuacPd7ATc3ML8ucecTRRmGUkYvxYzf3iWrM/s400/DSC06547.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKWpV6SvCD6jz6IOiUON5tqVhsmztUvDnJuo24KgKiq4-wo5q3iJIPesz8kNa4wYL5dQAezfLduQMys5wRlTZBNKdx9fB2VMwa2KWfpPPjJH0_HcVSzj0jgmd5hddNZ1dmzWwhtEAqYo/s1600/DSC06822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKWpV6SvCD6jz6IOiUON5tqVhsmztUvDnJuo24KgKiq4-wo5q3iJIPesz8kNa4wYL5dQAezfLduQMys5wRlTZBNKdx9fB2VMwa2KWfpPPjJH0_HcVSzj0jgmd5hddNZ1dmzWwhtEAqYo/s400/DSC06822.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7w4AV2ipDLP1aVue4GVMCpsgj_ImGQ_dkR9zeSJdqIJsCyDQgWinh7_Er_Zb66_mcLHwp_jhqLC6AYkbKXAf88xeLyWKCsky_iGHlV2qeqQevSFmAJesyEVAQPORnunPfFINizHHGlAg/s1600/DSC06911.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7w4AV2ipDLP1aVue4GVMCpsgj_ImGQ_dkR9zeSJdqIJsCyDQgWinh7_Er_Zb66_mcLHwp_jhqLC6AYkbKXAf88xeLyWKCsky_iGHlV2qeqQevSFmAJesyEVAQPORnunPfFINizHHGlAg/s320/DSC06911.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZ6qQm4s1Eb2FTJJVScHbFDBql7kg-jrcEi1yPx8lWrzXjFcyL_HpqH6CH1fS7_6IfLf3QmUmzzD42Ew8cWFbUHOpRXxSbvBebvOupgYpb2YArlttkIPHXrrXZbCJ3noHWhVv_BhyphenhyphenInc/s1600/DSC06889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZ6qQm4s1Eb2FTJJVScHbFDBql7kg-jrcEi1yPx8lWrzXjFcyL_HpqH6CH1fS7_6IfLf3QmUmzzD42Ew8cWFbUHOpRXxSbvBebvOupgYpb2YArlttkIPHXrrXZbCJ3noHWhVv_BhyphenhyphenInc/s400/DSC06889.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7w4AV2ipDLP1aVue4GVMCpsgj_ImGQ_dkR9zeSJdqIJsCyDQgWinh7_Er_Zb66_mcLHwp_jhqLC6AYkbKXAf88xeLyWKCsky_iGHlV2qeqQevSFmAJesyEVAQPORnunPfFINizHHGlAg/s1600/DSC06911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-76002217789784745792015-12-25T11:51:00.002-07:002015-12-25T11:52:32.681-07:00Weekends in Arizona<div class="MsoNormal">
My bikepacking roots go back to soon after I moved to
Colorado and became enamored by the prospect of doing multi-day rides deep into
the mountains after growing tired of road and ‘cross racing. Then I discovered
that there were even a few bikepacking races out there, and I became fixated
with taking a stab at the long-since-defunct Grand Loop Race. It was then that
I set about learning what there was to learn about bikepacking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xXU3mBL3c2afU-tx-pkGuhYF9MxJTcFUr9r-Qzk0NJ9OsGEHOvlBc1QbHKleTjRu7Rt6MRQkjBm91qLT0x2Wsf9PyicyVbL8m2aM_DHLuKAwRs9AjmLRlf8K6VcuNAXhb52VO-PZ38A/s1600/DSC00745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xXU3mBL3c2afU-tx-pkGuhYF9MxJTcFUr9r-Qzk0NJ9OsGEHOvlBc1QbHKleTjRu7Rt6MRQkjBm91qLT0x2Wsf9PyicyVbL8m2aM_DHLuKAwRs9AjmLRlf8K6VcuNAXhb52VO-PZ38A/s640/DSC00745.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzmHLFS8M_DWmxlWHG5fz7Tnf51kkWt4D5F5vLNG8Zj5rLphKr37FAde3v56XoLpzF2dyEyIT3x1lp-DCV5QeTdNizyQEuRdia_eWG2SnX0V0YNxEDo8C4-cjYgZvudmO8otmKb32cFY/s1600/DSC00674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzmHLFS8M_DWmxlWHG5fz7Tnf51kkWt4D5F5vLNG8Zj5rLphKr37FAde3v56XoLpzF2dyEyIT3x1lp-DCV5QeTdNizyQEuRdia_eWG2SnX0V0YNxEDo8C4-cjYgZvudmO8otmKb32cFY/s640/DSC00674.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the years that followed, I recall again and again seeing
amazing photos of bikepacking adventures coming out of Arizona. The scenery
looked incredible. The techy riding was like I had never before really experienced.
And the “winter” weather looked pretty dang desirable. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life eventually carried me southwest to Arizona, and after a
few years here, I can attest to the truth in my prior perceptions of
bikepacking in this state. The landscapes are diverse and rugged, with trails
and jeep roads winding throughout. No matter the season, there’s somewhere with
great weather for bike adventures. And it seems as if there’s no shortage of
new places to explore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqfkS-iFbi32QfbHk47fgtcihvKr2k9F56gf61OcpoSVt3eAnpUOITFmXgOKxsVdoC12My9JYxS53-5-Ck8DkUcfmt9l1vtLUeU36OA8BfmTShoXqb3KHNukIJy9oPSTfpkhiIqAoLAAE/s1600/DSC00694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqfkS-iFbi32QfbHk47fgtcihvKr2k9F56gf61OcpoSVt3eAnpUOITFmXgOKxsVdoC12My9JYxS53-5-Ck8DkUcfmt9l1vtLUeU36OA8BfmTShoXqb3KHNukIJy9oPSTfpkhiIqAoLAAE/s640/DSC00694.JPG" width="425" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAXdFoe0IFS1bpcLGFYVD3pyMUb4twhC0gaWjZbyvaZm0UbVa4EhAedtQ7k2EV-3O0b5677Kq_biVzTcZLbMCyfe2CuBnSjROulEvNoJ1vvHanq0cWws3BF4KwsONiwEJQsBAo66d_XY/s1600/DSC00703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAXdFoe0IFS1bpcLGFYVD3pyMUb4twhC0gaWjZbyvaZm0UbVa4EhAedtQ7k2EV-3O0b5677Kq_biVzTcZLbMCyfe2CuBnSjROulEvNoJ1vvHanq0cWws3BF4KwsONiwEJQsBAo66d_XY/s640/DSC00703.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
In November, a few small but crucial empty spots in my
mental map of central Arizona were filled in, both during quick 2-day
bikepacking trips. The first area was the rugged country flanked by I-17 and
the Verde River between the Verde Valley and the tablelands north of Cave
Creek. As one moves eastward across this relatively small and empty pocket in
central Arizona, the gently-rolling basalt plateau grasslands of Agua Fria
National Monument climb gradually up to the high Verde Rim. This long
ridgeline, also capped by black layers of basalt, is sliced on the east side by
the mighty Verde Fault. Immediately east of the rim, the land drops away off a
4,000-foot escarpment. Deep below, the Verde River meanders through sycamores
in a lush riparian corridor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4zGqOFLQZ4togafuumc5r-kL1f780aoN8JrA7mZoNFIyB3gFQja8oGR0zGtcKi7McvVct9byBimMBN_dHCjhClbMqejMPhnXNcWIxRNdaSeC0_ymOuBRU5N_tW-x4FDOpAwjQFHJdWg/s1600/DSC00726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4zGqOFLQZ4togafuumc5r-kL1f780aoN8JrA7mZoNFIyB3gFQja8oGR0zGtcKi7McvVct9byBimMBN_dHCjhClbMqejMPhnXNcWIxRNdaSeC0_ymOuBRU5N_tW-x4FDOpAwjQFHJdWg/s640/DSC00726.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPQYfaB76A2ale5fZtjTBOKTY1kokUTK6sXIOqVDrRRBxOgqZwIWPtXGsjba-CZY4pDghYxbqrnT-1HyzGZ4U5dkfG2-LNwg_Lb60NqcbDKcxw7sd9s6QgRmjzC9xcqtbMYcV1Wy4mSY/s1600/DSC00671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPQYfaB76A2ale5fZtjTBOKTY1kokUTK6sXIOqVDrRRBxOgqZwIWPtXGsjba-CZY4pDghYxbqrnT-1HyzGZ4U5dkfG2-LNwg_Lb60NqcbDKcxw7sd9s6QgRmjzC9xcqtbMYcV1Wy4mSY/s640/DSC00671.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This rugged country was the goal for Zach and me one weekend,
lacing together a 2-day loop complete with camping at hot springs and
surprisingly isolated 2-tracks. Also surprising was how long the route was. And
how much climbing it had. We threw the loop together over coffee and a couple
maps in about twenty minutes. Zach asked if I was going to make a GPS track,
and I confidently shook my head no. Who needs a track when you have maps? Well,
had I done a little more homework, I would have known that we wouldn’t be
getting back to the truck by mid-afternoon. Well after dark was the reality.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWN4C0e5vXyPjnDjlFKRM6hnUuvI5Ngs3v6TMl3e8ICP1ri4h6vkwlM1dQRX5xh2VjsPwL5FWD0Xpwj_XyE6LbaBrssTk-kNgxfOTWcPd6CqO2SsYc3yEEvdYP2X9nC83-hFQDUz0-6Q/s1600/DSC00706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWN4C0e5vXyPjnDjlFKRM6hnUuvI5Ngs3v6TMl3e8ICP1ri4h6vkwlM1dQRX5xh2VjsPwL5FWD0Xpwj_XyE6LbaBrssTk-kNgxfOTWcPd6CqO2SsYc3yEEvdYP2X9nC83-hFQDUz0-6Q/s640/DSC00706.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0q9PfdD2YxbzGt0QBCA6kkFPyRc2X0GHy0YLU-4sOvQkbKMGRQSyC_H4haC2eVuJ8Htf0ykW0KsZ81J0qIvhbY4pBdQ-ek9GWNKk5vkKMvWgYrePA4o0lcdVqgMO9gfl4UX8oeD861k/s1600/DSC00710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0q9PfdD2YxbzGt0QBCA6kkFPyRc2X0GHy0YLU-4sOvQkbKMGRQSyC_H4haC2eVuJ8Htf0ykW0KsZ81J0qIvhbY4pBdQ-ek9GWNKk5vkKMvWgYrePA4o0lcdVqgMO9gfl4UX8oeD861k/s640/DSC00710.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the route was spectacular. We stumbled across an ancient
juniper giant, plunged down the 4,000-foot descent in the dark while deciphering
the geology along the way with surprising accuracy (I checked out a geologic
map for the area after the ride), soaked briefly in the hot springs, forded the
river twice (due again to not doing our homework), and then suffered on the
endless climbs to get to Bloody Basin on the second afternoon. All in all, I
couldn’t have asked for anything more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuX4_h91xKXZ6p8ZECYcJw2fYuSi_fNGkyVPWUn9HD_GvhoFWVvg1z51I-zlxwUNfmwtPN5zX8aJxo2mMLwHXYkaN6vK9Z0cxLs2p_4ScjiQ5IJ7bkvDPnKXyyfDX8IeYurENDjYf7E0/s1600/DSC00717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuX4_h91xKXZ6p8ZECYcJw2fYuSi_fNGkyVPWUn9HD_GvhoFWVvg1z51I-zlxwUNfmwtPN5zX8aJxo2mMLwHXYkaN6vK9Z0cxLs2p_4ScjiQ5IJ7bkvDPnKXyyfDX8IeYurENDjYf7E0/s640/DSC00717.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOsEBDVjwFpnrJR6bX4rtpf-HYjRHsyiVZy9nrBtiVhSJnbpzJnHbQ2dJJBjTfmz9R-Zlde_dppLp1TGI-uZrtwv6Tcy5C3WmkACuZUu6Le62utE9G8WOTFoRlmCouYi6apOc4RaQeoQ/s1600/DSC00762s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOsEBDVjwFpnrJR6bX4rtpf-HYjRHsyiVZy9nrBtiVhSJnbpzJnHbQ2dJJBjTfmz9R-Zlde_dppLp1TGI-uZrtwv6Tcy5C3WmkACuZUu6Le62utE9G8WOTFoRlmCouYi6apOc4RaQeoQ/s640/DSC00762s.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple weekends later, Kaitlyn and I headed south to the
“Southern Superstition Mountains.” These are also called the “Gila Mountains”
by some bikepackers. Or the “Superior Mountains.” They’re the colorful
mountains cut by nearly impassible canyons just south of the town of Superior.
The Arizona Trail navigates that country in spectacular fashion, as does a maze
of jeep trails. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvuoph7vuedax3X4zGTXCXzXGAFDY-yI5iJXUq9DKtldVLeufDAJXQeIjBTW5tg3eFvV2HVgPWIzPwDKEQVfFJ3D7DLETdPTmOVDDKyakJBAhrIMY6lfazKRBYoMSE6H2YMPQ62zBvdMM/s1600/DSC00827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvuoph7vuedax3X4zGTXCXzXGAFDY-yI5iJXUq9DKtldVLeufDAJXQeIjBTW5tg3eFvV2HVgPWIzPwDKEQVfFJ3D7DLETdPTmOVDDKyakJBAhrIMY6lfazKRBYoMSE6H2YMPQ62zBvdMM/s640/DSC00827.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9U4lhf26DNRse6SPhwWDz8XPMkaUWz8DxPio6lU3F_JWXCmKD8j16uuVaSOD-9BcZoGUkWS4lBhWJ5gm86l0rPvFd5IIlPN3xXv4NHlc4JMrDvZIikZ7qlGfOygbxGvvwOn5jgfT43JQ/s1600/DSC00837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9U4lhf26DNRse6SPhwWDz8XPMkaUWz8DxPio6lU3F_JWXCmKD8j16uuVaSOD-9BcZoGUkWS4lBhWJ5gm86l0rPvFd5IIlPN3xXv4NHlc4JMrDvZIikZ7qlGfOygbxGvvwOn5jgfT43JQ/s640/DSC00837.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
It turns out these are actually called the Mineral
Mountains. I was a little disappointed to learn that, but no matter their name,
I love them. Kaitlyn and I linked up a mix of familiar trails and one notable
new (to us) one to create a mellow 2-day loop. I’ve spent a remarkable number
of days riding in that area, and every single time, I find myself standing
astride my top tube marveling at the world around me. I’m not good enough with
words to come anywhere close to doing it justice – the yellow and purple-brown
banding on the canyon walls, the deep shadows, the jagged ridgelines
contrasting with rounded slopes below, the views south across the Gila Canyon,
the canyon wrens squawking rudely.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPy6ffnuY3PBlwIqn0e1Vcr5FCUcLigeXC_ty3Vc1IYDjpc75a_KSV5lViTQ8CI2mhyphenhyphenGmW8nYJbnaoFxfmIYvlv4H_L1WIeWGoTRwaOeF-dOf3aOutaiCIo_Zey1QbPrHbPaAbBpYqn4s/s1600/DSC00858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPy6ffnuY3PBlwIqn0e1Vcr5FCUcLigeXC_ty3Vc1IYDjpc75a_KSV5lViTQ8CI2mhyphenhyphenGmW8nYJbnaoFxfmIYvlv4H_L1WIeWGoTRwaOeF-dOf3aOutaiCIo_Zey1QbPrHbPaAbBpYqn4s/s640/DSC00858.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPjd7yVxDw5FQLL9zslYOWzlJvB8daq_rrIn3bCRXubWWEpWZscNJp0XesZdU2-kfRfGybOUhrP_HEMvMdqBqEbttsOgTpnuc6S3HaFfUjKqdhyphenhyphenrdFBoBLgr8GYW7ayi94vnv_iFRHmM/s1600/IMG_0239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPjd7yVxDw5FQLL9zslYOWzlJvB8daq_rrIn3bCRXubWWEpWZscNJp0XesZdU2-kfRfGybOUhrP_HEMvMdqBqEbttsOgTpnuc6S3HaFfUjKqdhyphenhyphenrdFBoBLgr8GYW7ayi94vnv_iFRHmM/s640/IMG_0239.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
These are the places that make my heart sing. Bikepacking
through them makes the exploration possible in just a couple days rather than a
few very long days on foot. It makes me wish I had started bikepacking long
before I did and moved West far sooner. But fortunately, there’s a lot left to
explore, and I just put new tires on my favorite bike. <o:p></o:p></div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-24388109886116919402015-12-14T21:12:00.001-07:002015-12-14T21:12:39.931-07:00Japan? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1HE3D-pWv8OZkQfzHAl_GmgdNjsAGXz6Ucn_vNUm716l9l-48lR3XntGjfQ5_Juyq2iccs3JpFftPv3uU4xVTH8msJfbitnJJDEtbuUJl89irs8g59CN39tRvyIgc99GDSW2hCn6eg4/s400/DSC05167.JPG" width="400" /><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Japan! The photos on my camera say we were there, but man, the two
months since that trip have flown by! And the whirlwind trip, cramming 5
days in Japan into 8 days of travel, went by fast enough that it was
tough to keep track of just where we were at any given time. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Kaitlyn and I were lucky enough to win the singlespeed categories at the Whiskey Off-Road and Grand Junction Off-Road events, respectively. And the winners were given free airfare to get to Singlespeed Worlds, which happened to be in Hakuba, Japan this year. That's a pretty sweet prize if I do say so myself. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMB7KyznN1_qIH_ECig1OF6JZoBIxlC8-P9Qaftxj44FF4zIRGNqMg6ZZLME19bn7qgBreELmg1x3Gn8X52rbB2fD_74R3C71UHF__TnJ9TgnNtrELIbMFtqc9hpVjl7aNyFH9DDDlj94/s1600/DSC05182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMB7KyznN1_qIH_ECig1OF6JZoBIxlC8-P9Qaftxj44FF4zIRGNqMg6ZZLME19bn7qgBreELmg1x3Gn8X52rbB2fD_74R3C71UHF__TnJ9TgnNtrELIbMFtqc9hpVjl7aNyFH9DDDlj94/s400/DSC05182.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85Nx6fEY_3mi_3ubcoLVWHUWF_wfOKGojYWxOJXv3vp4L1h3jfGjC2PlqpNf-vm9K0ARFkl66Jz38a76bKYYj2cwwZ257HEZlegjZc3OuYPq_eMDy5Y1qqgOOAiVhW0DWE4AmmgIPekM/s1600/DSC05217.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85Nx6fEY_3mi_3ubcoLVWHUWF_wfOKGojYWxOJXv3vp4L1h3jfGjC2PlqpNf-vm9K0ARFkl66Jz38a76bKYYj2cwwZ257HEZlegjZc3OuYPq_eMDy5Y1qqgOOAiVhW0DWE4AmmgIPekM/s400/DSC05217.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />So off to Japan we flew in early October, during the second week of the semester. That's one of the most awkward time to step away from teaching, but luckily we have some amazing friends and students that were able to cover for us. <br /><br />Prescott. Las Angeles. Overnight layover. Tokyo. Take bus to other Tokyo airport. Sleep in the other airport. Build bikes wearily in the "morning." Roll our bikes out the door. Pedal down the sidewalk to traffic light. Cross road. Turn right on bike path. Follow bike path along the Tama River for 40 miles until reaching the mountains at the edge of the Tokyo suburbs. Perfect escape. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBR_rZuEtJlgi2Zyd0QcIj6YOk3ZgE1pRM89Q6YgQJRlUi86ohF6Ns3po_Kdv4M0xyObVeHGCWtndsF1SUR8fK0p99nWE0YwhrOjKsSXG565XrpuXFV_jxPp4k0k2wHF-4e0jmNoFOvO0/s1600/DSC05189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBR_rZuEtJlgi2Zyd0QcIj6YOk3ZgE1pRM89Q6YgQJRlUi86ohF6Ns3po_Kdv4M0xyObVeHGCWtndsF1SUR8fK0p99nWE0YwhrOjKsSXG565XrpuXFV_jxPp4k0k2wHF-4e0jmNoFOvO0/s400/DSC05189.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Wuh_pyEPEfg21OOp-YwVL9HlnkkgNzukaWdRlqLoDhooh_2a9h6JZIKtoMzU_qT106rZ9UA64LWSQ7jMWkIsLEo4rmHuPW9FnDHVsqofi6orNCb1rTVH2ozVWjnlE29qcP7COs5-R4w/s1600/DSC05193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Wuh_pyEPEfg21OOp-YwVL9HlnkkgNzukaWdRlqLoDhooh_2a9h6JZIKtoMzU_qT106rZ9UA64LWSQ7jMWkIsLEo4rmHuPW9FnDHVsqofi6orNCb1rTVH2ozVWjnlE29qcP7COs5-R4w/s400/DSC05193.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Our plan was to spend 3 days pedaling to Hakuba, indulging in the Singlespeed Worlds festivities, and then shuttling back to the airport the following day. And that's what we did. We pedaled through the steep mountains, turning over our little gears very slowly. We marveled at the amazingly small roads deep in said mountains, road so small that no one seemed to use them. Usually they were paved, but we did find some dirt. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIB0OgwwkftIjfFSYaCW7qbgn9_lTrZbpWqppI99iqMdcmUR9xRya3b4qq30iaSl96AdmairuFQwUsAbB3dAN4Tb1WhmU3zROUPoCWRmlYoZPm08VqjKWjWfHisDeEliSFIBGcIflWPI/s1600/DSC05206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIB0OgwwkftIjfFSYaCW7qbgn9_lTrZbpWqppI99iqMdcmUR9xRya3b4qq30iaSl96AdmairuFQwUsAbB3dAN4Tb1WhmU3zROUPoCWRmlYoZPm08VqjKWjWfHisDeEliSFIBGcIflWPI/s400/DSC05206.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9lqNZXFJhB7nGgNEnuf4yuG2HbmVOEESExx5wMNPeGa1e0Xw96zQPch-RMkPeiPTUy6wmkhRM_8rKGh6zgDFxM7FvCXmnmzn46gN5TGMUWsZPlpj6PdinjByeCEfD0VsDxEErITku8k/s1600/DSC05220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9lqNZXFJhB7nGgNEnuf4yuG2HbmVOEESExx5wMNPeGa1e0Xw96zQPch-RMkPeiPTUy6wmkhRM_8rKGh6zgDFxM7FvCXmnmzn46gN5TGMUWsZPlpj6PdinjByeCEfD0VsDxEErITku8k/s400/DSC05220.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROn3QMQSx0GSPA55eQWWQi1ldF9Fw98bFCG0hiWM17HoZegx4RJc2haK9E5OSJpXVNly9U-_iVL-U4UBrcddCwUBWGpNlVjzatqFwKemlCwEjHQUA-2oCUeg2sWIenqVu5VWN0AXuWi0/s1600/DSC05226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROn3QMQSx0GSPA55eQWWQi1ldF9Fw98bFCG0hiWM17HoZegx4RJc2haK9E5OSJpXVNly9U-_iVL-U4UBrcddCwUBWGpNlVjzatqFwKemlCwEjHQUA-2oCUeg2sWIenqVu5VWN0AXuWi0/s400/DSC05226.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />Camping was easy to come by since the mountains seemed rather deserted. Crossing each valley, we took advantage of the abundant beverage vending machines and the decadent bike tourist food options in 7-11 stores. We ate well. And given the long nights, we slept a lot. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQB4AXOheGKvo7JDoIbu__DJXkWt5qYeV0SMDEp1Kpqq284J7V0zHYTV967OtiEhE8Z4ZW_5ESSHNsvkr1D1Npgv7gcsUeRp_hBFJeOYCn4zY_pOYqFh1_JsH0lanNEbqf68qyWWfT1C8/s1600/DSC05227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQB4AXOheGKvo7JDoIbu__DJXkWt5qYeV0SMDEp1Kpqq284J7V0zHYTV967OtiEhE8Z4ZW_5ESSHNsvkr1D1Npgv7gcsUeRp_hBFJeOYCn4zY_pOYqFh1_JsH0lanNEbqf68qyWWfT1C8/s400/DSC05227.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMl7XF08mza3ExXlQMoh1n3aQRCP-5iU4nh0fxuO1IEmctoI8ZzY-xUzw1A_JXIYhlkswMiFJfhIB4r27jCTnk5Rxy3s1E8OnXI7SrU_JI8z1IBIeIz_9cDJaAXOMOejl8LXqCgd8lPfI/s1600/DSC05280.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMl7XF08mza3ExXlQMoh1n3aQRCP-5iU4nh0fxuO1IEmctoI8ZzY-xUzw1A_JXIYhlkswMiFJfhIB4r27jCTnk5Rxy3s1E8OnXI7SrU_JI8z1IBIeIz_9cDJaAXOMOejl8LXqCgd8lPfI/s400/DSC05280.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GLdQT7Y92FzgzhrZ_VOvjfG5Oi66H_MEhX05CUTj6GaeBH7AMKDDqLDrWm4EMGHIxh3mDdS2ITGB-mxaGTLemsRwES57TOo_-gMt3euVD5_A-irxiVf8wosAvqzQH0dq59xOVHWZir8/s1600/DSC05229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GLdQT7Y92FzgzhrZ_VOvjfG5Oi66H_MEhX05CUTj6GaeBH7AMKDDqLDrWm4EMGHIxh3mDdS2ITGB-mxaGTLemsRwES57TOo_-gMt3euVD5_A-irxiVf8wosAvqzQH0dq59xOVHWZir8/s400/DSC05229.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToMj7YqHm-y353-zhcB0xkV7A_YCiL4WfF-YJ8Hfjcuj5M0ttxo2OJ0qcOKgkSxMNlVKIk-GZZTTD3d7MzAomE72y2I8a0oDXfYL45fT5Ojbt_gVHHXq3JlanwuSCVMTJelHyYGmt0-U/s1600/DSC05264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToMj7YqHm-y353-zhcB0xkV7A_YCiL4WfF-YJ8Hfjcuj5M0ttxo2OJ0qcOKgkSxMNlVKIk-GZZTTD3d7MzAomE72y2I8a0oDXfYL45fT5Ojbt_gVHHXq3JlanwuSCVMTJelHyYGmt0-U/s400/DSC05264.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />The countryside was strikingly quiet. In the small towns, folks were friendly, but most of the time, we saw very few people out and about. In the bigger valleys, it was rice harvest time, so the fields were busy. And the air was thick with smoke from burning the rice straw. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucTtaRLKufuiP4DHCjzsMEFwgd_QfZ07ENDcpROM3bdl8_XsEszGpgib7-7h8bQhf1f6vH1Ki6ukLsdqWlxHtKG0CUus74r-aKOttpDzDXHlLxy_syYZXchijnfXzzTxxtQc3hWC8PoA/s1600/DSC05270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucTtaRLKufuiP4DHCjzsMEFwgd_QfZ07ENDcpROM3bdl8_XsEszGpgib7-7h8bQhf1f6vH1Ki6ukLsdqWlxHtKG0CUus74r-aKOttpDzDXHlLxy_syYZXchijnfXzzTxxtQc3hWC8PoA/s400/DSC05270.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRgiRbabWIs5Fu42AHVXG6ffewT3jW1foIlLxnCYQV8I-c1DpExeb6_PrcZkM9CGe1usOswMhNns2ETRfPrW7-ti6HjHZ8yhTv6uC3bS8HgE2wTmj1ac-4YJWgvfUW5Kt7M9cLP0gYwS8/s1600/DSC05274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRgiRbabWIs5Fu42AHVXG6ffewT3jW1foIlLxnCYQV8I-c1DpExeb6_PrcZkM9CGe1usOswMhNns2ETRfPrW7-ti6HjHZ8yhTv6uC3bS8HgE2wTmj1ac-4YJWgvfUW5Kt7M9cLP0gYwS8/s400/DSC05274.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9_fso3JML7bE8xU16ncWIuvTpIygSBfHF7zAu5OBOXfrus0B6Jue9hfSdc6hlr9hr6q7kC5_I9Ak081oPQqFjyLrzEhaNDSoQK9l8fyPm2ewT7h3-DKk1yFJF9r8OLzna-h1MO4_UvQ/s1600/DSC05275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9_fso3JML7bE8xU16ncWIuvTpIygSBfHF7zAu5OBOXfrus0B6Jue9hfSdc6hlr9hr6q7kC5_I9Ak081oPQqFjyLrzEhaNDSoQK9l8fyPm2ewT7h3-DKk1yFJF9r8OLzna-h1MO4_UvQ/s400/DSC05275.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyWmM5oSunNsMaacMzrILmHiQlbyWjO6qy1ccBS24VCKwbzIee9UaR6jc_T-FnrcW9UW9yjWmTaZixztZ6PQyw0JGsRYLB9_dQD4ueGy7H-l0im9tW4c3rp4zVC8v2gb3PbZNKuGq7oA/s1600/DSC05198.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyWmM5oSunNsMaacMzrILmHiQlbyWjO6qy1ccBS24VCKwbzIee9UaR6jc_T-FnrcW9UW9yjWmTaZixztZ6PQyw0JGsRYLB9_dQD4ueGy7H-l0im9tW4c3rp4zVC8v2gb3PbZNKuGq7oA/s400/DSC05198.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj34Lzo1gxYZ60Rofm4-Y_vwcRUHmIDPyTiWrZiSSdob1VhTJfyHpqbSmV760RTwjXJbauqoaakIVzgwFfxJyW9vxCMp5an2vr9MXHrjJGM5Add8IO5MBr-0JJ_x5DT9SbbCYatCDZuomo/s1600/DSC05287.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj34Lzo1gxYZ60Rofm4-Y_vwcRUHmIDPyTiWrZiSSdob1VhTJfyHpqbSmV760RTwjXJbauqoaakIVzgwFfxJyW9vxCMp5an2vr9MXHrjJGM5Add8IO5MBr-0JJ_x5DT9SbbCYatCDZuomo/s400/DSC05287.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />Navigation was interesting. We stumbled across quite a few big map signs, but not being able to read <i>anything</i> made interpretation a bit challenging (although the rules were always clearly conveyed with amusing cartoon characters). Before heading to Japan, I had quickly made a track for a potential route. We rode a good chunk of it, but then time ran short, and a 4,000-foot climb seemed like a bad idea. So we deserted that, but we hadn't actually bothered to get any paper maps or even download a base map onto our GPS. Oops. We relied on the signs that had occasional English, a mediocre map on the tablet we carried, and a bit of instinct. And eventually we got to where we needed to be.<br /><br />Hakuba, in the Japanese Alps! Those mountains made the ones through which we had been riding seem pretty small. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0BamN5m6hg2uy4Paao597ier6D3x3qBob8ixc8kuF3n9Fey7nFsphxd8zhYQUJltU01jiNnkdHpts3aQjqi3CJaPBWTsLdtmzkxb0KPqhftFyE_PXqS28uT9WjLJbZdkpWxnnfjKKDM/s1600/DSC05306.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0BamN5m6hg2uy4Paao597ier6D3x3qBob8ixc8kuF3n9Fey7nFsphxd8zhYQUJltU01jiNnkdHpts3aQjqi3CJaPBWTsLdtmzkxb0KPqhftFyE_PXqS28uT9WjLJbZdkpWxnnfjKKDM/s400/DSC05306.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />We arrived at the race venue after dark and walked into a giant reception party. And then we saw familiar faces from the States, including a strangely large number of Arizonans. Sake flowed freely. Tasty food was served. We missed the amazing drum performance. And before long, the celebrating spilled outside. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wOy9a9YF2dGO78dyYbT1oxJAx8soVtE_cp4tETrQbFZZSC0bAI6Vzj7chDC3yJYH0q21-kQEVS_u-mvBo7kgVaLXPb5mWGYF6vil1KhSakDYWAz1971TCFRWwWkRqqA0LHkc7shkZgQ/s1600/DSC05297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wOy9a9YF2dGO78dyYbT1oxJAx8soVtE_cp4tETrQbFZZSC0bAI6Vzj7chDC3yJYH0q21-kQEVS_u-mvBo7kgVaLXPb5mWGYF6vil1KhSakDYWAz1971TCFRWwWkRqqA0LHkc7shkZgQ/s400/DSC05297.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6h8XcbEnC4GC_nVZTUsRxWoBYW0SmnTA2C2FrbJMEdyXr7OjSG3F8xW8mbAfdpjEdT1VlQQ6QQKaXTSvOtThVIwIwU0m9m1bhreJDMxnLcLfIYRcqpmui7uhn6JZpHSxJx6YS3ar3OHQ/s1600/DSC05304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6h8XcbEnC4GC_nVZTUsRxWoBYW0SmnTA2C2FrbJMEdyXr7OjSG3F8xW8mbAfdpjEdT1VlQQ6QQKaXTSvOtThVIwIwU0m9m1bhreJDMxnLcLfIYRcqpmui7uhn6JZpHSxJx6YS3ar3OHQ/s400/DSC05304.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />Overnight, the sky opened up, unleashing hard, steady rain for what seemed like hours. By morning, the rain let up, but it was chilly, damp, and <i>muddy</i>. With a mid-day start, the morning atmosphere was relaxed, but I was excited about the prospect of a mucky good time. And that's exactly what we had. Not knowing <i>anything </i>about the course (other than that the initial climb was somewhere between 2,000 feet and 2,000 meters tall), I pushed hard, moving up through riders in all types of costumes, eventually chasing after a Belgian, the lone guy in an actual skinsuit. He seemed committed on winning. Over the top, Carl Decker passed me, unwilling to even say hello, and we launched into a slimy, rocky, raucous singletrack descent all the way back down before doing two shorter laps to wrap things up. <br /><br />What a day it was. Kaitlyn crushed in her first ever race in greasy mud. The spectators were a riot. The contests for next year's hosts were captivating. The partying continued. And by the end of the day, everyone was exhausted. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0BamN5m6hg2uy4Paao597ier6D3x3qBob8ixc8kuF3n9Fey7nFsphxd8zhYQUJltU01jiNnkdHpts3aQjqi3CJaPBWTsLdtmzkxb0KPqhftFyE_PXqS28uT9WjLJbZdkpWxnnfjKKDM/s1600/DSC05306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZCvOilTPhq6vGc5EbIvC3EUnJjLs9Pt4gBDEsibe3xzBj-KBUk66ZRrSUoOgPlpnO06kzxmROwQXwXUGmwVcdY8R_j-IYoivy7j-cGlEwarJ9UCozR3KxiGSUpittSEFPFGQaDJBbG8/s1600/DSC05305.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZCvOilTPhq6vGc5EbIvC3EUnJjLs9Pt4gBDEsibe3xzBj-KBUk66ZRrSUoOgPlpnO06kzxmROwQXwXUGmwVcdY8R_j-IYoivy7j-cGlEwarJ9UCozR3KxiGSUpittSEFPFGQaDJBbG8/s400/DSC05305.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br />On our final morning, we coasted down into Hakuba, enjoyed one of the thermal spas, played tourist for a bit, and then caught our shuttle back to Tokyo. And before we knew it, we were back in an airplane returning to reality. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85Nx6fEY_3mi_3ubcoLVWHUWF_wfOKGojYWxOJXv3vp4L1h3jfGjC2PlqpNf-vm9K0ARFkl66Jz38a76bKYYj2cwwZ257HEZlegjZc3OuYPq_eMDy5Y1qqgOOAiVhW0DWE4AmmgIPekM/s1600/DSC05217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span id="goog_1179168403"></span><span id="goog_1179168404"></span><br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-64371543312159279952015-11-03T21:28:00.001-07:002015-11-03T21:28:23.478-07:00Trail gambling, part II
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-520092929 1073786111 9 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:8.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
line-height:107%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-size:11.0pt;
mso-ansi-font-size:11.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoPapDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
margin-bottom:8.0pt;
line-height:107%;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bikepacking routes come in all lengths and styles, and the
characteristics of these routes strongly dictate the experience riders will
have. In July, one of our tasks was to create a 4-day loop in the Crested Butte
area for our <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Geology through Bikepacking </i>course.
We were aiming for ~25 miles per day, fun trail descents that were not too
technical, and climbs that leaned more toward dirt roads and mellow jeep
trails. But in addition to those general riding considerations, we had a
geology curriculum to consider: We had to pass through the Cretaceous rocks
exposed northwest of town and the Permian rocks to the northeast, past the Elk
Mountain Thrust Fault, into the ancient igneous rocks of the Taylor Park area,
and across glacial landforms. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These geologic goals set the general areas through which we
had to pass, and input from local riders helped us pick a tentative route. On
paper, the route looked rugged but reasonable. But in reality, the more rugged
connections deeper into the backcountry can provide far more adventure than
anticipated. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLio7XtlfggRDumFUjSmGTco4-Uf4S8SOdJ7bIydTPREive06z-JWxqM-xe2IfBiLd_RmolMsJocy-Fl3W_bujsaXDyDYKhqxHfT96NCmW_dQXFvXfu4hl2rhIGFplPFXmViRgXbYPlLk/s1600/DSC04140.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLio7XtlfggRDumFUjSmGTco4-Uf4S8SOdJ7bIydTPREive06z-JWxqM-xe2IfBiLd_RmolMsJocy-Fl3W_bujsaXDyDYKhqxHfT96NCmW_dQXFvXfu4hl2rhIGFplPFXmViRgXbYPlLk/s400/DSC04140.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kaitlyn and I set off for a recon trip, beginning the climb
up Brush Creek on a humid morning. Clouds built early in the day, and by
mid-day, rain showers began to douse some of the peaks around us. But we
labored on up the 3,000-foot climb. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This could be a bit too challenging for some of our students,”
Kaitlyn said at one point as we struggled up a series of loose, rocky steps.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah,” I said between heavy breaths. I didn’t like the
prospect of having to completely rethink our route, but it looked like that
might be necessary. “Maybe if we came down this instead of climbing it with the
class . . . “</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That would probably be way better,” Kaitlyn agreed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Onward we climbed toward Star Pass where reddish slopes of
shaley soil are covered by lush green meadows awash in blooming flowers. The
array of colors was a bit overwhelming, but the stormy skies became
increasingly concerning. Eventually, we were chased back down below treeline to
let an energetic afternoon storm pass. We hastily set up our shelter and hid
from the rain, eating lunch, taking a nap, and studying a geologic map of the
area in order to see just how muddy the trail on the other side of the pass would
be after the slowly-moving storm moved on. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheIwPHY0Fz3Uu2fyabw-GvafVy-i_sepCOQkZQhi0HEjAHFT1DtTNm1q5eN2wsxT7wf2W5teD795UYtdvNIPTodqc-4r4vyEW506c98FTafBABglgTes_F8mdC26CpNs7T4MJMMKUSkTU/s1600/DSC04147.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheIwPHY0Fz3Uu2fyabw-GvafVy-i_sepCOQkZQhi0HEjAHFT1DtTNm1q5eN2wsxT7wf2W5teD795UYtdvNIPTodqc-4r4vyEW506c98FTafBABglgTes_F8mdC26CpNs7T4MJMMKUSkTU/s400/DSC04147.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eventually, we crested Star Pass, far later in the day than
expected. And the views were stunning in all directions – jagged grey peaks
above, slopes of brilliant reds and yellows, and deeply-incised glacial valleys
carved through it all. It was the kind of view that just makes one stare and
then stare some more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kaitlyn pulled the map out after our desires to stare into
the distance were satiated. Our route dropped steeply down the cirque headwall
before traversing at an elevation of 10,000’ across moto trail and something
the map called “Taylor Pass Bench 4WD Road.” Once at Taylor Pass, we’d drop
down the Taylor Pass Jeep Road into the glaciated wonderland and motorhead
mecca of Taylor Park. This next section was the crux of our route – high
elevation, rugged, and critical to connect our geologic destinations.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWB4x2T92O5QtatreQneZDHJOS5Akm8yEAK7iUTsZ8UlJUyhUnx8_XdTSCV-pbJ5gvLue-2O15QmmgD9pBLDXHb2E_7LSN0HPHKlOyWUV4xYUhqA-_lsOpEQlK54YjvHqZy123lSBtlYM/s1600/DSC04150.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWB4x2T92O5QtatreQneZDHJOS5Akm8yEAK7iUTsZ8UlJUyhUnx8_XdTSCV-pbJ5gvLue-2O15QmmgD9pBLDXHb2E_7LSN0HPHKlOyWUV4xYUhqA-_lsOpEQlK54YjvHqZy123lSBtlYM/s400/DSC04150.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The initial descent off the pass was a narrow moto trail
through thick, deep, slimy mud. We slipped and slid down on foot until riding
became more of a reasonable prospect. But the trail was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rugged</i> – rocky, steep, and narrow. And again, it seemed like it
might be a bit much for our future bikepacking students. On paper, the trail appeared
to simply traverse, but on the ground, the trail dove steeply into every
drainage before immediately climbing straight out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0rCtdHVjkiEsAopyL2Nxi8EfqIvdPkxTagU90_8CygCcghsvdb6FlJ56yslktPJ2-IV9cJoGu7HStSZ9HAMSL26MFLKapAjSgEmEeWql11jUSmjpanH7_lJPyv_Jk9eJAvHycwT4JxA/s1600/DSC04170.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0rCtdHVjkiEsAopyL2Nxi8EfqIvdPkxTagU90_8CygCcghsvdb6FlJ56yslktPJ2-IV9cJoGu7HStSZ9HAMSL26MFLKapAjSgEmEeWql11jUSmjpanH7_lJPyv_Jk9eJAvHycwT4JxA/s400/DSC04170.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7nMRywmXgNgcSch-XXN_qLjY96x-mEdXT1oZMJvhC1ZqKmucsjfeorMQJo9mSFgFRDaUw_VFDv1voZZF8DIpemd6aGps0808SrP3geboAT_mgedbIkLLVs8llPxfwRlfqR6Kb49eoYE/s1600/DSC04173.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7nMRywmXgNgcSch-XXN_qLjY96x-mEdXT1oZMJvhC1ZqKmucsjfeorMQJo9mSFgFRDaUw_VFDv1voZZF8DIpemd6aGps0808SrP3geboAT_mgedbIkLLVs8llPxfwRlfqR6Kb49eoYE/s400/DSC04173.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We reached the Taylor Pass Bench 4WD Road as the sun was
nearing the mountains horizon. Finally riding became easer, I felt less
discouraged about the demanding nature of this section of our route for our
students. We ended the day just above Taylor Lake, setting up camp in the
shadow of Taylor Pass and at the top of the Taylor Pass Jeep Trail, our morning
descent down into Taylor Park. We cooked up a hot dinner and agreed that the
trails we had ridden that day would best be done in the opposite direction with
the class. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvw3de2kzL6nx9VzFhLOPx2DBOLJFjwoTG5ygRYBhO9lhnh1fGewmqN05iNCMzJTenX1_jQIB3l3zvrm1ZKTH7hTQgHCAHWHdxdyUSM4H4B1c4813xYHw4gSQwUHtK-aKlnmW9S9ga6tA/s1600/DSC04157.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvw3de2kzL6nx9VzFhLOPx2DBOLJFjwoTG5ygRYBhO9lhnh1fGewmqN05iNCMzJTenX1_jQIB3l3zvrm1ZKTH7hTQgHCAHWHdxdyUSM4H4B1c4813xYHw4gSQwUHtK-aKlnmW9S9ga6tA/s400/DSC04157.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Morning greeted us with chilly temperatures, heavy dew, and
thin, low clouds. Kaitlyn and I sipped strong coffee out of our mugs and looked
forward to covering some bigger miles as our day included quite a bit of fast
dirt road. But just half a mile into our day, we found ourselves hanging onto
our handlebars tightly as our bikes bucked beneath us. Clean lines through the
jumble of large, round granite boulders were difficult to discern. The wild
bouncy ride continued for miles down below the pass. At times, the road and the
river that generally ran alongside one another became one and the same. My
brakes heated up enough that I could smell their protest. One of the bolts
holding Kaitlyn’s rear brake caliper rattled loose. This was one of the rougher
descents I’ve upon which I’ve found myself in quite some time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the bottom, we stopped at the intersection with the wide,
gravel Taylor Park Road.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kaitlyn looked at me with a wry smile. “Well, that was
interesting. I guess we’re not going up that way with the bikepacking class.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Nope,” I agreed, “Now how are we going to get our class up
to Star Pass?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsrKmiuLZM4VVc6qAtzoSw_6f-DpAyPSFrhQEnTadIswpkzWQp6WXKt1Fn9F3rRMfPnSFjpUoGeF7KPsdwGT6kzpfR00tkmAe_ziLjQ-C0LEPX6Wb8j3pZRz7c2rYriuJkeaC6T4Lixg/s1600/DSC04177.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsrKmiuLZM4VVc6qAtzoSw_6f-DpAyPSFrhQEnTadIswpkzWQp6WXKt1Fn9F3rRMfPnSFjpUoGeF7KPsdwGT6kzpfR00tkmAe_ziLjQ-C0LEPX6Wb8j3pZRz7c2rYriuJkeaC6T4Lixg/s400/DSC04177.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />It took an extra day to recon another way through the
eastern edge of the Elk Mountains. But we found a good alternate route, and the
full loop came together beautifully. A couple months later, we found ourselves
back atop Star Pass with a gaggle of very excited budding bikepackers.
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2J9pAEcuFCFyiQ0YZCNP0b-Jh51KGI4wWLjY5tjcKr6nhY9GfHoCIPdsiO8l61dxrPc-cA_8ZiXluBnH2ILpHzdMTShyphenhyphenDRgdcwNFD6I8eBrrKQapFo21sl8GjW1IxX4S_5fF1aXC8yA/s1600/DSC05114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2J9pAEcuFCFyiQ0YZCNP0b-Jh51KGI4wWLjY5tjcKr6nhY9GfHoCIPdsiO8l61dxrPc-cA_8ZiXluBnH2ILpHzdMTShyphenhyphenDRgdcwNFD6I8eBrrKQapFo21sl8GjW1IxX4S_5fF1aXC8yA/s400/DSC05114.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-54764037646867351032015-08-13T00:12:00.002-06:002015-08-13T00:12:49.921-06:00Trail gambling, part I<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_BSlUHmKdLTSmq1wBFN6sdYPuJPNsalwqVCYiUBgc3BmR60_8w_DCUcp8qqdC6cRzJ-IbgArvimjPkCOcGhOthywh5lzA5IrqbWzcw_d6VRMEz2Qfhv4BTmPofUtyaNzLMFpzTMF2g8/s1600/DSC04131.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_BSlUHmKdLTSmq1wBFN6sdYPuJPNsalwqVCYiUBgc3BmR60_8w_DCUcp8qqdC6cRzJ-IbgArvimjPkCOcGhOthywh5lzA5IrqbWzcw_d6VRMEz2Qfhv4BTmPofUtyaNzLMFpzTMF2g8/s400/DSC04131.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
We have box full of maps that is kept handy at all times in our living room. There's no TV in the house, so we entertain ourselves with maps when we get bored. Well, maybe that's a stretch, but I sure spend a lot of time poring over maps, whether they're the kind that can be pulled out of a box or the kind that lives somewhere in the internet. And there are two phrases I mutter to myself time and time again:<br />
<br />
"Wow, that looks so cool!" And...<br />
<br />
"I wonder if that trail is any good?"<br />
<br />
There are countless trails like that out here, dashed in on maps, traveled seldomly enough that no one you ask knows anything helpful, and so often, those trails are needed as crucial links to put together big loops. So those dashed lines make their way into routes I want to follow more often than not. And it seems like invariably, those trails stand out in my memory after the fact. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wLWxGCGhGSTFG8mpw6t14bembyv0fvGv_lm7xAq9awpgPZRuCZKBpgVY6bL5eBkqP872sMbUzrxaD3xg1QN7Qfb0rTBO31Y6jutmNHwlr7hGJaBtZg7Zm4-r3wNWW0G43_7Rd0qud8w/s1600/DSC04121.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wLWxGCGhGSTFG8mpw6t14bembyv0fvGv_lm7xAq9awpgPZRuCZKBpgVY6bL5eBkqP872sMbUzrxaD3xg1QN7Qfb0rTBO31Y6jutmNHwlr7hGJaBtZg7Zm4-r3wNWW0G43_7Rd0qud8w/s400/DSC04121.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
Sometimes the trails are so "awful" they're unforgettable. (I hate being too harsh on such trails because, well, I wouldn't have been there if there wasn't a trail. And even if I'll never go that way again, I'm very rarely regret going there once.)<br />
<br />
But sometimes, you win. Sometimes that dashed line is so unbelievable that I can't believe there's virtually no sign of anyone having been there in months. Sometimes I grin for so long that I get self-conscious for smiling so much. Those sorts of trails are unforgettable, too.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2jA4lubUbuo8q_T4BPszK-TzoscWaZofHq0rYGZCe-Dk0wGtYNJex3CA-qiZuXLrA-XOKFASeQjCk0H4-mOhduf14IvK91Kbtq-sYpqoLpb2RF6-venj0EQTYcO6exZBXWZdMBSa830/s1600/DSC04052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2jA4lubUbuo8q_T4BPszK-TzoscWaZofHq0rYGZCe-Dk0wGtYNJex3CA-qiZuXLrA-XOKFASeQjCk0H4-mOhduf14IvK91Kbtq-sYpqoLpb2RF6-venj0EQTYcO6exZBXWZdMBSa830/s400/DSC04052.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last month, Kaitlyn and I decided to pedal up the Colorado Trail from Durango, cruise toward Blackhawk Pass, but then drop down toward the little town of Rico. Then we'd climb back over the same ridge en route to Hermosa Creek and some other fun trails. We were both tired, so we didn't have a hugely ambitious schedule. Kaitlyn read a lot. I probably slept 11 hours each night. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdR_DDq7aUN0D-0ochbYZnKiGITCNyOjLblwCHjB8rpC4pMU-o5b6AYoLRfv-GCexUVXGAZwqMj9Y6UWVI5ES-jCnh08HNs4mqH60BzkmeuUQF1voj0RHp_tq_ondk7Nuutlr4UOM4Hk/s1600/DSC04055.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdR_DDq7aUN0D-0ochbYZnKiGITCNyOjLblwCHjB8rpC4pMU-o5b6AYoLRfv-GCexUVXGAZwqMj9Y6UWVI5ES-jCnh08HNs4mqH60BzkmeuUQF1voj0RHp_tq_ondk7Nuutlr4UOM4Hk/s400/DSC04055.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhx6cj6eFQa9N7nYVSyoUQ1pw8dsOlQMwIkP89j72Q-lHqQ5N44SWJz_9cqWf9tbQWJs9rDrLzmEE4DjBqb3g3rmK93vyP_nbfvWM8n0ovOs8pCeUuVZqosDWaq6XJSqnznxd1zcJdIE/s1600/DSC04062.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhx6cj6eFQa9N7nYVSyoUQ1pw8dsOlQMwIkP89j72Q-lHqQ5N44SWJz_9cqWf9tbQWJs9rDrLzmEE4DjBqb3g3rmK93vyP_nbfvWM8n0ovOs8pCeUuVZqosDWaq6XJSqnznxd1zcJdIE/s400/DSC04062.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />That section of the Colorado Trail is pretty dang special. The climb from Durango to Indian Trail Ridge is rather brutal, but then you're on top of the world and in a sea of flowers. But that's not what made the biggest impression on me...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxMdu07r8scgDIIG3RRkofWS-tEkNRgebNeevnoXioBqRp4w_LfRVfM2xbnRefgtfMwDqgZVe4jq_p-x7Mgn8pXSclsSV6c0MCh4XahKo155b3RBFEBFX3QNo8Lja8eKjER0NWmEOiDE/s1600/DSC04070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxMdu07r8scgDIIG3RRkofWS-tEkNRgebNeevnoXioBqRp4w_LfRVfM2xbnRefgtfMwDqgZVe4jq_p-x7Mgn8pXSclsSV6c0MCh4XahKo155b3RBFEBFX3QNo8Lja8eKjER0NWmEOiDE/s400/DSC04070.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />What stands out most in my memory about that ride is one hour on the third afternoon. We gambled on a green dashed line on our map - a moto trail that plunged several thousand feet off our ridge and into the deep valley below. We turned onto the mystery trail, and for half a mile, I was questioning our decision. The trail was steep and overgrown, rutted and loose.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />But then, the grinning began as we dropped through lush meadows and aspen grove after aspen grove. Short, steep, rocky sections seemed to launch me into the next aspen grove. At times, the ridge crest we were descending narrowed to just the width of the track but remained thick with aspen. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtzW18wEXJytNkuXc50weRaHN5uWgOWfQXjQJP9oANaXAPe8FBwgUO0K1LW3YPDvpwDeKB67BfzOCcNzjqY25hUj_QCXST_uBxNycC2kOd_zK6fiYye-GcjIUkHCluTc5c2jzpuoF3kg/s1600/DSC04074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtzW18wEXJytNkuXc50weRaHN5uWgOWfQXjQJP9oANaXAPe8FBwgUO0K1LW3YPDvpwDeKB67BfzOCcNzjqY25hUj_QCXST_uBxNycC2kOd_zK6fiYye-GcjIUkHCluTc5c2jzpuoF3kg/s400/DSC04074.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaE-fupyW_lnYfeHlOlg2htRBxR1kuXrgFG_p_KEJ0RYG0-kfvAgj1Yc1z5VUy15PiHLpycqeNi_nhChIOntnCoxJLZ_M_cq_TRPIVCIirxdbDF77qJMbC7pMVU0jOVjgzizajSUyF5zc/s1600/DSC04105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaE-fupyW_lnYfeHlOlg2htRBxR1kuXrgFG_p_KEJ0RYG0-kfvAgj1Yc1z5VUy15PiHLpycqeNi_nhChIOntnCoxJLZ_M_cq_TRPIVCIirxdbDF77qJMbC7pMVU0jOVjgzizajSUyF5zc/s400/DSC04105.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Down, down, down we went. Eventually, the trail befriended a stream and followed it the rest of the way into the valley below. We were still laughing, amazed at how we had won that round of gambling. Our loop took another day and a half to finish, but that one hour completely made the trip unforgettable. And that one hour is what I remember most clearly from the entire experience. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm8CzimhO47oJblQbR3yTgMNeVq19O6sPI33JBaixXc8vRVm1sArd2xLLJ11B6pEPsx61r4c9Mvqi5mlTZ5upenN2RQPb48fLzc5NTyxroK_FVfC2YiNkX4o42HzpaPTfpIJjx9p7cWps/s1600/DSC04125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm8CzimhO47oJblQbR3yTgMNeVq19O6sPI33JBaixXc8vRVm1sArd2xLLJ11B6pEPsx61r4c9Mvqi5mlTZ5upenN2RQPb48fLzc5NTyxroK_FVfC2YiNkX4o42HzpaPTfpIJjx9p7cWps/s400/DSC04125.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-46475468412269329542015-07-30T10:52:00.003-06:002015-07-30T13:17:55.137-06:00Knowing when to stopSitting in the woods a few feet off a quiet dirt road somewhere south of Gunnison, I swatted at a pair of flies that were inspecting my arm. They zipped away, circled around a few times, and again landed on me. Again, I swatted them away, annoyed at them for disturbing me and annoyed at my current situation. I <i>should</i> have been miles farther up this dirt road. I <i>should</i> have been focused on making it to Denver as quickly as possible. And my body <i>should</i> have been fine with the pace, fine with the terrain, and fine with the 90 minutes of sleep that I had gotten on the first night of the race.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTQVxKBucZtvn4azkf3RHhIe9Y6OjRmzuvmvtuwT5z8Pzr6cYUVZFzAAC2YNyYZVL2b05tHRNuBpiovDMKnTqmWxJL1ELEqdNnUB9Dd8kXdOVZ0z7klpPtsGBu5VQYrKOOeUiby2rhMU/s1600/DSC04303s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTQVxKBucZtvn4azkf3RHhIe9Y6OjRmzuvmvtuwT5z8Pzr6cYUVZFzAAC2YNyYZVL2b05tHRNuBpiovDMKnTqmWxJL1ELEqdNnUB9Dd8kXdOVZ0z7klpPtsGBu5VQYrKOOeUiby2rhMU/s400/DSC04303s.jpg" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
But my body wasn't fine. The palms of both hands <i>ached</i> excruciatingly from what seemed to be bruising to both bones and a tendon. Little sharp shocks of pain periodically radiated from the spine in my upper back. My left knee ached beneath the knee cap. And despite having eaten well and paced myself well, my legs were out of juice - completely empty.<br />
<br />
Reflecting on the situation, I realized that I hadn't dropped out of an ultra in years. I thought about the prospect of continuing on, and the pain in my hands, more than anything, threatened to take all enjoyment out of the experience. I had been dreading descents for hours by that point, and each long downhill hurt more than the last. And I thought about how both the hand and back pain I was experiencing had first appeared during and after the Arizona Trail 300 earlier this year. And my hands hadn't quite felt the same ever since.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAOhGKUESMm3-Zh4oh5A6RkWirlqUpSrH_H9VRnfT1F6bGNytlcPzl3qidk2fe-U7Fos1AMD9SqGwElkrCCWSQqNArCqs_EmaCyGUxXzSEmf5ktHizD3rZsWeGGfLsrk0V2q1UByEnBY/s1600/DSC04305s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAOhGKUESMm3-Zh4oh5A6RkWirlqUpSrH_H9VRnfT1F6bGNytlcPzl3qidk2fe-U7Fos1AMD9SqGwElkrCCWSQqNArCqs_EmaCyGUxXzSEmf5ktHizD3rZsWeGGfLsrk0V2q1UByEnBY/s400/DSC04305s.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcYVtczQ92dlo64h19GQfjzjrhBw26eDfPkPEzxXuQ3poEheewxFXVaPw10AtkGlHghzjU60myeAXweEb2wldvwd2e4lWShKq5YmN6PwUQBwMBlX6q4m0N_tUv3JLoPV1j-cpMArnLbs/s1600/DSC04307s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcYVtczQ92dlo64h19GQfjzjrhBw26eDfPkPEzxXuQ3poEheewxFXVaPw10AtkGlHghzjU60myeAXweEb2wldvwd2e4lWShKq5YmN6PwUQBwMBlX6q4m0N_tUv3JLoPV1j-cpMArnLbs/s400/DSC04307s.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
A tiny mosquito found my knee, and with a satisfying slap, the little bug was flattened and then flicked onto the ground. <br />
<br />
Maybe I haven't been giving my body adequate time to heal, jumping from one cycling adventure to the next with long, abusive races peppered in a few times during each year. And I realized there, sitting in the woods, that little injuries seemed to be compounding, worsening, and piling up upon one another.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLtpBNPNd49IpppZ_4lK-PSb2vVcL5EoUTSlJSL0uxf6J1OX0xqQo0Io0bbxM0C57qT7hadUhjZTWPf2rCvm11ZWc_tQm80B2lRn3EgpNt80Z2noAe2zKxOxAnypq9wqoBDHjjl7PEQs/s1600/DSC04309s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLtpBNPNd49IpppZ_4lK-PSb2vVcL5EoUTSlJSL0uxf6J1OX0xqQo0Io0bbxM0C57qT7hadUhjZTWPf2rCvm11ZWc_tQm80B2lRn3EgpNt80Z2noAe2zKxOxAnypq9wqoBDHjjl7PEQs/s400/DSC04309s.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
Reluctantly, I got up, lifted my bike, rolled it back out to the dirt road, and instead of turning right toward Denver, I turned left back toward Durango. And very slowly, I started to pedal back toward Lake City, slowly enough that my little swarm of flies continued to harass me. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpi-bcCuEj8IWTAm-pgh9Dc353a4ha9RQYVCpXh7oh68KTs94j1aq_mdoE2-Y3uMJd_GFonZsSBvNK2BcoEbm3pj0R2CzkOAiNY4AARwf6MfhByG4IaRX75nYS_o4xzlITVyZSn6HtaVQ/s1600/DSC04314s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpi-bcCuEj8IWTAm-pgh9Dc353a4ha9RQYVCpXh7oh68KTs94j1aq_mdoE2-Y3uMJd_GFonZsSBvNK2BcoEbm3pj0R2CzkOAiNY4AARwf6MfhByG4IaRX75nYS_o4xzlITVyZSn6HtaVQ/s400/DSC04314s.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHCZV5PZt0KsEafYa_5WGCGT_Se3nL02yU8WHb_H79vy0wih_wfH1Jj3Abv2y-DhsMM5OXk264-tHeThyv6kcUJRnfxrNrSUtzbeBVtCr4RCq_Y5wEw_gPFxUkrt5jqR5fwjf3IwA3I4/s1600/DSC04317s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHCZV5PZt0KsEafYa_5WGCGT_Se3nL02yU8WHb_H79vy0wih_wfH1Jj3Abv2y-DhsMM5OXk264-tHeThyv6kcUJRnfxrNrSUtzbeBVtCr4RCq_Y5wEw_gPFxUkrt5jqR5fwjf3IwA3I4/s400/DSC04317s.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
A scant three days later, Jesse Jakomait has reached the finish after maintaining an unbelievable pace, and my hands feel somewhat better, but nerve pain in my upper back is worse. I'm happy that I managed to convince myself to pull the plug when I did. After 8 years and something in the neighborhood of 15,000 miles of racing ultras, my body is definitely starting to feel the effects.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rFkF6aioLkPAuSCBSLbHIkexHZ-Irqch3NIBeCz-Jp-DiglbhS5B6ayA6Jx5dO9zX9UGGjuiFfNGULyMvl5gXC-wc1DEsAQJ4InUL2jhK-q5h6Ih6C-Ih6q1XnsCJo6LSOG8omyLK-E/s1600/DSC04320s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rFkF6aioLkPAuSCBSLbHIkexHZ-Irqch3NIBeCz-Jp-DiglbhS5B6ayA6Jx5dO9zX9UGGjuiFfNGULyMvl5gXC-wc1DEsAQJ4InUL2jhK-q5h6Ih6C-Ih6q1XnsCJo6LSOG8omyLK-E/s400/DSC04320s.jpg" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReb1v_0AdnB9MkvT7MvwBo3rpKipdG91CApWqrg00ztTMIBXnUvV_j0SwDHCgxTQAPmcaio5diHHoXp_Z_OoRapDIO8f3yXpVmlpAwLDQduCTmUWwIJb429dGA1kZD_MVWMJqGMcm3DQ/s1600/DSC04323s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReb1v_0AdnB9MkvT7MvwBo3rpKipdG91CApWqrg00ztTMIBXnUvV_j0SwDHCgxTQAPmcaio5diHHoXp_Z_OoRapDIO8f3yXpVmlpAwLDQduCTmUWwIJb429dGA1kZD_MVWMJqGMcm3DQ/s400/DSC04323s.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
A few years ago, I remember Dave Harris saying something along the lines of "you only have so many big efforts in your body, so use them wisely." At the time, I told myself that it was really more along the lines of "you only have so many big efforts in your head," but I think Dave was right. My body is certainly starting to feel the effects of all that I have asked of it, and I think for at least a little while, it's time to back off the big efforts and let things heal. Some of those injuries are from years ago when I didn't take good enough care of my body, and fortunately, I've learned a lot about self-care since my early years of ultra racing. But for the time being at least, I think it's time to stay entirely off the bike for at least a few weeks. Wish me luck. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXk6sRrehcrnu0dtUdlZLd2yfv5Ccy0Iy5TryLHdpXUjUMNQc_sduJcJBIQZ9Ks7v9ippeffWytcX3Jk8Mls56oNxoL1cQtSL7C99PnmVKx1KpeLEpg0iSWRibvQBl-a7dFMzyqVeSKbA/s1600/DSC04326s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXk6sRrehcrnu0dtUdlZLd2yfv5Ccy0Iy5TryLHdpXUjUMNQc_sduJcJBIQZ9Ks7v9ippeffWytcX3Jk8Mls56oNxoL1cQtSL7C99PnmVKx1KpeLEpg0iSWRibvQBl-a7dFMzyqVeSKbA/s400/DSC04326s.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-50562804219815970952015-07-19T13:08:00.001-06:002015-07-19T13:08:34.882-06:00Transverse Ranges and the future of mountain biking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Right after the school year ended, I rushed to wrap up my grading, tie up loose ends, clean up the lab, and happily packed up some camping gear, a simple bikepacking kit, my Salsa Horsethief, and pointed the truck west to California. Despite having lived just hours from the California border for more than 3 years now, I haven't really managed to get farther west than Death Valley. There's just too much neat country in between. But with a couple work obligations to tend to in southern California, the time had come to explore a bit. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NcKDoSkiXsMqt-a-2GfN777_RxpChEArjIf8Puy0eIG3F5cKrDWz5XDmwJjIPAi3Srnmca1qOKPAURRDe46bgcyuvg3NHWdgCjTOISpf5-2Xhs_l_i3e3zxEN5WO-kXnkydkZZmPNJI/s1600/DSC03392.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NcKDoSkiXsMqt-a-2GfN777_RxpChEArjIf8Puy0eIG3F5cKrDWz5XDmwJjIPAi3Srnmca1qOKPAURRDe46bgcyuvg3NHWdgCjTOISpf5-2Xhs_l_i3e3zxEN5WO-kXnkydkZZmPNJI/s400/DSC03392.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFdt7OVVQmEURfKWaODt5L2GBgNA81LV3vVDhcMOEDhXmCHB0BiksUBticwXQ1CPrN2pzOFPOH3ig4KM9X6Wtlu9ySL5SHvGPaupyN6SmWFHTkQycnf6uk4N_ubB_u0gO0Qip35QEGvI/s1600/DSC03466.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFdt7OVVQmEURfKWaODt5L2GBgNA81LV3vVDhcMOEDhXmCHB0BiksUBticwXQ1CPrN2pzOFPOH3ig4KM9X6Wtlu9ySL5SHvGPaupyN6SmWFHTkQycnf6uk4N_ubB_u0gO0Qip35QEGvI/s400/DSC03466.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kaou6ZS_6hXPIMAIMfP_5_2ZREvr2Ws_YAWJkEmx-EBTwT66QUIJCMbsDEqFl4WfFZLhRvRxXTMlNrHN7GgSlmqGPtvty6QqWFrL4so_ESXaoo-FuZLjPA5YwwiwE4AbG7Yb8_lyCpo/s1600/DSC03490.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kaou6ZS_6hXPIMAIMfP_5_2ZREvr2Ws_YAWJkEmx-EBTwT66QUIJCMbsDEqFl4WfFZLhRvRxXTMlNrHN7GgSlmqGPtvty6QqWFrL4so_ESXaoo-FuZLjPA5YwwiwE4AbG7Yb8_lyCpo/s400/DSC03490.JPG" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
I blasted straight out to Santa Barbara, had coffee and got some route advice from bikepacker and new friend Heather Rose, loaded up by gear, and climbed away from town. An incredibly steep mountain front rises from the eastern edge of town thanks to Miocene motion along the Santa Ynez Fault, and I opted to take one of the fire road climbs over the top. The humidity felt stifling, I dripped with sweat, and within a few hours, I found myself looking inland across a sea of mountains with virtually no evidence of roads or trails from my vantage point. The Santa Ynez Mountains, despite sitting so close to so many people, still feel quite remote.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-LgRHJ-cMkIK5_aXSEXY73YAEfNfcnKdo0kc-nbcZflIa52keRzRpZ6MUmDk7ZxYf1qrbOTxKw-VUXGErVuYSNt3ceUCh-nk7d0dp8qWosau-CDdde0VrFosase1Uhdq18Nd1SpYJ-o/s400/DSC03388.JPG" width="400" /> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5x91zCyAZGwLSqa9UGRobP64nAoA4VjsTYZsHBbAuH5WPrXSUJ26GN0SieaTYcl0OXF0Qv4sj1gIEIAuPo7plhvNR69GrTcfqD0LeIWTCphusaiP_F0pi1svBsG1zgcsyLd5SYE-3QV4/s1600/DSC03476.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5x91zCyAZGwLSqa9UGRobP64nAoA4VjsTYZsHBbAuH5WPrXSUJ26GN0SieaTYcl0OXF0Qv4sj1gIEIAuPo7plhvNR69GrTcfqD0LeIWTCphusaiP_F0pi1svBsG1zgcsyLd5SYE-3QV4/s400/DSC03476.JPG" width="300" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDISSiRDLG9UGc8ZtUyBKt-9zy3VzzSm2z5zcRfrExdkYr5rlfkpbMrvpJKwSdpq_XpVw2rC_YIOxNQuGZMAGvVmpJb4767C1e6BzyFrffDGnHRtv89DYAxQUUULuyVNZepFBQ5l3iJ0/s1600/DSC03401.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDISSiRDLG9UGc8ZtUyBKt-9zy3VzzSm2z5zcRfrExdkYr5rlfkpbMrvpJKwSdpq_XpVw2rC_YIOxNQuGZMAGvVmpJb4767C1e6BzyFrffDGnHRtv89DYAxQUUULuyVNZepFBQ5l3iJ0/s400/DSC03401.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wFn3yvzkuGW_wRpk5vqHJ5MNoBjLeW2ynl9vqnoFAWz1GdwPAJz7JiPjsKo5mJcL8AjOrQMYt3ecc6kP9GqXfpRUPMPunaccbrQ6v8poPLAcQBi-WLufZBN1JPAu2vQt_XRYzl6lopE/s1600/DSC03422.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wFn3yvzkuGW_wRpk5vqHJ5MNoBjLeW2ynl9vqnoFAWz1GdwPAJz7JiPjsKo5mJcL8AjOrQMYt3ecc6kP9GqXfpRUPMPunaccbrQ6v8poPLAcQBi-WLufZBN1JPAu2vQt_XRYzl6lopE/s400/DSC03422.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
For the rest of the day, I rode singletrack and two-tracks and didn't see a soul. Despite the area being in a severe drought, water still seemed plentiful. I soaked in a hot spring, marveled at the mid-afternoon bird activity in the trees along the Santa Ynez River, and found a few springs from which to fill my bottles.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRLM8xWQeXt2WhAfp-JRL8GoJAfx3QpWGsPS_lKd-3OuWM58sEB_e2aZNZG6X7Hux4Cz3EntyEq_Zszj0L7vvcHUCvRyvatNjRG2juiDqtzjw8OsBJAuNi2nd2J8ZS7d6NSJO9_qCBv_k/s1600/DSC03407.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRLM8xWQeXt2WhAfp-JRL8GoJAfx3QpWGsPS_lKd-3OuWM58sEB_e2aZNZG6X7Hux4Cz3EntyEq_Zszj0L7vvcHUCvRyvatNjRG2juiDqtzjw8OsBJAuNi2nd2J8ZS7d6NSJO9_qCBv_k/s400/DSC03407.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3z0lnujg_QBl9eiCRQR8vhlV0M9jxp2VNerzNGSaBvrvoxuWWxuvCMdxwDU8S3w8Bju3duDstwMIWHyXfHXj2Ch65kXLVm8gMqda3UhlEKVZry-ySoIZ2_oZcUK-5OWsQwpTJNqV-Ae8/s1600/DSC03446.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3z0lnujg_QBl9eiCRQR8vhlV0M9jxp2VNerzNGSaBvrvoxuWWxuvCMdxwDU8S3w8Bju3duDstwMIWHyXfHXj2Ch65kXLVm8gMqda3UhlEKVZry-ySoIZ2_oZcUK-5OWsQwpTJNqV-Ae8/s400/DSC03446.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GakU7t6NBFFTZUDG-izoGgC7tNOh4Z_1p0IR_PfwocB_ODGLcHSZnBm0ERS7VonZosD0WxBZrCcWrH8BVBbRcilMHtFxLaNk9QIZvYEWp3LFyY9R43uG1IH9b774v7ehrk47rT1XFwo/s1600/DSC03456.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GakU7t6NBFFTZUDG-izoGgC7tNOh4Z_1p0IR_PfwocB_ODGLcHSZnBm0ERS7VonZosD0WxBZrCcWrH8BVBbRcilMHtFxLaNk9QIZvYEWp3LFyY9R43uG1IH9b774v7ehrk47rT1XFwo/s400/DSC03456.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />The geology of the area was entirely new to me, featuring the mangled strata of the Franciscan Group. Tightly folded layers of sedimentary rocks distracted me as I bumped down a rocky, rutted track. Blue Canyon, named for outcrops of California's state rock, serpentenite, revealed itself to indeed have slopes of a vivid shade of blue-green. And through all this, the widespread shale kept me nervous about the approaching storm system and the mud that would appear as soon as rain began to fall.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanA1pmAjPtqETBxAc01ziOXezOu7paaSerVOgxeu4KsVhiF7kGMtRUuAFFYm84Dvi2xTK1hmZmkWcjujFj20mPfEU9rsf_UR0lOPsrk1JUM5BZMK6FoMml4KH6qD7WBUWQmvOzk0ZmnQ/s1600/DSC03459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanA1pmAjPtqETBxAc01ziOXezOu7paaSerVOgxeu4KsVhiF7kGMtRUuAFFYm84Dvi2xTK1hmZmkWcjujFj20mPfEU9rsf_UR0lOPsrk1JUM5BZMK6FoMml4KH6qD7WBUWQmvOzk0ZmnQ/s400/DSC03459.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nVC8cWi4HvPjozG8GpcqT_gWj_RMO7rRY4Ro0kbijFa0bFk8b5L-vshtl0u2jbua6ZdHoUxWjaHYq9QujRJoNgg3LZWD1a01xugbIY9Wnt3Pkzjqv_oQluC432NPLnv0qIAzrX4mMEo/s1600/DSC03497.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nVC8cWi4HvPjozG8GpcqT_gWj_RMO7rRY4Ro0kbijFa0bFk8b5L-vshtl0u2jbua6ZdHoUxWjaHYq9QujRJoNgg3LZWD1a01xugbIY9Wnt3Pkzjqv_oQluC432NPLnv0qIAzrX4mMEo/s400/DSC03497.JPG" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKaq1TeIFEsWeco231sPhsDK418yVhLYvKhkJ5f-b13KjzEAwwCjN_kiY_DlkGpEEVUkP2cuME097UKyumznNGvjguLdQiDRCtZYsWxhIpobp3z10dsx_3ZiyHQnbPA_ikM4Lziyk9eX4/s1600/DSC03465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKaq1TeIFEsWeco231sPhsDK418yVhLYvKhkJ5f-b13KjzEAwwCjN_kiY_DlkGpEEVUkP2cuME097UKyumznNGvjguLdQiDRCtZYsWxhIpobp3z10dsx_3ZiyHQnbPA_ikM4Lziyk9eX4/s400/DSC03465.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The second morning, I awoke to grey skies, and I could see rain in the distance over the San Gabriel Mountains to the south. Deciding to gamble a bit (but not too much), I climbed east to find the top of the renowned Santa Cruz Trail. And it sure was worth it. Horsethief and I grinned all the way back down to the river but then had to make tracks up the big climb to return to Santa Barbara. Steady rain began to fall, mud started to accumulate on my tires, and just in the nick of time, I popped out on the pavement atop the range and was able to coast back down to Santa Barbara. Not bad for a quick overnighter.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nVC8cWi4HvPjozG8GpcqT_gWj_RMO7rRY4Ro0kbijFa0bFk8b5L-vshtl0u2jbua6ZdHoUxWjaHYq9QujRJoNgg3LZWD1a01xugbIY9Wnt3Pkzjqv_oQluC432NPLnv0qIAzrX4mMEo/s1600/DSC03497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHz31UEy0YcKet_Xa7Hj21NRfVtO1sEwlOGgNgR1hUNRaA4SUO5RM7QkZF-D1CZbm9YxU-p3IigFdhCjtDSJj2qqrCoapzHKi0PLxbFhC82yeAsETCo6wuH2kvMEwoXJ0yqx57fKMSUzE/s1600/DSC03513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHz31UEy0YcKet_Xa7Hj21NRfVtO1sEwlOGgNgR1hUNRaA4SUO5RM7QkZF-D1CZbm9YxU-p3IigFdhCjtDSJj2qqrCoapzHKi0PLxbFhC82yeAsETCo6wuH2kvMEwoXJ0yqx57fKMSUzE/s400/DSC03513.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />After a couple days in town, I drove just a short way north to Los Olivos to the NICA High School Mountain Bike Championships to do some recruiting for the Prescott College Cycling Team. The scene was incredible - flawless organization, a tight but reasonable event schedule, impressive racing in categories for newer <i>and</i> varsity riders, and the most positive attitude that I've felt at a big race event perhaps ever. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzWud7KES4vLJrbGryBC4Yi6RlOnX8Y_ufR7Wdq2xboxc71pFAy8nAuFcc-gneX6iJhQAjYy1B4B0OVy_yx8pFfsVv4ut1btdvZkCOr5SvrKbyPIc9YVcDLz4iVXouzSuArGG9Zfzy_0/s1600/DSC03522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzWud7KES4vLJrbGryBC4Yi6RlOnX8Y_ufR7Wdq2xboxc71pFAy8nAuFcc-gneX6iJhQAjYy1B4B0OVy_yx8pFfsVv4ut1btdvZkCOr5SvrKbyPIc9YVcDLz4iVXouzSuArGG9Zfzy_0/s400/DSC03522.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfhDPyEwVTziA-PhcqvDvGEshN-NgyDyjj7GZBrS0mtEnDJp92ir4TC6o3wdaTrCkkjJ9HzjmzqxbOADGXrePAa7Yg9Uqxa6rrZdxcTKb1ZeEbkhbSD4gOKbWWI3EEZul979qzEJvIDs/s1600/DSC03525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfhDPyEwVTziA-PhcqvDvGEshN-NgyDyjj7GZBrS0mtEnDJp92ir4TC6o3wdaTrCkkjJ9HzjmzqxbOADGXrePAa7Yg9Uqxa6rrZdxcTKb1ZeEbkhbSD4gOKbWWI3EEZul979qzEJvIDs/s400/DSC03525.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />What NICA has done for providing juniors venues and teams to grow as mountain bikers in just the last few <i>years</i> trumps everything that USA Cycling has done in probably the past two <i>decades</i>. It's remarkable and inspiring, and it really makes me wish that I was a high school student right now. These students are so excited and enthusiastic about the sport, and the immensely positive impact this will have on the mountain bike community in the coming decades will be incredible. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oAsVi-9yBT_w__VV_WvE6hVhbncdzjEeRVE9U-8Mv5RwpIx-_V-kE8YtdDILVaOwg2QeYtHZzyZ339knTDMiJLt3bVQTUjs6U87BPlBl6jBnFvXVHgBCVEn2t6bjxzJLcPvzLvi6tcM/s1600/DSC03528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oAsVi-9yBT_w__VV_WvE6hVhbncdzjEeRVE9U-8Mv5RwpIx-_V-kE8YtdDILVaOwg2QeYtHZzyZ339knTDMiJLt3bVQTUjs6U87BPlBl6jBnFvXVHgBCVEn2t6bjxzJLcPvzLvi6tcM/s400/DSC03528.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />On the drive back to Prescott, I thought a lot about the opportunities
that cycling has brought me - amazing friends across the world, racing and touring
through some of the most spectacular country in the West, huge growth as an
individual in so many ways, chances to travel abroad to explore, and
more recently, the opportunity to share my passion for all this through
coaching, writing, and teaching. For me, this all came about as a result of my desire to start bike racing in middle school. None of my high school friends who played baseball, soccer, or football ended up with opportunities related to those sports that persisted beyond college (if even that long). But the ability of these young NICA racers to keep riding, competing should they choose to, and being an active part of the cycling community for decades after high school is a very real possibility. And I can't wait to see NICA grow and bring these opportunities to more students in more states, because these riders are the future of mountain biking, and the future is already looking <i>strong</i>. Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-41102055521447152802015-06-05T05:56:00.001-06:002015-06-05T05:58:36.943-06:00Singlespeeding to Japan<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicT-ukbiQsiaJjUTwQwP6_Yv7vE3N1Z9Ai95TccXZ3RW1BfyiE8rrinDAOGU0ZCdk4N5EC0d1OK-nriEBgUhi_Y7_Zo2krlOF8MiGwZvFp4umRXWH1Mk9y9igw6wcgoGxIZ7GAOdwiDAk/s1600/DSC03226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicT-ukbiQsiaJjUTwQwP6_Yv7vE3N1Z9Ai95TccXZ3RW1BfyiE8rrinDAOGU0ZCdk4N5EC0d1OK-nriEBgUhi_Y7_Zo2krlOF8MiGwZvFp4umRXWH1Mk9y9igw6wcgoGxIZ7GAOdwiDAk/s400/DSC03226.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
Spring in Arizona is usually a colorful time. In the desert, drainages and hillsides are set afire in hues of yellow, orange, and red. Grassy slopes are green with delight after late winter precipitation. The sky is a vivid blue for weeks on end. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKA5JHEz2rMsHYbeyyMtuCBZNsctcWhyv_IATeYGVNMxMuKs4-ZyTvvuvY7Frb3XNJcjpMGGWqnbLSVfQpqJAZ1kV3Zod1YqoWM5G71k0rKFcRHzuorFBb2wE-GDmya3Rb80nPTPh2vA/s1600/DSC03227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKA5JHEz2rMsHYbeyyMtuCBZNsctcWhyv_IATeYGVNMxMuKs4-ZyTvvuvY7Frb3XNJcjpMGGWqnbLSVfQpqJAZ1kV3Zod1YqoWM5G71k0rKFcRHzuorFBb2wE-GDmya3Rb80nPTPh2vA/s400/DSC03227.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
But then, seemingly suddenly, as mountain bikers from across the country begin to congregate in Prescott, that blue sky vanishes. The sky darkens. Its texture becomes more varied. The air thickens with moisture. And before long, rain and snow start to fall. Two years in a row, this has been the case for the Whiskey Off-Road weekend. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGw3I7etplKcPFPLtXtrrDSPBsfZjpDvx1QfpHtoS2TqXn2l64T7fNWosUs1AVvL6TXMSlB2vj6qX5tONwTZF9UiCbKPdwNakIcHY5Rz34GIuiwiuooc0ndiE2_eD8QWq5esKyPNpu1E/s1600/DSC03234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGw3I7etplKcPFPLtXtrrDSPBsfZjpDvx1QfpHtoS2TqXn2l64T7fNWosUs1AVvL6TXMSlB2vj6qX5tONwTZF9UiCbKPdwNakIcHY5Rz34GIuiwiuooc0ndiE2_eD8QWq5esKyPNpu1E/s400/DSC03234.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Falling just a few weeks after the Arizona Trail 300, it's tough to have a good race in the Whiskey 50. But living in the town that hosts such a big event also makes it hard to pass up participating. So once again, I signed up for the Whiskey at the very last minute, opting to race with the pros. Kaitlyn was set on racing singlespeed on Saturday after missing the event the prior year with a broken wrist. So we were both in, legs still heavy from the 300. My ambitions were not particularly high for myself since I can't really put up much of a fight against the likes of the world and national champions that come to town for the Whiskey. In fact, as soon as the pavement turns to dirt, those guys are out of sight. And by the time I reach the top of the final descent, half an hour from the finish, one of them is already raising their arms in victory, coasting across the finish line on Whiskey Row.<br />
<br />
Kaitlyn, on the other hand, had a real shot at standing on the podium in her race. Her legs seemed a bit more recovered than did mine. She had the ultimate singlespeed setup. And she had some serious competition, namely our friend Eszter, who happened to also be staying with us for the weekend. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinsvpx0qi22j2pnW3WZCYKXrhh64yWlV4abEZ2r0r0PIIB91NEkTK1Tjm7BlQ_yAPnVUHZk-w3DwcfiYDmXUw9kW-GOIl59rdMinj_Q_DaQ4JEKOcygWYMIKHMmWKlzzwjpw3DZsmBlPg/s1600/DSC03250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinsvpx0qi22j2pnW3WZCYKXrhh64yWlV4abEZ2r0r0PIIB91NEkTK1Tjm7BlQ_yAPnVUHZk-w3DwcfiYDmXUw9kW-GOIl59rdMinj_Q_DaQ4JEKOcygWYMIKHMmWKlzzwjpw3DZsmBlPg/s400/DSC03250.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I had the nervous pleasure of watching the race unfold from a few different vantage points along the course. Kaitlyn and Eszter were within 45 seconds of one another for most of the race, and the lead geared rider, Chase Edwards, was right in the mix. Near the top of the final climb, a dirt road slog of more than an hour, they were <i>still</i> on each others' heels. I cheered them all on, passed off some bottles, and rushed to the finish. </div>
<br />
I don't think I had ever been so anxious to see how a race played out. For the singlespeeders, the winner took home a plane ticket to Singlespeed Worlds in Japan. How cool a trip would that be? I watched as a long stream of men finished. Most seemed elated to be done. A few put out hard sprints to the line despite being all alone. Then I started seeing guys come in that had been right around the lead women. The guy in a red dress shirt. That guy in bright blue shorts. The older man who looked incredibly strong for his age. The young guy on a squeaky full-suspension bike.<br />
<br />
And then the cheering from the next block got louder, and around the last turn came Kaitlyn! Her arms pumped in the air as a huge grin spread across her face. She glanced back and put in a few fast, rather unproductive pedal strokes before the giant grin returned. She proudly pointed at her jersey, subtly telling the crowd, "I'm from right here in Prescott!" She had done it! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_qMd5nFmu_Zj1wMc8z7L-cIOYN12nH9OTHZBPVN5Kp7wPN8Ug7zwBqv9-VcIKAeFdC3RxpeI02pgLMxlu5cGLw5eOvQ_hX_K58WTslfNDgl1X6MMGCCkmirWhLsYcuKIjAiqUZUPmW0/s1600/Kait_victory.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_qMd5nFmu_Zj1wMc8z7L-cIOYN12nH9OTHZBPVN5Kp7wPN8Ug7zwBqv9-VcIKAeFdC3RxpeI02pgLMxlu5cGLw5eOvQ_hX_K58WTslfNDgl1X6MMGCCkmirWhLsYcuKIjAiqUZUPmW0/s400/Kait_victory.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewZHEYNrQcHyMsfmSHs56chFDkQe_Y-twSCATut22Xfl8CVqXn5jn214KHXOxvy87KLWEHil5QclsJ_WX2ZYjzFhkSgQXxJOoRhQobmJ8evZv_8ZhT9fRLIag6_HhSZPTP3ECYCDmAj0/s1600/DSC03296.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewZHEYNrQcHyMsfmSHs56chFDkQe_Y-twSCATut22Xfl8CVqXn5jn214KHXOxvy87KLWEHil5QclsJ_WX2ZYjzFhkSgQXxJOoRhQobmJ8evZv_8ZhT9fRLIag6_HhSZPTP3ECYCDmAj0/s400/DSC03296.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
On Sunday, I lined up and raced, but there didn't seem to be much point. Kaitlyn had already accomplished so much. My legs were weary, but I gave it a go anyway. For most of the race, I found myself alone mid-field with just one or two other guys. My legs didn't have any kick, so I ground away and managed to finish right in the middle, about as good a result as I could have hoped for against such a strong field in a race that's a bit shorter than my liking these days.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-x4nPxLdkRE9l7_4fTXg4vYtzb6Voji4cN17eRyP5qY3UEbEozNfHPMqk6NK-ZyLwPERjMzMUtEUaNc3cO5toLU3AA-5Am2QgXSfVI8FlWlrxzmylw-V-pAue6OaTBltkwAf9cCk6AE/s400/KR+finish+Les+Stutenberg.jpg" width="400" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Photo by Les Stukenberg</i> </div>
<br />
Within a few days after the Whiskey, I had mostly made up my mind that I needed to head up to Grand Junction to race there a month later. The men's singlespeed winner in the 40 Grand would get a ticket to Singlespeed Worlds, and it seemed like that would be the only way I could join Kaitlyn in Japan. The Grand Junction course is moderately technical - lots of rocks, loose and rough descending, and quite a few short, steep climbs. Not being accustomed to pushing just one gear, I needed every advantage I could muster, so I built up my Spearfish as a singlespeed. It took a couple weeks to actually get it working, but eventually, with a YESS chain tensioner and a cheap 8-speed chain, it did actually work. I got in some singlespeed-specific training, fretted about gearing, and then fretted some more. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguV8UK6X-VdwkAF9ORBiuNj7ntpw9XSp6zQAQ0iIpo8J1Zt4PVOAeTkicJfJC-RZSYtbOLM4Vn9KxJprWUCfGiSf8Kly7RcacCVEcWiLloz-hNPdEZ9HsxnlfX2J4AmrQB2y4wMc4mfmQ/s1600/IMG_0049.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguV8UK6X-VdwkAF9ORBiuNj7ntpw9XSp6zQAQ0iIpo8J1Zt4PVOAeTkicJfJC-RZSYtbOLM4Vn9KxJprWUCfGiSf8Kly7RcacCVEcWiLloz-hNPdEZ9HsxnlfX2J4AmrQB2y4wMc4mfmQ/s400/IMG_0049.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
We drove to Colorado a few days before the race, relaxed, and got angry at the thunderstorms that kept turning the course to nasty mud, preventing me from doing much pre-riding. I fretted about gearing some more. Our friend Greg suggested that I run something like 32-19 for the course, so I cobbled together a 30-18 setup. It turned out that it was too big of a gear for me to push up those climbs for a few hours, so I nervously dropped down to 28-18. The few miles of flattish road between downtown and the trails was going to be problematic with such a spinny gear. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhJjwhJ4Q2RE2PiyRbQ-8P0B8nAFPYADG8bkVeh87mEGoQOohpZ_acyCdLBA8OQF63ccZ0uOGc4cjggdbPLcMgLMruCHJwb58vaQYq22ALy-GGyzHloOfbS2kJMzt_Vhn2vggfzln9OY/s1600/drop.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhJjwhJ4Q2RE2PiyRbQ-8P0B8nAFPYADG8bkVeh87mEGoQOohpZ_acyCdLBA8OQF63ccZ0uOGc4cjggdbPLcMgLMruCHJwb58vaQYq22ALy-GGyzHloOfbS2kJMzt_Vhn2vggfzln9OY/s400/drop.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
On race day, I tried to be positive. I was surprisingly apprehensive about the race, my ability to do well on a singlespeed, and my gear choice. Fortunately, Kaitlyn was filled with genuine confidence. As the race started, I was instantly spun out. Pedal pedal pedal, coast coast coast. That was all I could do. Then the group sped up, and I drifted backwards, along with all the other singlespeeders. But as we neared the turn from the highway onto dirt, I managed to spin spin spin, coast coast coast better than I ever have. I worked my way up, gave it one last spin spin spin, and I was miraculously the 3rd one onto the dirt. We shuffled around a bit before reaching the first steep climbs, and by the top of a steep hike-a-bike, I was off the front. I dug deep to ride the rest of the first loop, managed to, and when I looked back, I could only see two riders behind. Perhaps I was going out a bit too hard.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlHcv85WWLjBH2_aZhxcWL-P173ZTE48lkYk7ycyaeO04DJnW30fIvmWLn8Tsjo9xNVpaKMZrsbG5JBJFCE8hqC-BxotmWWwLnzu-gjDQjq1QiEfdWEQKDmOIYAkDDmDBqL5SvvtIr_1Y/s400/KR_ChrisReichel.jpg" width="400" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Photo by Chris Reichel</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
But my legs felt alright. Excitedly, I turned onto the long, techy descent to the Gunnison River and worked my way through all the rocks. Two geared riders slowly gained on me, finally catching me as I bobbled and crashed. But there was no one in sight behind them. Beginning the long climb, the friendly Mexican guy with the whitest shoes I've ever seen on a mountain biker, gradually rode away, and before long, I was alone again. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1IsvjxzqY_9Uqwm0EAxDqNp-iUL0OXniAZKSa8wHs8Ev6To7LQCAhwbglxFmsuWbv9oVDysFFdWHZMRtKnmiWSJQWp7GiNZDJcElMv0Koaq3Iqo75CHi0c1iveSVJwgBUvgu8iCXRv0/s1600/IMG_0075.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1IsvjxzqY_9Uqwm0EAxDqNp-iUL0OXniAZKSa8wHs8Ev6To7LQCAhwbglxFmsuWbv9oVDysFFdWHZMRtKnmiWSJQWp7GiNZDJcElMv0Koaq3Iqo75CHi0c1iveSVJwgBUvgu8iCXRv0/s400/IMG_0075.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
On the next climb, a steep slickrock ramp along the Tabaguache Trail, my legs jittered as cramping tried to set in. I just tried to keep turning the pedals over as smoothly as I could. Kaitlyn was there cheering and encouraging me, as was as an old friend from high school whom I hadn't seen in years. <br />
<br />
The final loop, another delightfully technical bit of trail, came quickly. <br />
<br />
"You're almost there," a couple brightly-dressed children shouted as I pointed the bike down the start of a mildly treacherous descent. <br />
<br />
Almost. My legs survived a short hike-a-bike and then a few steep switchbacks. There still were no racers in sight behind me. Relieved, I transitioned into don't-crash-or-slice-any-tires-now mode. The last few pavement miles into town were annoyingly slow on the singlespeed. The hamster-like spinning caused some muscles to finally seize. Eventually, though, I rounded the final few turns and raised my arms. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Second overall, first singlespeed, and Japan-bound with my lady!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhraoA-4xGTm87Fc8QqWIA-sKqpI_fndqn5lt6mhKq8CNBHJaYpc-oxJdfNV9wA5N4IIW8_CJ-NtSuZDdblAKhDmyQ1p-ZBo1BpJ4sqAK7CpHteVv_ZqHQrMAI1gyjguGqiQM89lS5qbsY/s1600/KB_KR+podium+by+les.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhraoA-4xGTm87Fc8QqWIA-sKqpI_fndqn5lt6mhKq8CNBHJaYpc-oxJdfNV9wA5N4IIW8_CJ-NtSuZDdblAKhDmyQ1p-ZBo1BpJ4sqAK7CpHteVv_ZqHQrMAI1gyjguGqiQM89lS5qbsY/s400/KB_KR+podium+by+les.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Photo by Les Stukenberg</i> </div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-73849715271713363352015-04-20T12:32:00.003-06:002015-04-20T12:32:26.560-06:00Introducing Ultra MTB ConsultingOne of my goals for 2015 was to launch Ultra MTB Consulting. I'm excited to develop a new avenue to help others have empowering adventures riding and racing their bikes!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
And here it is:</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.ultramtb.net/"><img alt="http://www.ultramtb.net" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzHH7IcSoPnZnmU0j6dTTkKg9Z_WK8r5EEVXGcftrl5H_yB6c8JXpObE6tg6SFcmdRpO5qJjvAnRTVtaQiPRUdQUycw7Lqcfi81MKaNojhvESZjymi5lWgUFWbW18u3Fp4umU7eanWbA/s1600/UltraMTBlogov1_300.png" /></a></div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-6735553107068239292015-04-17T16:41:00.001-06:002015-04-17T16:42:13.643-06:00Of eclipses, foxes, and sunrises: Another AZT300<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:128;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:fixed;
mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:128;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:fixed;
mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-size:10.0pt;
mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
</style>
-->
<div class="MsoNormal">
Excitement and nerves always permeate the atmosphere
surrounding the start of the Arizona Trail 300. This year was no different,
although there was more of both than ever before as the race gains popularity.
This year, the Director of the Arizona Trail Association, Matt Nelson, came
down to the start to see everyone off, promising that we would each find our
own adventure on the trail as we pedaled northward. Each of us was there for
our own adventure. For some, that was spending more than a week traversing the
Arizona Trail across the entire state. For others, it was blasting northward to
the end of the southern 300 miles of the trail as quickly as possible. Some
riders carried virtually no gear. Others packed enough to sleep comfortably on chilly
nights. A few planned to blatantly attack the sleep monster head-on, while some
would take time to relax along the way. And while a good number would find
their destination, sliced tires, overworked bodies, exhausted minds, or any number
of other maladies would cut the ride short. But Matt was right – for all of us,
we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would</i> find our own adventure. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNG0O_d22ng2O1EGcLKSvpp5YG4XqD21mLKy5j1S__yhAEjrSOoffwXp_ZAo5U_CG1YRfAgvVql3YQp6L1kU4MaztYseG_x08_ofPOXUReozsZcPo8xqd_Z9Zuk4FtaYjFcTCyQ8-HFY/s1600/DSC03184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNG0O_d22ng2O1EGcLKSvpp5YG4XqD21mLKy5j1S__yhAEjrSOoffwXp_ZAo5U_CG1YRfAgvVql3YQp6L1kU4MaztYseG_x08_ofPOXUReozsZcPo8xqd_Z9Zuk4FtaYjFcTCyQ8-HFY/s1600/DSC03184.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My rig: Salsa Spearfish RS-1 + Revelate Designs bags </i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbm2NOgssxX2NOVqy-TReoJ1uCYF6yn5SpZHBieoeC-29t1pzeAC6LHdyyrRxgyzHonXr_kBR0SxeWV7IQKa93tUjEeMj9SH_q080Hw0GAVD6pl7mOsnmks5idrkKClj8EU3coksEWvA/s1600/DSC03187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbm2NOgssxX2NOVqy-TReoJ1uCYF6yn5SpZHBieoeC-29t1pzeAC6LHdyyrRxgyzHonXr_kBR0SxeWV7IQKa93tUjEeMj9SH_q080Hw0GAVD6pl7mOsnmks5idrkKClj8EU3coksEWvA/s1600/DSC03187.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My first ultra with a PowerTap rear hub </i></div>
<br />
It felt good to be back at Parker Canyon Lake for the start
of yet another AZT300 for the seventh year in a row. I was relaxed, calm, happy
to see so many other racers getting prepared, and excited to also have Kaitlyn
readying herself for her own adventure on the AZT. After having ridden and
raced more than 3,000 miles on the Arizona Trail, I wondered what parts of the
experience would be new for me this year. Would it simply feel repetitious, or
would the trail continue to present the unusual and unexpected<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqSZVLcnGNuf2UU0hSG-2CmTIvxZEAukIy3M-uBPbh4vKgyjMM951NKfz2LCArbND3WRBAjJVr0RwGJL1GMdS72UNIJRdmpL-KBUheZUmgjCVKhWbWBvYBIPuT1AUDznmLqHSro6XRbA/s1600/Start+by+Ez.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqSZVLcnGNuf2UU0hSG-2CmTIvxZEAukIy3M-uBPbh4vKgyjMM951NKfz2LCArbND3WRBAjJVr0RwGJL1GMdS72UNIJRdmpL-KBUheZUmgjCVKhWbWBvYBIPuT1AUDznmLqHSro6XRbA/s1600/Start+by+Ez.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ready for adventure. Photo by Eszter Horanyi</i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Riding through the night under a full moon is an experience
of which I will never tire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
silhouettes of jagged peaks, canyon rims, saguaro cacti, and agave flower
stalks all stand out in muted shades of grey with eerie clarity. On my first
night on the trail, I rode through this world of grey, struggling to absorb it
all. But in the wee hours of the morning, the edge of the moon darkened as
Earth began to move between the sun and the moon. An eclipse! Over the next
hour, I watched the moon slowly disappear into shadow, become enveloped in a
gentle red glow, and then disappear beneath the horizon as morning grew near.
Never before had I watched so much of a lunar eclipse. What better place to do
it than from in the saddle?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuu5V_XE_FMXBH1l0VDkJSZIW2ooAb-0wCh-rsaS32eNabremiXFsuYW0IuVsXRdpj1H2BCVNOVRFwH2neteEpBz2XZdjUhY6eiMBhCoa1dpwckh_oD79-V_dL6KnflDzLRTCb9sCkyO8/s1600/start2+-+Ez.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuu5V_XE_FMXBH1l0VDkJSZIW2ooAb-0wCh-rsaS32eNabremiXFsuYW0IuVsXRdpj1H2BCVNOVRFwH2neteEpBz2XZdjUhY6eiMBhCoa1dpwckh_oD79-V_dL6KnflDzLRTCb9sCkyO8/s1600/start2+-+Ez.jpg" height="452" width="640" /></a><br /><i>Holeshot! Photo by Eszter Horanyi</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Under the dimmed light of this eclipsing moon, my lights
caught a pair of orange eyes just below the trail peering over a rocky ledge. I
stopped quickly and looked closer. What out here has orange eyes, I wondered. The
little critter looked back at me with comically large ears and a tiny snout
just poking up above the rock. Then it ducked down and vanished. Hmm. It
reminded me a bit of one of those little fuzzy gremlins. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The following night, I contoured along the steep slope above
the Gila River feeling a bit sleepy after 270 miles. The bright reflection of
the moon on the river below was periodically captured in my peripheral vision,
startling me. Then a pair of familiar orange eyes appeared in the trail up
ahead. I stopped abruptly and turned my helmet light up to high. Outlined ahead
of me was the figure of the cutest little fox-like critter. It cocked its head
to the side and then took off down the trail straight in my direction. Half way
to me, it stopped, looked at me inquisitively from a few different angles, and
then sprinted back down the trail and off through the cactus, moving remarkably
fast. It was a kit fox, something I’ve never seen before. And a half our later,
I saw a third one! Despite all the time I’ve spent riding at night throughout
kit fox territory, I’ve never seen one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The descent of Oracle Ridge of the north side of Mount
Lemmon seems to be the most intimidating section of the course of many racers.
Long sections are rocky, steep, and unrideable. The uphills along the way are
very unwelcomed. And after spending what seems like the better part of a day
climbing, everyone wants a beautiful descent. Well, that’s not Oracle Ridge.
But despite all the trips I’ve made down this feature, I must have spent more
time this year gazing off into the distance. I spotted the impressive Aravaipa
Canyon cutting through the northern end of the Galiuro Mountains, a canyon I
had only seen previously on maps. I noticed the little mining town of San
Manuel down below, along with the winding dirt road up the back of the mountain
that Kaitlyn and I had ridden back in January. And the jeep trail that climbs
over Charoleaux Gap stood out, yet I had never before noticed how it climbed up
farther and into the pines directly below the Mount Lemmon summit. I must have
had such tunnel vision in past years while stomping past these impressively
expansive views.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-R9Etz-ZHhFQlgXB3ZAyrq_vs8F_6lwAGdjOjiEUvbPZmA_HCStmyLd2aSWdr0lZkl10-vWJ0QlhQQdKW6JxtE2fveNQhdG__5pBpUCHD5Jmjy_9XLicT-bvRh1kb8IYpYJAV4UyX8M/s1600/Cody+Trails+by+Jon+Petit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-R9Etz-ZHhFQlgXB3ZAyrq_vs8F_6lwAGdjOjiEUvbPZmA_HCStmyLd2aSWdr0lZkl10-vWJ0QlhQQdKW6JxtE2fveNQhdG__5pBpUCHD5Jmjy_9XLicT-bvRh1kb8IYpYJAV4UyX8M/s1600/Cody+Trails+by+Jon+Petit.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>200 miles in and feeling good. Then came the heat. Photo by Jon Petit. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The final challenge of the ride is the unrelentingly steep and
unrelentingly beautiful climb away from the Gila River. Last year, I tackled
this climb under cover of darkness. The year before, I found myself climbing
through oppressive early morning heat. This year, dawn came just as I began the
climb. Soon the towering cliffs and spires above were bathed in a vivid yellow
glow that was sliced by deep, dark shadows. Without even intending to do so, I
stopped in my tracks and just gazed up, feeling entirely insignificant and
unable to take in the beauty that surrounded me. As I continued to climb, the
sunrise had completely dissolved any sense of urgency surrounding the last
miles of my race. I stopped repeatedly to do nothing more than watch the day
unfold. I wondered if those canyons undergo such an incredible metamorphism
every morning. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFsz-cssvReSVwFA-2_SCPCO2T54OrS99y01_J5O8k8tt-r9WhTheohSobKVQ18FsWSZcrHdlDyUkwt66M2N9D6gKhHi7jUN2IDFKfhoT9VSghZi9I1Jeg7A7tg-Cl7e5FMuKsCpylks/s1600/DSCN0478.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFsz-cssvReSVwFA-2_SCPCO2T54OrS99y01_J5O8k8tt-r9WhTheohSobKVQ18FsWSZcrHdlDyUkwt66M2N9D6gKhHi7jUN2IDFKfhoT9VSghZi9I1Jeg7A7tg-Cl7e5FMuKsCpylks/s1600/DSCN0478.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Nearing the top of the Gila Canyons. Photo by Bryan Mayeaux. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just as Matt Nelson had predicted, adventure found me yet
again. But this time, it wasn't the race itself that was the adventure. It
wasn’t any sort of personal transformation or realization. It was nothing more
than the beauty and surprises that I encountered along the way – things that I
have never before seen despite the familiarity of the route and landscape. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDhPrMGcyAaep8GisnYJeMkA3_VKfJMAGU9_kD1PgFm21_EhTW6fd6xEPyoeP0RuOiT-6YLzNOMsBV0dHNn0S3OS_1eGyAqynJnkohmvpUOk7wRqzRk1S2OUNmGHIeawKdSYn_aXaSgI/s1600/DSC03191.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDhPrMGcyAaep8GisnYJeMkA3_VKfJMAGU9_kD1PgFm21_EhTW6fd6xEPyoeP0RuOiT-6YLzNOMsBV0dHNn0S3OS_1eGyAqynJnkohmvpUOk7wRqzRk1S2OUNmGHIeawKdSYn_aXaSgI/s1600/DSC03191.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a><i><br />Kaitlyn at Picketpost, finishing just before sunrise!</i> </div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-78594722860163671472015-04-14T15:21:00.002-06:002015-04-14T15:21:33.743-06:00l'aventure alpine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://salsacycles.com/stories/alpine_adventure"><img alt="http://salsacycles.com/stories/alpine_adventure" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssicGkPIlvslivb2ZMsDDk3HRZki1iwgx1OsowQgql8FpO2y9K3NBN6yR8zjDgu4hBGuGLgAHX5BY05grcmVaSr46rFmSi0mUy-ygn7-QrJD163lUKcq65l2Jsh0K8HLtNyi7CyULSbE/s1600/Screen+shot+2015-04-14+at+2.22.13+PM.png" height="350" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Our amazing friends over at Salsa Cycles put together this absolutely stunning story site about Kaitlyn and my bikepacking adventure through the Alps last summer. Together, we share stories, details about how we planned the trip, go through the gear we carried, and hopefully inspire folks to get out and try something like this if they never have before. Enjoy!Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-24456304176963861812015-03-01T10:41:00.001-07:002015-03-01T14:10:40.327-07:00Circles for 24, just once moreOn a humid summer afternoon, I nervously jumped from task to task, making sure my bike was set to go, all the parts of my lighting systems were accounted for, my night-time snacks were in order, and that my dad knew what I thought I wanted him to help with when I came in from a lap. I told him of my plan to sleep for 45 minutes or so sometime after midnight. Never before had I attempted to stay up for an entire night, so the thought of doing that, let alone riding for a full 24 hours straight, was daunting.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxOt5V5tMAjZE6uv_Y2rmO0V3mSwHlEvmtjKBMpuKiMsE6ZhZ79opCn02E8yGqY0SmE1PuJMAaJ-1D5MBPs5e4MazdqUmbrflMWtYdl-1algiBZr6DQL2EtlFLIfJLVdEzNTU3KGSbw4/s1600/kurt0011.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxOt5V5tMAjZE6uv_Y2rmO0V3mSwHlEvmtjKBMpuKiMsE6ZhZ79opCn02E8yGqY0SmE1PuJMAaJ-1D5MBPs5e4MazdqUmbrflMWtYdl-1algiBZr6DQL2EtlFLIfJLVdEzNTU3KGSbw4/s1600/kurt0011.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a> </div>
<br />
By the time I was comfortable with all that, it was after 4 pm, so I headed over to the start. My stomach was <i>full</i> of butterflies. I was nervous about my legs surviving. I was nervous about my butt surviving. I was nervous about my light batteries not having enough juice to get me through the night. I was nervous about not being able to stay awake after the witching hour. In reality, I was worried about all the things in which I should have had confidence. I never bothered to be concerned about the more important things like pacing, nutrition, and hydration.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoXiTdMncVXFZ45eK8gG7FWKEEKbD-WPpHjmew6yJpCKZUXIwZpinVowr0vfDKZBqpJzuB49BMBcbQJMzPvUne294Zr0_J9PouGNmy30Qch1Hmgw1llGkJ8DSqZNrdhPf4nYGb6fG3ZM/s1600/kurt0019.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoXiTdMncVXFZ45eK8gG7FWKEEKbD-WPpHjmew6yJpCKZUXIwZpinVowr0vfDKZBqpJzuB49BMBcbQJMzPvUne294Zr0_J9PouGNmy30Qch1Hmgw1llGkJ8DSqZNrdhPf4nYGb6fG3ZM/s1600/kurt0019.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
This was me back at 24 Hours of Afton in 2000. It was my first foray into long solo mountain bike racing. I had raced the event previously on 4-man teams. And I had done a few 50ish mile races. But a full 24 hours on my own? That was new - scary new.<br />
<br />
The race did not play out as planned for me, nor anyone else for that matter. A severe thunderstorm blew in at 2 am, knocked down dozens of trees onto the course, and forced a 5-hour pause in the race. I opted to not restart at 8 am and destroy my bike in the awful mud. Somehow I still "finished" in the top 10, though. <br />
<br />
Now fast-forward 15 years. I'm still racing mountain bikes, but <i>everything</i> has changed. Racing for 24 hours has become <i>just </i>24 hours. A smart pacing strategy for that duration is fairly well constrained for me. I know, more or less, what and how much I need to eat and drink. The desire or need to sleep is no longer a concern. But here's the rub: I haven't ever done another 24 solo lap race. I've raced 24s on skis, and I managed to win 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo duo the past two years with Aaron Gulley and then Kaitlyn. And during those two races, I watched in awe as the top solo riders rode fast and continuously for the full 24 hours, racking up something in the neighborhood of 300 miles. Oof. <br />
<br />
For better or worse, I decided that I should race a 24 solo just once more. The monotony of racing 'round and 'round the same loop is not particularly inspiring. I've grown to prefer the more solitary racing experiences of bikepacking ultras. But I felt like I should give another 24 solo a try, just once. So I made sure I was awake at midnight one night months ago to register for 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo before the solo field sold out. And Kaitlyn did the same.<br />
<br />
Unlike 15 years ago, I had a rather specific plan this time around. After racing more than a few laps around this course in the past, I knew exactly what pace to push. Caloric intake has become pretty easy to plan for (until the last few hours when food in general just becomes entirely undesirable). I had what was in my opinion, the ultimate endurance racing bike, the new Salsa Spearfish RS-1. My Fenix lights (BT20 on the helmet and a prototype BT30 on the bars) were tried and true. And once again, my dad was there (and my mom, too!) to be Kaitlyn and my pit crew. With all those "knowns" accounted for, I predicted that I could ride 19 laps if need be, but I hoped that 18 would be enough to win.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGtIjSUuSc5SfzNxvygUg6rf5Zkhp5OHs84UA6YeynwE-UO3Z0pvTPoQhAQ7KfgP6OWm-1n_svFTuMoWiryQ8x5TUwC0giQSg70Q19t6gchiUVYfQhhu6Na_9fP7e537TYxiFIbUYD9E/s1600/DSC06072.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGtIjSUuSc5SfzNxvygUg6rf5Zkhp5OHs84UA6YeynwE-UO3Z0pvTPoQhAQ7KfgP6OWm-1n_svFTuMoWiryQ8x5TUwC0giQSg70Q19t6gchiUVYfQhhu6Na_9fP7e537TYxiFIbUYD9E/s1600/DSC06072.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsLERnMU5GRKsH2oMCsAPbZ92uBYomXkgBYIqMwEL9ECBlpA_NTQfpbPF-Pcp_HBdn7QoaQjvy9BLDGiOoD6SdejQr3OBVgnN46vc8IIR6aZbo-EblGRQjgtilxtza1V7OJct7UMSlNQ/s1600/DSC06017.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsLERnMU5GRKsH2oMCsAPbZ92uBYomXkgBYIqMwEL9ECBlpA_NTQfpbPF-Pcp_HBdn7QoaQjvy9BLDGiOoD6SdejQr3OBVgnN46vc8IIR6aZbo-EblGRQjgtilxtza1V7OJct7UMSlNQ/s1600/DSC06017.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
For me, virtually <i>everything</i> went according to plan as well as I could imagine. We spent the 2 nights prior to the race in Tucson, escaping the dust and ruckus of 24 Hour Town. I didn't damage any muscles in the long running start. My first laps were fast, but not unwisely fast. I consistently took in 300+ calories per hour, with 40-50% of that as liquid and the other half as real food. I settled into 3-4th position and didn't concern myself with the guys out front who went out hard. By dark, I was riding in 1st-2nd and enjoyed quite a few laps riding off and on with Stewart Gross. Another solo racer, he was riding quite strongly. But shortly before midnight, I was alone out front, enjoying the dark and the less congested course.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouGsP2RTyDpmDlE5Uxm-DwvThaGYZWOO4nyTFiAr7sgmh3SH4eLUBZxIVuE58MqAXmW28a3-PsYUHXdld6tGIO-ZWJubtOZvkbzvDt7hvLAdu_aF1hvXdRIBiMcRfts2wEmvPZHMbDbw/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_run.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouGsP2RTyDpmDlE5Uxm-DwvThaGYZWOO4nyTFiAr7sgmh3SH4eLUBZxIVuE58MqAXmW28a3-PsYUHXdld6tGIO-ZWJubtOZvkbzvDt7hvLAdu_aF1hvXdRIBiMcRfts2wEmvPZHMbDbw/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_run.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiK-Csgr3IPzAaacGI-5kUjbK6AXx5dx_SaudIfKWiKsXApVe7Epw2RnHf20BxGgRgExrVy0m2byjbDhj0Rm6_KFKOEbRuD9mIKZPiJo3wwBzCUJKuLwaYsqiajP1nzanGU7FmIlJizOA/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_ride.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiK-Csgr3IPzAaacGI-5kUjbK6AXx5dx_SaudIfKWiKsXApVe7Epw2RnHf20BxGgRgExrVy0m2byjbDhj0Rm6_KFKOEbRuD9mIKZPiJo3wwBzCUJKuLwaYsqiajP1nzanGU7FmIlJizOA/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_ride.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
I finally stopped for a short break after 12 hours of riding. I found out that Kaitlyn's lower back was really hurting her, which was discouraging to hear. I ate ~700 calories of real food and then headed back out. My legs felt rejuvenated, and my next two laps were my fastest of the night. But before long, my muscles again hurt as the miles continued to tick by. At that point, I was past the 200-mile mark, and a sizable gap had opened up behind me. The night was unexpectedly warm, and brilliant stars shone above me, but I was lost in a tunnel of light trying to guide me along slaloms through prickly pear and cholla.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioKONFAoJwb4iNgBrPIWV-5QmwRUplrXGSiVR2F2PgaQnNgEIqs1X_480KPEPC4DoTHwrLKspqV56iJ8oTcBbVZLItF7ToYyWFwlj2JDfctu_YoOf0DVD2slvYlSF1AgaQ7weXuRpycEo/s1600/IMG_0022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioKONFAoJwb4iNgBrPIWV-5QmwRUplrXGSiVR2F2PgaQnNgEIqs1X_480KPEPC4DoTHwrLKspqV56iJ8oTcBbVZLItF7ToYyWFwlj2JDfctu_YoOf0DVD2slvYlSF1AgaQ7weXuRpycEo/s1600/IMG_0022.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a> </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6CwX5jc8Bky16GLGR1Lda7HjI5KJUznaAZlF882IHKUeJ2jIXC0sihyphenhyphenXUuIULoe1X9tdzfbeH-Y9SZCtKvKpUVuS8bgSpyGQvPaEoYL_bqA2WJWEHlORFMqbQS1yCrBjh3ZR7RRj6QU/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_Kurt_cactus2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6CwX5jc8Bky16GLGR1Lda7HjI5KJUznaAZlF882IHKUeJ2jIXC0sihyphenhyphenXUuIULoe1X9tdzfbeH-Y9SZCtKvKpUVuS8bgSpyGQvPaEoYL_bqA2WJWEHlORFMqbQS1yCrBjh3ZR7RRj6QU/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_Kurt_cactus2.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Sometime in the quietest hours of the morning, I skidded into the pit and found Kaitlyn on the ground in her sleeping bag. After 170 miles, her back had seized up and forced her to stop. In my fatigued haze, I wasn't really able to console her. I had also passed her a few laps prior without even realizing it was her. Apparently my focus on the trail was pretty narrow. We later realized that a hard hit Kaitlyn took in a deep rut on the first lap was what injured her back <i>and</i> flattened a sizable section of her rear wheel. It was the same rut that has sent badly injured riders away in helicopters at least 3 years on a row now. It is beyond me how the promoter, Epic Rides, can continue to send racers down this section of the course without making it safer. It's insulting, to be honest. <br />
<br />
Sunrise was absolutely stunning. I was riding behind a woman from Tucson, happy to have someone in front of me that was both chatty and setting a solid pace. But then abruptly, she stopped to take photos of the sunrise. Then I passed a number of other riders doing the same. I caught a junior rider as he struggled to stay on the trail while also looking over at the fire in the sky. I was elated that folks in the midst of a race were still slowing down to enjoy such a sight. Ironically, I didn't let myself slow down.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUl_OyzAO2qaiPby5fGZ-AsdGRgRlT1AvKIsYu1ywTtpDeh4I__oTFaTFUCkfxXS3DejHl9Gc2QAkpP4XVQ04LZJhUhvox6x_szxz_L7RCpuOWSuvvK3b1U1cXXA2AZpXTKN-C8wt34a8/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_sunrise_camp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUl_OyzAO2qaiPby5fGZ-AsdGRgRlT1AvKIsYu1ywTtpDeh4I__oTFaTFUCkfxXS3DejHl9Gc2QAkpP4XVQ04LZJhUhvox6x_szxz_L7RCpuOWSuvvK3b1U1cXXA2AZpXTKN-C8wt34a8/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_sunrise_camp.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
With four hours to go, it was clear that unless I suffered from some sort of minor catastrophe, the race was mine. My legs were aching, one Achilles was protesting a bit, and the opposite knee was getting sore. Not wanting to do any more damage to my body than necessary, I backed off just a touch and timed my finish to be just after noon (race rules mandated that I would have had to head out for lap 19 had I crossed the finish before noon).<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHsosGouckuEQu7b_vuCPnNgPLXQAGHtG6xy2lsWbPLbJdZe1j3amkJkXzP9T43_k0u2Hm-Qu2NrUQwKL7z4PC1X2fNiBzb4fvFU8kgYyRtoaxpIfiB5efNS3Ykac2rd4lHfpCvKrdPs/s1600/DSC06128.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHsosGouckuEQu7b_vuCPnNgPLXQAGHtG6xy2lsWbPLbJdZe1j3amkJkXzP9T43_k0u2Hm-Qu2NrUQwKL7z4PC1X2fNiBzb4fvFU8kgYyRtoaxpIfiB5efNS3Ykac2rd4lHfpCvKrdPs/s1600/DSC06128.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
And with that, I was done: 24:06, 289 miles, ~8,000 calories consumed, 2 amazing pit crew parents, 1 unbelievably fast Spearfish, and no notable problems. I couldn't be more pleased with how things went for me, but Kaitlyn's back injury was quite frustrating to see after all the focused effort she had put into her training and preparation.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhQuMpqdXrhoM40HOE335LonobFPsV5LhDM7_VXRUugOeKlEBV59C0fchd-5131SSMZHyK08itta4AwwfddN_2pK0kXodHovQDzWL_ZxE4DBl74jIfBSTKomy4cBdGFFF40jWoZb-V-I/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_podium.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhQuMpqdXrhoM40HOE335LonobFPsV5LhDM7_VXRUugOeKlEBV59C0fchd-5131SSMZHyK08itta4AwwfddN_2pK0kXodHovQDzWL_ZxE4DBl74jIfBSTKomy4cBdGFFF40jWoZb-V-I/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_podium.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2TvczAtdh0jkcqBdHFWpR7NvVlEzGBgYDCd7BlZmXO-yNSY-a764z08ma8orD0BsB5clU7wH3hZQo_N416oM3PmXeyb0LOpJh1Z2GOZ5PW8u_SApv1nP73dBPstxulBMBOF35zxlgQ4/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_kaitlyn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2TvczAtdh0jkcqBdHFWpR7NvVlEzGBgYDCd7BlZmXO-yNSY-a764z08ma8orD0BsB5clU7wH3hZQo_N416oM3PmXeyb0LOpJh1Z2GOZ5PW8u_SApv1nP73dBPstxulBMBOF35zxlgQ4/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_kaitlyn.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtw7P05P7ojSYE56aUG1sThCpSsGqex90Z8Cij9JUmcIYwyFTxvsK4ImP_Ms6fK7lXPPqRlaFrQ1z7NmFfOAwVnSMVisWJCy0f4E0JyjatCIurWtjOWQAaG7wFzPSNjwATVO1d470HZlY/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_family.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtw7P05P7ojSYE56aUG1sThCpSsGqex90Z8Cij9JUmcIYwyFTxvsK4ImP_Ms6fK7lXPPqRlaFrQ1z7NmFfOAwVnSMVisWJCy0f4E0JyjatCIurWtjOWQAaG7wFzPSNjwATVO1d470HZlY/s1600/Salsa_24HOP_family.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
With this solo success in a 24, I can check that off to the list and get back to the self-supported ultras that I love so much. But it was particularly satisfying to see how I've evolved as a rider since my first 24 so many years ago. I need to extend my gratitude to Salsa Cycles, Fenix Lighting, my parents, all the folks on the course cheering us on, Christophe Noel for the great photography, and Kaitlyn for her unwavering support. Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-71860632083840826012015-02-27T11:19:00.005-07:002015-02-27T19:23:56.425-07:00Rocks, dirt, geology, and pedaling<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDvJ8S3b-is_jVg_pnjZGZw2v6d1Cp8zc9XyOMVYSh9RCDyuMtUOtLBJj9yBitKyLuTzkVPgweeFTQXlOaYUQxBTMrN7jKWzm1fHFeNzA24xA68Q31LMPfI8Ctd1srzj0iFMWY0o8Ii3E/s1600/DSC02871.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDvJ8S3b-is_jVg_pnjZGZw2v6d1Cp8zc9XyOMVYSh9RCDyuMtUOtLBJj9yBitKyLuTzkVPgweeFTQXlOaYUQxBTMrN7jKWzm1fHFeNzA24xA68Q31LMPfI8Ctd1srzj0iFMWY0o8Ii3E/s1600/DSC02871.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
As my legs worked hard at recovering from the Tucson binge, my brain was working overtime trying to get everything set to teach a course in one of my favorite areas of the Southwest - St. George, Utah. I've had the pleasure of spending quite a bit of time in that extreme southwestern corner of Utah in the past few years. The riding opportunities are seemingly endless, with public land in <i>all</i> directions from town. The geologic diversity is remarkable. I can't think of a better place in the region to teach basic geologic field methods. So after a few days in Prescott, we all piled into a van and went to St. George for three weeks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XYj7fq2sqjFJ1VtcIVPPKLoDulziUtpFETyxrrnqFx3yyzOlWL6u2k9B9riEVKFXWLuG_GEWPWMkR9UEnNxY4kUSb-ZS9VX0njpldKEjvUelD7w7AXpyXq4U1ATk_QGnJm1tBl0Gr48/s1600/DSC02860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XYj7fq2sqjFJ1VtcIVPPKLoDulziUtpFETyxrrnqFx3yyzOlWL6u2k9B9riEVKFXWLuG_GEWPWMkR9UEnNxY4kUSb-ZS9VX0njpldKEjvUelD7w7AXpyXq4U1ATk_QGnJm1tBl0Gr48/s1600/DSC02860.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDvJ8S3b-is_jVg_pnjZGZw2v6d1Cp8zc9XyOMVYSh9RCDyuMtUOtLBJj9yBitKyLuTzkVPgweeFTQXlOaYUQxBTMrN7jKWzm1fHFeNzA24xA68Q31LMPfI8Ctd1srzj0iFMWY0o8Ii3E/s1600/DSC02871.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFpWWGkTsjS6SEd6xq6-1wc4im0vRIzpzSThR3SPSSXPftO_xiVT4ABBqVCO11WLrlqNjE04mWwhcBZivZuy2jMqvyxGlx6eWV5NGaLWzb_IZXpFOXIMvdOQ94v0qL1qSCTB9c2C_EeE/s1600/DSC02614.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFpWWGkTsjS6SEd6xq6-1wc4im0vRIzpzSThR3SPSSXPftO_xiVT4ABBqVCO11WLrlqNjE04mWwhcBZivZuy2jMqvyxGlx6eWV5NGaLWzb_IZXpFOXIMvdOQ94v0qL1qSCTB9c2C_EeE/s1600/DSC02614.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The students made amazing progress through the time we were there, hiking around, mapping, and unraveling the geology of areas all across the St. George Basin. The amount of growth possible in just a few weeks in a class like this is inspirational. It's also a bit exhausting for everyone involved!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWFWUDDtnXn2jYjiB63in-uHsB5azlxrbFf3WTwxn6vb-ibMS1OjxsSp88nUCul-yAHfwwgwXkbJ4ZvhKLDcLG8SyrWXSasBGjsQUslhzDMrBMUu8rEl6iiRJBheEM-fAFZQfREflI5GI/s1600/DSC02813.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWFWUDDtnXn2jYjiB63in-uHsB5azlxrbFf3WTwxn6vb-ibMS1OjxsSp88nUCul-yAHfwwgwXkbJ4ZvhKLDcLG8SyrWXSasBGjsQUslhzDMrBMUu8rEl6iiRJBheEM-fAFZQfREflI5GI/s1600/DSC02813.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGgh3K1xg7dRSQkb57mlQhYNOnBZnUhetxi-W3cVvRnIc90tQQos3eK5pujSWyDwhkykLAvEJuYnijvx9WDjSEB3WQn182eDAlEf_gf7rKX031hnDmS3G-xut2naIXC8-aUIB6P1fF1M/s1600/DSC02603.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGgh3K1xg7dRSQkb57mlQhYNOnBZnUhetxi-W3cVvRnIc90tQQos3eK5pujSWyDwhkykLAvEJuYnijvx9WDjSEB3WQn182eDAlEf_gf7rKX031hnDmS3G-xut2naIXC8-aUIB6P1fF1M/s1600/DSC02603.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpar4ENICCVqQGLA4E6ayGvdqPJ0I0r5e12btYqq5FrRwBKLDsK8PGUXz_c-tJDNZHcNpcqxwJo2OoDknO5xmgmrLzjfDrdAa0FGkBBzEPhVPRCsRpGzRxi3xJsmYSlgyJZRhPMe2qn_g/s1600/DSC02717.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpar4ENICCVqQGLA4E6ayGvdqPJ0I0r5e12btYqq5FrRwBKLDsK8PGUXz_c-tJDNZHcNpcqxwJo2OoDknO5xmgmrLzjfDrdAa0FGkBBzEPhVPRCsRpGzRxi3xJsmYSlgyJZRhPMe2qn_g/s1600/DSC02717.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoOvkts68DC2fX4Xinivo8_M4D3-_QOfL7Mos6SBiO4HkotJaHar4t7xkhNB5Yda_hB1blgJLgPwZU36Nsa2KfpMBkBkRkDXQw5SsQ7kcO7FeK-rsM60xpCifdJMper1M3ejmWOilE8c/s1600/DSC02847.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoOvkts68DC2fX4Xinivo8_M4D3-_QOfL7Mos6SBiO4HkotJaHar4t7xkhNB5Yda_hB1blgJLgPwZU36Nsa2KfpMBkBkRkDXQw5SsQ7kcO7FeK-rsM60xpCifdJMper1M3ejmWOilE8c/s1600/DSC02847.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
But I managed to squeeze in a fair number of rides, revisiting some of my favorite trails and exploring some new ones. The snow line was <i>very</i> high, so climbing up to 6,000+ feet was no problem. Pine Valley and the Bull Valley Mountains were two of the remaining areas I really wanted to explore, and I managed to hit both. And with the Green Valley trail system just a block from where we were staying, that was the go-to evening ride destination. But a day deep in the remote and impressively rugged and seemingly forgotten Bull Valley Mountains was topped the ride list. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_y7ZNZDp-aOWl8EklSjWI2zuKbhUDL1Ld33QxIxZp7tFGbSCLUwCZz1F_vNiUbyMqWuJIVLuKn0oFyzGKCF-7RC-I7yo68iqyuyIzXpYL_62q9Mmviz9gnD9LODS0wt_EcSGQI8uLLc/s1600/DSC02769.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_y7ZNZDp-aOWl8EklSjWI2zuKbhUDL1Ld33QxIxZp7tFGbSCLUwCZz1F_vNiUbyMqWuJIVLuKn0oFyzGKCF-7RC-I7yo68iqyuyIzXpYL_62q9Mmviz9gnD9LODS0wt_EcSGQI8uLLc/s1600/DSC02769.JPG" height="400" width="300" /> </a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQS9TwuxFiRaAurfw0fWdBvWutQAr11QrsRre0H7Mf1g8XN-oxwYgsus6C_RFAEb9NsJWrMRjazDtWvxGaSNDbpfIYqDcInCEZFhQuThR3GLhpIna8tLrCxrvaWiXyvcVfbiig-CVT8eQ/s1600/DSC02662.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQS9TwuxFiRaAurfw0fWdBvWutQAr11QrsRre0H7Mf1g8XN-oxwYgsus6C_RFAEb9NsJWrMRjazDtWvxGaSNDbpfIYqDcInCEZFhQuThR3GLhpIna8tLrCxrvaWiXyvcVfbiig-CVT8eQ/s1600/DSC02662.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaMHvIufY-lHFi5AkQE947yk3F7BQr-nh-XaGERgGov8NJ4Z1ui3vUGOR5E9i_yuDTauwYtPoV3I2wckCCfXfqjVv7KZxn6YbxtADZCgffg3JNrt_966osEL2jtKC5koDWYnIzMRyo3g/s1600/DSC02773.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaMHvIufY-lHFi5AkQE947yk3F7BQr-nh-XaGERgGov8NJ4Z1ui3vUGOR5E9i_yuDTauwYtPoV3I2wckCCfXfqjVv7KZxn6YbxtADZCgffg3JNrt_966osEL2jtKC5koDWYnIzMRyo3g/s1600/DSC02773.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT537I_q5Xd1gKavWtZKrtaG9q5wB-s8-tQhv3gDWB_cwvKw1nsIRDR5xylAOppw5k0QyaExtZA_SdUorSgvTg0tIjC-GANtUQ-AsfoQKLAv-B7xKaKpB-rdeeEf08mOyFJ9IOeemycgs/s1600/DSC02671.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT537I_q5Xd1gKavWtZKrtaG9q5wB-s8-tQhv3gDWB_cwvKw1nsIRDR5xylAOppw5k0QyaExtZA_SdUorSgvTg0tIjC-GANtUQ-AsfoQKLAv-B7xKaKpB-rdeeEf08mOyFJ9IOeemycgs/s1600/DSC02671.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
And a couple of shiny new Salsas showed up while I was there! Meet Shinarump the Spearfish and Bullplop the Warbird, my two newest and already most favorite bike friends. Together, we rode slowly, rode hard, explored new places, got lost, and enjoyed almost every minute of it all. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdC1oIS9TmFWY-tWBT-cG86QFw0Zb3JA82cxx33MgElzTVTVqvlyHw5BwH30nRf4uGDkrdKfR66hX_BDPrw2CwQscj325-j7ovObSIW41JTzkyZwH1Ng1Kq7HyrimsPHrklTtcfx9fXs/s1600/DSC02925.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdC1oIS9TmFWY-tWBT-cG86QFw0Zb3JA82cxx33MgElzTVTVqvlyHw5BwH30nRf4uGDkrdKfR66hX_BDPrw2CwQscj325-j7ovObSIW41JTzkyZwH1Ng1Kq7HyrimsPHrklTtcfx9fXs/s1600/DSC02925.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrjuXXfzk9zjCCJ6KVIvVLuY-GmTi09GRjzManvHpNWnPUtYJvT78TQp4GAmfHF3jqibxTKU2BNyLSmjX5Dl8Mb1Tw739EQFwlh2b1ag2isMuknjgqHYMK3fUyjDZgHmMk4M2lT__nGw/s1600/DSC02749.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrjuXXfzk9zjCCJ6KVIvVLuY-GmTi09GRjzManvHpNWnPUtYJvT78TQp4GAmfHF3jqibxTKU2BNyLSmjX5Dl8Mb1Tw739EQFwlh2b1ag2isMuknjgqHYMK3fUyjDZgHmMk4M2lT__nGw/s1600/DSC02749.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-84191615304976129392015-02-18T21:47:00.002-07:002015-02-18T22:07:53.623-07:00Binge training<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Since 2009, the year after I began racing mountain bike ultras, binge training (also affectionately known as "training camps") has been an important part of my preparation for long events. When I was in grad school in Boulder, I'd disappear for spring break, head for Utah, and spend a week doing back-to-back big rides in the Moab region tallying 40-45 hours. St. George. Prescott. Tucson. In subsequent years, these weeks keep coming, once or twice a year. And I love 'em.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXX8KO96X2NW7oI0XE1b_A_XAASwp77S-_aehl6RJd23FYT2u9kZg4FlIjxyJRMq9cn1d9mE3F1tFlrKLpxuTnzZn9-nK_gFAhOXumd8RzqvtrKqSvGPeWyOErWPO8foFajM7GpM5AS2Y/s1600/DSC02411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXX8KO96X2NW7oI0XE1b_A_XAASwp77S-_aehl6RJd23FYT2u9kZg4FlIjxyJRMq9cn1d9mE3F1tFlrKLpxuTnzZn9-nK_gFAhOXumd8RzqvtrKqSvGPeWyOErWPO8foFajM7GpM5AS2Y/s1600/DSC02411.JPG" height="300" width="400" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've had numerous experienced endurance athletes express skepticism about the merits of these training binges over the years. I admit that they're rather unconventional. They leave one's body fairly decimated for a full week after, and it's a bit longer before being able to complete effective high-intensity workouts. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8HQnUn173FGrJQscbl4VtouHv9Mt0Pmq5xlFe0pJAyquA5VqpKPuJ4tEvO36LADjyLba4paX-dtFKDAEoOl9q0rW9hvvRbJlGoU4j8ksjMIQ9eUV_LZJuS7_LMWXfAsDHZEFZHpP_joM/s1600/DSC02408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8HQnUn173FGrJQscbl4VtouHv9Mt0Pmq5xlFe0pJAyquA5VqpKPuJ4tEvO36LADjyLba4paX-dtFKDAEoOl9q0rW9hvvRbJlGoU4j8ksjMIQ9eUV_LZJuS7_LMWXfAsDHZEFZHpP_joM/s1600/DSC02408.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
But in my opinion, there's no doubt that the fitness gains that come from this sort of binge training, when followed up with proper recovery, are substantial. Five to six weeks down the road, long efforts feel notably easier from a physical perspective. And the mental confidence and enhanced fortitude that come from all the back-to-back long rides cannot be ignored, either. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsosQG8iGBRewdxYRsbCfHzVF2HMqDrZm_JZcyRmNw1oXeMasZR6wA2L7Ln6Us4Uaufrq_Iu1VpeRZteULSDUFH80eOd1_ondemDGy0HTQajD7NHv70QxaMAnuCt9kfqEmmRrh7pAd1yU/s1600/DSC02447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsosQG8iGBRewdxYRsbCfHzVF2HMqDrZm_JZcyRmNw1oXeMasZR6wA2L7Ln6Us4Uaufrq_Iu1VpeRZteULSDUFH80eOd1_ondemDGy0HTQajD7NHv70QxaMAnuCt9kfqEmmRrh7pAd1yU/s1600/DSC02447.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
After seven years of racing ultras, it is difficult to attribute any specific element of training to success. Successive years of 1000+ hours on the bike are undeniably advantageous. But I still swear by training binges. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWppCuW2eaAuYqA4QfXdIWofR9J_BVZEFHUYJj8sBEFCyYIiXpRWQPDSt1D4QssMTHudPFi1jyNF1atbLrrIJt8JlTQse1no04CtUWD_F0vuUE6hTVQWnum577_HErd7hcQtRxnjHSq0/s1600/DSC02456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWppCuW2eaAuYqA4QfXdIWofR9J_BVZEFHUYJj8sBEFCyYIiXpRWQPDSt1D4QssMTHudPFi1jyNF1atbLrrIJt8JlTQse1no04CtUWD_F0vuUE6hTVQWnum577_HErd7hcQtRxnjHSq0/s1600/DSC02456.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Just after New Year's, Kaitlyn and I dropped down to Tucson for a week of big rides. We had done the same a year ago, and despite a plan to head to St. George this time, we somehow found ourselves in Tucson again. And we did some amazing rides, of which there are plenty in the area, again. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WzOM32qioY_r6NtoWxxHLRIKNFiVVODUl-JAMIlMHhuR_QeoM9ci1Qzxmpc0Y74cMY-CRLy_jFAsxCYuSgiYyY4JqkISAc9uVwBbKTPvypUHgVqZqZ6jlbnPafYYw3dmNzuteNVZvYs/s1600/DSC02468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WzOM32qioY_r6NtoWxxHLRIKNFiVVODUl-JAMIlMHhuR_QeoM9ci1Qzxmpc0Y74cMY-CRLy_jFAsxCYuSgiYyY4JqkISAc9uVwBbKTPvypUHgVqZqZ6jlbnPafYYw3dmNzuteNVZvYs/s1600/DSC02468.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
Scott and Alexis all joined us for one day. An amazing new bike (the Salsa Spearfish RS-1) arrived for Kaitlyn. The weather was beautiful (aside from one day of solid rain). I rode a few places that were entirely new to me. And Eszter and Scott, who let us crash in their spare room for a few days, shared all sorts of stories from their CDT adventure tour. There was so much to be happy about. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6iBhl70UXNoay5HIWMZGvx75qvgmahL8KdVfsSPQyKyXC0wpWOymLG5EN1AH_hhHz7yilwZEYMVtOA6_uJ1UX7rd59YN07r_0EaRkSlTqMv1kqUFD1_grlFal3xinjq7cf23WFw5o6rM/s1600/DSC02482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6iBhl70UXNoay5HIWMZGvx75qvgmahL8KdVfsSPQyKyXC0wpWOymLG5EN1AH_hhHz7yilwZEYMVtOA6_uJ1UX7rd59YN07r_0EaRkSlTqMv1kqUFD1_grlFal3xinjq7cf23WFw5o6rM/s1600/DSC02482.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwbdop0n0CZs1SZIdT2plpW0mNdtXPMOAU8QU0sVrdyuO2UHGiNIuBzlzo3eppiAm2CUKOiofXkpDZgbOLnhY5qAmQSPPzyWFmlXn8lUtE6mcQwQtXNNY1N92tXOJTzGJh9OLTJMHTCs/s1600/DSC02516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwbdop0n0CZs1SZIdT2plpW0mNdtXPMOAU8QU0sVrdyuO2UHGiNIuBzlzo3eppiAm2CUKOiofXkpDZgbOLnhY5qAmQSPPzyWFmlXn8lUtE6mcQwQtXNNY1N92tXOJTzGJh9OLTJMHTCs/s1600/DSC02516.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Miles and hours flew by. Our bikes and bodies held up. Our motivation stayed strong. We ate well. And the now-so-familiar sensation of feeling just as strong on day 6 as on day 1 returned, despite the all-too-familiar fatigue that had accumulated by days 4 and 5. Day 6 is always a little magical. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-gDunFZnD5NAmBjgjftrwtsZVrVHGPY7WuTGskDbJ1q_fpwtbHtEYgJ4PxoFEX_K6MOGf6r32CDTjAuOBm3mwKeuApeTVk7KCdPZFbEeo2TtxvDlc-cwWJIOBfvM_sjRYXUTmJAdlFA/s1600/DSC02520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-gDunFZnD5NAmBjgjftrwtsZVrVHGPY7WuTGskDbJ1q_fpwtbHtEYgJ4PxoFEX_K6MOGf6r32CDTjAuOBm3mwKeuApeTVk7KCdPZFbEeo2TtxvDlc-cwWJIOBfvM_sjRYXUTmJAdlFA/s1600/DSC02520.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Before long, with our training goals met and our minds satiated, it was time to head home. I only had a few days to get ready to head to Utah with my new crew of students, and Kaitlyn was off even sooner to Idaho with her new class.<br />
<br />
Binge over. Recovery in motion. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioT4uHyr9zR2ZuGWL78Cgia3Q_s7vvp0dEwNK6TkvFzuxOca8f4Ftrk0kzdP1E6Kl-EuL3fLubXRgE69dJaLStFUMHNTFeSGKdWw0kKU3wYFb_aAHnjx7tKjVvjpxf8PvbcV4e6hP-8uI/s1600/DSC02542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioT4uHyr9zR2ZuGWL78Cgia3Q_s7vvp0dEwNK6TkvFzuxOca8f4Ftrk0kzdP1E6Kl-EuL3fLubXRgE69dJaLStFUMHNTFeSGKdWw0kKU3wYFb_aAHnjx7tKjVvjpxf8PvbcV4e6hP-8uI/s1600/DSC02542.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_404983046"></span><span id="goog_404983047"></span><br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-28389659200707985642015-02-02T21:15:00.001-07:002015-02-03T14:25:43.903-07:00PlayThis morning I was hiking up the side of a steep knoll with my class in brilliant lighting cast by the sun rising over the Virgin Mountains. We got to the top, I explained the task for the next two days, framed the geologic problem at hand, and then set the students off to find some puzzle pieces.<br />
<br />
The problem, to them, seemed a bit daunting. We were standing at the contact between a rubbly Paleozoic limestone (several hundred million years old) and the Muddy Creek Formation, a 5-11-million-year-old conglomerate -- an old rock and a young rock, so to speak. Except in this case, the old rock was overlying the younger rock. And here's where we have the puzzle.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTKlGNd0ZiRfbilkS6Liu5Qx1G8SMv8Yxbu2U96pTUtREv0SRcbHi7jFRI6yQbmJ5aHvYroal1eVom3ze20usBBsIgNpV6D6blvxueUA6yekcSzZpGJeKgetSot7kGvAkZF9YX_mAV40/s1600/DSC02882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTKlGNd0ZiRfbilkS6Liu5Qx1G8SMv8Yxbu2U96pTUtREv0SRcbHi7jFRI6yQbmJ5aHvYroal1eVom3ze20usBBsIgNpV6D6blvxueUA6yekcSzZpGJeKgetSot7kGvAkZF9YX_mAV40/s1600/DSC02882.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
In teaching these students to solve geologic puzzles, I've been urging them to keep things simple. Don't overthink the problem. Don't get too caught up in the details to see the big picture. Don't become so focused on one potential hypothesis as to lose sight of other options. And don't get frustrated when the pieces don't seem to fit. Take it in stride and reassess when you have a few more pieces to include.<br />
<br />
In essence, keep it simple and maintain an open mind. These are incredibly important traits for a successful field geologist. <br />
<br />
Over the past few months, I've been trying apply the same approach. Keep it simple. Maintain an open mind.<br />
<br />
Keep life simple. Be open. <br />
<br />
When the best things in my life become stressful, I've found that I need to focus on maximizing enjoyment and minimizing stress; for me, that means simplifying what I'm doing and being open to changing trajectories.<br />
<br />
And that's what I did over the past few months. It has been grand. It looked something like this...<br />
<br />
Explore some in places I've never before ridden. Ride alone. Reflect. Enjoy. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2gKSg2ru82R4Tg2FMknizzG2-E-XoVcaAu5QQ5V6hI1Y79ztpNJoIjA3o97npS59bLDr7_wlKyxriEWFQGAxgqOhEae8rcumTHCF8265Tpmc8YSOSfrKxeMzChIN2VdCFND4Fbo7Tjs/s1600/DSC02038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2gKSg2ru82R4Tg2FMknizzG2-E-XoVcaAu5QQ5V6hI1Y79ztpNJoIjA3o97npS59bLDr7_wlKyxriEWFQGAxgqOhEae8rcumTHCF8265Tpmc8YSOSfrKxeMzChIN2VdCFND4Fbo7Tjs/s1600/DSC02038.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Snow Flats Road. Kane County, Utah. </i></div>
<br />
Return to trails that were some of the most inspiring I've ever experienced. Enjoy the solitude once again. Gaze down into canyon country from a perch between high desert peaks. And then descend into the canyons where fallen autumn leaves crunch deliciously beneath tires.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRF9pLojd00lacUc_4RQTMwOsf9bPihEPG5aGeNvzzUbN4eiXVP4wxu6jCBxoiKyJiIj8N58NAL8okAB0wz1gz_Qlw-S680wf-Eql7kkJYFTffkZAquhgAhceiSKKipBE9oc_DguTDToA/s1600/DSC02093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRF9pLojd00lacUc_4RQTMwOsf9bPihEPG5aGeNvzzUbN4eiXVP4wxu6jCBxoiKyJiIj8N58NAL8okAB0wz1gz_Qlw-S680wf-Eql7kkJYFTffkZAquhgAhceiSKKipBE9oc_DguTDToA/s1600/DSC02093.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Indian Creek Trail, Abajo Moutains, Utah</i></div>
<br />
Ride with friends. Lots of them. Rugged terrain, chundery descents, and big grins all day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCna-FF3qnfDGi_metWyF7TDAeWFbb6BZ2XaGSJDbl_WlVy5S7dbSEf1Cjge3EwZi5XQfbhm-p98y_nHiAtq_bf3zp8QWL6IQqI__C-gLvypLzu2oXeUDeQBARTPvln8QUy_pW_OJdXCY/s1600/DSC02105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCna-FF3qnfDGi_metWyF7TDAeWFbb6BZ2XaGSJDbl_WlVy5S7dbSEf1Cjge3EwZi5XQfbhm-p98y_nHiAtq_bf3zp8QWL6IQqI__C-gLvypLzu2oXeUDeQBARTPvln8QUy_pW_OJdXCY/s1600/DSC02105.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2trJe1NiwVHglIViBsDZi6DlqsjreDRhfiq2qVudea3Xp937vr_rcltAdvQBzQQeEgfe1aUDjiBqQsz7XUH8CTp4kLYfSlbyVQhEibYICUXM4jygzgtIxxzMIG37QwXF2G-yyjtB4Wl0/s1600/DSC02115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2trJe1NiwVHglIViBsDZi6DlqsjreDRhfiq2qVudea3Xp937vr_rcltAdvQBzQQeEgfe1aUDjiBqQsz7XUH8CTp4kLYfSlbyVQhEibYICUXM4jygzgtIxxzMIG37QwXF2G-yyjtB4Wl0/s1600/DSC02115.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Deep in the Bradshaw Mountains</i></div>
<br />
Take students to places that make them glow. And share the glow. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjC0SvvFXXLsEAuq7nx309uAdfI7KUHgAb5h028oBTADoO2JVM6z4NxUNrk9Ey3CEWqeDZstuueLij-AQUh-nAqI_NHLerFqwoS8S7h7oPM9vhhdM7JRZe3BiTe6f1GNXQ2BtlCB8jgc/s1600/DSC02158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjC0SvvFXXLsEAuq7nx309uAdfI7KUHgAb5h028oBTADoO2JVM6z4NxUNrk9Ey3CEWqeDZstuueLij-AQUh-nAqI_NHLerFqwoS8S7h7oPM9vhhdM7JRZe3BiTe6f1GNXQ2BtlCB8jgc/s1600/DSC02158.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Comb Ridge and the Raplee Anticline, San Juan country, Utah</i></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX48zLaEm8qN1Lv6YDK-cd5M0R8C_ERQQJ3BHagAaUCyRKWyK11_GlWVolMgxFO9wpajyJumSy4zjpwtNKl4-61UtG7oQ_iX02g5o2dfN8yNDsttRlPhFY9tDJUFwqEGz5VsdIGISlARA/s1600/DSC02170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX48zLaEm8qN1Lv6YDK-cd5M0R8C_ERQQJ3BHagAaUCyRKWyK11_GlWVolMgxFO9wpajyJumSy4zjpwtNKl4-61UtG7oQ_iX02g5o2dfN8yNDsttRlPhFY9tDJUFwqEGz5VsdIGISlARA/s1600/DSC02170.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Make more time to share with the person that makes me so happy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_Yzz3MUI0GfoTugR2rDoj2ki6TPEtjv5LKFWJDbdfecQVuTc6893uGBFqSevYgOrZ8IpW5AthXDGQxYDHU9v999WO_2BITNEY3lvxXGV5J5hqqTAcf14VJCXgtEMnFIclz5xku-d6XM/s1600/DSC01957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_Yzz3MUI0GfoTugR2rDoj2ki6TPEtjv5LKFWJDbdfecQVuTc6893uGBFqSevYgOrZ8IpW5AthXDGQxYDHU9v999WO_2BITNEY3lvxXGV5J5hqqTAcf14VJCXgtEMnFIclz5xku-d6XM/s1600/DSC01957.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
Make our little house better. Learn how to build things in the process. New doors. Larger deck. New skills (sort of). I really enjoy creating thing things, and it's been a while since I've made time for it. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienqzGjd-oPIRz0v6Pwsn_wr3wsoRlkWMXuUgAriHf9KhbEuYKLNqvWhLSIfzqd-fBaAOIKIbcWIXOXdbwZFhxGZlDVgLqt3d-YVIjbnG3X59SjtV5U437vVtjV2nOApp_SfF3STF2_gA/s1600/DSC02187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienqzGjd-oPIRz0v6Pwsn_wr3wsoRlkWMXuUgAriHf9KhbEuYKLNqvWhLSIfzqd-fBaAOIKIbcWIXOXdbwZFhxGZlDVgLqt3d-YVIjbnG3X59SjtV5U437vVtjV2nOApp_SfF3STF2_gA/s1600/DSC02187.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_rObqUu7oT3PjPDcnrLrzLxmFWa5C1U4WU6L5mJBVV9M2Jur6RVKbaGU1Tj_7rAg3DMr0qdDSnLUueiJOJ2sJEV4goGN-qkpek3JeXf18BN5e9VfDYeRIXxY6Uvti3rdWG94pNimCv64/s1600/DSC02189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_rObqUu7oT3PjPDcnrLrzLxmFWa5C1U4WU6L5mJBVV9M2Jur6RVKbaGU1Tj_7rAg3DMr0qdDSnLUueiJOJ2sJEV4goGN-qkpek3JeXf18BN5e9VfDYeRIXxY6Uvti3rdWG94pNimCv64/s1600/DSC02189.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Explore more new places. And see familiar places from new vantages. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxftuOgD_q6pYvfHeecqS87nj-L40Q9RhUhaL_RNCd30fBUuNLvbPSL3DrAWcwLDFU2Bq_SujwpQ-Y3yPFnKDAq2CagLNvy_7rCCiMNoJvst2FuErcoMQdiRoB1Raw5CUWNIAjXf4enFA/s1600/DSC02210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxftuOgD_q6pYvfHeecqS87nj-L40Q9RhUhaL_RNCd30fBUuNLvbPSL3DrAWcwLDFU2Bq_SujwpQ-Y3yPFnKDAq2CagLNvy_7rCCiMNoJvst2FuErcoMQdiRoB1Raw5CUWNIAjXf4enFA/s1600/DSC02210.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Gazing from the summit of Humboldt Peak, Arizona</i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-WDtiCjCc-zNCBEadmycWx5e8S3WwNgwqvV_VyG8G7NN7LOhTY4YeUWtW1QQMiAQGm41nYkGjJZweM_hhMhC6k92e5DfCctCZWGPRkNxO2lcS47iXZXOQ-kdGkxSjzOf8-YBiiyqGcY/s1600/DSC02251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-WDtiCjCc-zNCBEadmycWx5e8S3WwNgwqvV_VyG8G7NN7LOhTY4YeUWtW1QQMiAQGm41nYkGjJZweM_hhMhC6k92e5DfCctCZWGPRkNxO2lcS47iXZXOQ-kdGkxSjzOf8-YBiiyqGcY/s1600/DSC02251.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Trail 4 along Cave Creek, Arizona</i></div>
<br />
Spend time relaxing with family. <br />
<br />
And flail in the snow with friends who don't flail nearly as much. I used to spend a lot of time on skis and in the snow. These skis were different. So was the snow. And the terrain. It knocked me out of my element, but that was good. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBS74y5dI-gOf_WgqOYD3NO63h06CpIgoY8Q_HLg-KKEy7SzLiiHNeVHsHhhghIV8u8Y61XVs18zuzi8dcCF2GKQjnATZrcUv9_QYivTkEXeNspkF75jRi8p17BH0uMk1FsBcj7YQg1Y/s1600/DSC02340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBS74y5dI-gOf_WgqOYD3NO63h06CpIgoY8Q_HLg-KKEy7SzLiiHNeVHsHhhghIV8u8Y61XVs18zuzi8dcCF2GKQjnATZrcUv9_QYivTkEXeNspkF75jRi8p17BH0uMk1FsBcj7YQg1Y/s1600/DSC02340.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcbIdREzmOwmVOzE4OQFnKDEN39qqDB4sIxNIUklzIk4FiD8_f2YGxC8CvF63iXRauMIW-HRbdK6xGgC131Q-5UygKPZISI4moIAR_N9DTpOrmPTlgKiIjfaAp0LmQgLYzkVnNvSLa4E/s1600/DSC02343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcbIdREzmOwmVOzE4OQFnKDEN39qqDB4sIxNIUklzIk4FiD8_f2YGxC8CvF63iXRauMIW-HRbdK6xGgC131Q-5UygKPZISI4moIAR_N9DTpOrmPTlgKiIjfaAp0LmQgLYzkVnNvSLa4E/s1600/DSC02343.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXM5FseIAIaXmUjqYu7NZ1ig7-pX8TgaAsZRr3NGSD-TaotxYa410Qpx8WwypLUD1U7OfLX3xpYYHf8ygyUZ8V6mPQa17ah_YZfMR_Qe8yoDiGZ-vtBzp6KpA-ZKtzTDN8MLgjxUw3vQ/s1600/DSC02346.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Near Red Mountain Pass, Colorado</i></div>
<br />
And experience amazing wildlife sightings: a lynx family! Surely this is a good omen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyGVWFwm8_BxJAHFbs7a7bIL3-o20-BVFrp0TT4_evTcmxbXhsmGMU_cgAXlnJfsyadFioyyuoIZB5H2kdo-iPvLUULvKBMU5dmQcnQVQH2HYgTSFGxHz4GkOZHnkRtDmIGrK12dQ96Nc/s1600/IMG_0970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyGVWFwm8_BxJAHFbs7a7bIL3-o20-BVFrp0TT4_evTcmxbXhsmGMU_cgAXlnJfsyadFioyyuoIZB5H2kdo-iPvLUULvKBMU5dmQcnQVQH2HYgTSFGxHz4GkOZHnkRtDmIGrK12dQ96Nc/s1600/IMG_0970.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
By the close of the year, I felt refreshed. Things had become simpler again. I began to see new directions to pursue. And excitement began to grow anew. It was an empowering way to close out 2014.Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-41803924008840086592014-10-20T23:55:00.001-06:002014-10-21T00:16:41.146-06:00PauseIn the past six weeks, I've been to Flagstaff 5 times, Tucson twice, Payson twice, atop the Sierra Ancha twice, Durango once, the Grand Canyon once, Gallup once, Patagonia and Nogales once. I spent the better part of 3 weeks in the field with a small group of students. I raced a 12-hour solo, a legitimate cross-country race, and did a 100 miler with the sole goal of riding the entire thing wheel-to-wheel with my teammate Jay. I've done more intervals and tempo work than I've done in any concentrated period in years. My legs are stronger than they may ever have been before. But my mind is exhausted like it rarely has been in the past couple years.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdDIfAlZOt1D05Jlp52ir4fg38mO11HU-9vrtHKkYlrj36qwbPvFvkNZpe0J3zoS0DZkA9c-gr6IKEygcFsNvG-rZTSlJz5g7ywvowfzCxLZbTY6sRxfXNqc2qWLG3zsY7kIn0dWdBRzk/s1600/DSC01812.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipeaKeORqXAj2fW9sEJUfUSIFq6AgwuUahL4c8ZLvk6Mhrai_poxK89R-O-_8pigFyGZY52ViuseBQo0Rbiwx1P8r0_nrrWf_v-hFv2ZjrD9yUq1wUBIw2vwjbqxz3S9xrGLotM0ml3nQ/s1600/DSC01826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipeaKeORqXAj2fW9sEJUfUSIFq6AgwuUahL4c8ZLvk6Mhrai_poxK89R-O-_8pigFyGZY52ViuseBQo0Rbiwx1P8r0_nrrWf_v-hFv2ZjrD9yUq1wUBIw2vwjbqxz3S9xrGLotM0ml3nQ/s1600/DSC01826.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
And as of last week, the purpose of all that training vaporized. I've
had race plans go awry due to injury, due to mid-race crashes, due to
uncooperative weather, and due to waning motivation. But this time, the race was cancelled outright. Six weeks out, the organizer ran into financial difficulties and had to pull the plug. I can't imagine how 130+ teams at $10k per entry isn't sufficient to make the race possible even if most other funds vanished. But I'll take the organizer's word that cancelling the event was the only option.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7DDObVPDgEWw_l6HpH92kmAkWAm2KtE2cpMlYlvmMMNdDHX4wE-f7m_2zBc7afPhM17BDuEKuZ5Oh_4buHfpLCfg2Nd278cwiHJPtiDsPPAHPx8pSKvo8TcQbBeMi3rRDbGtrO9xlKQk/s1600/DSC01834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7DDObVPDgEWw_l6HpH92kmAkWAm2KtE2cpMlYlvmMMNdDHX4wE-f7m_2zBc7afPhM17BDuEKuZ5Oh_4buHfpLCfg2Nd278cwiHJPtiDsPPAHPx8pSKvo8TcQbBeMi3rRDbGtrO9xlKQk/s1600/DSC01834.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcxHoxcRh-8pZj0jHX72nbTLSA0RFH8OiNzm6VVwdXOjBfASS3Q0dFE7soEL4NHIr25LcLD6fPlF5F9-7lLaEaBoQIiJnV5k_epxzAL4E1tx35UPE4H78GujDU7JxlyIbly5JYBWwsnM/s1600/DSC01846.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcxHoxcRh-8pZj0jHX72nbTLSA0RFH8OiNzm6VVwdXOjBfASS3Q0dFE7soEL4NHIr25LcLD6fPlF5F9-7lLaEaBoQIiJnV5k_epxzAL4E1tx35UPE4H78GujDU7JxlyIbly5JYBWwsnM/s1600/DSC01846.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCWMA7RibKgduB6ssE7s09vL4Ggu9_QZKGdWuLBQkcYhY9pS3D9el06bII-7L2dT6kiMAx4ExvOjSj9ezL1dGvqpDSCkpXIttmog_btolJysgneCSOwIdwVhaJUJtZcBHJdXZLAN4OvlY/s1600/DSC01858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCWMA7RibKgduB6ssE7s09vL4Ggu9_QZKGdWuLBQkcYhY9pS3D9el06bII-7L2dT6kiMAx4ExvOjSj9ezL1dGvqpDSCkpXIttmog_btolJysgneCSOwIdwVhaJUJtZcBHJdXZLAN4OvlY/s1600/DSC01858.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Now I'm left with far less to think about. I didn't ride today, and I'm going to do a bit of trail maintenance tomorrow instead of riding. And this weekend, I'm going to do a couple long rides in Utah that I've been meaning to do for several years now. I won't be thinking about racing across South Africa, and I won't be dwelling on what bike would be fastest on what looked to be a rather monotonous course of dirt roads and 2-tracks. Instead, I'll be rolling across the expansive Colorado Plateau, recalling memories from the month I spent alone traversing the Plateau two summers ago.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fA8DjZmHWTEvZNb0idU26RAVcHbmJB1S4KMaqA8J6KPXfu4YCJ3sqi3xQ8xz0RJBkobs7smMD3FJAfdn09o9Tp-2-_TT1lU_v55KHNrT5R08MkC8uQOy8d3J7OES08nzPMiIjCnuu6w/s1600/DSC01836.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fA8DjZmHWTEvZNb0idU26RAVcHbmJB1S4KMaqA8J6KPXfu4YCJ3sqi3xQ8xz0RJBkobs7smMD3FJAfdn09o9Tp-2-_TT1lU_v55KHNrT5R08MkC8uQOy8d3J7OES08nzPMiIjCnuu6w/s1600/DSC01836.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHMof3HoUEZNTiMGaHsJ0YJ0kuUCFdnkZV4lk0nEgQ0ccbTV6P1Htt6HEycUzxy9ZifmPMwYWuVneJBQ0QPRSbbVSuVEZbZJqQwgiO7a8IbE1c4EZbkZ2KBsOy60OiKhfzfh2QlZAp2hs/s1600/DSC01885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHMof3HoUEZNTiMGaHsJ0YJ0kuUCFdnkZV4lk0nEgQ0ccbTV6P1Htt6HEycUzxy9ZifmPMwYWuVneJBQ0QPRSbbVSuVEZbZJqQwgiO7a8IbE1c4EZbkZ2KBsOy60OiKhfzfh2QlZAp2hs/s1600/DSC01885.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
My urge to race comes and goes with predictable regularity. As soon as that compulsion disappears each time, I'm left wondering just what it was that made me want to race so badly, to push so doggedly, to expend such mental energy during the preceding weeks and months. It's the simplicity of riding that causes me to gravitate toward bikes. So why to I allow them to become a source of stress in my life? <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOfQX0bLGiiSABBEMskrWVIVoA6YQW6e-30CwAp0-rav2UbZMgthmPSRgqG8MjsAKYrxZ6RURC83lAu9FkEpPDsCbemcuyQFx45dJpHctWFlzdXzEI8ptxjGHMnNTc6nBGsWGQ59RGPM/s1600/DSC01899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOfQX0bLGiiSABBEMskrWVIVoA6YQW6e-30CwAp0-rav2UbZMgthmPSRgqG8MjsAKYrxZ6RURC83lAu9FkEpPDsCbemcuyQFx45dJpHctWFlzdXzEI8ptxjGHMnNTc6nBGsWGQ59RGPM/s1600/DSC01899.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJ_v8YHIn9etNB_kU9CQLEBCc7UR97lQLLUqAtNEhJfILRny6BGeDknG4f_pfhCaG34UcdScC_6Urmolu0paeHUElMp66NUw5hTEsYps1YHYqCI7rhDC0oBWcH3CpOp0EdOqzvR5fkGo/s1600/DSC01957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJ_v8YHIn9etNB_kU9CQLEBCc7UR97lQLLUqAtNEhJfILRny6BGeDknG4f_pfhCaG34UcdScC_6Urmolu0paeHUElMp66NUw5hTEsYps1YHYqCI7rhDC0oBWcH3CpOp0EdOqzvR5fkGo/s1600/DSC01957.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
Yesterday, I spent 4 hours alone on deep in the Bradshaws
cutting firewood atop a marvelous ridge. To the southeast I looked
out upon the Mazatzal Mountains, squinting in vain, trying to make out the Sierra
Ancha beyond. To the west, the ranges of central Arizona were stacked one behind the other, glimmering in the rich early evening light. I
didn't say anything the entire time. I didn't grow frustrated once. My mind didn't even really wander.
For the first time in the past couple months, it was calm and entirely
present. It was wonderful. I think I need to make a conscious effort to
find more space and time for my head to be at ease. Perhaps that will involve pedaling; perhaps it won't. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOHJV8Aja335CQ-3Vzo_W1qj3hmZGDU18E7xmEtytYLN5wT48PVcKvJtlIJthuNIqEdH_PfIo-KHtSaYXfSNeiUhJhlS54ecEng4Ck27QfsN9R14MKin5loUEiOcs2zGJfqUryUKGQpk/s1600/DSC01997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOHJV8Aja335CQ-3Vzo_W1qj3hmZGDU18E7xmEtytYLN5wT48PVcKvJtlIJthuNIqEdH_PfIo-KHtSaYXfSNeiUhJhlS54ecEng4Ck27QfsN9R14MKin5loUEiOcs2zGJfqUryUKGQpk/s1600/DSC01997.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-87870204869591799512014-10-08T23:28:00.001-06:002014-10-08T23:28:17.850-06:00Looking back on the Alps . . .<i>It has been nearly three months since I've made the time to share anything here. Travel abroad, taking students all over Arizona, training for some nutball race in South Africa, making friends with my new little truck, house projects, and racing bikes seem to have occupied all my waking hours. Just this evening, I've been putting the finishing touches on a project Kaitlyn and I have been sporadically working on for Salsa Cycles since early in the summer. I'll share more about that when it's ready to go, but I thought this excerpt provides a nice, short retrospective of our tour through the Alps. </i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXucISZVqABjMRdV1zXra_RxAzoVCWdrkgZRa4Yo45y_f2eQv5c2ZWQ-_Wljt-6X3pRhPut7rBKV6qygHQnRAumUxLhBjCB8uK1v6wqFUnE9xv5FPGD-1g-gDVNwTvq7rwTl2bhz8V9wQ/s1600/DSC01332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXucISZVqABjMRdV1zXra_RxAzoVCWdrkgZRa4Yo45y_f2eQv5c2ZWQ-_Wljt-6X3pRhPut7rBKV6qygHQnRAumUxLhBjCB8uK1v6wqFUnE9xv5FPGD-1g-gDVNwTvq7rwTl2bhz8V9wQ/s1600/DSC01332.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>I’ve had
few experiences that instill a sense of freedom as strong as walking out of an
airport or train station, assembling my bike, strapping on bags, and then
pedaling away on an adventure. At that point, the start of any bikepacking
trip, I am longer at the mercy of imposed itineraries, restricted to staring
out windows to watch the world pass by, or expected to be checking items off my
to-do list. Free. Free to ride. Free to explore. Free to follow whatever trail
entices me most. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOYKk0igRK0fHSo8ZJNhvhhTZcaJAy0BTvVExcV52czDAZagY3iQxcY1adQhD8_nKV56HMbjl3BwoO5gnYF1UD7HOrbzS2AZvQEB7qMEM3pf7H53Hrzrgo_wFO8dcs-3_xumQKDOrMLY/s1600/DSC01356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOYKk0igRK0fHSo8ZJNhvhhTZcaJAy0BTvVExcV52czDAZagY3iQxcY1adQhD8_nKV56HMbjl3BwoO5gnYF1UD7HOrbzS2AZvQEB7qMEM3pf7H53Hrzrgo_wFO8dcs-3_xumQKDOrMLY/s1600/DSC01356.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0bDlTy1wJrQdyC186DdRISSqx6_VFrFntwRwRZ71b31nc4E3s851V4Gj0GyEK4hIMcBy-MbSFiBdmrUb3ka-8_VJnxFedONsLkHkKhHUtY5cOotjfmVZ8rMAOI9VSLSRr8OIMnveafMQ/s1600/DSC01369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0bDlTy1wJrQdyC186DdRISSqx6_VFrFntwRwRZ71b31nc4E3s851V4Gj0GyEK4hIMcBy-MbSFiBdmrUb3ka-8_VJnxFedONsLkHkKhHUtY5cOotjfmVZ8rMAOI9VSLSRr8OIMnveafMQ/s1600/DSC01369.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTs9tt7W4EAOrFcym3NDi8rt56Ib4UkWzagPtS9p__uQiLcPxObjtbOdgTQcPZ1BNWiRR37Hon766evdQmVRpZHY9CWjWTjKyhTSj5sYWTM_y0GhQYU-_IO3DQAsGhLaKIxYCGLFwU3as/s1600/DSC01392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTs9tt7W4EAOrFcym3NDi8rt56Ib4UkWzagPtS9p__uQiLcPxObjtbOdgTQcPZ1BNWiRR37Hon766evdQmVRpZHY9CWjWTjKyhTSj5sYWTM_y0GhQYU-_IO3DQAsGhLaKIxYCGLFwU3as/s1600/DSC01392.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This past
July, Kaitlyn and I excitedly strode out of the main train station in Nice,
lugging our bike boxes and little else. Less than an hour later, we were
coasting down narrow cobblestone streets, grinning and wide-eyed, aimed
straight for one of the famed beaches along the Mediterranean. After months of eagerly
anticipating bikepacking in the Alps, we were on our way. After a quick swim in
the warm, turquoise water, we climbed and climbed and climbed out of Nice and
into the dry mountains above. It wasn’t long before we left the outlying
villages behind and found ourselves descending toward the ruins of a castle. We
spent the last few hours of our first day climbing the first of many, many high
passes we would cross before making camp and ending the day completely exhausted.
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn_VnZT5LrC1qTFIe7QHBEKV2L_68CgRvyzIFOxaAoo8J3MqY079NEqwOfI0zbo9KgEWpR6lFHAab3wvXVay2SFVeY5U4YoppASBbi4zzx5nrf2TbMGFvVf1uLEEQVBb2-dhN1oWIcOYk/s1600/DSC01399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn_VnZT5LrC1qTFIe7QHBEKV2L_68CgRvyzIFOxaAoo8J3MqY079NEqwOfI0zbo9KgEWpR6lFHAab3wvXVay2SFVeY5U4YoppASBbi4zzx5nrf2TbMGFvVf1uLEEQVBb2-dhN1oWIcOYk/s1600/DSC01399.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGMn01SCOD1uvqkqDhHa-o023XxKY7W0Zl_s0TqOIXaVkyjOF0f3NTO4nBPhVqiQbzLMb0E6cSgGpucW3tHr3cF9-_rAfuhN1mvyNT2OfKIloNDyRygnLICd_PSy1AJhwrQA0VeKwoVA/s1600/DSC01748.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGMn01SCOD1uvqkqDhHa-o023XxKY7W0Zl_s0TqOIXaVkyjOF0f3NTO4nBPhVqiQbzLMb0E6cSgGpucW3tHr3cF9-_rAfuhN1mvyNT2OfKIloNDyRygnLICd_PSy1AJhwrQA0VeKwoVA/s1600/DSC01748.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXi9FwV-9A3HsVICNQYx_iAvgbkKmRDkl75nyDzO9Bw2nHd0CMQg-8CIWYBaVG_YW1TP4KfdQTYQAE3Fc_Q6YYxkCTcd0_JnMC-hEBN5h6-sHFaU-mkzD6lO54ht9RAtjY4F_VYxsAPU/s1600/DSC01414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXi9FwV-9A3HsVICNQYx_iAvgbkKmRDkl75nyDzO9Bw2nHd0CMQg-8CIWYBaVG_YW1TP4KfdQTYQAE3Fc_Q6YYxkCTcd0_JnMC-hEBN5h6-sHFaU-mkzD6lO54ht9RAtjY4F_VYxsAPU/s1600/DSC01414.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2GRyyzWndGPTjF2pAx2cW2gTqG_Y_ZzHKuTQmCC0MPUVezmRHZqHFTNCOMOxIWv-33Jo4-pvt_RDniP1IMWheZ5qVqn6-ZjBoCHc9N6G9KTaQ8tg83mHmgF3UCuolROKexdpiLzLc9Q/s1600/DSC01454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2GRyyzWndGPTjF2pAx2cW2gTqG_Y_ZzHKuTQmCC0MPUVezmRHZqHFTNCOMOxIWv-33Jo4-pvt_RDniP1IMWheZ5qVqn6-ZjBoCHc9N6G9KTaQ8tg83mHmgF3UCuolROKexdpiLzLc9Q/s1600/DSC01454.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>Our first
days traversing the Maritime Alps were humbling. The mountains were massive,
the valleys narrow and deep, and the trails snuck through impossibly vertical
terrain. And we knew that as we headed north, the Alps only got bigger. Our
progress was slow, but we had four weeks to make it to Zurich, and we were
adamant about maintaining a relaxed pace. So we basked in sun-drenched meadows
with more wildflowers than I could recall ever seeing on one place. We puzzled
over bizarre cave-riddled landscapes of corroded limestone. And we looked out
from passes over towering mountains that extended to the horizon in all
directions. Ancient villages, narrow mountain roads, herds of cattle with
ringing bells, and scenery that never ceased to amaze captivated us as we rode
and pushed our bikes.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_5MCvNscB3iiAr74H_0caejv578Q3RP1baz46kFLSb2C6I-ztMQmfQIPOzO71478LLqEz1SwMNN2zsE9oPsYmnc5Eo4sEyR9j5ryaelDsKiygaupHP4U2V_xx1WFOsr4f4US3Yf8voXk/s1600/DSC01461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_5MCvNscB3iiAr74H_0caejv578Q3RP1baz46kFLSb2C6I-ztMQmfQIPOzO71478LLqEz1SwMNN2zsE9oPsYmnc5Eo4sEyR9j5ryaelDsKiygaupHP4U2V_xx1WFOsr4f4US3Yf8voXk/s1600/DSC01461.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTABkaIQktB6fWDp7H82f1hlgf9C4axKsguiM-K-flQw31TJ16zdTEuGKakSJ64i9e07JgsY6LougpT2_gJrpVevjqVznZpQ07hxp7srIZAP6Fx0Nj9tFnCj-Ek45ZdK9UHCae3KyIhE/s1600/DSC01512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTABkaIQktB6fWDp7H82f1hlgf9C4axKsguiM-K-flQw31TJ16zdTEuGKakSJ64i9e07JgsY6LougpT2_gJrpVevjqVznZpQ07hxp7srIZAP6Fx0Nj9tFnCj-Ek45ZdK9UHCae3KyIhE/s1600/DSC01512.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYgiTDJCZcM3PNa3x2QrU1lJbYUNs4127knS0muzdj-etl9W0wrO2OxtyurK968-Swd7RMfE40qEjwcdIdGAeSrpl-YmoSLKotNEYTPOCOQqk20dkZR_R-3NhFpA6X6ceNhyAiCC6dMU/s1600/DSC01517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYgiTDJCZcM3PNa3x2QrU1lJbYUNs4127knS0muzdj-etl9W0wrO2OxtyurK968-Swd7RMfE40qEjwcdIdGAeSrpl-YmoSLKotNEYTPOCOQqk20dkZR_R-3NhFpA6X6ceNhyAiCC6dMU/s1600/DSC01517.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>On most
days, we would sit down to enjoy a cappuccino somewhere along the way, in a town,
on the porch of a roadside café, or at a refugio high in the mountains. Reluctantly,
we would continue on our way, which usually meant resuming climbing toward one
pass or another. As we got higher, pavement would turn to dirt, dirt to nice
trail, nice trail to faint trail, and faint trail to hike-a-bike to the top. If
we were lucky, we’d be able to ride down the other side. But often, we kept on
hiking until the descent became rideable. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqff7Amj5LsDdazbrEK6vcb72sBSokeWazj5OZcQAGtROriCsQwYcKTioCVy2wNcJ29lruP0hcRPOAmxAIkI8qrqsk-_ynyjYsRo6GRFw5F2FKdjO8QmFhYaT25irE8icwmyVAHmnKdG4/s1600/IMG_0525.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqff7Amj5LsDdazbrEK6vcb72sBSokeWazj5OZcQAGtROriCsQwYcKTioCVy2wNcJ29lruP0hcRPOAmxAIkI8qrqsk-_ynyjYsRo6GRFw5F2FKdjO8QmFhYaT25irE8icwmyVAHmnKdG4/s1600/IMG_0525.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVx1hwaLcBok3tV6eFx_uVjJL7a0Xz3_cFOE9n-jyPfe8hUj677wzyNf9jPCklCazj0G5fb8-ig-aZ0jxttHzzXXMGDBTJQs_FmWJnd3vKdL-9ybdsSrFXLsXuffyTwlSmAnGTrVzQBYw/s1600/DSC01572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVx1hwaLcBok3tV6eFx_uVjJL7a0Xz3_cFOE9n-jyPfe8hUj677wzyNf9jPCklCazj0G5fb8-ig-aZ0jxttHzzXXMGDBTJQs_FmWJnd3vKdL-9ybdsSrFXLsXuffyTwlSmAnGTrVzQBYw/s1600/DSC01572.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU97WrImW59Zq_0suXWpbZJXmuiOnWW6oSq-z8PIT-Wvm_lczVjp2gDOYqfwDjFQxRq0DR7UpT6NHo0M-JSIMhw-xshAvTC081V2p6_TmxjWbJIYgAwQGi1UuXspdSJxihA8_uXjYlSig/s1600/DSC01589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU97WrImW59Zq_0suXWpbZJXmuiOnWW6oSq-z8PIT-Wvm_lczVjp2gDOYqfwDjFQxRq0DR7UpT6NHo0M-JSIMhw-xshAvTC081V2p6_TmxjWbJIYgAwQGi1UuXspdSJxihA8_uXjYlSig/s1600/DSC01589.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the
third week, we realized that our way of traveling through the Alps was somewhat
unconventional. People we met along the way often asked where we came from, and
we’d struggle with place names, eventually get the pronunciation right, and
received only a disbelieving expression in response. A group of bikepackers
riding hut-to-hut inquired if sleeping in tent in the rain was uncomfortable. We
passed up gondolas in favor of pedaling our way up. Occasionally, we were
warned about upcoming sections of our route as being unrideable or impassible
with bikes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJ_Y-i8clIoXILcn7vis1duWhRqpakoVWl3GUt6miCfhKFNwfpk9Xa9yy6EVc6bZi53elENgzYEpOnDunRvvJyy9UC8rls7SsTyLmrfOSwB_HBXMQoUp6rfjNW0D8qymnymsfJBjqvWU/s1600/IMG_0590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJ_Y-i8clIoXILcn7vis1duWhRqpakoVWl3GUt6miCfhKFNwfpk9Xa9yy6EVc6bZi53elENgzYEpOnDunRvvJyy9UC8rls7SsTyLmrfOSwB_HBXMQoUp6rfjNW0D8qymnymsfJBjqvWU/s1600/IMG_0590.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNySsVKhH5U2fhhyphenhyphenrfqE7frvXudG0wgtK2ua_MBqi2Rv3QWKT6OOJsT_Pm5l9JC9MyLW5nZYpGqYzNYQk6t-7MyZF4tnzhE1iSLlfZ2O8NyOWCytN05GOpfkjjYvktqZCLuXAg2UL283Y/s1600/IMG_0627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNySsVKhH5U2fhhyphenhyphenrfqE7frvXudG0wgtK2ua_MBqi2Rv3QWKT6OOJsT_Pm5l9JC9MyLW5nZYpGqYzNYQk6t-7MyZF4tnzhE1iSLlfZ2O8NyOWCytN05GOpfkjjYvktqZCLuXAg2UL283Y/s1600/IMG_0627.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-font-charset:78;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1791491579 18 0 131231 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-size:10.0pt;
mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.0in 58.3pt 1.0in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJXEWBALnfeAVsoez0r0bTFM_k40tVhY565jWhN207myqH4xQs3VQf_g5E1_IPBdzITgnaZSSVk3YtUjhxmJpMCZwN6NIk4OmHT6ThEg8Eeu4_Vu0R52eRFYoFflNpBYcOcghMGkcd8Y/s1600/DSC01723.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJXEWBALnfeAVsoez0r0bTFM_k40tVhY565jWhN207myqH4xQs3VQf_g5E1_IPBdzITgnaZSSVk3YtUjhxmJpMCZwN6NIk4OmHT6ThEg8Eeu4_Vu0R52eRFYoFflNpBYcOcghMGkcd8Y/s1600/DSC01723.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />We never
knew quite what to expect on any given day, and that was absolutely magical. So
much was foreign to us, everything from the terrain to the wildlife to the
cultures. Bikepacking was an exceptional way to experience and immerse
ourselves in this new part of the world, traveling slow enough to take it all
in and rapidly enough to traverse half the Alps in a month. Perhaps we’ll have
to head back to pedal through the other half . . . <div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpfYGLg8zeSl474033OfZWVrqUiJ1UC2v33qBgnXBJ33C6kGhlI6i6qn3pSLVhaev3sb5saQc4DHL5oTeLLPV2ySywcuFtJaOHReAMzNEqZ7ZZMJy7zU7FSVc8cWjetQdwJinNSFIf8U/s1600/DSC01760.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpfYGLg8zeSl474033OfZWVrqUiJ1UC2v33qBgnXBJ33C6kGhlI6i6qn3pSLVhaev3sb5saQc4DHL5oTeLLPV2ySywcuFtJaOHReAMzNEqZ7ZZMJy7zU7FSVc8cWjetQdwJinNSFIf8U/s1600/DSC01760.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-86623894311926064222014-07-21T08:07:00.000-06:002014-07-21T08:07:12.293-06:00Into the Alps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Two weeks in...two weeks to go on our traverse of the southern and central Alps. These mountains are amazing, massive, beautiful, unrelenting, and exhausting. Here's just a glimpse of what we've seen . . .</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-n_2dOuIpZl_D4kJ9C3Wz9gUluFxLkDB7jLvGiRb7UXDpVjtgonBT-ZqEyxQXhTsqNva-C70ztAUH4vzwoHsW8aKWBQs0erh1WW__ixSh7RrCy0_vb9ufzWH8k-_qLjUl05zJgv85ew/s1600/DSC01098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-n_2dOuIpZl_D4kJ9C3Wz9gUluFxLkDB7jLvGiRb7UXDpVjtgonBT-ZqEyxQXhTsqNva-C70ztAUH4vzwoHsW8aKWBQs0erh1WW__ixSh7RrCy0_vb9ufzWH8k-_qLjUl05zJgv85ew/s1600/DSC01098.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJcA5IKInFxRoZ5OR4efjE5Jf6LvE8VMyztKNzdCZIXG7xfMtBieKzFoZYunnexHeBYrre34ZMPjMEnxa-nxgTQvLMv3lZ-i_8hk6dKoZToy0c2RT4lC6Qo7snxZoPYoIeOGjEiXrA6_k/s1600/DSC01084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJcA5IKInFxRoZ5OR4efjE5Jf6LvE8VMyztKNzdCZIXG7xfMtBieKzFoZYunnexHeBYrre34ZMPjMEnxa-nxgTQvLMv3lZ-i_8hk6dKoZToy0c2RT4lC6Qo7snxZoPYoIeOGjEiXrA6_k/s1600/DSC01084.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvilxGs3C4gKO8YH0jslX8GZiEU8IGWCNUG88HQ8bhhzr3nqL4KMhiSqJtonom5uMxxnfNmwfkhFZ0zAmFQsW5DrCFaueR-pCBKey6cRGR9LNf-gdgQLYrIWwWUVZ7mqHRs591SgHmY5o/s1600/DSC01190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvilxGs3C4gKO8YH0jslX8GZiEU8IGWCNUG88HQ8bhhzr3nqL4KMhiSqJtonom5uMxxnfNmwfkhFZ0zAmFQsW5DrCFaueR-pCBKey6cRGR9LNf-gdgQLYrIWwWUVZ7mqHRs591SgHmY5o/s1600/DSC01190.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-00WAU0FqVoek6FEzLzF8ZNR682VZA4A3XVI7fuMbCiuz3513Cbw6p0n1MHliOHImmmfLN3cK9ojEZSNdvGE9dv9YbotcqAVxHocycSqIXOpCya1X8B9S05Q1jjf_-sQPaUegavmenBE/s1600/DSC01107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-00WAU0FqVoek6FEzLzF8ZNR682VZA4A3XVI7fuMbCiuz3513Cbw6p0n1MHliOHImmmfLN3cK9ojEZSNdvGE9dv9YbotcqAVxHocycSqIXOpCya1X8B9S05Q1jjf_-sQPaUegavmenBE/s1600/DSC01107.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1JxfWFEpXIaD7EmaB28X-zhfFdHoSUGHj6TxR9HAxnXSNPJzwz9EVC7dnLWQX2x5m_ZY4dyA6_LkMwA6hAoYKLBaSl5m_RrZZZEQKDZ__zHM0FMdHu-r5A_nQvIJ1axhJI8p8kl56r4w/s1600/DSC01117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1JxfWFEpXIaD7EmaB28X-zhfFdHoSUGHj6TxR9HAxnXSNPJzwz9EVC7dnLWQX2x5m_ZY4dyA6_LkMwA6hAoYKLBaSl5m_RrZZZEQKDZ__zHM0FMdHu-r5A_nQvIJ1axhJI8p8kl56r4w/s1600/DSC01117.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPGqeqpYVmcB9TLHXYVj8kqAu8zIVmvSdJmimwjMmLm2oMcKk4z8FCl250m_kUzL1mndQbghzdIrlBEzL2RYPG663Na-nVMI4YQUpj3zCBoE_-zwiOFoET5pPqGnYe7YkP3mn-Dd43n8/s1600/DSC01239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPGqeqpYVmcB9TLHXYVj8kqAu8zIVmvSdJmimwjMmLm2oMcKk4z8FCl250m_kUzL1mndQbghzdIrlBEzL2RYPG663Na-nVMI4YQUpj3zCBoE_-zwiOFoET5pPqGnYe7YkP3mn-Dd43n8/s1600/DSC01239.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtqGb6q8_xKWYLz8UTzGHPtJgp8XNh7esC-Mb2sXQI6TOTaK2qSSwGomIR3dP4mu1IlS0X1f3WmNBbtH7lcq8ejFrhSDp1U7GvNmJJQdXtAZL0MsHzsVvid8r2HwLqHF83mQhz-rHW9Zk/s1600/IMG_0443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtqGb6q8_xKWYLz8UTzGHPtJgp8XNh7esC-Mb2sXQI6TOTaK2qSSwGomIR3dP4mu1IlS0X1f3WmNBbtH7lcq8ejFrhSDp1U7GvNmJJQdXtAZL0MsHzsVvid8r2HwLqHF83mQhz-rHW9Zk/s1600/IMG_0443.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExB2c7m8NBtBvjTJ7n5ByFoMEeRWM0ReFFp5c1f4mdgpep83RxI7pJ5jKYsdFgzCP_pwq_Voo7-narG2vjAbsqqtV0KYs5ou0BHDshl4TI_-q5nFLl1bYy0XccqYlyddRqpLKqj9WNA0/s1600/IMG_0388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExB2c7m8NBtBvjTJ7n5ByFoMEeRWM0ReFFp5c1f4mdgpep83RxI7pJ5jKYsdFgzCP_pwq_Voo7-narG2vjAbsqqtV0KYs5ou0BHDshl4TI_-q5nFLl1bYy0XccqYlyddRqpLKqj9WNA0/s1600/IMG_0388.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelR61J5V7AISWUohw3e7Bds9UyYfSLhkXBJ2h6CFZc1wtzJ_WUrS7FYSGnXv2NF52fSF6TX67vP9NlO4yHBSyDoCaqhSYO-RiEk25XRvr5A3lRPo4suCdFF-qi10Y3dGtUJnSkTahkIY/s1600/DSC01126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelR61J5V7AISWUohw3e7Bds9UyYfSLhkXBJ2h6CFZc1wtzJ_WUrS7FYSGnXv2NF52fSF6TX67vP9NlO4yHBSyDoCaqhSYO-RiEk25XRvr5A3lRPo4suCdFF-qi10Y3dGtUJnSkTahkIY/s1600/DSC01126.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPjBgLbKxjDLVdiG3-ocR7oENPztFVOnIjjhWofjBgDDgAdt2y-MW3GUgFWiHULpCni_ga7BicGKgaQu0VRom85O7PwIFOimBnbUWYAexGgJmvXKBtkhLR4YDaPGYpU974phHExn-nG8/s1600/DSC01139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPjBgLbKxjDLVdiG3-ocR7oENPztFVOnIjjhWofjBgDDgAdt2y-MW3GUgFWiHULpCni_ga7BicGKgaQu0VRom85O7PwIFOimBnbUWYAexGgJmvXKBtkhLR4YDaPGYpU974phHExn-nG8/s1600/DSC01139.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmvbeHxFBn5tSYv2OUSg_jEurtUoK-WdbSId8xsN_qGeK5ngra9LRrOf5jsp-TACAU8S92Q1baMwcjiaJiLnH_pWY91gWhu9Qdh93fxb4xUmmie3Juv2m2M8iHgVW1oW98patdqxa0jU/s1600/DSC01154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmvbeHxFBn5tSYv2OUSg_jEurtUoK-WdbSId8xsN_qGeK5ngra9LRrOf5jsp-TACAU8S92Q1baMwcjiaJiLnH_pWY91gWhu9Qdh93fxb4xUmmie3Juv2m2M8iHgVW1oW98patdqxa0jU/s1600/DSC01154.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQINEaT0RL39YqPwujxNhCFHGz0IcCh3qCDb96Yu_8Enl1PaXmrztXFFPYHl7yYFpVaasvcP-dcvDXEyHoXqHqBaH7c6MVczDvToaTbM7NQliZC_wvhEaRQ4t16BCpcDNI9QGKKSw2T4/s1600/DSC01172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQINEaT0RL39YqPwujxNhCFHGz0IcCh3qCDb96Yu_8Enl1PaXmrztXFFPYHl7yYFpVaasvcP-dcvDXEyHoXqHqBaH7c6MVczDvToaTbM7NQliZC_wvhEaRQ4t16BCpcDNI9QGKKSw2T4/s1600/DSC01172.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrj3ECGp5SbxXEYJ2mZjBUvKst8bDCVFvg93cA1mBodcvUP3saIeHSuO6Ax5R4sdzLFmTM59pj8LlHxKsMqdYnvIrOs44tA5-OwNOOlkGqe3Xdm2pFKq4OoLGAJYFpx3sUwKUtCX7VWK4/s1600/DSC01247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrj3ECGp5SbxXEYJ2mZjBUvKst8bDCVFvg93cA1mBodcvUP3saIeHSuO6Ax5R4sdzLFmTM59pj8LlHxKsMqdYnvIrOs44tA5-OwNOOlkGqe3Xdm2pFKq4OoLGAJYFpx3sUwKUtCX7VWK4/s1600/DSC01247.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibn6O80pat4JGN2HxSUbGN_rvu9r9Z3iEZDjTUjc3CUmIqMK7f0uABx20DpKIXS1CSYCObMOEICpuFRqM7rnLDeMd6IUyC4FCk_UyjGBKqpXh1WVMEDQaUy0NHzSEWWoeeLzJcq3rHlCI/s1600/DSC01237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibn6O80pat4JGN2HxSUbGN_rvu9r9Z3iEZDjTUjc3CUmIqMK7f0uABx20DpKIXS1CSYCObMOEICpuFRqM7rnLDeMd6IUyC4FCk_UyjGBKqpXh1WVMEDQaUy0NHzSEWWoeeLzJcq3rHlCI/s1600/DSC01237.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3slm_q5E-EJfV2rfVoczhNLNOh10obAAoEDUhEl-xOOTHWCKcuu0E7Y7EKqdDUNYPJNMFyZffQ7G3AOrX_l-omdz_Pkfzu3DVXQxJ1fu79F4JsCF5psu0Smyi28bDtmHZy1pD1iGXrI/s1600/DSC01184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3slm_q5E-EJfV2rfVoczhNLNOh10obAAoEDUhEl-xOOTHWCKcuu0E7Y7EKqdDUNYPJNMFyZffQ7G3AOrX_l-omdz_Pkfzu3DVXQxJ1fu79F4JsCF5psu0Smyi28bDtmHZy1pD1iGXrI/s1600/DSC01184.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDzA05vWoOXtqO7xg0NLPcvIGbF4AcZ2JVJDwbqlN6bk9l2bS9XYICWI0Ap1Ic_YR8o-3a3nYmnCdG_mpyh15rsz65-xjMXKjc8ohDxhCce3PfB6pnNrrekEMapz4XB4iW3z7YYiqvPc/s1600/DSC01212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDzA05vWoOXtqO7xg0NLPcvIGbF4AcZ2JVJDwbqlN6bk9l2bS9XYICWI0Ap1Ic_YR8o-3a3nYmnCdG_mpyh15rsz65-xjMXKjc8ohDxhCce3PfB6pnNrrekEMapz4XB4iW3z7YYiqvPc/s1600/DSC01212.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMS_PphJYCEp4emMiYGkqSyXbjzJ0MEr2Dwrvyk1WymLft8dlw6CW_QrKZP6v5T5_6e49D9UOExzP-HBCNfmK-nObM8leTI6aolWSJ-d7lksOrz7WoyhUZkK-0vwQCqktbK57eKOVOQo/s1600/DSC01214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMS_PphJYCEp4emMiYGkqSyXbjzJ0MEr2Dwrvyk1WymLft8dlw6CW_QrKZP6v5T5_6e49D9UOExzP-HBCNfmK-nObM8leTI6aolWSJ-d7lksOrz7WoyhUZkK-0vwQCqktbK57eKOVOQo/s1600/DSC01214.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3HFRMMTNR-YxdVOVseOuR_YAkNJMZB69CoPlF0JSfB9BmojDCbPWCmQK9MccabmZFAt4ePZrpGqDCy4SiX5W_yL4xQkesBAYll_CsEb-C0U7CczVMr7xa3KmkYa6GejBJZcdYl5cF9U/s1600/DSC01304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3HFRMMTNR-YxdVOVseOuR_YAkNJMZB69CoPlF0JSfB9BmojDCbPWCmQK9MccabmZFAt4ePZrpGqDCy4SiX5W_yL4xQkesBAYll_CsEb-C0U7CczVMr7xa3KmkYa6GejBJZcdYl5cF9U/s1600/DSC01304.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGNEBaiFX77UiHRdqU3gNWGRLzsHmEALIu8RK1B3_rCLKZPh9z-6Xk0yi9TTmXNSYz6qEUQyaHX95_EcxceOX_0G_lrfNORvRboWJ0Zba8H5f5wzEAf_rGC-6bgi7GiRqwaR-nhyphenhyphenyVxA/s1600/DSC01273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGNEBaiFX77UiHRdqU3gNWGRLzsHmEALIu8RK1B3_rCLKZPh9z-6Xk0yi9TTmXNSYz6qEUQyaHX95_EcxceOX_0G_lrfNORvRboWJ0Zba8H5f5wzEAf_rGC-6bgi7GiRqwaR-nhyphenhyphenyVxA/s1600/DSC01273.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHsYD6O08OfLFnPWnyR9w_f6EtnKruHXOcTZ8JiN9umTRObRzAhwadrS2yt8k-069gvdJEIsHfpghpFEqZmUm3C62K5mjV-tBF_nF7VXtuh5EHURlrtg0kFQtZMXrOFM5uXU-owMCdpE/s1600/DSC01271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHsYD6O08OfLFnPWnyR9w_f6EtnKruHXOcTZ8JiN9umTRObRzAhwadrS2yt8k-069gvdJEIsHfpghpFEqZmUm3C62K5mjV-tBF_nF7VXtuh5EHURlrtg0kFQtZMXrOFM5uXU-owMCdpE/s1600/DSC01271.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4yd3VLijMjxQ9h1_gG5Gv9EPCh62O2opHstNc0iZxmnHX4bA7TP8o9naHXPgoWgg9zklpMWYt-sdduogMYlpSxIuCHtQzbczPGZlwcjDQditX_BQQTdhfgmo3EE3nFq5FgaIXI-SLKCw/s1600/IMG_0475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4yd3VLijMjxQ9h1_gG5Gv9EPCh62O2opHstNc0iZxmnHX4bA7TP8o9naHXPgoWgg9zklpMWYt-sdduogMYlpSxIuCHtQzbczPGZlwcjDQditX_BQQTdhfgmo3EE3nFq5FgaIXI-SLKCw/s1600/IMG_0475.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXFvk0p8Wva958LodUO0RHSm2u5vNM_U6C_dc2MICwu-XSPRPWQSmHwZynF-QrquGkUfIkaW7ZINeLFuHKDJ1OzixLQki8OBZwpeGSOaKjLMIGavhZvQwTQDw-dmDL4cBBGvhfjV5p94/s1600/IMG_0481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXFvk0p8Wva958LodUO0RHSm2u5vNM_U6C_dc2MICwu-XSPRPWQSmHwZynF-QrquGkUfIkaW7ZINeLFuHKDJ1OzixLQki8OBZwpeGSOaKjLMIGavhZvQwTQDw-dmDL4cBBGvhfjV5p94/s1600/IMG_0481.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-85059898578823142662014-07-01T15:45:00.001-06:002014-07-03T14:28:03.972-06:00Arizona summerThe arrival of the hot, pre-monsoon days of summer in Arizona ushered in a few weeks of close-to-home adventure, logistical planning, bike wrenching, gear making, and ample relaxation. It's been good, but as I sit in the Denver airport awaiting an Icelandair plane to arrive, the third part of summer is poised to begin.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWIwOA3OzQgbE2n4NU0liQF3aTGStU_eeTkv_Tzojt26EsaubUT0FeypoW2eeVrkSbMvkQuYzrWv-J26dgK1GEfiC1hP7U0ncsV876QZ8FiYV0BGZulmCerOwBU42I43TRZisvF6acXs/s1600/DSC01011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWIwOA3OzQgbE2n4NU0liQF3aTGStU_eeTkv_Tzojt26EsaubUT0FeypoW2eeVrkSbMvkQuYzrWv-J26dgK1GEfiC1hP7U0ncsV876QZ8FiYV0BGZulmCerOwBU42I43TRZisvF6acXs/s1600/DSC01011.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> Kaolin riles up the crowd, as usual, at the start of the 24-Hour National Championships in Gallup, New Mexico. Kaitlyn looks on in seeming disbelief.</i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrF93I_CaMTTmUwU7qX2uHQ4c9DXNf8sCSbpC8JjDMCSyAG_qDYWUgjoBR8s49WLFF3-b6SzBtXxLcJJwz4SEoyGyzKZKA4MJSTE2Upc6DsQIagDercwsSIgwbzEKZDwrk7zAtm57xJk/s1600/DSC01020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrF93I_CaMTTmUwU7qX2uHQ4c9DXNf8sCSbpC8JjDMCSyAG_qDYWUgjoBR8s49WLFF3-b6SzBtXxLcJJwz4SEoyGyzKZKA4MJSTE2Upc6DsQIagDercwsSIgwbzEKZDwrk7zAtm57xJk/s1600/DSC01020.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> When nothing sounds palatable, hand Kaitlyn a can of peaches and a Coke</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPeyJ4_EQ6f9Q9-EIELzEmbbt4-aKs9vjzct4A2wBM270MmNyxVY3e08SNXPpq8d_sxVvkYmkC5YQrIqXHP7Zello60v6ISLFM94Aw9XU85M4lWhA83zZmTsmoXCOGnssF6Pht0mhFDI/s1600/GallupPodium.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPeyJ4_EQ6f9Q9-EIELzEmbbt4-aKs9vjzct4A2wBM270MmNyxVY3e08SNXPpq8d_sxVvkYmkC5YQrIqXHP7Zello60v6ISLFM94Aw9XU85M4lWhA83zZmTsmoXCOGnssF6Pht0mhFDI/s1600/GallupPodium.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Arizona juniors on the podium in 2nd place! Photo by Janice Dunn </i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_51wpbndR3wRIsdot4ghLIeGxSfLU_yQcuWcDzHQsdR365ku8fY9K3Bw4YPPbBoQL_tBgxwEu0m_XsMOzn53VUZL-HuakD3grVPgDWoJuc4UW-T8OaxqkbELLFwt70pS9KbQ6uvSTPDg/s1600/DSC01030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_51wpbndR3wRIsdot4ghLIeGxSfLU_yQcuWcDzHQsdR365ku8fY9K3Bw4YPPbBoQL_tBgxwEu0m_XsMOzn53VUZL-HuakD3grVPgDWoJuc4UW-T8OaxqkbELLFwt70pS9KbQ6uvSTPDg/s1600/DSC01030.JPG" height="400" width="300" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Into Meadow Canyon</i> </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrl4-4VrFxWW4BDBsSMMBYjPGOFIMrbGN0-UnIuPxY8xuXEoVagrF0yEe4bClxEI6MLypVF_JXzC5X-oQRH4FRlcVoTuU4CdoX8d0hXlAcJSCHHJ_WsCEY6wBx3J3V5t7a-6cMfTpSUU/s1600/P4240176_ed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrl4-4VrFxWW4BDBsSMMBYjPGOFIMrbGN0-UnIuPxY8xuXEoVagrF0yEe4bClxEI6MLypVF_JXzC5X-oQRH4FRlcVoTuU4CdoX8d0hXlAcJSCHHJ_WsCEY6wBx3J3V5t7a-6cMfTpSUU/s1600/P4240176_ed.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yP6VnEzDNzenW6-lsWBweaZWTMN8h7nQ3HRrWRABK_cyMSfCQJChXcQx-iwUxwyxb9UuFDMtktsM9jRU7m0-Gm5OGpP41R0Ht1y0Tt0qgvW9_wOPzvpOXk4Gr8aJZiJV_NdafP-f8s0/s1600/P4240190_ed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yP6VnEzDNzenW6-lsWBweaZWTMN8h7nQ3HRrWRABK_cyMSfCQJChXcQx-iwUxwyxb9UuFDMtktsM9jRU7m0-Gm5OGpP41R0Ht1y0Tt0qgvW9_wOPzvpOXk4Gr8aJZiJV_NdafP-f8s0/s1600/P4240190_ed.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Columbine Spring! Water in Arizona!</i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nmLieEFwO7mvqO7qmYEEHsObHrvLf4rOT5M_Yqqat3lq1SzIYEO42jboR70FEgZjpCYNeH03udPw7izj5oaaH14ty-mOBSyv03unvNwmp3MnTYBLtmYwkO3qCxFf6IHKosWodPBE1sA/s1600/DSC01049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nmLieEFwO7mvqO7qmYEEHsObHrvLf4rOT5M_Yqqat3lq1SzIYEO42jboR70FEgZjpCYNeH03udPw7izj5oaaH14ty-mOBSyv03unvNwmp3MnTYBLtmYwkO3qCxFf6IHKosWodPBE1sA/s1600/DSC01049.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqgubVLN-PXUX5SxPHlcywHumRAtgdZkierxzI-OJeL5Trwqpr4bDdMPcc0sw8QwJPoJ4GYgPi2Yc2b_4ArbNMwTnUVA33jaLSWXg4var6Tq8-pKT60Z__F9HvrIivlJLIbWGxOuhUCc/s1600/DSC01056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqgubVLN-PXUX5SxPHlcywHumRAtgdZkierxzI-OJeL5Trwqpr4bDdMPcc0sw8QwJPoJ4GYgPi2Yc2b_4ArbNMwTnUVA33jaLSWXg4var6Tq8-pKT60Z__F9HvrIivlJLIbWGxOuhUCc/s1600/DSC01056.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The White Box of West Clear Creek</i> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMsdieQxlpSEXi2ezuul-BDBI5SXJ4u_r5mGwC90dePiHnah4aRWNgfuk1OSkHJ3haGXalqfDzchTGe_628ddOWMdJFwRLQPLdjzlr2TgAJRDKcDCyxPTevOGVloJAqErUzISSXFOYSk/s1600/DSC01062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMsdieQxlpSEXi2ezuul-BDBI5SXJ4u_r5mGwC90dePiHnah4aRWNgfuk1OSkHJ3haGXalqfDzchTGe_628ddOWMdJFwRLQPLdjzlr2TgAJRDKcDCyxPTevOGVloJAqErUzISSXFOYSk/s1600/DSC01062.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7CYed4eF2R8TltiUnNK85Ccvh2zVPeJyl9mMhvBrHGuUDJwoihF0vU16TKMhAz9pRU3S6JcSIuUVWnV71eQGiDOAW1puWdNrZXbTlW2HdtT6zmSVCCc2hzuq06AsT9r8FYe9UiVPprI/s1600/DSC01069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7CYed4eF2R8TltiUnNK85Ccvh2zVPeJyl9mMhvBrHGuUDJwoihF0vU16TKMhAz9pRU3S6JcSIuUVWnV71eQGiDOAW1puWdNrZXbTlW2HdtT6zmSVCCc2hzuq06AsT9r8FYe9UiVPprI/s1600/DSC01069.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
And up next are intimidating mountains - big Alpine climbs and big Alpine descents, day in and day out, for a month straight. We'll be writing for <a href="http://salsacycles.com/culture">Salsa Cycles' blog</a> while we're in Europe, so check in over there to follow along. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicqFsdOAhqckSWXvgqzDk8EEhluK9UY-4z4Fe05c2Vt0IxNdXG_GeUUAC_ls8mVjt7B2ZH0rl4Th7yDCP1QvgdtqZwcSetjtMsBo1_IcnouQbqRWszgMYnYCIjd_EzSOdfKRTooSgKqa8/s1600/IMG_0365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicqFsdOAhqckSWXvgqzDk8EEhluK9UY-4z4Fe05c2Vt0IxNdXG_GeUUAC_ls8mVjt7B2ZH0rl4Th7yDCP1QvgdtqZwcSetjtMsBo1_IcnouQbqRWszgMYnYCIjd_EzSOdfKRTooSgKqa8/s1600/IMG_0365.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> 203 mm for downhill and 22 teeth for uphill</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrl4-4VrFxWW4BDBsSMMBYjPGOFIMrbGN0-UnIuPxY8xuXEoVagrF0yEe4bClxEI6MLypVF_JXzC5X-oQRH4FRlcVoTuU4CdoX8d0hXlAcJSCHHJ_WsCEY6wBx3J3V5t7a-6cMfTpSUU/s1600/P4240176_ed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yP6VnEzDNzenW6-lsWBweaZWTMN8h7nQ3HRrWRABK_cyMSfCQJChXcQx-iwUxwyxb9UuFDMtktsM9jRU7m0-Gm5OGpP41R0Ht1y0Tt0qgvW9_wOPzvpOXk4Gr8aJZiJV_NdafP-f8s0/s1600/P4240190_ed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-1859961122618996362014-07-01T14:54:00.000-06:002014-07-01T14:54:25.050-06:00Blindingly green<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3HzEgUd4qK5wpxUMc0CW3SSPT6Kk4EG5H0lVDMy4seJvmCojPYNEOqPjeLyS8qSDzStE-FqBAd3RAOGkKY4KAtELmPXRAMdmpRUXtHCcxcfxZffi7hDzzumfC-Nximt3ssQ4AhIjOJU/s1600/DSC00622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3HzEgUd4qK5wpxUMc0CW3SSPT6Kk4EG5H0lVDMy4seJvmCojPYNEOqPjeLyS8qSDzStE-FqBAd3RAOGkKY4KAtELmPXRAMdmpRUXtHCcxcfxZffi7hDzzumfC-Nximt3ssQ4AhIjOJU/s1600/DSC00622.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />There are many parts of the country I have not yet had the pleasure of getting to know. But the vast majority of such places are east of the Mississippi. The ancient mountains of Vermont and New Hampshire have been on my radar for quite some time, and last month, I was fortunate enough to find myself blinded by the amazingly green woodlands of New England. Kaitlyn's wrist was healing nicely, so we took advantage of all the amazing trails we could find.<br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUHjp2vTmuyFbPqSCRoNP9sqxUqYx9pQJVdc6AdLW1kzzQu71QfnSlPOvEUZTJLvkyRUMh8pRwGoKHT0v94_4Ixnxs4ScH9jueFMUbeh2aF9iiER5eDdbcc0NDXWdjV-ohOzmdH1ekF6k/s1600/DSC00637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUHjp2vTmuyFbPqSCRoNP9sqxUqYx9pQJVdc6AdLW1kzzQu71QfnSlPOvEUZTJLvkyRUMh8pRwGoKHT0v94_4Ixnxs4ScH9jueFMUbeh2aF9iiER5eDdbcc0NDXWdjV-ohOzmdH1ekF6k/s1600/DSC00637.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
New England reminds me a bit of northern Minnesota and Wisconsin, areas where I spent considerable time during my youth - subdued yet rugged topography, dense deciduous forests, thick clouds of black flies and mosquitoes, frequent rain, and mud. All this stands in stark contrast to my backyard in the Southwest. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxIrKIRquvJ2zUjE5ltjl-s4qpuP1v9L686pS9MIRyeh_IOvsX7B98BGBavWK7Fb2-9kiGZLYf4bbW94WDdjMtd_bcdkPW4edzmLoB3N0IdVv3oE0ziF-3N560m-ZV7abaOwIe0qXCXI/s1600/DSC00828.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxIrKIRquvJ2zUjE5ltjl-s4qpuP1v9L686pS9MIRyeh_IOvsX7B98BGBavWK7Fb2-9kiGZLYf4bbW94WDdjMtd_bcdkPW4edzmLoB3N0IdVv3oE0ziF-3N560m-ZV7abaOwIe0qXCXI/s1600/DSC00828.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Slippery roots criss-cross the trails. A thick mat of decomposing leaves obscure wet rocks beneath. Leaves slap you in the face. Raspberry vines tear at your feet. And rounded rocks bounce you around.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVPO0GzSvPURGoBb2r-Ft3VfxKy2YDL-1gO9q4DY6ktfkfKp2GUktVfo2pKS6k9Zhc2yZi3lk1HlDmibjKqCLwjtn8Vt3clCSALiSQKORfVA3DOgzja0Ce2O39g9iZxRO0O7EipoYDYc/s1600/DSC00669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVPO0GzSvPURGoBb2r-Ft3VfxKy2YDL-1gO9q4DY6ktfkfKp2GUktVfo2pKS6k9Zhc2yZi3lk1HlDmibjKqCLwjtn8Vt3clCSALiSQKORfVA3DOgzja0Ce2O39g9iZxRO0O7EipoYDYc/s1600/DSC00669.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6ysGGmXNq2zzVUKa_SYYy8ek6YXA7SLi4t7bWVSS1YVx6yq9PImLODV3eF2SmmHDL8OSAXSkujhInNPU6m8DAc3GL4PRHMQ4E5tv-5vBwslyae5c8AmGjUUcyY4QgzUihEvOZyPxwpU/s1600/DSC00766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6ysGGmXNq2zzVUKa_SYYy8ek6YXA7SLi4t7bWVSS1YVx6yq9PImLODV3eF2SmmHDL8OSAXSkujhInNPU6m8DAc3GL4PRHMQ4E5tv-5vBwslyae5c8AmGjUUcyY4QgzUihEvOZyPxwpU/s1600/DSC00766.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />We decided to take a few days to ride from Massachusetts to the Canadian border through Vermont, following a [mostly] dirt road route that has been put together by some local bikepackers. The "mostly" part, however, stymied us. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNK2mgpySc8-SZIowtXeMTE7FCvhAG6TQjizsf6cR1esOSEMbQ1aesdH62VW3VHrZ_arkAR6s0JZbXxTcmfGifymVzsD6vneBSaZImy8EvLR8zi_wS91nol2mDmLOEwybctQ6kkLN_S0/s1600/DSC00777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNK2mgpySc8-SZIowtXeMTE7FCvhAG6TQjizsf6cR1esOSEMbQ1aesdH62VW3VHrZ_arkAR6s0JZbXxTcmfGifymVzsD6vneBSaZImy8EvLR8zi_wS91nol2mDmLOEwybctQ6kkLN_S0/s1600/DSC00777.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Linking up beautiful, remote (by New England standards) gravel roads were sections of snowmobile trail. After a very wet May, these trails were squishy, soggy, mucky messes. They reduced us to hiking mile after mile through ankle-deep mud and thick swarms of black flies. After a day and a half of this, we were nowhere near where we had hoped to be, and the needle on our fun-meter had nearly bottomed out. At least it wasn't still raining. And the newts seemed to be quite pleased with life.<br /><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09MK-H6U9jgWn8l0ZH8SC81ngxTa9phQV3hvWunxa91eF8pDENTPeh_misKEC17tD4Ke0vpr9yd1r1wTSHouhmXhqGpkBfmIYvlgOWwr3Vp4dyaiEzoAYFa4uy2SJIiHXXBh3m_OYD1E/s1600/IMG_0350.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09MK-H6U9jgWn8l0ZH8SC81ngxTa9phQV3hvWunxa91eF8pDENTPeh_misKEC17tD4Ke0vpr9yd1r1wTSHouhmXhqGpkBfmIYvlgOWwr3Vp4dyaiEzoAYFa4uy2SJIiHXXBh3m_OYD1E/s1600/IMG_0350.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy8mimN0rr78c-7datd_fW-4bbcP6LCKA7l94GEmf4345SIQ7XPS1UCTCW5VJAJhyphenhyphenhsXl_hHDXn0pK1WJ5hqtqNZitfq-UFDQjS22JbWVlW5i5-1JvzX3sw6Okk9O_HKFBXOdAE9NEDUY/s1600/DSC00798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy8mimN0rr78c-7datd_fW-4bbcP6LCKA7l94GEmf4345SIQ7XPS1UCTCW5VJAJhyphenhyphenhsXl_hHDXn0pK1WJ5hqtqNZitfq-UFDQjS22JbWVlW5i5-1JvzX3sw6Okk9O_HKFBXOdAE9NEDUY/s1600/DSC00798.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
We ended our ride early, well shy of Canada, but glad we called it quits when we did. Riding through the Green Mountains was beautiful, but pushing our bikes through them wasn't what we had in mind. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmJJ2Ru6RHe2VQBabCgU4jxl_rWObLiqPQ3gQq30ndr2u76ykaXLpIqyjKo1yOjL-OFcUVX_LcPzpInh7gSfM4fNmCyCnB9qK0QRLG9oJkccvxPG5nrjmf2BVxDqduALlAV4dsbzexYA/s1600/DSC00805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmJJ2Ru6RHe2VQBabCgU4jxl_rWObLiqPQ3gQq30ndr2u76ykaXLpIqyjKo1yOjL-OFcUVX_LcPzpInh7gSfM4fNmCyCnB9qK0QRLG9oJkccvxPG5nrjmf2BVxDqduALlAV4dsbzexYA/s1600/DSC00805.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Vp5bWC-cULLvmceNLmv5yDYKT58aVoALerGfsy5uNLKrNLVxKZWwFn_8oi5hdsCaaKAx3IYkvW2b3eaZZwnwdQ1lSsDU8dLYgGTaNvQI0yWqSxeia-QYRmiHf07qq0okV2qvSkKS4-E/s1600/DSC00809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Vp5bWC-cULLvmceNLmv5yDYKT58aVoALerGfsy5uNLKrNLVxKZWwFn_8oi5hdsCaaKAx3IYkvW2b3eaZZwnwdQ1lSsDU8dLYgGTaNvQI0yWqSxeia-QYRmiHf07qq0okV2qvSkKS4-E/s1600/DSC00809.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Back in North Conway, we hiked, pedaled, enjoyed a couple sunny days, relaxed with Kaitlyn's family, entertained the dog, and dug into planning an ambitious adventure that will take us to the Alps for a month of bikepacking.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88lYu_T-9I3RBhyphenhyphenXUC9e7_Et3mmYXRpEdSlVx1WPfI0xVK0sItB3vN6N81YQZ34vIMc8bPA-S3UWpMeEbSSrH5a9nYr2xvw-S29MlLvnSMlBS_kaTmYUjA_zGGbS_u265UGoVjymlIj8/s1600/IMG_0319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88lYu_T-9I3RBhyphenhyphenXUC9e7_Et3mmYXRpEdSlVx1WPfI0xVK0sItB3vN6N81YQZ34vIMc8bPA-S3UWpMeEbSSrH5a9nYr2xvw-S29MlLvnSMlBS_kaTmYUjA_zGGbS_u265UGoVjymlIj8/s1600/IMG_0319.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eFfB2VsRMPl5fo1X-j4PPGSv3GHT4xXqe_a5Qfj3SHtrXjivI44fBpokSFVu_NYBWoZgOwMoJUw8EEmGGgDy0q8tg4AY6a19MkKCW7C54hLOnrE91ALpapnZB0mbDL7Iqqi7GfGPdrQ/s1600/DSC00889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eFfB2VsRMPl5fo1X-j4PPGSv3GHT4xXqe_a5Qfj3SHtrXjivI44fBpokSFVu_NYBWoZgOwMoJUw8EEmGGgDy0q8tg4AY6a19MkKCW7C54hLOnrE91ALpapnZB0mbDL7Iqqi7GfGPdrQ/s1600/DSC00889.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjwkIJ68CaIktftMBJGcsQiRRLhyphenhyphenQLi9tq6dhVayxIp7D49fOOmKwaOEQTMvBAoNP98CdAlwZ3jBog7IiTMiDzxi7dNwm5Jh7kSPd-RiU7rU_g3kqZf7YeTcqgwhOVNY2dyXlyOeb8Go/s1600/DSC00938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjwkIJ68CaIktftMBJGcsQiRRLhyphenhyphenQLi9tq6dhVayxIp7D49fOOmKwaOEQTMvBAoNP98CdAlwZ3jBog7IiTMiDzxi7dNwm5Jh7kSPd-RiU7rU_g3kqZf7YeTcqgwhOVNY2dyXlyOeb8Go/s1600/DSC00938.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGW9SpYdflxSonqy0zgJtvCWSDYgjxjXyK7BmbBMRIt8JZVeoyDBPLhdMer36idiJLGC0Wlr0dWt-MNB6xGYrZw2WE1kd3LpkfcB3_ObWzrMKTC31WWQXxLRi-HjUOSUH3MbAlv7xC6KE/s1600/DSC00969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGW9SpYdflxSonqy0zgJtvCWSDYgjxjXyK7BmbBMRIt8JZVeoyDBPLhdMer36idiJLGC0Wlr0dWt-MNB6xGYrZw2WE1kd3LpkfcB3_ObWzrMKTC31WWQXxLRi-HjUOSUH3MbAlv7xC6KE/s1600/DSC00969.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Two weeks of bugs, humidity, and rain was just about enough so that I
did not feel entirely out of my element. But as usual, that meant it was
just about time to head home. <br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtPaL_5GoSyFPswEH_O_JP0OswEytBsbg_dhebzSvojSZxikiSbAmRrdAEy-vSqUjBjHXsglcGxXQzYKwZMNDn2p4fPmFK3GmbddD6tpvxlX8JvyThmxUI2CpZRx56Qp1-D0xYvHIbSo/s1600/DSC01001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtPaL_5GoSyFPswEH_O_JP0OswEytBsbg_dhebzSvojSZxikiSbAmRrdAEy-vSqUjBjHXsglcGxXQzYKwZMNDn2p4fPmFK3GmbddD6tpvxlX8JvyThmxUI2CpZRx56Qp1-D0xYvHIbSo/s1600/DSC01001.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-73192350837841197872014-05-28T09:02:00.001-06:002014-05-28T09:03:35.035-06:00Charging toward summerThe last month of the school year is always a hectic one for so many reasons. Field trips, bike races, students trying to wrap up exciting projects, planning for fall classes, and scheming about summer adventures. Now, sitting in New Hampshire staring out the window at yet another rainy day (as wildfires are raging back in Arizona), I'm finally finding time to share a bit of what Spring has had to offer.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbvryAXOJk2PPiaNu01EQxXiFMlLoit-GU2uluYfnLJHEl-qEJDJZ1_HhuKyu3tloTMVNX0D35fY1hkZjVvGBJFuLw9u63W6tGvEV1Dtr4hjxth8bO4Ldj8xxeCmrdZESi2ho3nDrxH8/s1600/DSC00519.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbvryAXOJk2PPiaNu01EQxXiFMlLoit-GU2uluYfnLJHEl-qEJDJZ1_HhuKyu3tloTMVNX0D35fY1hkZjVvGBJFuLw9u63W6tGvEV1Dtr4hjxth8bO4Ldj8xxeCmrdZESi2ho3nDrxH8/s1600/DSC00519.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbvryAXOJk2PPiaNu01EQxXiFMlLoit-GU2uluYfnLJHEl-qEJDJZ1_HhuKyu3tloTMVNX0D35fY1hkZjVvGBJFuLw9u63W6tGvEV1Dtr4hjxth8bO4Ldj8xxeCmrdZESi2ho3nDrxH8/s1600/DSC00519.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Mapping in the Harquahala Mountains</i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JbOpcdniiu4RapXGRs_koVeR6spw5TEgNiCvgMC1IEspvWhg4-LchTDn6lD1R35vKjgIJQ7XEXSuJamVsLrLPl5ysV_JLgUFO0jMALRjMnLiVfvgDEhgBNEDVVarvz-7If1J9g73hvo/s1600/DSC00348.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JbOpcdniiu4RapXGRs_koVeR6spw5TEgNiCvgMC1IEspvWhg4-LchTDn6lD1R35vKjgIJQ7XEXSuJamVsLrLPl5ysV_JLgUFO0jMALRjMnLiVfvgDEhgBNEDVVarvz-7If1J9g73hvo/s1600/DSC00348.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Examining the Great Unconformity in the Grand Canyon</i></div>
<br />
After the Arizona Trail 300, I had a couple weeks to recover before taking on the hometown madness of the Whiskey 50. I was convinced by Kaitlyn to take on the singlespeed race this year, and much to my delight, we had absolutely miserable conditions - steady rain, snow, 40 mph winds, and temperatures dropping to below freezing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVe9CAF7Dwvwbxfv521SiA1RyPR2AeSRTxpzOmSereiZRSGXXotDUgsGAhHY5nIMpb2tgbJvK2YWtGULLuA6BEtZqYYT5iboVaKoZZiG7khD3gr5hJm4rQJMH1rUt_fYUDo2OPTbrRTjA/s1600/10299155_10154092548270154_2700408549225776580_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVe9CAF7Dwvwbxfv521SiA1RyPR2AeSRTxpzOmSereiZRSGXXotDUgsGAhHY5nIMpb2tgbJvK2YWtGULLuA6BEtZqYYT5iboVaKoZZiG7khD3gr5hJm4rQJMH1rUt_fYUDo2OPTbrRTjA/s1600/10299155_10154092548270154_2700408549225776580_n.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
<br />
My legs were anything but peppy, but they were able to grind out a steady pace as I marveled at the weather and how little clothing so many other racers were wearing. More than half the field dropped out!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynA1k5zn4khok-I3sxLrBVRLXj3Qh5zsxQJv2GrwzYWA3ZuyQUMex49wXQYYK2-uTZjipwy474DjasgifO7J-tcHIIgNYl2aKT-OqGMX_rgez-2BGVT1DdrPmotRTH3eGSIhQOyl3Vtg/s1600/DSC_1503-2+vernie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynA1k5zn4khok-I3sxLrBVRLXj3Qh5zsxQJv2GrwzYWA3ZuyQUMex49wXQYYK2-uTZjipwy474DjasgifO7J-tcHIIgNYl2aKT-OqGMX_rgez-2BGVT1DdrPmotRTH3eGSIhQOyl3Vtg/s1600/DSC_1503-2+vernie.jpg" height="400" width="302" /></a></div>
<br />
I managed to hang on to 3rd place in the singlespeed category after dealing with cramping yet again this year. Never before have my legs cramped in weather that cold, but I think that's what I get for hopping onto a singlespeed and racing while doing all my normal riding on a geared bike. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhoiCMfF5I3OXcDdbyZr1UU_A5EONwxJK1OVs-G9VY4nsRxlAXkuT6XtmQf807S88ZK4hS0sg_kl-2vkQb9s29UO4U1kCanwVCcjf7Q9EHoDzWK3wE5VCWoWfsjbT6E3UPW870G-6BAr0/s1600/DSC_2081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhoiCMfF5I3OXcDdbyZr1UU_A5EONwxJK1OVs-G9VY4nsRxlAXkuT6XtmQf807S88ZK4hS0sg_kl-2vkQb9s29UO4U1kCanwVCcjf7Q9EHoDzWK3wE5VCWoWfsjbT6E3UPW870G-6BAr0/s1600/DSC_2081.jpg" height="195" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
One of the highlights of the semester was a fun weekend trip down the San Juan River with some of my students. We studied the geology of the river corridor while half of Kaitlyn's Adventure Education Semester students guided us down the river and managed all the logistics. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgyrkocGwM8WBFaqy5pGkl2u_WmOU1LyfssaI7YCA9_sw9pXuu_nO6tPj40xm7RbXmOdf8mt6RkOrS_2atjKMtBG6VLhsKxrByIbzTTE_5bW6SiVsOsFIDlSjA80L4IGY2vLRNqqFNok/s1600/DSC00356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgyrkocGwM8WBFaqy5pGkl2u_WmOU1LyfssaI7YCA9_sw9pXuu_nO6tPj40xm7RbXmOdf8mt6RkOrS_2atjKMtBG6VLhsKxrByIbzTTE_5bW6SiVsOsFIDlSjA80L4IGY2vLRNqqFNok/s1600/DSC00356.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A very full paddle raft</i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2U8C29yCeB79LF-a4-6rDMGog8hyIb_RvClQ0JOGZiuh87PAqGqzS-vwIKd858hoUWWxZ6Pns7EoyjLTluWH9kM8PZTRJ6tVQj2S_3-TW-bId8ROmuqYc53gLZS_UVNhk-3hNAcOZrdo/s1600/IMG_0112.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2U8C29yCeB79LF-a4-6rDMGog8hyIb_RvClQ0JOGZiuh87PAqGqzS-vwIKd858hoUWWxZ6Pns7EoyjLTluWH9kM8PZTRJ6tVQj2S_3-TW-bId8ROmuqYc53gLZS_UVNhk-3hNAcOZrdo/s1600/IMG_0112.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Filling in the stratigraphy of southeastern Utah</i></div>
<br />
The rock record along the Bluff-to-Mexican Hat section of the river is spectacularly exposed, first in flat-lying layers of Jurassic rocks and then, moving backwards through time, in the dipping beds of Comb Ridge and the Raplee Anticline. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GOSQRsFPeO5Qp0bcPXROyYW216lbXqFhkjy3QX8IoJrfTHuLNRf8G-JWdBoGM0zclPGy8Ng9dCDlvWRsjKHKNuFhFpjdVBH6gdRxtnayptjhZS68nOTh-o58qafi9sMuGg0dBmodgrc/s1600/DSC00378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GOSQRsFPeO5Qp0bcPXROyYW216lbXqFhkjy3QX8IoJrfTHuLNRf8G-JWdBoGM0zclPGy8Ng9dCDlvWRsjKHKNuFhFpjdVBH6gdRxtnayptjhZS68nOTh-o58qafi9sMuGg0dBmodgrc/s1600/DSC00378.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Hiking up the De Chelley Sandstone fin in Comb Wash</i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqt4W8ObJd1ErxyERFu1pai2vbFQPMzx_X392uQ3gUaE4zv_yDoFmxcCAo-_YxjZ74WOhapXLGXWRo4QnGaoIoB_xsWYu1aXdPaCEKyjvlkGjt7DQmXBidM5fX9IW6Ti54YLvfD6_Dj0/s1600/DSC00416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqt4W8ObJd1ErxyERFu1pai2vbFQPMzx_X392uQ3gUaE4zv_yDoFmxcCAo-_YxjZ74WOhapXLGXWRo4QnGaoIoB_xsWYu1aXdPaCEKyjvlkGjt7DQmXBidM5fX9IW6Ti54YLvfD6_Dj0/s1600/DSC00416.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Nate teaching with the Raplee Anticline and Comb Ridge in the background</i></div>
<br />
My students were aglow, immersed in a beautiful landscape and developing a clear understanding of how all the geology and stories in the rocks fit together. By the end of the weekend, their brains were exhausted, but they all seemed to be amazed at how much they understood about the landscape. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFHcdBIpIPm__oAb806T3MMT-vexNXvGapo-89hz5lNMyjM1atWrSEkAjsHd-ROlsLo-Ppbc5lFS1oDg408EJj28ewGZkkphQRiU3rEG_8zkbm_L2cSxv1DhIZWukGEGkubr9LBR7SB0/s1600/IMG_0108.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFHcdBIpIPm__oAb806T3MMT-vexNXvGapo-89hz5lNMyjM1atWrSEkAjsHd-ROlsLo-Ppbc5lFS1oDg408EJj28ewGZkkphQRiU3rEG_8zkbm_L2cSxv1DhIZWukGEGkubr9LBR7SB0/s1600/IMG_0108.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The AE folks cooking up another delicious meal</i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpHuh2YhDQUo_HU4Q9gQLol5mH68M5AjG3VnycXmKII_GoZEt4osPCs0efGaE2Jak_BmFw_fakjEfuqHyuZshEG9QQSCphF-AUf0DWTSluFSneL4adAW9RCOELbLlNaxgwCP6AbDf7ViA/s1600/DSC00461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpHuh2YhDQUo_HU4Q9gQLol5mH68M5AjG3VnycXmKII_GoZEt4osPCs0efGaE2Jak_BmFw_fakjEfuqHyuZshEG9QQSCphF-AUf0DWTSluFSneL4adAW9RCOELbLlNaxgwCP6AbDf7ViA/s1600/DSC00461.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Dinner time alongside walls of the Paradox Formation</i> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYhlmv9mRjBiBDktUgVoaQDn_pFGSGov9YyaPx-TG67JBfqCOxlWd-WIWEVpc_qqlJYFeD6ELJWckzbHngDPujoZxvi3dS-rEa9oU9pQlGKKOW4G5hcgmM0YEr1qBEYSzkBk_1g94_8s/s1600/DSC00492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYhlmv9mRjBiBDktUgVoaQDn_pFGSGov9YyaPx-TG67JBfqCOxlWd-WIWEVpc_qqlJYFeD6ELJWckzbHngDPujoZxvi3dS-rEa9oU9pQlGKKOW4G5hcgmM0YEr1qBEYSzkBk_1g94_8s/s1600/DSC00492.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Me trying to remember how oars work</i></div>
<br />
And then we were back in Prescott for the last couple weeks of classes. At graduation, I got to cheer and cry for the graduating seniors and give away the first two proto-geologists to graduate to from Prescott College in more than a decade. It's always tough to have good friends leaving town, but these grads are all off for the next exciting adventure. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjxu13cNE6uz6DX0TdAGABrIqMqa5bmMlzhyphenhyphenjege0RhIVngUwnO60uEQ-BhGwaRdeSkhFLXwSSpyAiB6VlGKkREpSUsKO_70OVYbRAx3_HI23IU-uxPGoHuZWTdqV09ztwPMsX7xNov8/s1600/DSC00496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjxu13cNE6uz6DX0TdAGABrIqMqa5bmMlzhyphenhyphenjege0RhIVngUwnO60uEQ-BhGwaRdeSkhFLXwSSpyAiB6VlGKkREpSUsKO_70OVYbRAx3_HI23IU-uxPGoHuZWTdqV09ztwPMsX7xNov8/s1600/DSC00496.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> The full crew, getting psyched for a long, late drive home</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And after the exhausting sprint for the end of the year, it's now summer and time for exploring. </div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-65256875442936407412014-04-25T00:00:00.001-06:002014-12-01T21:57:53.195-07:00Aaron's hair looked betterA year ago, I watched the dots of all the Arizona Trail 300 racers steadily marching northward along the route. Obviously, I wasn't racing, and I was frustrated with my decision to not be there. A month later, I tackled the route on my own, battled the mid-May heat, and had as close to a perfect run as I could imagine on the route, finishing in just over 50 hours.<br />
<br />
This Spring, the 300 was back on my list of primary targets, and Aaron Gulley and I both had sub-48 hours as our goals. I wasn't quite sure how achieving this would be possible. I could potentially shave off an hour by not sleeping, and I could try to be a bit more efficient with stopping, but riding faster seemed out of the question.<br />
<br />
In the six weeks leading up to the 300, I struggled to recover from 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo and really was not able to train with any vigor. Since January, I'd been experimenting with my diet, trying to actually learn how my body responds to different foods. Despite having been racing on bikes and skis for nearly two decades, I've rarely paid any particular attention to what I ate. My transition to a paleo diet had a few bumps in the road, and because of this, my recovery from 24OP was unusually slow.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOWZ5eHx-IgctT8l251oSnGqIPgSVUr4qucxslmppbB7Nu5FDYkVI9I6bFeFMkkcgGtsDwfZmueQ42pcbJxHdp-au6KnCFpTx7v1LSun73yxO6_CH_eUleOUEAuUVh4yRGNUeR7a9KNI/s1600/DSC00247.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOWZ5eHx-IgctT8l251oSnGqIPgSVUr4qucxslmppbB7Nu5FDYkVI9I6bFeFMkkcgGtsDwfZmueQ42pcbJxHdp-au6KnCFpTx7v1LSun73yxO6_CH_eUleOUEAuUVh4yRGNUeR7a9KNI/s1600/DSC00247.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
But I learned from the setback, and heading into the 300, I had a plan. It seemed a bit foolhardy, but after finishing the 300 four prior times, it seemed about time to take some risks.<br />
<br />
The plan? It was fairly simple - ride fast, be efficient, and eat well. I hoped to be able to push a pace that was just slightly uncomfortably fast. I hoped to minimize stops and forgo sleep without finding myself wading through thick molasses in the wee hours of the second morning. And I started with nearly 17,500 calories, loaded with a mix of nuts, meat, cookies, and CarboRocket energy and recovery drink mixes.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DXryLrdNH-pZKQh7_Q2N7jfx96lSrOy-qKbCihnUj3noE4EL692zFapqCZi4ACxWxO34kJAW4jx4wbaG-xquKL10XIJ45FGGlvjlmHPq2FiWtKk6N6yL2DL8Za_xo7rQkmzT83wc8ns/s1600/IMG_0010.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DXryLrdNH-pZKQh7_Q2N7jfx96lSrOy-qKbCihnUj3noE4EL692zFapqCZi4ACxWxO34kJAW4jx4wbaG-xquKL10XIJ45FGGlvjlmHPq2FiWtKk6N6yL2DL8Za_xo7rQkmzT83wc8ns/s1600/IMG_0010.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
For the first time ever, I managed to make it down to Parker Canyon Lake the night prior to the start. The following morning, I slowly got my bike and self ready as Kaitlyn and I milled about, catching up with friends we had not seen in a while. I was sad to be there and not watching Kaitlyn get ready for her own ride, but sometimes life has other plans for us.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n5dSJfi-XwBngZdahCtK-8LKQrprD7zu59xb6I9QVX712UIIF2W4zficv3-55DyBBU3lb3D70gT-9WDctphVCijm5m0LJ3L4Fovwc0H0ar_4XJDGIxqT7FyFPfCAUQF2jFnS06Kq1xk/s1600/img_5296.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n5dSJfi-XwBngZdahCtK-8LKQrprD7zu59xb6I9QVX712UIIF2W4zficv3-55DyBBU3lb3D70gT-9WDctphVCijm5m0LJ3L4Fovwc0H0ar_4XJDGIxqT7FyFPfCAUQF2jFnS06Kq1xk/s1600/img_5296.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
At 9 am sharp, I lead the field into the Canelo Hills. And 4.5 hours later, I emerged from the north end of the Canelos with Aaron Gulley and Neil Beltchenko, happy that I didn't dig too deeply but satisfied with a mildly aggressive pace.<br />
<br />
For the rest of the first day, our pace remained steady and fast, stops very brief, and the heat wasn't too oppressing. After dark, as temperatures dropped, my body decided it was really time to ride. And pedal they did. Our pace picked up as we swerved through turns lined with cacti, periodically catching glimpses of the nearing lights of Tucson. Progress.<br />
<br />
Neil disappeared behind Aaron and me as he stopped to fix a snapped chain. By midnight, Aaron and I labored up Reddington Road, soon turning onto the rugged jeep trails toward Chiva Tank. My legs continued to push hard, my stomach felt great, and it wasn't long before I found myself alone.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NZxa6wvGdrcydaoFjbFYLyTVdKlz5_3-Ag-JMzhQ-R_caikoJecbsSibUqTfZUQajB07SMdcsaf-obOOyFB3F8S0jH0rtFHkTlIOICfb_sFv8g-Oo2qqCZYsdCI194fhbDt3R4vJTMY/s1600/IMG_0012.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NZxa6wvGdrcydaoFjbFYLyTVdKlz5_3-Ag-JMzhQ-R_caikoJecbsSibUqTfZUQajB07SMdcsaf-obOOyFB3F8S0jH0rtFHkTlIOICfb_sFv8g-Oo2qqCZYsdCI194fhbDt3R4vJTMY/s1600/IMG_0012.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
At dawn, I was struggling to stay awake on the dull paved climb over Lemmon. And exactly 24 hours to the minute after starting, I strode through the Magic Gate on Oracle Ridge, the most difficult parts of the route behind me. The low desert below baked me all afternoon, slowing my progress to what seemed to be hiking pace.<br />
<br />
I called Kaitlyn from the water cache at Freeman Road as I sat in the sun and munched on cookies. I don't recall much of the short conversation, but apparently I told her, "Everything hurts. Except my ears. My ears don't hurt. And my head doesn't hurt. I don't have a headache. But everything else hurts. And I'm tired." But by sunset, as the air cooled off, I found myself pounding the pedals, oblivious to all the pain.<br />
<br />
The night was refreshing, with a gentle tailwind, bright stars, and perfect temperatures. My lights guided me across the Ripsey Ridgeline and down to the Gila River below. I stopped for a short break to sit down, let my muscles relax, and ate some sausages. I struggled to do the math in my head...10:00 pm at Kelvin...7 hours from Kelvin to the finish...5 am finish? That seemed impossibly early.<br />
<br />
The rest of the night was an uphill battle, even after all the climbing was behind me. My legs felt great, but I could barely sit on my saddle. The bottoms of my feet ached. And the final miles of the route are agonizingly slow. Slowly, though, the miles passed, I plodded up and over the final pass, and the early morning light began to illuminate the volcanic landscape surrounding me.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqCWLa0AK0ZjdSVRf0KefReIyBFf5k6SHzJwsSNRmLrWf7qoI7voUFHVBMky2tD1152QlNMy40ejJiO8XOP6VDEi9NPdfwPmEwpWs46jXQdkU3yV8DVL6v2qFVapRLsbjz-UiG36vgY0/s1600/IMG_0020.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqCWLa0AK0ZjdSVRf0KefReIyBFf5k6SHzJwsSNRmLrWf7qoI7voUFHVBMky2tD1152QlNMy40ejJiO8XOP6VDEi9NPdfwPmEwpWs46jXQdkU3yV8DVL6v2qFVapRLsbjz-UiG36vgY0/s1600/IMG_0020.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
At 6:07, I hit the final turn and found Kaitlyn beaming at me. I could only offer a dazed half-smile in return. But I was done. Kaitlyn tried to get me to eat, drink, and change, but I was more intrigued by the nearby cow that I decided we should take home. And I could no longer keep my eyes open.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrSp8IhXiYAz91-mu_uD2IOarlGZKpUSNZVQdLR54naAACOg9XuR12IBnMg_4NOEMhmYwCKkSMNPBvCHgmGLjdmv3c63XBZLmYHBJJzhbuu22k7SteU5a8FjtBp5UpQSYgzup4Cx0LhE/s1600/IMG_0027.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrSp8IhXiYAz91-mu_uD2IOarlGZKpUSNZVQdLR54naAACOg9XuR12IBnMg_4NOEMhmYwCKkSMNPBvCHgmGLjdmv3c63XBZLmYHBJJzhbuu22k7SteU5a8FjtBp5UpQSYgzup4Cx0LhE/s1600/IMG_0027.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
Aaron finished three hours later (and his hair still looked good), exhausted and happy, and Neil came in with a giant grin after 90 minutes more. We sat in the shade of the truck, sharing stories, dozing off, and laughing at one another.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIlyvZ0J70Twt96sz9YSLmvZeIUn9enANyl3XoWKM4EZZbnfPOlakA_Q-g8zAlKZitbrC-WJI6vP1LM6w-D2HgEMNkB8dGYcMUAHeXigmlAsA4liTHTTkA-qlzNHnB2hP6RArlsK6SOo/s1600/IMG_0034.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIlyvZ0J70Twt96sz9YSLmvZeIUn9enANyl3XoWKM4EZZbnfPOlakA_Q-g8zAlKZitbrC-WJI6vP1LM6w-D2HgEMNkB8dGYcMUAHeXigmlAsA4liTHTTkA-qlzNHnB2hP6RArlsK6SOo/s1600/IMG_0034.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm not sure what I'll try in the 300 next year...wait...am I really going to start it <i>again</i> next year? We'll see...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUPXkuepEpjiODmLkHffiZ0xWdp66xSbVxZhieHJ-CyDC6H_5-70-GT5QWWUvUHsMDA_ujiFQ5VY4DhapnIi8SogEDMCjQWZB_ky9IkCP4eIAMtcTugvGijAwiROWNSY147Q6kzRwYGy8/s1600/IMG_0037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUPXkuepEpjiODmLkHffiZ0xWdp66xSbVxZhieHJ-CyDC6H_5-70-GT5QWWUvUHsMDA_ujiFQ5VY4DhapnIi8SogEDMCjQWZB_ky9IkCP4eIAMtcTugvGijAwiROWNSY147Q6kzRwYGy8/s1600/IMG_0037.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqCWLa0AK0ZjdSVRf0KefReIyBFf5k6SHzJwsSNRmLrWf7qoI7voUFHVBMky2tD1152QlNMy40ejJiO8XOP6VDEi9NPdfwPmEwpWs46jXQdkU3yV8DVL6v2qFVapRLsbjz-UiG36vgY0/s1600/IMG_0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n5dSJfi-XwBngZdahCtK-8LKQrprD7zu59xb6I9QVX712UIIF2W4zficv3-55DyBBU3lb3D70gT-9WDctphVCijm5m0LJ3L4Fovwc0H0ar_4XJDGIxqT7FyFPfCAUQF2jFnS06Kq1xk/s1600/img_5296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NZxa6wvGdrcydaoFjbFYLyTVdKlz5_3-Ag-JMzhQ-R_caikoJecbsSibUqTfZUQajB07SMdcsaf-obOOyFB3F8S0jH0rtFHkTlIOICfb_sFv8g-Oo2qqCZYsdCI194fhbDt3R4vJTMY/s1600/IMG_0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-35606260050470616592014-04-06T11:18:00.001-06:002014-04-06T11:22:06.606-06:00Stuporstition Stumble<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWCyTKthkIwyeb0v3YWktS_aPFStK2UneoUAkcoKtMt9WrU92YAxdFCiH4qpPelsJKyNjLogTmq0pjpXLiUsLCDk6HiWhQThi5w_v3XPWSbjM6_Iei0Rv3jk-maDw15mvCO2617cMEPQ/s1600/DSC00004s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWCyTKthkIwyeb0v3YWktS_aPFStK2UneoUAkcoKtMt9WrU92YAxdFCiH4qpPelsJKyNjLogTmq0pjpXLiUsLCDk6HiWhQThi5w_v3XPWSbjM6_Iei0Rv3jk-maDw15mvCO2617cMEPQ/s1600/DSC00004s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Way back in early February, before classes started back up, bodies became exhausted, and bones broke, Kaitlyn and I were sitting in <a href="http://www.topofusion.com/diary/">Scott</a> and <a href="http://zenondirt.wordpress.com/">Eszter's</a> dining room staring at maps. We had plans to spend a few days bikepacking, but we couldn't decide on a route - around the Santa Catalina and Santa Ritas? East to the Galiuro and Winchester Mountains? Around the Superstitions? Somehow, the last option won out late the evening prior to our planned departure. I eyed a thin, black, dotted line on the Gazetteer as the key connecting link around the southeastern side of the range, Scott laughed and said it was doable, although heavy on hike-a-bike.<br />
<br />
With that, we packed up, went to sleep, and Kaitlyn and I were off to the Soups in the morning. Eszter wisely opted out of the trip, and Scott apparently just laughed and laughed after we drove off. All Scott's laughter was telling of what was to come...<br />
<br />
As usual, we got a late start. It seemed unseasonably cool, with a brisk wind blowing in our faces as we pedaled up the highway toward Apache Junction. My legs were still hurting from Singlespeed Arizona, so our progress was interrupted frequently for snack breaks. Late in the afternoon, we rounded the northwest side of the Soups and found ourselves on the beautiful Apache Trail, one of the most scenic and rugged gravel roads I've ridden. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9d-GLeNgdEErFgr7TXPwEKhVUnD76sjRYBeh9vISsSRmT1haJg46uT2LZL1cTSRm3AIf8tEzQy1bvfY-bMxoOuyIv4dh0YJ4xhCY4UYFpzvUHyP5_ZWXGB5snEQa5rECFY8ACEokAzA/s1600/DSC00013s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9d-GLeNgdEErFgr7TXPwEKhVUnD76sjRYBeh9vISsSRmT1haJg46uT2LZL1cTSRm3AIf8tEzQy1bvfY-bMxoOuyIv4dh0YJ4xhCY4UYFpzvUHyP5_ZWXGB5snEQa5rECFY8ACEokAzA/s1600/DSC00013s.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We made camp near Lake Apache, cooked up a big meal, and slept soundly until a guy in a little blue car decided to make his own camp just meters away, unaware of our presence. Then the coyotes came out to play, howling all around us for what must have been hours. In the morning, we snuck off at first light, eager to get moving so we could finish the loop without too much night riding. How foolish we were...</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOMxm0AZKaCCl6stThsvRXaja5ZggjaV6wriNlj83YmOoi7M73nC94J5b6HO30Od2msw6JaYR6-ExEEkPY0WCM1fyCoukvBZPab1EIn0TE1B7ixmhlLNSOlw5JkxrrUu7L7N3t4Zjax8M/s1600/DSC00031s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOMxm0AZKaCCl6stThsvRXaja5ZggjaV6wriNlj83YmOoi7M73nC94J5b6HO30Od2msw6JaYR6-ExEEkPY0WCM1fyCoukvBZPab1EIn0TE1B7ixmhlLNSOlw5JkxrrUu7L7N3t4Zjax8M/s1600/DSC00031s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2qfdRZUXxCDZ2DQRqAYiuMW7PUHhqxSA6wEkYGwyVh8SVqYKT-e9hWSfFRG2dIbQFVX7av1OU5b89qA405tgkaMxVAaI3tHUOsUgam1F5qSGwwNV8Sj_d37mTg1fw9e-7mXVbbbQudg/s1600/DSC00038s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2qfdRZUXxCDZ2DQRqAYiuMW7PUHhqxSA6wEkYGwyVh8SVqYKT-e9hWSfFRG2dIbQFVX7av1OU5b89qA405tgkaMxVAaI3tHUOsUgam1F5qSGwwNV8Sj_d37mTg1fw9e-7mXVbbbQudg/s1600/DSC00038s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIVbMl5uWH_0dLenrYDn0QoJB63htkqAggnraeRNaYxGZJ3gTXFop2c3Sme_mVd9XdTb53O-bVZ1huRluL5rvZYNi2CCV1q3KOu-gy9_Ow7puBQH43lLyLD0LCKS-cMqDvgmPJwzV_hRc/s1600/DSC00045s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIVbMl5uWH_0dLenrYDn0QoJB63htkqAggnraeRNaYxGZJ3gTXFop2c3Sme_mVd9XdTb53O-bVZ1huRluL5rvZYNi2CCV1q3KOu-gy9_Ow7puBQH43lLyLD0LCKS-cMqDvgmPJwzV_hRc/s1600/DSC00045s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
My legs protested riding all morning, my head was sleepy, and even an hour-long almond-butter-and-nap-break didn't do much to help. Eventually, my body decided riding wasn't that bad of a thing to do, and we climbed steadily away from Lake Roosevelt and into unknown territory in the rugged hills above. By lunch, we found ourselves at the beginning of a 5-mile cross-country hike. We munched on avocados and stared at maps. Beyond the hike, 10 miles of likely slow or unrideable trail stood firmly between us and our car, as well as ~30 miles of rideable dirt. It was looking unlikely that we would get anywhere close to finishing that evening. I put the brownies back into my pack without eating them, nervous about having enough food left.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTXT27g-e190I8bNhU0dUhk8d0W7UOWBrqjULbSXO1zPuFJob1bqx4nsgZny2wz1efN4ze49_llv42a-17EdX0YIV650L_tkOIq3__3lWC3cPOzZSYzK8MJsP5AMUaD3hITq4TnQg5ao/s1600/DSC00068s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTXT27g-e190I8bNhU0dUhk8d0W7UOWBrqjULbSXO1zPuFJob1bqx4nsgZny2wz1efN4ze49_llv42a-17EdX0YIV650L_tkOIq3__3lWC3cPOzZSYzK8MJsP5AMUaD3hITq4TnQg5ao/s1600/DSC00068s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4bMiZbA0fvwolBvGp7hmMPqjMFDg5cJ2mQUcRJxRvUsTak0uTHk35EEm2K93PpcLKf5GsovMwqkx32kPEPTKs74ynVOo7ERla6dnXn1Wu_hMHmVgtiN3dSjOOVVRtJPRtZ5-hoFVay4U/s1600/DSC00083s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4bMiZbA0fvwolBvGp7hmMPqjMFDg5cJ2mQUcRJxRvUsTak0uTHk35EEm2K93PpcLKf5GsovMwqkx32kPEPTKs74ynVOo7ERla6dnXn1Wu_hMHmVgtiN3dSjOOVVRtJPRtZ5-hoFVay4U/s1600/DSC00083s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
So we hiked. And bushwhacked. Our legs and shirts got shredded. But then we reached the pass and its unanticipated delightful granite slickrock. So we played. The sun warmed the chilly air, and we grinned. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Mh6kULuBxKgG8kzrLF4T7XH8QXMuqotqjaIfczvfaUmUu_o9ofiuNqRz-oPGU0r8qUMkcGXVUgkU78eTK8jsDGAJ0KRf3zVFCTLbHV0Nc6P-wBD03wHkI6OoamwBoWYW4qx-MEo9dHY/s1600/DSC00095s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Mh6kULuBxKgG8kzrLF4T7XH8QXMuqotqjaIfczvfaUmUu_o9ofiuNqRz-oPGU0r8qUMkcGXVUgkU78eTK8jsDGAJ0KRf3zVFCTLbHV0Nc6P-wBD03wHkI6OoamwBoWYW4qx-MEo9dHY/s1600/DSC00095s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
After some wash riding and another low pass, a faint trail revealed itself. A new view revealed mountains of mine tailings spilling over the ridge to the east. It was an eerie landscape through which we pedaled, stuck in a deep valley between an enormous copper mine and a Wilderness area. The area felt so remote, and yet, if I stopped, I could hear the hum of heavy machinery, and keen eyes could pick out tiny dark objects making their way up the tailings. Those tiny objects were actually dump trucks the size of my house. And all along the creek were groaning well houses and buzzing pump stations, pulling out groundwater for the mining operations above.<br />
<br />
By the time the sun disappeared, it was blatantly obvious that we had bitten off more than we had anticipated. This seems to be an emerging theme. An inviting grove of sycamores signaled it was time to stop for the day. Kaitlyn cooked up a tasty coconut soup dinner (we miraculously packed two dinners, just in case) as I scavenged wood for a fire. We enjoyed the evening amongst the grove of trees in a surprisingly lush drainage. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDn5BSJxVz8DR_WKqj3Plt3JqI5PH2Fh3EzjBv9_z-Eu7XYBsYU7fw0Gg0WGFD_8ho1Lj4hMMUUORDKboAScFPkvYAbR6DPgA2gBCNHTL_tedY2C6UXqdrPSMLC3sDsV1lF9dI6ORQ51Y/s1600/DSC00146s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDn5BSJxVz8DR_WKqj3Plt3JqI5PH2Fh3EzjBv9_z-Eu7XYBsYU7fw0Gg0WGFD_8ho1Lj4hMMUUORDKboAScFPkvYAbR6DPgA2gBCNHTL_tedY2C6UXqdrPSMLC3sDsV1lF9dI6ORQ51Y/s1600/DSC00146s.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnDhBYN2MLcji4t8iZf3w6Ocva7F5-i2nhJ6QqmhcmG3I6D7rzmFcsttJ4zj_gn6YEMQJyM-wIipzZYT0baVw9xwtjQnWg7858IW47Z9Hj7ewK2MJwnpkz69NDhsvcKgG-fsin9QAv2I/s1600/DSC00152s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnDhBYN2MLcji4t8iZf3w6Ocva7F5-i2nhJ6QqmhcmG3I6D7rzmFcsttJ4zj_gn6YEMQJyM-wIipzZYT0baVw9xwtjQnWg7858IW47Z9Hj7ewK2MJwnpkz69NDhsvcKgG-fsin9QAv2I/s1600/DSC00152s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Day three of our two-day trip was one of those days when you wonder why you even bothered to bring a bike along. Five miles of rugged, overgrown, unrideable trail gave way to five more miles of bushwhacking up a narrow drainage. We hiked. And pushed. And pulled. And tripped. And slogged. Our bikes clunked over rocks and grabbed at bushes as we forced our way along. Somehow, though, our moods remained surprisingly jovial, in part due to the beauty of the area, even when rain showers moved in. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tYdd0Qp4tuq4GMO_pFg_RTVkpJgy34TrT6PJ03ZXudQ9wtSXidAtF2Sx19UhLJs7CyfT6simn-VDyVhLWGe1vLnB6cw5tu1lYe9qz3Ksw5PpPncy5QbHJZuPtVcro5pcheIESvMY32w/s1600/DSC00155s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tYdd0Qp4tuq4GMO_pFg_RTVkpJgy34TrT6PJ03ZXudQ9wtSXidAtF2Sx19UhLJs7CyfT6simn-VDyVhLWGe1vLnB6cw5tu1lYe9qz3Ksw5PpPncy5QbHJZuPtVcro5pcheIESvMY32w/s1600/DSC00155s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-m-mvDHrHjZE69MiiCnxDeoM9hp6tuL2cQrUb0Pmo18kng-i46CCQqlalsO1-B14awZNDezQ8V66LV4-lZ2KqaYKrAJW_7fswKE53dNZewA2czTfb5KS0f-7BnPGtBtwuEvdSigvvcKg/s1600/DSC00158s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-m-mvDHrHjZE69MiiCnxDeoM9hp6tuL2cQrUb0Pmo18kng-i46CCQqlalsO1-B14awZNDezQ8V66LV4-lZ2KqaYKrAJW_7fswKE53dNZewA2czTfb5KS0f-7BnPGtBtwuEvdSigvvcKg/s1600/DSC00158s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
We started counting down the miles around lunch time. Somehow we were managing a pace of 1.5 mph, neither of us had ripped off our rear derailleurs, and we still had a bit of food left. I could sense that were were getting up rather high, but with no visibility beyond the sides of the drainage, it was tough to tell. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiWluBR5qjcYER-q4e3v004ssJv9_DO_N7w_LIVqI-TNjpRedJRV7Twfi_7BURvkWHzPNrSObfTtH6x8boMCbmiW-9Rpdk72uY53fnwByk6TSie6StED0BfDc8DSD9s8OwsPEYoS11WI/s1600/DSC00161s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiWluBR5qjcYER-q4e3v004ssJv9_DO_N7w_LIVqI-TNjpRedJRV7Twfi_7BURvkWHzPNrSObfTtH6x8boMCbmiW-9Rpdk72uY53fnwByk6TSie6StED0BfDc8DSD9s8OwsPEYoS11WI/s1600/DSC00161s.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Just as abruptly as the hike-a-bike had begun, we walked out onto a jeep trail and stared out from amongst the towering ridges and peaks of the southern side of the Soups. We grinned at one another, ate the last of our food, got on our bikes, and plummeted down a series of steep trails for what felt like hours. My stomach growled and legs protested on each little climb, but the lure of food back in the car kept both of us moving steadily. We managed to finish the ride with just a couple hours of light to spare, and that loop will now be known as the Stuporstition Stumble. Thanks for the adventure, Kaitlyn. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGt64MMS1-8OhOl5O7_GIpL3V0RMuEY_096lhtO58LAI4EviH4N9IwtqTdDIKNw_HfygWqMuMIR0GQ9-etBEacp6qOtipGGTObKTmGm2pyqls-jPTEvC0FU3Ih0VGmTUaoS6oA-xIyhnI/s1600/DSC09995s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGt64MMS1-8OhOl5O7_GIpL3V0RMuEY_096lhtO58LAI4EviH4N9IwtqTdDIKNw_HfygWqMuMIR0GQ9-etBEacp6qOtipGGTObKTmGm2pyqls-jPTEvC0FU3Ih0VGmTUaoS6oA-xIyhnI/s1600/DSC09995s.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424896406422956237.post-10371280704444502242014-03-20T22:13:00.000-06:002014-03-20T22:19:41.263-06:00A study in contrasts, Part II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After 4 weeks on the road, I found myself back in Prescott for a few days before heading straight back toward Tucson for what has become the largest 24 hour mountain bike race in the country, 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo (OP). I had a lot on my plate for that short stay - my very own house needed to be moved into, I had to pull all my stuff out of storage, and there was seemingly endless prep work for (OP).</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The amount of effort that goes into getting ready for a 24 boggles my mind. Bikes need to be cleaned and tuned, tires swapped out, food needs to be planned, back-up wheels/bikes ready, food needs to bought, sufficient lighting and batteries, food needs to be baked/cooked, camping and cooking gear needs to be gathered, food needs to be tested, friends needed to be recruited and bribed to crew, and everything needs to be packed into rather small vehicle. I liked the I-just-need-to-swap-out-some-cogs-and-chainrings-the-night-before-the-race approach for Singlespeed AZ.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
OP took two of us the better part of 3 days to get ready. We finally rolled out of town, surprisingly exhausted from the effort and very relieved to be on the road. After dark, we bounced in the rough road to 24 Hour Town, in a daze from the drive and amazed at how many RVs were packed into such a small area, and so far ahead of the race. We arrived two nights before the start, and already, we struggled to find a spot remotely near the course to set up our little camp.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaj42IC5tvElgbbC2SJc1rSp4t-A9n5dFnYxzRD-1CWbU2TkUHdNw2GREJscOkpJO17NxOXAt_ZpD9tYAhF4GNjHe5AGcqxRW2-W-gd8QW2L2oWriZ2xB32N3ei7Yj9tcizf8q9n25is/s1600/KB+OP+by+lisa+zander.jpg" height="300" width="400" /> </div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Camp." We had a dirtbag setup, working out of the back of an old pick-up and off a folding plastic table. We had a canvas tarp strung over a few wooden poles I had pulled from my scrap pile at home, there were two chairs for four people, and our tiny tent barely fit between our table and the next camp over. We were surrounded by large RVs. The guy next to us swept a path through the dirt from his door to the course (swept as in with a <i>broom</i>). He had two generators running much of the time. Every other camp seemed to have an EZ Up. Beside us, another tiny tent had been set up to reserve space for someone's car. Little did they know that everyone gets parked in by a dozen or more cars come race day?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We liked our little camp. We weren't so excited about everything packed in around us. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The race started with an impressively chaotic Le Mans start, with all first-lap riders running a full half mile to their bikes. Once there, everyone insisted on trying to run-grab-bike-mount-bike-pedal in the same space. Kaitlyn jumped out of the seething, yelling crowd and got my bike in my hands. Then there was just the taste of dust in my mouth, the sound of tires crunching quickly through gravel in my ears, and the rapid exchange of hot air in my lungs. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 1.</b> As usual, the first lap was a test of will power to limit the expenditure of nervous, excited energy, a test of restraint. I settled into a hard pace and watched the lead group disappear into the cactus-lined distance. I dripped with sweat and my legs questioned the pace. Less than an hour for 17 miles? So much for restraint.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 2. </b>I passed the baton to Kaitlyn in the raucous tent. I don't think I even smiled. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 3.</b> I ran out of the tent, trying to calculate the time of Kaitlyn's fast first lap. I thought it was fast, but I couldn't be sure. Salt accumulated on my gloves in the unseasonable afternoon heat. I hit the climbs hard and paid for it toward the end of the lap. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 4.</b> Kaitlyn trotted into the tent and grinned. Focused again, I'm not sure if I even said anything back.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 5.</b> I wondered what place we were in. I drank as much as I could down without clipping a pricklypear or one of those barrel cacti perched in the apex of a turn. I got bored. And I got uncomfortably hot. The prospect of my fourth lap, the hardest for me, also had me worried.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 6.</b> Light mounted atop her helmet, Kaitlyn headed out ready for dark. "Have fun," I said. Back at camp, Cecil and Lisa had cooked up an impressive coconut sweet potato veggie soup.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIUE1jgEwIjsL8ERyA-ZgrbEtHtWVXPWE1yFDzCf461zJI76TI3PibR2pwf7bw2XhgGbxLKYHYtwCR_OnLl_qz5JXZHcPU2y1zV3D6r6N1BaSQ7fl2o_m1vGgBbCwPWhw9VH-gzXy-TM/s1600/OP+vernie+atkins2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIUE1jgEwIjsL8ERyA-ZgrbEtHtWVXPWE1yFDzCf461zJI76TI3PibR2pwf7bw2XhgGbxLKYHYtwCR_OnLl_qz5JXZHcPU2y1zV3D6r6N1BaSQ7fl2o_m1vGgBbCwPWhw9VH-gzXy-TM/s1600/OP+vernie+atkins2.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a> </div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Photo by Vernie Aikins</i></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 7.</b> Living up to my lowly expectations, my fourth lap tried to bring me to my knees. I slyly rode the first half of the course relatively easily and still had sore, exhausted legs by the last quarter lap. Passing so many other riders each lap was becoming more and more tiresome.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 8.</b> At the exchange, Kaitlyn was waiting for me, a big smile across her face. I headed back to camp for coconut sweet potato soup as Kaitlyn turned in another fast lap. We debated on a notepad at camp whether or not to double up on any laps. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 9.</b> My exceedingly bright lights cut through the blackness, and I rode as well as I ever do at night. The course was becoming familiar, and night riding in the Sonoran Desert is such a beautiful thing. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Lap 10. </b>The next evening exchange left no impact on my memory apparently. Mental fatigue began to set in, my stomach went south, and the simple thought of food became entirely unappetizing. Our crew ladies said I was acting like a petulant child. I probably was. <br />
<br />
<b>Lap 11.</b> It was dark. <br />
<br />
<b>Lap 12.</b> One of our crew ladies realized that if Kaitlyn and I rode an equal number of laps, she'd end up riding something like 90 more minutes of riding, equivalent to more than a full lap. Via notepad, somehow I agreed to do a double lap and let Kaitlyn sleep. I whined to the crew ladies as they tried to stuff food down my throat.<br />
<br />
<b>Lap 13.</b> It was still dark. I paced myself for a pair of laps, lazily slaloming around the prickly pear as so many other racers were sleeping.<br />
<br />
<b>Lap 14.</b> I went straight through the exchange tent to continue my rather enjoyable ride on the quiet course. <br />
<br />
<b>Lap 15. </b>Kaitlyn rested in a sleeping bag on the ground for 40 minutes, got cold, and then had her slowest and most painful lap of the race. I think she disliked my double lap more than I did. Meanwhile, I got myself into trouble with Lisa as she was so kindly trying to help me eat. "Kurt, I'm done playing games with you!" she scolded as she forced me to eat some banana with cashew butter. I nearly threw up right there. <br />
<br />
<b>Lap 16.</b> The sunrise lap, my favorite! I was also growing tired of riding in the dark.With my lights' batteries dying, I eagerly awaited the first glimpse of the sun and drawing on its energy. And energize me it did...<br />
<br />
<b>Lap 17.</b> By now, Kaitlyn's stomach had also turned on her. She was living off canned peaches, and I could only choke down some sweet potato chips as I sat in the chair in between laps and stared off into space. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJGD1yaDugZvFg5d6SD8L1atczIiyDiXBuTRPLtP1Oh3bTKCnlyOeUD1CQ2I2_AikqWDBTZfivUeDzhRBSd_zdjFoCoPm4Fl-HwfJWOSZ59jOD3dx1n4E3oIq1_vuNcnb22RFawD4l5I/s1600/OP.jpg" height="400" width="266" /> </div>
<br />
<b>Lap 18.</b> By now we had opened up a solid lead in our category.<br />
<br />
<b>Lap 19.</b> Kaitlyn charged off on what she thought would be her final lap as I ate some chicken soup that Kaitlyn had scavenged from Aaron Gulley's (my race partner from last year) camp. I managed to get it all down, and it seemed to calm my stomach a bit.<br />
<br />
Then in the exchange tent, I watched the race clock as I waited for Kaitlyn to come in. She trotted in at 10:50 after crushing her "last" lap. I eagerly ran up to her. "If I can ride under 1:10, you can do another lap!" I exclaimed.<br />
<br />
"Oh, fuck," she replied as her face dropped.<br />
<br />
<b>Lap 20.</b> I launched back onto the course for my final lap, pushing hard for the first 5 miles. Then muscles throughout my body began threatening to cramp. The last thing I wanted was to be reduced to walking, so I backed off and gave up the notion of finishing before the last-lap cutoff at noon.<br />
<br />
By the time I reached the final climb, my legs began to put up a serious protest, so I backed off even further. All sense of urgency was gone.<br />
<br />
Somehow, though, to my amazement, I crested the final climb at 11:56. I knew that the descent back to the exchange usually took me just shy of four minutes. I stood up, cranked hard over the top, and railed. I unfortunately made a few rather rude passes, yelling something incoherent about trying to make it back by noon.<br />
<br />
When the exchange tent came into view, I could hear everyone counting down.<br />
<br />
At five seconds I ran into the tent.<br />
<br />
At four I fumbled to pull the baton from my pocket.<br />
<br />
At one I handed the baton to Kaitlyn.<br />
<br />
And as the clock struck noon, Kaitlyn strode out of the tent.<br />
<br />
<b>Lap 21. </b>Kaitlyn's victory lap. She had decided she would only ride a 21st lap if she could "Skip the Bitches" and spin the entire time. So she rode the longer, scenic singletrack option, befriended an exhausted solo racer also on a victory/recovery lap, drank Gatorade with volunteers, and didn't shift out of her small chainring.<br />
<br />
And at 1:43, they rode into the tent just in time for the awards. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVo6KQGCgRRezUhWM2BQFOX9T6duXqDrCGoEZuJMqMkev8dso7ReSah00VQsh8vK8a_88pFT2VpVCvuuSElo6f44Kq-2LfDMUFOYUKbx-PemT-WeMH9Na85xZFwIkV2VAB-lx75Wo9ik/s1600/OP+podium+Devon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVo6KQGCgRRezUhWM2BQFOX9T6duXqDrCGoEZuJMqMkev8dso7ReSah00VQsh8vK8a_88pFT2VpVCvuuSElo6f44Kq-2LfDMUFOYUKbx-PemT-WeMH9Na85xZFwIkV2VAB-lx75Wo9ik/s1600/OP+podium+Devon.jpg" height="301" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Photo by Devon Orme</i></div>
<br />
We were both rather blown away by how everything played out. Our seemingly optimistic goal was 20 laps, and we managed to set a new course record for coed duo.<br />
<br />
By the time we finished packing up the truck, the chaos of 24 Hour Town had evaporated. Almost everyone was gone. It was quiet. Scattered about were overflowing dumpsters and crushed cholla. And we were exhausted.<br />
<br />
We made it 15 minutes down the road before having to switch drives. After that, we both nearly fell asleep at the wheel, so we finally broke down and got a motel in Apache Junction after wandering the aisles of Fry's looking for food that sounded good. We fell asleep with the light on and didn't stir until well after most folks were already at work the next day.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
Thank you Cecil and Lisa for the amazing and tolerant support! Kurthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00256536488391206886noreply@blogger.com0