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It starts with an idea....."lets get this guy out of a funk", we say....or so I think it goes.....and so goes a pro-racer, a perfectionist business-man and a bro-extraordinire.  "Let's make pretty for the guy with the glass and long lens"......"He clearly, needs a catharsis here"....and snap.....my wishes for less talk and more ride have begun....one passive-aggressive ringy-dingy bell at a time.......

.....but smiles give way to evergreen ferns the size of Ewoks on a moto-track called Estupendo............

Singletrack traces the only path forward for the riders; surviving a happy entanglement of chloroform.........

........ and clearly enjoying it......

The flowers of the Coconino pay no bother...but the bloke with the glass does........

.......and then, as if on que.....the riders start paying more attention to the Sunflowers or Black Eyed Susies than the trail......they do catch your eye......

Topping out on a ridge, a dead tree still shows beauty as all dead things do......beauty persists as do memories of the grand tree that used to be.......

....yet upon the fields of Elysium, we find beauty in flowers; hidden in the undergrowth of seed and canopy.....

.......and in the carvealiscious singletrack between the mystic and the present.......stalks of long-grass waist high hit us in random and staccato patterns upon our shins in painful, but minor, reminders of the exhilaration we feel as we speed beyond on our descent.  For every joy there is a pain and yet, today, the pain has been gained; we now reap the rewards with a descent into and upon Sunset.

Before the reward of the descent however....we think...and we wait........

Crossing back into the fields....an unknown rider is spotted traversing from Brookbank to Jedi on a field of gold.....floating in color and never to be seen again; their run must have been a good one......

The work begins.....

.....A second try requires contemplation by Chollaball.......

.....dgangi commits to the drop.....which commits him to 10 stitches later in the day......

A second try frames Cholla in the squeeze.....

.....and the effort to get him there ends in a save......

A third look from below, Cholla surveys the path........

.....and the strong effort is made.....I've never seen a man more systematically persistent in the face of obstacles than he.....for another time he will gain glory; for now, the words of a man named Teddy should suffice.

Day two dawned with an overnight bikepack planned with Splitchimp.  With a torrential downpour presenting 3/4" of rain in an hour before we left.....we decide to NOT abandon our bikepack....and forge ahead.  Reaching Schultz via different paths, it's apparent my mud cake veneer from the Observatory Mesa doubletrack is a sign of things to come.......we'll take the highway and hope the rain pulls away........it does not....and neither do those that protest the pipeline to Snowbowl......

We take a break at Aspen Corner as the rain subsides, and test the dirt.....it looks good.....things here are not as bad as they were down low........we forge on with plans to make it to Little Spring.......Wreckreation had other plans.........

Not 10 minutes later.....a torrential downpour with sleet occurred.....this combined with the 5 minutes rest at Aspen Corner left me numb in fingers and toe.  Options were discussed.....me finding shelter under a tree and Splitchimp continuing on to the spring to get much needed water which we were ironically low on despite the ocean falling from the skies.  I stated once I get out of my chamois and into my bag and bivy....."I'm done".  Before Split can even start a fire....I'm naked and into my dry clothes, into my bag and bivy.....I'm done, as promised....he's welcome to another ride for an hour in the sleet if he wants....I'm home for the night......and I have water to spare......and so we became static.... burrito in foil, warming in the coals of a small fire in the freezing cold of August at altitude....the night becomes pre-determined because of my frozen ass........

As I thawed, the new-school factor came into play as the uni-directional, unobtanium-titanium, lighter than thought alcohol stove made it's debut in the bikepacking food-wars....me eating a cold Don Miguel burrito with hubristic efficiency in mind.....Splitchimp warming his tomato soup with greater pride........I think he wins this night.  Screw it......I KNOW he wins this night.....I secretly hate him as I bite into yet another cold, soggy cheep gas-station burrito as he enjoys the bikepacking equivalent of grilled-cheese samiches and tomato soup grilled by your mamma.......how I hated him thus.....but true to form in all backcountry adventures....he shared....and all is well in the universe...I gave him some raspberry gummies in humble, but unequal exchange.....I secretly pledge to haul and bust out with some Tofurkin on some high, snow-swept alpine redoubt in the middle of next winter......

As the daylight fades, a window of blue appears from my bivy looking north.....the cumulonimbus clouds are stacked up from west to east over the south rim of the Grand Canyon....and we know we are next.........

Before the next tempest, the earth grows long against the sun and a rainbow presents it self against the highest point in Arizona...a double-rainbow if if you look hard enough......

 Visions of color draw us out of our bivy, contemplating photon and wave-form physics........

The glow, un-photoshoped is breathtaking......this is core to bikepacking.....getting out there....and having the opportunity to see unrivaled beauty....and more importantly, and key; to share it with all who are open to the experience.....

Retreating back from the glory of color, a last glimpse of our hotel for the night..........

The next morning, I notice Split still has a green fingernail.......the man knows how to keep it real.......

I've watched so many sunrises with this guy in the snow...and yet so few in the peak of summer......here, we see the light piercing the saddle, darkness below, treeline receiving the first glow of the day.

As the glow of awakening occurs in our minds, so does the color in the prairie before us; handlebars holding fast the tarp against the tempest the night before.

Jersey's saturated the day before, rest in the dry air of a post-monsoon morning; fully exposed to the sun before the next storm.....always, a good day on the bike.........

The sounds of insects clicking in the stillness of morning are investigated before pushing off.....these locusts flying every-which-way as our front wheels pierce the overgrown singletrack in pursuit of water for the day...their flight appearing as white-hot meteors rising from the grasses in front of us as we speed along.

Arriving at Little Spring.....we respect those that pondered the beauty before us........

 ......I do my best to respect the life-zones by focusing on what is near and dear to my heart.....

The rain from the previous night graced every leaf in this area next to the spring....

....a veritable lushness in an arid environment....our morning and afternoon water needs are met here at the spring.....without which we'd be in a pickle......we are thankful........

Driving home.....we stop on the AZT to find giant mushrooms in the boreal forest.......where is the white rabbit when you need it, I ask?......

More riding gives way to fields of shrooms the likes to take you to nebulea you've never seen before....you just might never come back....that's the rub.......

Full of water and racing the water in the sky....we pierce southward on the AZT back towards the land of subconscious reactions and behaviors.....

...but not before stopping to eat the edible Indian Paintbrush flowers.....

Sussing out the newest reaches of the AZT, we find the flow from Aspen Corner to Snowbowl road to be FANTASTIC.......... 

I roll into town......excited, overjoyed, and disappointed.  Disappointed because nothing will ever compare to the beauty to what I find Out There.  I once found it, but it has slipped; it's but a dream I now chase on the singletrack, in the fields and upon the mountain in which my dreams reside.  I'm thankful for the friends that continue to inspire the search when I'm too weak to start to look:  Without their support, the beauty found would be meaningless.  Beauty found in isolation is but a dream.....beauty found and shared is reality.