Why?

Folks....look away...there is nothing to see here....this is just another, run of the mill bikepack on the AZT. These pictures are rather un-extraordinary in that they're just my normal routine, my normal pace and my normal expectations for another weekend on the bike. I apologize if this post fails to offer up any insight, epiphany or any other realization.  What once was extrodinary to me is now matter of fact....but I keep coming back.  To me, this is just another boring bikepack post.....and still I ask the question why I keep coming back.....Do you know?  If not....perhaps you should ask too.....and if you do know, I'd sure like to hear from you why you keep coming back.

Running the Crazy 88 route in reverse, I set out from the command center on west Route 66 and head out to Fisher Point.  The golden tops of grass growing below Fisher Point reach higher than usual obscuring most of my ride......flowing through the fields at speed, the soft gentle brush of grass with every pedel stroke a gentle reminder of something....but what?

Climbing up to the rim of Walnut Canyon; the southern facing, north rim welcomed me with the warm expressions of plants with a singular purpose....to aim their barbs south towards the suns arcing path...and by ridiculous circumstance......towards me....

Riding on to the east....seemingly towards Winslow....the rim became more arid and chocky. The colors of a second spring rising up around me, growing upwards and away from the bone-like expanse of limestone, kept me limber in the saddle.  Listening to a new Panic show, the song 'Stop-Go' serendipitously played in my ears during my drive-and-pause pace of exploration....

.....how apropos this all is....it's often like this on these rides which last for days....a piece of music will fit into the scenery and experience like a keyhole, opening up a world that transcends what I feel, see, smell and taste.  I detour at at every viewpoint to explore the rim, peering down at the incised lower canyon which was framed in eolian forms left long ago.....my fingertips feeling at the grainy edge of the cliff as I crawl nearer to peer below....my toes firmly planted into the chunky limestone searching for a positve purchase as I look deeper and deeper......

As I transitioned off the rim and head lower into Pinon Country, the pleasant smell of spring filled my nose.....the bountiful monsoon this year has blessed us with a prodigal resurgence of wildflowers.  I'm amazed at how the land smells....this part of the ride makes me feel as if I'm riding in May and not mid-September.....

Similar scenes make me drunk with adulation.....and in my solo state, I loose my lens cap.  Wandering about forever trying to find the thing I recently lost.....I later realize what I just lost would never be regained.....so I left it out there in the beauty of the field, tied my arm warmers into a lens cap and moved on.  The peaks in the background were calling me as they always do......but they remind me that there are a lot of hard miles between now and then....I move on....

Hours later.....I start to crack....I realize that I started to bonk when I lost my lens cap....but the physical manifestations have just now reared their ugly heads....an evil hydra of physical exhaustion, mental malaise and dehydration have turned my emotional and logical mind into a cold-hard lump of HTFU.....I press on.....in the absence of counteractive stimulation I become obstinate.....

Obstinate has drawn me from the depths of the pit and brought me home....Obstinate is why I'm still here....Obstinate is my savior....I am become Obstinate.  An hour later after the first of two major pitches.....I realize that my bonk is not going away despite a 30 minute rest in the pines and well wishes from those that love me......so I take out of reserve a weapon I rarely use.....Red Vines......downing two at a time, I ride....a vine every 5 minutes or so...mainlining the corn syrup, I catch momentary glimpses of a rally......but I lag on in between.......painfully slow I climb into the late afternoon..... curmudgeonly and obstinate......

Making my way to camp via a tepee constructed of sticks signling a turn after an aspen grove west into a non-descript fern forest by a friend who might no longer be there....I make my way to a smiling group of friends who offer me a beer and a chair......a rare treat and respite from the normal bikepacking days end.....but a planned one at that since we have night pictures to take....

I normally crawl into my pack soon after the light fades from the horizon and spend the rest of the night admiring the sky until I fall asleep....this time, I stayed outside and admired the sky until I had to retreat to my bag.....asking my friend DurtGurl to capture a scene for me.....I retired to my bivy below my bike and fell asleep to the stars as I often do....dreaming of the future and asking a critical question....Why?

Photo by Kathleen Kingma

The next day I did it all over again.....am I obstinate because I do it, or do I do it because I'm obstinate?