The groundskeeper

the solitary solace i find in mind,

a noble fancy, the passage of time.

Windswept emotions cry foul before others,

mistaken in their magnitude they garner regret,

of the fun I have on wheels in spite of threat.

your sunrise comes blowing on whisper and glow,

scent of grass and pine, my pace slows.

but for a time when I breathe in the scene before me,

a calming of sorts, the quiet of morning, the still day transforming,

we'll never be the same, "this light is tremendous", i yell in mourning.

the earth exhales as the sun grows higher,

creating a symphony of light and sensation, my sweat starts flowing.

I stop for water, a drink of thought, a thought extreme

a notions fancy, a moonlight scream.

In your motion I see no other, a wisp of notion, a smell o'dream;

your scream for me now, to wander across body

is lightened by patience, an exercise extreme;

your mysteries unfold, a novels untold,

stories unknown, and action in bold.

a higher path is claimed asunder, a ride which transforms,

forged in thunder.

a thought that pierces beyond the mists,
a mind a'wandered

the deserts below the peaks uplifted', the canyons wont speak,

for you lie naked alone,

I am the groundskeeper, a seeker of truths, 

a bier of sorrows, you exist in mind, 

and alone you heed.

Yet in my mind a new truth exists,

the pedal that stops, the grounding in mist,

the dust that forms low, on my face and furrow,

is the last breath taken,

the show,

is over.

You're doing it all wrong

I did it all wrong on Saturday.  Muscle memory only goes so far...and mine just ran out.  I was solidly out of endurance shape after a 5 month eschewment (if there were ever a word) of solo riding for days on end.  I'm glad I spent the last 5 months doing what I wanted....but as the first AES event of the season proved....you're only as good as your last ride....and mine sucked.

I knew starting out that I was in for some form of self-flagellation, and I never batted an eyelash at the implication.  I can suck up just about any form of punishment and keep laughing...but do I really want to?  These thoughts were swept into the recesses of my mind as I drove north on I-17 under an awakening sky of peach, vermilion and baby blue.....

Arriving at the start...I was blown away at the parking lot...it was full with racers.  I knew from the night before that this event had hit its max of 74 riders...but it took a while for this to sink in.....just 2 years ago...this event had about 15 folks showing up....another sign of my spanking, just a warm glow on the horizon which represents my peachy and tilted optimism.....

Off the bat, this ride gives you 1,000 vertical feet of spankdown in the first 7 miles....tack on another 13 miles and you've gained 3,000 vertical feet.  As I contemplated this fact against what types of rides I do better at...I started awakening to the fact that it doesn't really matter.....I was sucking because of my gluttony.   Contrasting this were many of the folks that put some good time in since the AZT in the spring....J-Bake all smiles mid-way through the climb....

Topping out at the entrance to Antelope Canyon singletrack....I wanted to puke...and I'm not a puker.  I'm quite certain that it was because I was drinking from a 4-month old bottle of Carbo Rocket Half-Evil which I had left in the back of my fridge....it looked ok to me in the morning when I left.  Too bad I neglected to notice the black slime growing in it until I was deep in the climb....lightheadedness pursued through the rest of the ride....here I was only halfway into the event....and I was doing it all wrong.....lucky for me, the landscape provided a palliative course of action....

...and in this remedy, others shared in the joy of a hard earned descent.....

....a descent that turned former frowns, upside down.....

Many hours later....my upside down frown got turned over again as I found myself in the pain cave....cramping, light-headed, knee aching and bonking.....until I found this gem.  I had been doing math in my head since Bumble Bee Rd....figuring out bail points, mileage, time, elevation gained....all against remaining mileage, water and stats on route.  I hate the term DNF.... because it rhymes with quitter....but I was feeling the sweet relief in the possibility my suffering could end...until I found this.  I quickly bucked up and remembered why I was here.....life sucks....some moments more vidid than others.  The sweet relief and relish comes sometimes in the memory of the beautiful moments; moments which share only a flash within our consciousness as we labor to make it through the day.

The labor is what gets us to memory lane...and as I sit here remembering the ride....the views....the epic descents....and yes, the hell I inflicted upon myself to avoid three letters.....I see clearly in the usual suspects below, the reason we all do it.  Thanks to all my fellow riders for reminding me that joy in the greater things comes in the struggle.  In the vacuum of my nightmare, I had sought the struggle merely out of a sense of purpose.....I had long ago become numb to it and needed a break.  This ride has reminded me that my nightmare is over and that I now seek the struggle for all the right reasons....I want it.....

Chiens retraite dans les montagnes

Not all progress is defined by forward movement.  A sore knee after continuous forward progress on the bike occasionally forces me to slow down and stop all together. This is a lesson I'm still painfully learning years after I first realized it....I'm just slow to fully accepting it.  By slowing down, we sometimes make more progress.  We get to take in the world in ways we don't normally see and at a pace we are unaccustomed to moving.  One such way of moving and seeing is through the eyes of a dog...1 foot off the ground, looking up and out in wonder and curiosity, full of joy in the simple beauty of it all.  A moments view from another vantage point is often all that is needed to completely change your perspective on what otherwise feels like a forced retreat.......

Stooping down to view things, we still wonder and count how many years have passed before us...this was the year we did this, this was the year we did that...what about now....what about tomorrow?

I've climbed on my bike by this spot hundreds of times, usually in an anaerobic state, and have failed to notice the beautiful moss growing in the indescribable luminosity of late-afternoon...

The colors of transition are beginning to show at ground level.

Even though the future will shower the path ahead of us with countless transitions...we carry the one we last experienced as a reminder of things to come in the future....

No longer confined to the singletrack which only goes in one of two directions; we roam directionless in fields awash in colors of late summer....

Colors which fight to carry on after the bracken has turned to rust....late bloomers will always stand out....

With the days end coming sooner and sooner, our dinner of El Serrano and Bean Burritos is met by a moonless night where the stars appear between bony tree trunks......

Peering overhead to the southeast where the dog star Cyrus will soon appear....an appearance heralding the season of snow....our wonder focuses on the visible arms of the milky way.  The next spiral out from where we are is far beyond us and most often times out of sight...until the moment we fix our gaze on it and decide for ourselves that we will continue to grow, to learn and to move beyond where we are now....

Waking up to another beautiful day, our footsteps are deadened by a cool dew in the forest as we sniff around for this years harvest of Lobster Mushrooms....these will make some fine ravioli....

Breaking camp, we transition to the sub-alpine fields off of the AZT.....

 ......and lounge in a spot with full command of the terrain around us.

Saying hello to friendly strangers who also come to enjoy this place, shortcuts are taken at will......

....play is had..................

....and butterflies are chased from flower to flower.

The sunny fields of late summer inspire many emotions.....wonder in beauty.....

.....joy and laughter......................

...contentment and peace.

This time of year is when I often look past the waning summer in anticipation of falling snow....but days like this make me want to stay put....and like a dog, roll in the rays of sun for the pure joy of it all.  My mistress winter will come soon enough, but for now....I don't want summer to end.

Adventures abound

Last week offered me more time than not to go paddling twice with Sam, and camping/hiking/canyoning with Dara and Troy, Jason and Beckie.  Having a weekend without a bike adventure feels weird at first, but has left my energy and passion renewed for other experiences beyond the 2-wheeled sphere I roll around in.  Since I'm new to white water kayaking, I was too busy keeping upright on day one of the paddle to take pics; however, day 2 saw Sam and I on sea kayaks out on Canyon Lake.  Free from the distraction of power boats, we were free to explore the side canyons.  I was happy to find that the kayak I was using had not been used by anyone since I last used it and did not require any adjustment.

Starting early, the water was inky black with a surface texture that looked like molasses....

Turning the first bend heading up the canyon, 4-Peaks comes into view, framed by the stoic walls of time that partially shade our progression through the day.

Early morning light combined with narrow slot canyons was an "either-or" proposition in terms of exposure....I chose the nature over Sam.....Sorry Sam......

The clouds against a deep blue sky hang effortlessly above a bank of Cattails....the sweet smell of water in the desert filled our nostrils........

With each rhythmic paddle stroke contributing to a zen-like experience in the moments of silence, we peer upwards at radiant cliffs which funnel the breeze down to us in the sun; we long for the cool mist that one must feel way up there in the sky, with those Bob Ross-esque "Puffy little clouds".....

Turning into yet another slot canyon, a solipsistic photographer for the day takes note of the call of canyon wrens singing out in competing measures; each delightful and melodic sonnet repeating in echos from the lithic boundaries that surround us.......

....reflection in this deep and narrow place defined by darkness and flotsam offers up a duplicity in emotion and nature....

Exiting the coolness of the slot, the heat of the day meets us once again as we paddle on home.....

Before we exit, Sam works on his roll........

Transitioning from the low country of thorn and lake, I head north towards pine and creek and a day with Troy and Dara and Sally, Jason and Beckie and G and Alanna (with a K) for a fun day in the West Clear Creek Canyon

Oatmeal and coffee always tastes better this way......

Playing outside became the rule of the day....everything is fair game.....

Walking from camp, a held hand, a new friend and a pack of loyal dogs head into the light of a warmly scented forest road.

The scramble into the canyon required a portage of the younger, but all were in good spirits as we descended into a verdant oasis cleaved into this micro-climate of fun......

....clean fractured rock glowed with the coming of day which reached downward, lighting our way.

Once at the bottom, the ratter-instinct in Graham took over as he bounced around the mossy boulders, sniffing out the cracks in search of small mammal prey.....pure instinct never looks better.....

Across the way, the creek comes into view; flowing along in a languid coolness below a desert dune climate long gone....

More micro-climates are spotted, hanging from the eolian cliff walls, sheltered from all but the direct overhead rays of summer....

Below, a sea of gold marks the height of summer in this riparian playground......

.....peering within, more beauty is witnessed........

The experienced dogs busy themselves with crawdad catching and other dog-like behaviors.......

....while others come into their own on their own terms.......

Heading up stream, the "Cannon" comes into view.....Jason, takes the first plunge.......

Next up.....Troy........

Farther up stream, water is refilled at the spring issuing from the canyon walls in a sea of cliff-hugging chlorophyll.....

A beer I stashed in my pack is shared as modern petroglyph's are viewed.....

We walk in a lazy fashion beneath a canopy of filtered light and shadow; the rich glow of life fills the spaces around us......

Turning a bend, we head  into an amphitheater.  Craning our necks upward, we ponder and respect the 120ft free rappel required to enter this space.....the water choosing instead to ooze downward over the eons, staining the rock with life giving moisture.....

The sterile glow of the world above, is refracted by the seemingly-infinite grains of quartz which form this wall of sandstone.....

Returning to the rest of our party, I sit beside a pool and reflect........the waters hold me fast as I peer into the murkiness from above looking for answers, only to see what I currently know. Perhaps the epiphanies I seek are not to be found wearing the cloak and mask of naturalistic symbolism; rather, a reflection of the here and the now, reminding me to be present, always.

As we leave this underworld, I peer back up at the elephant-like skin that forms the cliffs around us.  I pledge to come back to the waters again soon.