Post Moab Traumatic Stress Disorder

It was Mother's Day, and Mother Nature was trying to tell us to stay put in Moab - gale force winds swept up the valley, rocking the Whale on its suspension, blowing chairs around, kicking up swirling clouds of sand and dust. But, after making Nancy her special breakfast of biscuits with sausage gravy...


...we obstinately stuck to our schedule, and pulled out onto the open road. The inherent stability of Gigantor's ample hips kept us on track even when buffetted by 50mph broadside gusts. We pushed on westward through vast wastelands and dust storms, getting the worst fuel economy of our trip as we shouldered our way into the headwind. We motored straight through Capitol Reef National Park where, as we entered the massive folds of earth it was 80 degrees, and 30 minutes later when we exited on the west side it was 70. Along the way we stopped to walk the dogs. They swam in a rushing stream, after which Kinsey had herself a dust bath (she hates to be white!):


We made camp in the small town of Torrey. The temperatures plummetted overnight, and over the next two days oscillated between 32 and 45, with wind, rain, snow and, occasionally, sun. It seemed that whenever it showed signs of clearing and we prepared to go for a hike, but the time we got ready to go a new squall would blow through and drive us back inside. But we did make it out a couple of times, heading into Capitol Reef NP:



Around town we spotted this unique vehicle, a German utility truck converted into an all-terrain camper:


The website stenciled on the door tells the story of the Two Vagabonds.

The next day was really cold, windy and rainy. Then it began to snow - giant flakes that quickly coated the landscape:


I thought that our chances of having a proper hike in the park were ruined, but after dinner the skies had cleared and the snow had melted. We dashed over to the Grand Wash and hiked amongst the magnificent towers of rock:


All around were the browns, beiges and grays of rock and sandstone, punctuated with the greens of junipers and pine. So when a small, struggling wildflower blooms in this unforgiving environment, it really stands out:

M-O-A-B !

Moab, Utah! I've been eagerly awaiting our visit here since this trip was conceived. An off-road paradise, Moab is mountain biking mecca, and home to the famous Slickrock trail, just one of many dozens of world-class trails. This Colorado riverside town also serves as the gateway to two of our National Parks (Arches & Canyonlands), and is virtually surrounded by federal recreational lands in Utah's canyon country. It's home base not only for cyclists, but for 4-wheeling, river rafting, canyoneering, hiking, camping and sightseeing. It's rare to see a vehicle in Moab that isn't loaded with bikes or that isn't either a burly 4X4, or towing one. The vast majority of the 4x4's here are Jeep Wranglers, all jacked up, with monstrous rock-crawler tires, skid plates, roll cages, jacks & winches. Sure, there are also vintage Toyota Land Cruisers, Ford Broncos, custom pick-ups, and roll-cage kit cars. The town caters to the whole variety of outdoor-enthusiast visitors, providing plenty of lodging, campgrounds, food, and services, including bike & jeep rental, and guided tours. It's not the best town we've visited, but it is one of the most interesting. Here's a typical jeep negotiating one of the challenging trails near town:


We got settled into our site at the O.K. Campground, lucky to get a large site on the outside of an otherwise very congested facility. The first thing we did had nothing whatsoever to do with Moab's long list of activities: we removed Toby's bandages and splint - free after three weeks!


He spent quite a while licking his new leg, and has been slow to use it normally, which is good, as we don't want him to overdo it and ruin the surgery. We thought he'd be off-the-wall and require a lot of constraint, but this has not been the case.

So then it was time for me to ride! The Siren call of the legendary Slickrock trail drew me up onto the mesa top...


...where I was soon to understand why this 10+ mile long trail through a moonscape of bare Navajo sandstone is considered one of Moab's most challenging trails. I expected smooth, undulating terrain full of swoopy ups and downs, jumps and drops. There is that, but there are also leg-burning lung-searing climbs that push the very limits of rubber-on-sandstone traction, and there are similarly steep roller coaster brake-smoking descents. It is amazing, it is awesome, and it well deserves to be called one of the world's best mountain bike trails:


Arches National Park: the park entrance is at the north end of town, so it's an easy drive into the park from camp. The landscape protected by the park is somehow even more grand than the millions of acres that surround it, ranging from towering slabs, balancing "stones", sheer cliffs, to the namesake arches. Here we are at the head of the Courthouse Towers area:


The arches themselves are fascinating to me - the circumstances of nature that combined to create these formation are certainly amazing, and the results so very beautiful. I could have sit and admired each one for hours on end.


Back to biking: we rented a full-suspension mountain bike for Nancy to try out. Chili Pepper bike shop set us up with a sweet Giant Cypher, and on this capable machine Nancy experience the Intrepid trail, at Dead Horse Point State Park. Having not ridden a mountain bike on rough trails in 15 years, it took some getting used to, but within 15 minutes Nancy began to trust the bike's capability and roll over some trail "features". Here she is tearing up the trail:


Dead Horse Point SP sits atop a mesa 2000 feet above the Colorado River, and there are places where you can hang your toes over this formidable drop while gazing out at the stunning vista of mesas and canyons that neighboring Canyonlands National Park calls "Islands in the Sky".

The next day I did my epic Moab mountain bike ride. I joined 11 others on the 8:00 am Coyote Shuttle (a stretch VW Vanagon) which took us from town, 45 minutes up into the foothills of the La Sal mountains, dropping us off at the Kokopelli trailhead at 8200':


This amazing ride is 20 miles of trail riding, dropping 4000' back down to the Colorado River just outside of Moab. It is about 3/4 of a string of trails collectively known as "The Whole Enchilada" - the ones I rode were Kokopelli, Upper Porcupine Singletrack, Lower Porcupine Singletrack, and Porcupine Rim. Most of the trail skirts the canyon edge, overlooking beautiful Castle Valley. There is flowing, buff singletrack with sweet berms for catching air, rocky technical twisties, crazy steep slickrock, double-diamond switchbacks, punishing jagged rocky doubletrack, and it ends with the last few miles of narrow serpentine singletrack cut into the canyon walls, riddled with drops and ledges to test anyone's abilities. Outrageous!


Lastly, we made the trek into Canyonlands Needles district. It was a very hot day, nearly 90, and very windy. We brought the dogs because we were to be gone for most of the day, although we knew that we would be limited in how long we could leave them alone in the truck. The wind helped, though, and with windows half open we were able to do a few short hikes. One the way there we stopped to check out Newspaper Rock, an impressive collection of prehistoric petroglyphs:


The scenery in the Needles was amazing, mainly due to the alternating layers of hard (light colored) and soft (red) sandstone which erode at different rates and result in fantastically shaped towers of stone:


So, Moab's a pretty amazing destination, with so much more to do and see than we could cram into six days. Guess we're gonna have to go back someday! (And when we do, we'll also go back to Ye Ol' Geezer Meat Shop to load up on their delicious jerky!)

Glenwood Springs

Reunited after 18 days, Nancy and I struck out westward once again. I'd already been to Glenwood Springs, but wanted to visit there with Nancy, and it is also halfway to Moab. It was snowing as we crossed the Rockies, limiting visibility but thankfully not affecting the roads. So, Nancy saw little of the high peaks, but was luckily able to get a good look at some bighorn sheep:


The snow ended just before we drove through Glenwood Canyon, so she was able to take in the spectaclar views there. We passed by No Name, and into Glenwood Springs where we made camp. We had a mixed bag of weather during our two days there: alternating snow squalls and tenuous spells of sunshine. Here is the view from camp during a rare and brief moment of clear skies:


I spent some time cleaning the Whale (third time in a week), washing off another layer of road grime, salt and sand. We went into town and walked among the shops, restaurants and cafes. And we spent and afternoon at the hot springs:


There are two pools: a smaller one, the "therapy pool", maintained at a toasty 104 degrees, and an enormous pool, 405 feet long, kept at 93 degrees. The water bubbles out of the earth at 122 degrees, 350000 gallons per day, and gets mixed with fresh water to keep the pools at the desired temperatures. There is Sodium Chloride, Potassium Sulfate, Calcium Sulfate, and Calcium Bicarbonate in the water, giving it a noticeable odor, and adding to the buoyancy you feel when swimming.

We enjoyed 5 or 10 minutes per at a time in the therapeutic pool, getting all loose and relaxed, then "cooled off" in the big pool, looking up at the mountains and the occasional snowflake that swirled by. We definitely enjoyed our first mineral hot springs experience.

Oh, and I don't often take joy in the news of the violent death of another human being, but in this case I make an exception: Hooray for the death of Osama Bin Laden!

Denver, part 3 (Colorado Springs)

It was with a great deal of reluctance that I left Fruita - so many trails, so little time! In addition, I would be crossing the Rocky Mountains and the Continental Divide for the second time in a week, and knowing that just days later I would drive right back over the same piece of road, over the same high mountain passes. As icing on the cake, shortly after getting on the highway I saw the giant signs warning that trucks were required to use chains in the mountains, so I had snow and ice to look forward to at high elevations! But I pushed on, eager to get back to Denver and pick Nancy up at the airport after over two weeks away.

Thankfully, however, the trip was no problem at all. Yes, there was snow, sand and salt, but by the time I got up high the roads were not slippery, the chain requirements were lifted, and I arrived in Denver having made good time, and with only a filthy truck and trailer to complain about. Against campground rules, I gave the Whale a quick hose-down to restore her to decency.

The next day Toby had a follow up appointment, stitches out and a new bandage, and then we drove down to Colorado Springs to visit friends Lisa, Micheline and Barry:


The home of Micheline and Barry is a gallery of her paintings and his photography, all so very beautiful. Lisa came by and we had a nice visit before she had to go to work, and Micheline and Barry took me out to see some sights.

In the foothills just outside of town is the Garden of the Gods, an amazing occurence of rock spines jutting dramatically out of the otherwise gently rolling terrain:


Forming an impressive backdrop to this otherwordly place is the massive Pike's Peak:


We had a great time wandering on and around the fantastic shapes:


We watched the swallows, pigeons and crows wheeling around and perching in the heights, and contemplated the forces of nature which created such unique and striking phenomenon.


Another fun formation was this huge balanced boulder, which reminded me of the Orc Captain from Peter Jackson's film "Return of the King":



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Afterwards we toured the charming artists community of Manitou Springs, drove through Old Colorado Springs, stopping to say hello again to Lisa at work, and then they treated me to a great dinner out (Thank you!). Returning back to their home, Micheline and Barry showed me their studios, spacious and well equipped work spaces for printing and framing, for painting and, mostly, jewelry making. Micheline's inventory of beads for her jewelry was staggering - such an amazing diversity of shapes, colors and materials to serve as a pallet for her inventive creations. It was a great visit, one I wish Nancy could have shared with us, and which I hope we will repeat in the future.

Speaking of Nancy, I picked her up the next day - we were all so excited and happy to have her back. Toby was particulary exuberant in his greeting, wiggling and wagging his whole body, and giving lots of wet kisses!

Reunited at last, we can resume our travels together, heading west once more towards Utah, where we look forward to enjoying warmer weather and amazing landscapes (and maybe just a tiny little bit of world-class mountain biking too!).

Road trip: Glenwood Springs/Aspen/Fruita

Leaving Golden Gate Canyon State Park meant having to tow back down the twisty two-lane to the valley floor, where I-70 lay in wait. Without the exhaust brake working in concert with Gigantor's Allison transmission, I'm certain that this descent would have been another brake-killer. I've lauded the benefits of this expensive add-on in past posts, largely in an attempt to convince myself that it was worth the money. Could have bought a pretty sweet mountain bike for that kind of coin. But here, in the Rocky Mountains, any remaining vestiges of doubt that it is truly a necessity have been shattered. Kudos, Me, for having it installed in anticipation of such need.

Once down to the relatively drivable interstate, I headed westwards and upwards, cresting at Loveland Pass, where the Eisenhower tunnel bores directly under Loveland Ski area, at 11013'. We (me and my trusty Banks exhaust brake) then enjoyed a period of descent, but it didn't last, as we had Vail pass to overcome as well. At a paltry 10603' we crested easily, and rolled past the massive ski town, longing to strap on a pair of boards and carve some turns in that fluffy white powder. But with 32 feet of living space hitched up, I couldn't easily duck in for a few runs, and kept driving, following the Colorado River through beautiful Glenwood Canyon:


I made camp in Glenwood Springs, a good base for fishing several local rivers, and skiing at Aspen. First I fished. Overnight rains clouded the water considerably, like black tea with milk, but I caught a fish despite the poor visibility - a nice brown trout. It escaped me as I fumbled for my camera too close to the river bank. In one desperate squirm it freed itself from me, my nymph fly, and the riverbank.


The next day I headed up the valley to Aspen. Only one of Aspen's four ski mountains was open this late in the season: Aspen Highlands. The local's choice, this mountain offers more expert terrain than the other three (over 50% of trails). But, there were enough lowly intermediate trails for this New-England skier to have fun on. It was a beautiful day, snowing up top (from about 9500 feet and up) sunny below. The top half of the mountain stayed powdery all day, but the lower half softened to classic spring "mashed potatoes" by lunchtime. So, I spent my time up high, and had a good ol' time (except for the painful sunburn on my nose and lips).




Onwards...to Fruita:


Here's a town that's got its priorities straight! I've had my sights on this stop for over a year, and it feels good to finally arrive. It'd feel even better if the skies weren't heavy with rain clouds. After getting set up I paid a visit to the local bike shop, got some trail suggestions, and learned that the trails dry out quickly, so even just a couple of hours after a shower they would be mostly ridable. Good news.

The next morning (Easter) the ground was fairly dry, so after breakfast I headed out to the Kokopelli trailhead. I headed up Mary's Loop, stopping to enjoy the amazing views of the Colorado River and the Black Ridge Canyons Wilderness.

I then dropped down a crazy steep access-way to ride the Horsethief Bench Loop, which was awesome. But, it started raining again, and halfway through the loop the sandy trail surface was starting to make trouble with my brakes and drivetrain. I tried to enjoy the remainder of the ride, but it was hard listening to the crunching, grinding and scraping noises coming from my bike's vital moving parts. Back at camp I spent quite a long time restoring cleanliness and hoping that tomorrow would be much, much drier...

...and it mostly was. The sun woke me the next morning, and I headed out to the "18 Road" trails. On the way there you must remember to turn onto the N 3/10 road from the 17 1/2:


Lawn art and a unique fence reflect the local mindset:


The trails at 18 Road are awesome - built by bikers for bikers. Great flow and use of terrain to make riding fun. It got really good when I turned onto the Frontside trail which clung precariously to the slope of the foothills. But then, I got to Zippity Do Da, which is now my new favorite trail of all time. Nearly all of this trail is cut into the apex of a series of long, pointed ridges. Its like riding on a roller coaster track: climb up a ridge, then hang on as the trail plummets back down, to shoot upwards once more. Again and again! I was giggling like a schoolgirl!

Look closely (click to enlarge) and you'll see the trail swooping from ridge to ridge:


My too-brief stay in Fruita was capped off by a drive over to nearby Colorado National Monument, a spectacular plateau cut with deep canyons exposing beautiful red rock:


I drove the length of the park road, which at times clings to the canyon walls, with only a low stone wall between the truck and a 1000 foot drop! I stopped to admire the scenery, hike some of the trails, and let the dogs get out and sniff.


Now I've got a big drive back to Denver to retrieve Nancy - hoping that the forecasted snow at high altitudes doesn't prevent my passage.

Denver, part 2

Once Toby's surgery was over I could get in some exploring. First on the hit list was Rocky Mountain National Park. I picked what seemed to be the best weather day in the near future, packed a lunch, loaded dogs into Gigantor, and headed up there. It was a beautiful day in the Denver area - sunny and near 70 degrees. I drove through Boulder, and immediately found myself driving through a large scale bicycle race. There was spandex and lycra everywhere! A veritable peleton, if you can believe it. I gave them as much room as I could and felt a little bit bad expelling diesel fumes in their direction as I passed. But pass I did, and began to climb into the mountains. As I neared the park I could see a massive cloud bank stuck there, and sure enough, right about at the park boundary, I drove into a snowstorm. The temperature at elevation was hovering right around the freezing point, and the visibility was quite poor. As it turns out, not a good day to go looking at mountains. I did come across several herds of elk, however. Unlike those we observed in the Smokies, these were not wearing radio collars:


The landscape was pretty, what I could see of it:


I let the dogs out here and there so they could sniff about. Here is Toby modeling his Subway sandwich bag which he puts on to keep his bandages dry (he likes the cold-cut combo, double meat, no veggies, hold the bread):


After a few hours of driving around to various scenic overlooks, where I would get out and strain to see some shadow of what must have been a fabulous vista, hidden by low clouds and blowing snow, I bailed out and headed for lower elevation. I had spotted a trailhead on the drive up and, finding it sunny down there, had myself a nice hike to salvage the day. What a difference a couple o' thousand feet makes:


Then we stopped in Boulder to see the town. Great city center pedestrian zone, full of shops, restaurants and such, teeming with tourists and locals alike, soaking in the warm spring sunshine. I stopped to listen to a very good bluegrass band performing for passers-by. Then I stopped again and bought what turned out to be the best gyro sandwich that I have ever consumed, and I consider myself qualified to pass judgement. Makes my mouth water to think of it...

After getting Toby in for a follow up appointment and bandage change, we packed up camp and headed west. Less than two hours away, but nearly 4000 feet higher, we stopped to camp at Golden Gate Canyon State Park. The last 30 mintues of driving were where most of the elevation change took place, and Gigantor dug deep to haul the bulk of the Whale up that last 1500 feet, to make camp 9100 feet above sea level:


I was the only one camped there - it was so quiet and peaceful with nothing but wind and birds to break the silence. Why no-one else? Because it's friggin' cold up there, that's why. I had a nice hike which started out in brilliant sunshine...


...but as I hiked along I observed what appeared to be a snowflake blow over my shoulder. I turned to look the way I'd come and saw an enormous storm cloud bearing down. I turned up my collar and let it come, and found myself hiking in blowing snow. Just as I was considering what I would do to survive in this high, cold, snowy forest, home to bears and mountain lions, the storm blew past and restored the sunny afternoon that I'd ordered. What would I have done, you ask? I'd have whittled a spear from an aspen tree, skewered that bear that was stalking me, skinned it, ate it's flesh and slept in it's hide, that's what I'd have done.

But that didn't happen. What did happen is that I finished my hike with no drama, and awoke the next morning having decided that camping is better about 3000 feet closer to the earth's core. So I left, heading west once more, and you (if anyone still reads this) can learn about that in my next post.

Denver, part 1

It's been an eventful week. Seven days ago Nancy dropped me off at the Durango airport, and I flew to upstate New York to be with the family after the passing of my grandmother. I spent two days there, visiting with family. It was only sad and difficult because of my grandfather, Arnold, who was understandably having a very hard time coping. Although he was not receptive to conversation, I believe that it was meaningful to him for me to be there. I hope his is a wound that time can heal.

I flew back to Durango, and the next day we drove towards Denver. To avoid an epic drive we went about 2/3 of the way there, stopping in Buena Vista. To get that far Gigantor towed the Whale to her highest point: Wolf Creek pass at 10550 feet:


The plows were out up there, and dropping sand and salt on the road, too, so truck and trailer got dirtier than they've ever been in a year of travel.

We arrived at a campground in Buena Vista, a community nestled in the shadow of six peaks over 14000 feet:


The next day we drove the rest of the way to Denver, through a couple more mountain passes, stopping this time at Cherry Creek State Park, where I remain as of this writing. As in most state parks, the sites are large and well spaced, and surrounded by park lands. From our campsite it's hard to tell that this park is surrounded by Denver suburbs and sprawl. It's just right, with the Denver airport 1/2 hour away, and a half-dozen veterinarians nearby to choose from for Toby's knee surgery.

So just a few hours after setting up camp we climbed back into the truck and I dropped Nancy at the airport. She's home now until nearly the end of April, taking care of business. The next day I took Toby in for an appointment to confirm his torn ligament condition and schedule surgery for the following morning. While he was under the knife, I explored the park by bicycle. There must be 20 miles of trails here, half of which are paved, and all of which are dead flat. But any ride is a good ride, and I did get pretty close to a mule deer...


And enjoyed my first prairie dog sightings!


These cheeky little varmints have a colony in one corner of the park and the air was filled with their squeaky warning cries as I stopped to take some photographs.

I picked Toby up at the end of the day, pleased to find him alert and relatively comfortable. His leg is bundled up in thick bandages and supported with a plastic splint, so it is quite unwieldy. He struggles to find a comfortable position, particularly lying down. That first night we didn't get much sleep as he thrashed about and we both searched for some position that he could tolerate. It's a little better now, a day later, as he learns to cope with his giant useless appendage. Here he is back home post-op:


Our biggest challenge will be dealing with his frustration as his desire to run, jump and play increases. He's supposed to wear the splint for three weeks - the longest three weeks of his life, no doubt, and I fully expect that I, too, will be filled with great relief when his mobility is restored.

During the next two weeks, in addition to taking care of dogs' needs, I'll try to get up into the mountains for some skiing, visit Rocky Mountain National Park, and spend a few days over in the Fruita area riding their renowned mountain bike trail system.