Despite the lack of blog activity outside of the Iceland posts, life has not been lacking in bustle and there's dozens (thousands) of photos, and the memories attached to them, hiding on my hard disk.
Summer and early fall offer overly warm days and loose, dusty trails in our desert home and free time is spent escaping to the cooler air and shade of the mountains. Most of the focus is surrounding our bikes and the exploration of new to us trails or locations, though occasional days spent in a boat help to rest our legs.
|Wes, wet behind the ears|
Jackson, WY, Crested Butte, the Abajo Mountains of Utah. All different and fantastic.
Jackson has easy access to highly developed trails and decidedly less developed trails that have the feel of mini adventures.
Tales of recent grizzly sightings and trail-side berry filled piles of you can guess what were reminders that those of us with two legs and two tires are not atop the food chain in these parts.
Crested Butte feels akin to visiting an old friend. There's a comfortable feel to the town and trails, yet plenty of chances for a fresh experience to deepen the relationship.
And the Abajo Mountains. Secluded, spectacular trails and an entirely different character from the more popular La Sals. We avoided an alpine ride in Colorado due to a threatening weather pattern. Our friends went anyway and had great weather. We huddled under brush hiding from hail and felt claps of thunder shake the ground.
A fall takes grasp, the miles and miles ridden all spring and summer begin to catch up and my desire for other activities increases. A trail run here, a climb there, and the mandatory driving in the mountains when nature's golden confetti is released.
A while there is still room for a ride or two, the enjoyment stems more from the crisp air and the crunching of leaves under tires than from speed or the excitement of obstacles.
Days continue on with more and more pace. Now the stars are still up when I wake for work and the sun is casting long shadows when I get off. There are benefits, however. The Big Dipper is a friendly sight in the wee hours of the morning and I can enjoy an evening show while still making it to bed on time.
Now, most of the leaves have fallen in the high country and the wait begins. Can you guess what I'm waiting for?