Tag: cycling

Cycling Through The West – Towaoc to Durango

Day 15 – Towaoc to Durango

“Earth teach me quiet ~ as the grasses are still with new light.
Earth teach me suffering ~ as old stones suffer with memory.
Earth teach me humility ~ as blossoms are humble with beginning.
Earth teach me caring ~ as mothers nurture their young.
Earth teach me courage ~ as the tree that stands alone.
Earth teach me limitation ~ as the ant that crawls on the ground.
Earth teach me freedom ~ as the eagle that soars in the sky.
Earth teach me acceptance ~ as the leaves that die each fall.
Earth teach me renewal ~ as the seed that rises in the spring.
Earth teach me to forget myself ~ as melted snow forgets its life.
Earth teach me to remember kindness ~ as dry fields weep with rain.”
  ~ A Ute Prayer

 

We’re riding at early light on a cool morning. There’s actually a little wisp of fog now and again on the road this morning – something I haven’t seen since I left the Pacific coast. I can feel the moisture in the air as it hydrates the membranes of my lungs and sinuses. I’m surprised at just how good it feels.

Colorado isn’t a place known for moist air. When folks come out to visit us in Colorado, they usually complain about how dry the air is. But this morning, as I begin to climb back into my home state, I’m struck by how much more humid it is than the desert air I’ve been riding through for the last couple weeks.

I didn’t expect to feel a sense of “homecoming” yet, but I’m feeling it this morning. There’s active irrigation along this highway, so the fields are green and lush on both sides of us as we ride. The sprinklers are running, pouring water across the green that surrounds us, sparkling like fountains of gems in the early morning light. In the distance, the peaks of the Rockies are growing closer and closer with each mile. I’m back in my home state, and it feels good.

Our day today is a short one. We want to get to Durango early enough to do laundry, so we started early, though not as early as we might have if we had a long day. When we revised our route, we thought about planning a rest day along southern Colorado somewhere, but decided instead to just plan short days. Yesterday was our last long mileage day at about 108 miles, and today and tomorrow are both only about 60 miles. In our original schedule, today’s miles were the last 60 miles of a 146 mile day. I’m happy we changed, so I could enjoy this stretch of road early in the morning.

A cyclist’s perspective on the wildlife in an area is often a reflection of the dead stuff we see smashed on the road as we roll past it. This morning, the roadkill is reflective of a big change in habitat. I’m seeing possum and raccoon, as well as a snake now and again. The moist environment created by the irrigation supports a whole new community of critters. Continue reading “Cycling Through The West – Towaoc to Durango”

Bicycling in the West – Kayenta to Towaoc

Bicycle Touring in the West – Day 14 – Kayenta to Towaoc

“Take a breath of the new dawn and make it a part of you.”
  ~ Hopi proverb

Today is a longer day for us, and we’re on the road before dawn. We’ve got a little over 107 miles to ride today, and if the wind’s not kind, it could be a long 107 miles. We feel confident that we’ll be able to find water every 25 or 30 miles, which puts our mind to ease that worse case, it’s just a long day.

At first we’re a little disappointed that we’re not on the road 30 minutes before we are because of the long day ahead of us. Riding east out of Kayenta, the landscape around us explodes into magical shapes and beautiful pre-dawn colors. As the sun washes across the mystical hills and rocks to our north, we stop often to take pictures of the breathtaking sunrise. By the time we’re 10 miles down the road, we realize how lucky we are that we didn’t leave earlier, or we would’ve missed a spectacular sunrise show.

Once again, I’m struck by just how much I treasure the early morning on a bicycle. The remainder of the day happens – sometimes good and sometimes less good. But dawn is universally spectacular, sometimes mind-numbingly so. This morning is one of those mind-numbingly beautiful mornings. Continue reading “Bicycling in the West – Kayenta to Towaoc”

Cycling Through the West – Tuba City to Kayena

Bicycling in the West – Day 13 – Tuba City to Kayenta

The desert flowers seemed to be in full bloom, and beautiful in the morning

 

 

 

“Time isn’t used, it’s experienced.”
~ Hopi Proverb

 

 

 

We’ve got an easy day ahead of us today – only 75 miles. Unless the wind is hard on us, we should get done in less than 8 hours. We take our time and enjoy breakfast, and meet some interesting folks as we’re walking out of Denny’s.

It’s a small group of folks – sounds like just 2 couples plus an extra person. They’ve got a truck with a trailer, and the trailer holds a couple of little Vespa-type scooters. The women ride the scooters along the highway, and the men follow along in the truck. When they get tired of “scooting”, the men pick them up and trailer the scooters. It’s a grand adventure for them. They’ve always wanted to take a trip like this along the highways of the Southwest. When they hit the high plains of Texas in a few days, they’ll just ride in the truck to avoid the heat.

I’m curious about why the little scooters rather than just everyone taking motorcycles? Well, a good part of the reason seems to be that the scooters are so much more fuel efficient. Plus, they’re cute. That’s important for sure… Continue reading “Cycling Through the West – Tuba City to Kayena”

Cycling Across The West – Sedona to Tuba City in Arizona

Bicycling Across the West
Day 12 – Sedona to Tuba City in Arizona

“What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.”
~ Crowfoot

Today I meet my friend Dave, and we complete the rest of the ride together. Our original plan was to meet at the Grand Canyon and ride from there. However, we’ve talked on the phone and changed our route a bit in response to concern over a section of road we were going to ride on. The road we’re concerned about is Highways 163 and 162 in Arizona and Utah, which takes us through Monument Valley. Dave’s experience on the road as he was driving down to his starting point was that it was very narrow, lots of curves, no shoulder, and lots of RVs.

We’re both fine with all of that – down to the RV part. My experience with the lack of safety and courtesy on the part of RV drivers so far on this trip has me pretty concerned about that section, and Dave feels the same way. So we modified our planned route, and I’m meeting Dave in Flagstaff this morning. From here, we’ll ride to Tuba City today. I’m clearly upset that we’re compelled – out of fear of our lives – to change our route because so many RV users are either incompetent or inconsiderate drivers. But it is what it is.

Riding through this upcoming section, the thing that makes bicycle trip routing difficult is the space between towns. There are only so many places where a motel exists, and we need to be able to fit a daily ride somewhat neatly between those spots. Our original plan, in fact, included a 140 mile day because of that difficulty. That’s a long day in the desert if the winds aren’t kind… Our new route keeps most of our days down to a little under 100 miles, though there’s one or two that go over 100 miles. Continue reading “Cycling Across The West – Sedona to Tuba City in Arizona”

Bicycling Across The West – Congress to Sedona in Arizona

Day 10 – Congress to Sedona

“No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath… We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?”
  ~  Donald Miller – Through Painted Deserts

Today is my last full day of riding by myself. Tomorrow is a rest day in Sedona with my friend Dale, then the following day I meet up at some point with my friend Dave to complete the ride back to Colorado. My days of solitude on this trip are over after today.

I expected to enjoy the solitude, but I’ve frankly enjoyed it more than I’d anticipated. The desert amplifies and highlights solitude. The simplicity and solitude I’ve found riding across these deserts has moved me in a way that’s beyond my expectations. I’ve found a peace inside myself that’s a little deeper than the already wonderful peace I knew.

How does the desert do this? I’ve always enjoyed time on my own. In solitude I’ve been able to discover the things within me and about me that make me what I am today. Time alone has always wrapped my mind and my soul in a way that opens me up to myself. Continue reading “Bicycling Across The West – Congress to Sedona in Arizona”

Savoring Rather Than Sprinting

I met and interesting fella the other day. A fellow cyclist, I suspect he has several years on me. As is usually the case with cyclists when they first meet each other, we went to great lengths to talk about how slow we ride. This is interesting behavior that seems consistent among road cyclists, and a bit unique to them. In most sports, the bravado takes over, and guys talk about how good they are. With road cyclists, everyone is always talking about how slow they ride, and how weak they are, and how their bike could never go as fast as your bike. All in the hope, I suppose, that they’ll take you by surprise when the riding actually begins.

But I digress…

The conversation got me thinking about how much my style of cycling is a reflection of the way I live my life, and how much that’s changed over the years.

When I was a younger man, I liked sprinting. I was physically built more like a sprinter, and in most things I did – sports or otherwise – I went at them pretty hard and relentlessly. Point A to Point B was what I was all about, with a strong focus on getting to Point B as fast as possible.

Today, I’m much more of a savorer than I am a sprinter. While I’m still aware of Point B in front of me, and I still arrive at Point B, I’m much more focused on savoring the moments along the path between Point A and Point B than I am with reaching Point B in record time.

I like to keep my head up these days, and make sure I catch the nuances of the world as I pass through it. I like to sniff the air often, to make sure I don’t miss some particularly sensual scent as it moves across me. When I hear some crickets or lizards singing beside the road, I’m much more likely to stop and soak in the sound for a few minutes.

This summer – on my bicycle journey from Monterey, CA back to Colorado, I had one day that I’d worried about as it was coming up. It was a 120 mile day across the Mojave Desert in June, the first 90 miles of which had no houses, services, or other ways to supply myself with water. I was on my own, and if ever there was a need to stay focused on Point B, that was the day.

A tailwind developed for me, and I knew if that wind continued, I could make record time in the day. Back in my sprinter days, I would have poured on the coal, and not let up until I reached the end. Instead, I stopped and took pictures often, (almost 100 pictures that day I think), and left several voice recordings. I was so wrapped-up in the joy of that tailwind that I didn’t really care about a record time.

On one stretch, the road was a gentle descent for over 10 miles. With the tailwind, I was able to gently coast down the empty highway, rolling by bicycle from side to side, enjoying the hot breeze and the sounds of the desert lizards on the side of the road. Sure I could have grabbed a great big gear and screamed down the descent at 40 MPH, but I would have missed that gentle rhythm of rolling the bike from side to side, and the song of the lizards, not to mention the gorgeous scenery unfolding around me.

The wind stayed behind me all day, and it turns out I did set a record for myself, averaging over 20 MPH over that 120 miles. Never for a second do I wish I would have pushed harder to set a better record. The joy of that day cycling still lingers in my memory today.

Point B is still on my mind, and there’s no doubt I enjoy getting there, but I enjoy it so much more now that I’ve leaned to savor the space between Point A and Point B more than I once did.

The Space Between

It’s in the space between one thing and another thing where life’s defined. Those times of transition, where we gather pile a ceremonial cairn of what got us to this point, and turn toward the next. Dorothy and her retinue in Oz needed to make a harrowing pilgrimage to end up on that dais, only to watch in disbelief as what she had believed with all her heart would be the method of her transition floated away without her.

Only in that moment of heartbreak – the space between the hope of the previous moment and the promise of the next –   could she see the bubble of transition, and where it needed to come from.

“Click the ruby slippers 3 times and say …”

I just published a post at Prairie Eden’s website, where I talked about this little window of transition our perennial gardens are going through this time of year in Colorado, mentioning that for the designer of physical space, it’s often the space between things that’s more important than the things themselves.

I recently made my own little pilgrimage of sorts, though I didn’t look at it that way when I planned it. It was simply an adventure – a bicycle ride from Monterey, California back to Colorado where I live. The first 2/3 of it I rode by myself, and the last third with a friend. I’ll be blogging about that ride quite a bit in the upcoming weeks and months, and have posted a summary from which I’ll link to all the other posts as I write them. So far, I’ve only published the summary and first day.

When I arrived at Monterey, I dropped my rented car off at the airport. That point of transition between the drive out and the ride back stands out clearly in my mind. I turned in the keys at the Hertz counter, and got my bike all arranged and packed up. After a quick stop in the mens room, I dropped the jeans and t-shirt that I’d worn on the drive out into a trash can, and rolled my bike out through the sliding doors of the airport into the California sunshine.

I remember looking around a bit as I dropped those traveling clothes into the trash, wondering if the action would look odd to folks. Nobody was looking. The moments of transition I was moving through only had significance for me – not for anybody else. To everyone else, I was just a strange guy wheeling a bicycle through an airport.

I think spaces of transition in our lives are like that most of the time. They consume us as we’re transformed by them, but to those around us, we’re just a strange guy with a bicycle…

 

Tour of the West – A Bicycle Adventure

Sunset at Carmel - Day 1

For three weeks in June, I rode my bicycle down the coast of California through Big Sur, turned left to cross the mountains, rode across the Mojave and Sonoran deserts, then northeast through Navajo, Hopi, and Ute lands, finally crossing southern Colorado and the Continental Divide at Wolf Creek Pass, ending up in Walsenburg, CO. I rode the first 60% or so by myself, then met my friend Dave in Flagstaff for the last 40% or so of the ride.

Big Sur Coastline Climbing Out

This ride connects with a ride Dave and I did last summer across southern Colorado and Kansas. Our hope is to extend the ride next year on to the east coast, completing a coast-to-coast journey over 3 years. Here’s a link to a summary of that Colorado and Kansas ride last summer.

A coast-to-coast ride is a nice thing to check off “the list” for sure, but I’m learning the checkmark on the list is something that gets the ride started, but the ride always turns into something much bigger than the checkmark. The goal of the checkmark is a good motivator to get me into the saddle, and get me planning and executing the trip, but it’s never the “why”. Continue reading “Tour of the West – A Bicycle Adventure”

Twentynine Palms Rest Day

Sorry for the lack of posts. I’ve been in the midst of a nice little bicycle ride, headed down the cost of California from Monterey, turning left at LA and heading east across the desert.

Sitting in Twentynine Palms today, on the edge of the Mojave Desert and the Joshua Tree National Park, enjoying air-conditioning and a nice pool.

The ride down the coast and through Big Sur was pretty amazing. Definitely a ride anyone should consider. I’ll do some postings on the ride soon with pictures, but this is my quick rest-day update.

The thing that had the greatest impact on me over the first few days was the trees I think. On the western side of the range, it was the Redwoods, but then on the inland side of the range, and through the Paso Robles wine country and along the way up into the mountains again at Frazier Park, there were these massive Oak trees that I couldn’t get over. These things must me many hundreds of years old to have grown so massive in the climate. I couldn’t get enough of spending time with both these types of ancient trees.

Now, in the desert, things have changed dramatically. Spending time in the shade by the pool this morning, I noticed several little (warbler type) birds that I haven’t noticed as I’ve been riding, though I’m sure they’re around. And hummingbirds of course.

The wind here is insane. In can come up suddenly and ferociously, and I can tell you it’s something you don’t want in your face while you’re peddling a bicycle. Have had several stints of barely maintaining 7mph into the teeth of that deafening wind, curse words pouring out of my mouth.

Tomorrow I end my day in AZ, after crossing a pretty big section of highway with no water (about 100 miles or so). Cross your fingers for a west wind – I know I am!

Another update soon.