schnauzers.ws

As temps soar, so does the altitude. Sure, we are never alone. Everyone has a similar idea, but two thousand feet can mean as much as twenty degrees cooler.

We started earlier than usual. I guess we were afraid of those afternoon thunderstorms that haven’t materialized here in a while. We are in a drought and half of the State is on fire. I am exaggerating a little, but when you can see and smell smoke from everywhere, that’s sends a chilling message.

As with everything in Colorado, we started with a climb. We shuttled the first few miles. But there is still a three mile dirt road slog to the top.

We collect our thoughts and riders at the top.  It’s mostly downhill from here.

Are you alive?  Show us a sign.

Ah, the tongue wagging sign of “let’s start the downhill already”.

And it is downhill.  Fast, flowing, and dusty!  Holy crap!  As much as three inches of dust on the trail.  A result of no rain and heavy pine beetle remediation.  This is going to be a desert for a while.

As usual, I can’t hide.  We are screaming down the trail and here come a bunch of people riding up.  Up?  Crazy talk!  “Bikers up!”, shouted by my riding mates.  I hear my name called out.  Sure enough, some more friends.  It happens everywhere I go.

We exchange greetings and travel on.  Smiles and dusty teeth all along the way.

We take a quick break to observe the changes.  This is a view we’ve never seen before.  It’s hard to imagine all those trees are now gone.  Yes, the view is nice, but the cost is very sad.

The familiar sign that is never taken for granted.  It’s a beacon.  I always know I can find my way home, when I see this.  Sure, I might have to ride 500 miles to get there, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

There is nothing quite like high country singletrack.