Fruita

Sunrise, Sunset, Fruita... sure as shootin, the sage wakes up, the hillsides turn green, and little desert flowers come out of the ground. The single track is payoff for a winter of down coats, snow shoveling, mud trudging, and tourist dodging.

I ran into some complications driving out of The Exit; Monarch pass was closed with a foot of snow at the top. I finally slipped through and was Fruita bound. Fell asleep in my tent Friday night to the sound of pattering rain and woke up Saturday morning to sunshine, no wind, and a perfect 70 degrees. Short sleeve jerseys, shorts, sunscreen, and a world of trails beckoning. The ex-Pearl crew and Summit County/Chaffee County hut trip crew merged and we proceeded to eat us up some desert singletrack. My cameras both crapped out so there's very little photo documentation. You'll have to take my word for it. It was fun.

Boulder County Open Space and Mountain Parks should annex 18 Road as there were lots of team kits, scowls, and race bikes. We did our best to make up for it by smiling, giggling, and wearing thrift store and hand-me-down jerseys. The Horsethief Bench side was a little less crowded as there is more room to spread out. I think next time a weekday trip will be a good idea. Weekends are getting a bit nuts there lately. Not like I should have a reason to complain - Fruita is one big bliss nugget. At one point I caught myself riding along with a big stupid grin on my face thinking about....absolutely nothing.

The Backyard

The Backyard has abundant recreational opportunities. There's a sweet trail network that starts about a block from downtown. Some folks here had the foresight to get these things built and the network is growing weekly.

Andy, Rebecca, and I went out to explore. We ran into Wes, the mountain bike Welcome Wagon, who showed us some fun stuff to ride.



A few days later, Kelly made it down from BV for a nice hike. We followed a faint trail into an arroyo; the trail faded in and out as the route wound its way up the drainage to connect with some more established trails. We looped around on the SMT network and back to the river.

Pulling Down the Sick Gnar.

Jake, Courtney and I were having dinner with friends the other night when someone asked "why do you guys take such risks?" After exchanging puzzled looks, Jake's response was pretty smart...the risk is only perceived: working your way up a route, placing nuts and cams along the way, with a (hopefully) reliable belayer working the other end of the rope can't be that different than buckling a seat belt and turning the ignition. You can look at life as having danger lurking around every corner or you can take reasonable precautions and let it unfold.

I'm not much of a climber. I have the vertical reach of a hobbit, an even shorter attention span, and I can't fit into 90% of what Prahna manufactures. The only reason I know anything about climbing is from living 10 years in Boulder. I learned terms such as "pulling down" and "nasty flapper" so I could mock the annoying rock jocks surrounding me. But lately I've been thinking about climbing. I'm not under the illusion that climbing is without serious risks and consequences, though it is a progression of calculated risks, moving from protection piece to protection piece. You're as likely to see an engine fall off an aeroplane onto your house or to be struck by lightening before you were involved in a serious climbing related incident. I feel like life lately has been comprised of moving from cam to cam. Sometimes the run-outs are long. But I'm clipped in along the way. The belayer is attentive, relaxed, but ready. These are the realities that I have to remind myself of when I feel too far off the ground, when the bank account is low and why the hell does it take a client 8 weeks to pay an invoice, when I walk around a new town feeling strange like a stranger. That's when the connection points are nice. So thanks, all you nuts and cams. And The Belayer.