The time since Vernal has been filled with two days of hard, hard biking. When we're not rolling across the harsh desert, we're climbing some epic mountains. Sometimes we do both at once. But hey, it's cool 'cause we're Bike & Build.
From Vernal we finally took that turn and started proceeding North, North towards the line with Oregon and our eventual destiny. The ride was 37 miles, which may *sound* like a joke in comparison with some of the other rides we've done on this trip, but it was no picnic.
Flaming Gorge, as it turns out, is surrounded on all sides by sheer walls of red sandstone mountains. They are nothing short of stunning, particularly in the morning when the sky is still gold and the sun hits on them, making them look like they really are on fire. Ten miles out of Vernal we hit our first of these mountains. Our mission was simple: climb the 5 miles of 8 to 10% gradient to the top. The way the climb was set up allowed for us to break this down into psychologically manageable chunks. 10 swithbacks along the mountain edge acted like steps, as if we were climbing a giant stair case, and every time I turned around to look at the valley below me I was exponentially blown away by the view. They just don't make nature like this back East. The humungous burnt-red mountains lounge along the desert plain like sleeping giants, and in one eyeful it's easy to see sand, snow, red stone, green plants, and bright blue sky. Imagine, if you will, biking along the edge of a Martian canyon. "Other-worldly" is truly the word.
So I spent my morning out of Vernal on that epic climb feeling beaten and broken but thrilled with life when I reached the top, which was a whole other world to itself of lush green-grassy peaks on either side of me and high-top fields of wind-whipped and sun-bleached trees. That afternoon we worked our way across the highlands and, with the hard part of the day's ride behind us, found ourselves at our campsite around noon or so.
Camping in Flaming Gorge was a bit of a let down because we were still a good 5 or 6 miles from the actual gorge and couldn't spend the afternoon exploring it. That's kind of been the team's luck with Utah in general. The best analogy for Utah is like that pretty girl who seems really awesome but just doesn't give you the time of day. You're just kind of left admiring everything from a far! There was Flaming Gorge Lake! Just down the mountain! It was right there! So close, and yet so far.
So we found other ways to kill time. The guys timed eachother at the showers to see who was fastest, and I one by a solid 2 minutes. I can assure you I smell just as good as the next guy on this trip, I just don't dilly-dally. Man showers. Thank you Camp Carolina. After that man shower I celebrated with a four hour nap in the tent.
By the time I woke up the rest of my tent had been up and at it for hours. I was sharing a tent with basically all the tiny women on the team, by the way, because we devised a perfect system. They all pck in like sardines at the back vertically, and I lay horizontally at the front door to act as a windshield/bear guard. It means that during the night no one is really at risk of getting stepped on, and it means I don't have to wake up with frost on my pillow in the mornings. Everyone's a winner!
So they were all awake and reading the headlines from a Time magazine, which was great because we really are in a very protective mobile bubble on this trip. Incidentally, I'm sure this goes without saying but the Gulf Oil Spill depresses me to no end and I just wish it could be fixed.
Then there was dinner, then after dinner a fire and a Town Hall Meeting where, following tradition, we talked about our highs and lows, read Warm Fuzzies to each other, and ended with a group hug. I love my team.
Several of us stuck around the fire afterwards and conversation drifted to hilarious stories from our childhood, climaxing with Zach recounting the better stories from when he was 12 and had a Bad Influence/Best Friend named Trevor Bennett. We all loved that name. Can't you imagine our mother warning you to "stay away from that Trevor Bennett"? It's perfect!
People started drifting off to bed, but my four hour nap let me feeling quite alert at 11, so I stayed up a little later and did some star-gazing with Kristen again. Granby was fantastic, so when I say that the stars that night were ten times better I want you to appreciate the full meaning of those words. I saw the entire band of the Milky Way, from one side of the horizon to the other, totally unbroken, and it left the both of us simply awestruck. The constellations jumped out at us, and it became all too apparent to me in that moment why humans practically worshiped the stars in ancient times. Out there, without pollution or city lights, they literally commanded your attention and seemed filled with ancient truth and beauty.
So we stayed out there, talking about everything and nothing and admiring the stars until it became too difficult to keep our eyes open. By the time I made it back to the tent all the girls were sound asleep and filling the night air with a chorus of congested snoring. The night never got terribly cold, and sleep was delightful.
The morning I woke up to Sharif's speakers and the girls discussing things very unbecoming of ladies. I have to say it's gonna be weird going back to "real life" and not being around people who constantly discuss their most private of bodily functions, discomforts, and the like. Really there is no boundary this team hasn't violated right now. You can't take us anywhere.
So we packed and dressed and ate and started the ride with a brilliant roll down into the gorge. The gradient was very steep and I effortlessly flirted with 40mph as the tree line gave way to a stunning view of the lake and the enormous pile of bright red sandstone from which the gorge derives its name. We crossed over the Flaming Gorge Dam and stopped along the edge to hang over the side, easily 200 feet tall, and soak in the scope of our surroundings. We had just enough time to "ooh" and "aw" before a policeman rolled up and whisked us along.
Working through the sandstone canyons with relative ease we found ourselves crossing our next state line into Wyoming! And what incredibly beautiful country it is! It started with another climb, and my goal for today, in the interest of continuing to push myself over this summer, was to climb the entire mountain without taking a break. I could go at whatever pace I desired, but I couldn't stop.
This goal seemed all the more daunting once I actually saw the mountain we intended to climb. In most cases the tree line manages to keep us guessing but after we rounded the corner and saw the mountain our view of the road was unbroken. Working up the side, I could see trucks as far as 10 miles away, humming along up the side. But, as I've said before, the thing abut Bike & Build is that there's only one route to take. Instead of figuring out a way around the challenges, you have to learn how to deal, and it makes the end result all the more rewarding.
So I dug deep, enjoyed my last minute of coasting, and started to climb. At first it was hard to work out of the mindset that I could stop when I wanted. Everytime I wanted to stop I just gave one more push. Four pushes with the right, four with the left, four pulls with the right, four with the left. Repeat forever. It seemed unending, but about half-way up I smashed through the wall. Today I discovered my true biking rhythm, and when I did, the climb became a breeze. I don't know how to describe it. It's like pedaling became as involuntary as breathing or letting my heart beat, just something my body would do. I entered a state of Zen never before experienced on the bike, in which, with my rhythm unbroken, I could completely live in the moment and appreciate the incredible scenery opening up around me as a ascended out of that mountain valley. Soon enough I was cresting. I passed a community college class with a professor giving a lecture on rock formations and layers, but felt it would be impolite to barge in. Also, as it turns out, lunch was literally 300 feet past that lecture. But I made it! Without breaking! Even the experienced cyclists said it was a tough climb, but for me it was just exhilerating! I found my rhythm, and that made today a great day!
Even after lunch when we were working through a 30mph direct headwind, the discovery of my Rhythm allowed me to blast through the wind like I never have before, and I was comfortably riding with the semi-fast people, which is a huge step for me. And as for the view around me? Stunning. That climb led us on a run right through the heart of a mesa top. In the foreground on every side were rolling fields of green pasture, not unlike Western Kansas, but instead of simply carrying on they dropped in the middle ground to reveal ancient canyons and in the background rose the sisters of our own mesa. At that elevation we mingled with the shadows of the clouds and, with the wind whipping around us and the sun beating down over this canyon-network of indescribable scope, it was exactly what I imagined Valhalla to look like. Every field, every valley, every mountain pulsated with an ancient and wild power. Truly it was a place where the gods mingled with the mortals, and, in the spirit of battle, we pushed against those winds until they finally gave way.
Right before our descent we all stopped at an overlook to admire one canyon of particularly vibrant color and massive scope. I have never been to the Grand Canyon, and I don't know how this one compared, but it was still enough to take my breath away. We all sat, quiet, reflecting on the ride. Did I mention we got here from the Atlantic Ocean on bikes? You know. It's what we do, apparently.
The descent led us into true desert. Oppressively hot and dry, bright, bleached, quiet in a beautiful barren sort of way, with huge canyon walls on other side of us. Then, for the first time in two long days, we started seeing the signs of civilization. The ride into Rock Springs was...confusing, which was surprising considering the size of the town, but we made it and I excitedly recovered with a Big Mac and a quart of chocolate milk. Then a nap, of course.
The host we're staying with tonight is a new one, and with that being said, they already know exactly how to treat us weary travelers. We enjoyed the first meal we didn't have to prepare for ourselves in 9 days, and feasted excitedly. Later I had the privilege of speaking with a woman named Donna who talked exactly like I imagined the spirit of the West would. Frank, lively, and with a heaping helping of hospitality and adventure. She had lived in Wyoming all her life, growing up on a ranch, and happily told us what we could look forward to from her home state. We thanked her for her hospitality and she explained that it was just the way people lived out here. The barrenness and lack of civilization has made Wyomingans (if they're called that) learn to rely on each other. Out here it's just a necessity as a traveler. You roll along the desert all day and take whatever bed and food you can get from strangers. People have counted on each other out here for centuries, and it's amazing to see it resonate so soundly to this day.
And now if you'll excuse me I'm going to head upstairs. Donna and her husband were kind enough to leave us with a mountain of snacks and the pastor has set up the projector with Harry Potter playing for us. I love people. I love the West. And tomorrow I can look forward to seeing more of it and falling deeper in love.
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