It’s my song and not finished.  In fact, I don’t think I will ever try to finish it. I’ll just keep writing it, adding verses, and building an iambic pentameter based upon my pedal strokes.

Some how I knew that dragging the camper to Buffalo Weekend would be productive. With the campsite setup in minutes (my version of a park and ride), I held off on the tempting beer and headed for a short loop. While I didn’t have a secluded camping spot, it did provide some very easy access to a variety of loops.

The late afternoon weather was stellar albeit a little warm. The trails were empty!

It was at this point that I have my first brain wrestle. I can cruise this loop and take it in, or I can burn this loop and drink beer. Decisions, decisions!

It is very hard to burn through a loop, when there are just so many reasons to stop. I don’t race when I ride with others, why should I do it now?

The wind is calm, the air has a sweet yet dusty aroma, and water trickles in the creek below. I turn my head for a slight second. This place is enchanted.

Now, how did that happen? But, it gives me an idea. I hit every pine cone on the trail. That crunching sound is surreal. I’m grinning ear to ear, like a child doing something naughty. Cccccrrrrruuuunnnnncccchhhhh!

My decision to slow it down was a good one. It’s a chance to discover things I never saw before. I stop to look at some old trail markers and in the distance the ground colors are different.  What is that? I never knew this was here. Lucky homeowner!

More things catch my attention. Given the condition of this wildlife tree, I think someone better choose a new tree very soon, but apparently ”snags” are coveted by the Forest Service. I’m not quite sure how a metal sign fits in with the natural decaying process of a dead or dying tree. Still, I like the sign. Someone put a lot of time into coming up with that drawing. We need more wildlife trees! Well, maybe more of the cool signs.

Back at camp, it’s time to celebrate outdoors.  It is Cinco de Mayo after all. Even the bike gets to be part of the celebration.

I don’t camp lightly. A hot dog ain’t gonna cut it. Substance! Chicken with a smoked paprika, jalepeno, garlic, and sea salt dry rub (there’s other stuff in there, but I’d have to kill you if I told you), corn in butter sauce, and some steam roasted red potatoes. All done on the BBQ with no pots (I don’t like cleaning). Oh, and more beer .

The bike approves as well as the local fire officials to my approved campfire device. It’s not camping without a fire and the fire ban really puts a sting on that.  No open burning. Thank you mister propane tank and ceramic logs!

I had the music pumped up by now and a few beers into the evening.  Howling at the moon!

It was a quiet night and perfect temperature. Cocooned up in a down blanket, pillows, a memory foam bed, and the Muppet movie on the the iPad. I was out within five minutes for probably one of the most restfull nights I have had in years. If I could bottle that perfection, I’d be a billionaire.

Saturday proved to be even more productive. A much longer loop was planned an executed. This included Shinglemill, Colorado Trail, Redskin Creek Trail, Gashouse Trail, Charlies Cut-off, Raspberry Ridge, out and back on Homestead to Sandywash,  back up Charlies, Down Baldy, Morrison Creek, Shinglemill. I’m not sure of the mileage, but it seemed like more downhill than uphill.

The Colorado Trail was in rather nice shape for this time of year.

The morning was creating a rainforest-like atmosphere.

Timing self-portraits is tricky business. I was either too early or too late. I was trying to show the element of speed (what little I have).

When I reached top intersection, I came across a familiar sight. I guess, I would not have done Charlies and the stuff below had this trailer not been here. It was an opportunity to talk to friends, and I thought they were on those trails. Sucker! Got me to add a bit more mileage to the ride. Back at the top, I headed down Baldy.  I have to say it is way underrated as trail.  That thing screams! It also turned out to be where the crew was working. I got to stop, talk, and hopefully start patching up a few mistakes.

One thing I did notice today, was that is was crowded! There were people riding everywhere and many, in fact the majority, had never been here. I spent a lot of time talking to people, planning routes, and giving a perspective. A lot of newer riders had started from Pine Valley and had planned routes that included many of the lower areas and southern areas. I think I may have saved a few broken relationships .

I spent about fifteen minutes at the Shinglemill/Morrison Creek intersection. It was a like a super highway.

Back at base, I treated myself to one of the most confusing beers I have ever had.

I really don’t know what to say. It was like charcoal grilled fruit. Was it a stout or an IPA? Nothing really stood out and it just seemed weird. I still have to drink three more cans of it or pawn it off to some unsuspecting fool.

In the late afternoon, I hiked an old abandoned dirt road.

Which lead me to a TMZ discovery.

This, my friends is corridor flagging, aka new trail.  It goes east and west.  Looks like east from Nice Kitty trail.

And, eventually connecting to Shinglemill.

Why would you parallel the Colorado Trail with a fully exposed (no trees) trail? Why not repair and re-route the CT? Seems like a waste of resources, but I am sure they have their reasons. I would guess it is the Colorado Trail Blazers doing this trail.

Anyway, the seventies called.  They want their can back.

A few more pictures from the afternoon.  The sun was doing some amazing things to colors.  Green is now gold thanks to mother nature.  I don’t think I could ever duplicate what nature did with the lighting tonight.

I think back on my years of mountain biking, from it’s humble beginnings on the flat trails of Southern New Jersey, to riding a singlespeed in the mountains of Colorado. Dirt. Plain and simple. The one thing that brings the locations together.

The dirt makes me happy. It always has, yet I have had some mixed feelings about the friends I have made, lost, and found again. I appreciate all of the rides we had together and I miss some of them. I don’t know that they feel the same way about me, but that is life.

Today, I went on a nice long ride with some of my newer friends, in a location that has brought out the best and worst in me.

We passed a couple of cars parked near a new trailhead off of 543 and I started to think about some of the “worsts”.

These were people with whom I shared good times with. People with whom I shared mutual friends with. I started to feel a little sad about it.  Sad about how the friendship was lost. I didn’t see them, because they were probably flagging things out in the hills. If I did, I think I would have apologized. Easy to say when you don’t come face-to-face, but the feeling was there.

Then I ran into a few people with whom I have met over the years, while living in Colorado. Some who were friends with the people in the paragraph above. Some that I was downright rude to in the past. Yet, we were happy to see each other. Remembering names and exchanging a friendly greeting. It made me smile. There is a redeeming quality to the dirt. Is this my salvation? Did it take all these years to have an effect? I am confused, but I like the outcome.

Now I sit here at my desk, writing my thoughts in this blog. I am thinking about all of those people I have had good and bad times with. Then, I think about the bike and the dirt. I am trying to put it all together. What were the reasons I lost touch with so many people? What was the commonality? This could drive a person mad. Then it hits me! It wasn’t the riding that caused the differences. It was the other activities I thought would make the riding better. I won’t get into the detail of what they were. For now, I will focus on the one commonality that feeds my need for friendship. Riding.

Thank you Tim and Stephanie for the enlightening singlespeed experience, today. You may not know what was going though my head, but it certainly helped to be riding with friends.

It may look green, but its definitely not the tropics!

I was really digging my new prime lens. It finally made the GF2 compact enough to carry on my chest.

The night was filled with over 30 hikers and 15 bikers. That’s considered a crowd for Mathew Winters. It also must have been dog of leash night. Though I hate telling people to leash their dogs, it does save them from getting a ticket. I had a long conversation with a guy on a bike and a dog off leash. He kept telling me the dog was a SAR dog. I think he realized when he came upon a rattlesnake down the trail, that a leash was the smart move.

I love this part of the trail.  It’s always 5-10 degrees cooler here.  I got a new Eriksen Ti seat post for the SS.  Sooooo smooooth!

I was shocked to find a gypsy moth nest. I haven’t seen one of these, since I lived in NJ.

My rest area.

He did make this on the second try. I made it on the singlespeed!!! I was pretty damn stoked.

I think it’s going to be a one gear week.

A trip is planned and so it goes.  What could possibly go wrong?  It’s the desert, right?  Well, of course it is.  However, you would think that with all the weather Websites and every news broadcast predicting untold deluges and high winds, riding would be pretty much kaput.

I did experience both of the above on the drive over.  Nasty and gray until I reached Moab.  So, I picked up my NJ friend Jeff at the hotel.  No sooner does he get in the truck, it starts raining.

Bikes on the rack, we were determined to make something of the day and so I took him on a tour of Arches National Park.

It was windy and cold until about twenty minutes in, when what light through yonder window breaks?

Quick Jeff, to the truck!  We’re going mountain biking!

That blue patch of sky seemed to position itself right over the Bar Ranch trails.  Always good for a Moab warm-up.

So much dirt!  So much singletrack.

Out in the distance, we watched the clouds and rain consume other parts of the desert, but not above us.

Uh, Jeff…  You are holding up traffic!

The trails were in remarkable shape, as this lovely lady from Granby demonstrates.

Jeff was using all of his 75′ above sea level lungs.

It turned out to be a beautiful afternoon.

The next morning, we met up with a couple more NJ transplants to Colorado (Chris and Jen) and their friend Charlie for a shuttle ride to the Porcupine Rim.

Once again, the weatherman could not have been more wrong.  The clouds provided some nice cool temps, though the previous nitght’s snow forced us to start at the Kokopelli.

A rare poseur shot .

Riding with Chris and the others was challenging.  They were all very competitive and fast.  I did my best (I ended up completing the ride faster than I ever did before), but they were always holding up and waiting for the us to catch up.  Being a middle-of-the-pack rider, I would wait for Jeff, and then we’d catch up to the others.

Let me say it again!  Kent Eriksen is the best damn bicycle builder in the world.

We continued rocking down Porc and finished the day with a great dinner and industry conversation (Chris, Jen, and Charlie are all bike industry folk).

Day 3 and onto my favorite Moab ride, Amasa Back.  Though I forgot there was a running race there, we manage to sleep in late enough to get there as it was ending.

Just a few pics, including the Tokyo Joe girls trying to birth a baby from pothole arch (their words, not mine).

Those girls seemed to have caused a commotion all over Moab.  We saw them riding UP Porcupine Rim and so did some others I overheard in the Muffin place.  Another group of female riders were pissed that they ruined their downhill flow by riding up.  [insert catty growl here].

For my last ride, we did Salt Wash to Sovereign trail. Yet another perfect weather day!

Some people seem to give out a lot of false information about Salt Wash.  When returned to the parking lot, a few people were asking about directions.  I told them to loop (Salt Wash to Sovereign).  They said others told them to avoid Salt Wash because of sand.  Really?  Three patches af about 20′ each and some of the best lightly used singletrack in Moab. You’d be crazy not to ride a loop.

This is a desert.

This is a small patch of sand on singletrack in the desert.

This is what you will find.

C is for COOKIE!

Gee, I am so EXTREME!

I’ll be back in the fall!

And big thanks to Poison Spider cycles for the new tires and quick service!