I am here in the red rocks of Sedona at prime riding time. Riders from elsewhere arrive and park in the Red Rock plaza then head out on their rides. Upon return they are in various post ride reconnects. Red dust sometime mixed w/ dull red of dried blood. Smiles, exhilaration, fatigue, some wanting more. I drift among them listening and observing. I am letting my shoulder heal by not riding, now in week 2. I have been where they are now and am empathetic. I know you know. I know that I can let healing time pass for my long term gain. I tell myself. I removed my Formula rear brake and sent to it SC for service thus rendering an obstacle to my riding my bike. I have several offers to ride other bikes but I remain steadfast.
I have been hiking seeking places bikes can’t or won’t go as a way of enlarging my desert experiences. Yesterday I hiked from Beaverhead rd up onto House mtn, my goal was to connect Beaverhead w/ Turkey creek to the north. Last spring I rode these non maintained mapped FS roads fro recovery. What I hiked took 3 hrs 40 mins that took me only 60 mins on my bike. I didn’t make the pass above the basin that was to be crossed to meet w/ the pass above Turkey creek. Volcanic rubble sitting like unmelted M&Ms on a cookie. Cows. I stayed on the road as it was. I asked Duff for a shuttle ride some day to allow me to walk from Beaverhead to Turkey Creek TH.
I spend time @ Bike and Bean for social contact.
Steve from Sun Valley left Sat AM as did Cashion and Eva from The Bike Farm outside Pisgah.
PT is continuing along w/ a perceived improvement of my shoulder and measured by decrease in pain. I do not need prescription meds to take the edge off. I am able to sleep all night. Tomorrow I am going to schedule a massage.
It’s 7:55 PM Sunday night, it is 5o degrees out and 77 inside w/ the slider door opened. Clear sky, abundant stars as the moon has not risen. A, the desert.
Wed I started reading “Wild” written by a long distance PCT hiker. Reading it continually recalls my experiences. She speaks of emotions and toil hiking extorts from her body. It’s all about being dependent upon your own wits, it is almost primal. I’ve been there. She chose hiking to find herself etc. I did it because it was there and could I do it. I tested myself. I came away with confidence. For several years I have been putting thought into hiking what I missed back in 1978. I am now planning on it. I will build a master plan like before. First is to learn if my damaged left foot will be an issue. Also my left knee. The hiking I have been doing is reassuring that my body can walk. Putting a PCT pack on is another step. I missed the Sierra all the way to Ashland, OR, then north from Stevens Pass in WA. (Prolly repeating myself). The snow pack in the Sierra is shrinking which makes hiking this piece snow free. Gear is lighter and better now, no Fabiano mountain master mountaineering boots needed, boots today are better than the running shoes I carried for camp shoes or pavement walking. Suzie, Dave, and I hiked some miles of pavement in So Cal in running shoes that we renamed Flying Slippers. My journal is stored back in Spokane, I wonder what I wrote about.
On weekends this place swells w/ visitors. camping spots are filled. Tonight is Sunday and the desert here is empty of over nighters. No competition for space. On the PCT the same thing happened. We coined the term “Wally Weekenders” for that traffic. Come Sunday night we had the trail again to ourselves till Fri night or Sat AM.
Zags won on Thurs and Sat that I watched @ PJ’s.
I am more comfortable by myself than w/others. I learned that about myself. I get to choose contact.
Shutting door. Last night I slept w/o the furnace only turning it on before sliding off my bed. I drank 3 beers during the game and lots of water after my ride completely re hydrating myself. I peed so much and often.
Last night Joe Hazel and his wife Nancy treated me to dinner and their company. They are special people to me.
I know more people while on my travels than I did while living in Spokane.
Back to Wild.
Back in 1963 my dad was in Berlin, Germany on a YMCA visit during the Cuban missile crisis as it became known. He gave me a eating utensil set made in Germany as a what did you bring me daddy gift. I carried the spoon on my PCT hike. I still have the spoon. I remember one day on the PCT when I discovered I lost it. My journal recounted my angst and wrestling w/ back tracking to fetch it. I decided to hike on and cope w/ loss. That night as I shook out my tent I found it in the tent. I was ecstatic. I still have it w/ me.
