|Gotta love how worthless pictures are at conveying scenery|
I usually try to put new trails in context by comparing them to old, but analogies failed me now. No trails I'd ridden were like these; twisty, steep, sometimes rocky or rooty (but usually at polite perpendiculars), covered in an inch of fine moon dust, but most noticeably graced always by a majestic vacuum--the sweeping valley and heartbreaking massifs that kept snagging my eyes and ripping me asunder. There's no doubt it was the most beautiful place I'd ever been. I didn't even try to take a picture. The sun set and we finished riding in the dark. So, Utah. Never mind the wicked winters, the snobs and the Mormons, the 4% ABV beer. I love it.
|Oh yeah, we also played on the salt flats|