Altered Perception

I hate letting weekends get away from me, so I start texting around early in the week to get a tour going on Saturday. 

We go to GTNP. There are six of us in the parking lot. All girls. I love it. We are noisy and colorful, and somehow alone at the trailhead--everyone else in the region is on the Pass, or at the Village, or the Ghee, or elsewhere in the Park. 

So many ladies
Pics courtesy of Erin

I break trail the whole way up, probably three hours of thigh-burning work. I am as happy as a hamster in a wheel. I don't even mind that we decide to turn around before the summit. We stay together and take turns slicing through the deep, sparkly surface hoar. We go to the Bodega afterwards, mill around and drink sloshies. Make plans to go out dancing that night. The band plays Klezmer music and Greek folk songs and the cellist has his instrument slung around his neck like a guitar. It's awesome.

Stoked to be in the Park on a sunny day

The next morning Dapper Dan texts everyone at Casa del Haters. Targhee backcountry? This thought has already occurred to us, so we organize cars for a Teton Canyon shuttle. 

I hear there are some big mountains here
Pics courtesy of Dapper

The frontside of the resort is haggard so we immediately drop out-of-bounds. Skin a couple laps on Steve Baugh and defile the once-virgin bowl with huge surf turns. 

Tyler gets some air time

After beer and snacks in the sunshine, we use the atlas to find the entrance of a south-facing couloir. Alex guinea-pigs the line. He radios to us, "It's a bit committing." Radios are cool. 

It's a good reminder of what a more consequential line feels like, what imperfect snow and wedging your ski against a rock and being out of breath from fear instead of exertion feels like. It isn't a hard line but I'm out of practice. I stay upright and ski out gracelessly. 

Somewhere in Wydaho...or maybe Colorado

The snow grows more affected, punchy, variable. We whip through willow saplings and brush. I am better at this than I used to be. I find myself on top of a little cliff band and I have to huck to flat on crusty snow. At the canyon floor, everyone transitions and starts the long glide out on the groomed trail. I don't get why people cross country ski for fun. 

On Monday I walk the dog before work wearing a light puffy, because it's sunny. My nose hairs freeze but I've gotten used to that sensation. When I turn the Subi on the engine grumbles awhile before it turns over. The temperature gauge reads -9°. Ah. The new norm. 

I am happy and satisfied at work. Sunshine, loud music, sketchy ice...writing articles, editing photos, eating Twizzlers. 

It's amazing how much a big weekend outside changes my outlook. 

Oh, Utah

We wended our way through Wyoming and it was windy and wide-open, with striated bluffs sometimes rising out of the scrub brush. The crossing into Utah brought abrupt elevation changes, towering peaks, and rivers. Why did no one ever tell me this state was so beautiful? We met up with Joh and headed down to Salt Lake City for a potluck in the park with friends. The beach volleyball courts beckoned and I grudgingly played for the first time, and loved it, and went to bed with dusty feet.

The next morning Joh took us hiking in stunning Wasatch National Forest, where even a moderate walk yields the most grandiose views. Then we sated our mountainous appetites with huge burgers at the only pub in Samak (the tiny hamlet of non-Mormons who left Kamas and spelled their new town backwards). Joh then had to work but I wasn't finished with this landscape. A bit of sheer Facebook serendipity landed me in the capable hands of a local mechanic/bike racer, who showed me a tantalizing sampling of what Park City had to offer. I struggled a little but wheezed less than expected at seven to nine thousand feet.

Reunited

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

Lisa and Savannah

Way back in the spring, the Specialized 2012 catalog was released and upon perusal I was appalled to see that the baby dinosaur had gone extinct...Specialized had replaced their XC full-suspension chick bike with some dumb hardtail 29er. Not cool, y'all. This meant that at some point in the future I would be forced to get a bike that wasn't an Era, and I wasn't happy about it. (First-world problems, amirite?) 

Skip ahead a couple months, and I had accidentally found the perfect buyer for the baby dino. And then, lo and behold, a 2010 Sworks Era popped up in the dusty clearance bin of the internet. Same year, same look, lots more plastic. I hemmed and hawed and accrued funds for a month before finally biting the bullet, and the Councilman was kind enough to let me take her out for the first time on Friday. 

After my amazing experience with the Yeti, I was a bit tentative about this purchase, my head full of preconceived notions about carbon bikes. They're more fragile, right? And they require a stern demeanor, and spandex, and they're probably a lot more businesslike. No more joyful gallivanting downhill and certainly no more slow easy climbs, right? This was a heavy mantle I was adopting.

Before she had even left the shop she'd been dubbed Lisa, which was definitely not my first choice, seeing as how it's also the name of my heavyset mustachioed lesbian neighbor who loves midnight furniture-moving sessions and audiobooks turned up to 11. But the appellation stuck, and I like to think of my Lisa as the antithesis of her Prius-driving namesake: spry, light, effervescent.

  

Anyway. She weighed in at 22.8 pounds, first of all. That's just stupid. We rode up Twin Falls and down Avery and I am surprised and pleased to say, the difference was huge. On technical climbs it felt like there was a direct circuit from my brain to the bike, and Lisa navigated each section with playful ease. Then we went downhill, and that was the real revelation; the fancy suspension performed flawlessly, the bike imperiously demanded bigger hits and faster cornering, and once again each move was intuitive. Who knew descending on an absurdly expensive XC rig could be so darn fun? Lisa had incinerated my expectations. 

The maiden voyage

Oh, but it gets better. Riding a fancy new bike was only half the fun. The baby dinosaur found herself in new hands, and is now operating under the name Savannah. My dear friend Sarah has been dragging the tired carcass of an ancient hardtail all over Pisgah for years, and I can think of no one more deserving or appreciative of a blinged-out Era than her. We got in a quick inaugural ride yesterday and Sarah was so, so, so, so, so stoked. ("It's so quiet!" "It's so fast!" "The brakes actually work!") Watch out WNC: that bike is a freaking game-changer and I'm afraid that pretty soon we're all going to have trouble keeping up with Gascan.

It's like Christmas, but better

Nothing New Here

someone told me recently that my blog is a one trick pony because the only message i ever convey is happy-happy-joy-joy. well, this post is not going to change a thing. how can i possibly write with solemnity or dismay when i've had two cups of coffee and it's SEVENTY-ONE DEGREES OUTSIDE, and i'm about to go for a mtb ride with my saint because my lovely bosses at ye olde red house understand that going outside to play in the sunshine is more important than changing sheets and dusting.

riding laurel/pilot with some of my favorite stumpy club members

other events have also been causing a surplus of joy in my life. weather is first and foremost of course; my mood is absurdly dependent on sunshine. but even when the sun goes down i can get together with my favorite lady friends and have a good time eating, drinking, and posing for silly pictures.

luv.

last week mi madre and i made the trek to charlotte to attend a super fab cupping'n'stuff hosted by the bakery's coffee supplier. there are few things i love better than standing around in skinny jeans pretending to taste cedar and citrus in a cup of joe. pretentious coffee talk really revs my engine.

aaaand despite all those claims of retirement i found myself tracking down all the race dates of the season to add to my planner. just, you know, in case i happen to have a free weekend and want to go drive a few hours and pay dollars to ride around in a circle chasing fast women in the elusive hunt for glory and fame.

or whatever.

also i joined the new club in town because, i mean, who wouldn't want to roll with a pac?

Once Again, A Homebody Speaks of Travel

As the weather turns permanently unpleasant, my thoughts frolic into next summer, the season of voyages. Bellingham, WA to see if my shoe-twin is lying about how awesome it is...Windham, NY to watch some World Cup action...maybe some face-time with the grands in NH...then Mont-Sainte-Anne for World Champs! Um did I mention I WILL BE DONE WITH COLLEGE BY THIS SUMMER? Wow. What a feeling.

But then wanderlust ain't all it's cracked up to be. The Saint and I rode Caney/Daniel/Butter yesterday in the unseasonably gorgeous sunlight. Oh em gee what a fantastic ride. To me, that loop is the epitome of Pisgah.

It's been a good week. I also had the pleasure of dog-sitting at a house complete with hot tub and pool table. And the family continued the long-time tradition of getting out in the woods together for some kind of exercise on Thanksgiving. We're so cool.

And another fabulously frivolous girls' night out in Ashevegas

St Marie Thinks I'm Blogging Too Much

Team BC is clustered around the big screen watching Chapelle Show while the womenfolk (and Danny...and Park) labor in the kitchen over a hot pan of lasagna.

XC chic race: tomorrow, 8am

XC bro race: tomorrow, noon

High spirits around here. I think everyone loves the courses. I know I do. They're pretty darn fabulous. I am excited to race XC, which is a strange state of affairs indeed. The course is maybe 3 miles up then 4 miles down and so much fun.

And of course, everybody loves everybody.