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Saturday, October 19, 2013

Big Time



As the winter is hunting us down and waiting to devour us at any moment, I thought it would be a good time to take that last ride up Big Cottonwood Canyon. It's about 7 minutes exactly from my house and usually a very popular spot for cyclists. Except for today. Why was no one going up the canyon? Several people were coming down but alas, it was just the three of us going UP. I learned later what caused this phenomenon. Going up was grand. Fresh air, pine, sunshine, views of the snow and rock and newly-naked Aspens. Approaching the top after climbing 4,000 feet in 15 miles, all I could think of was food. Unfortunately for my stomach (which as this point was about to devour my entire body) the cafe at the top of Big was closed for "fall hours". All I could do was speed down about .4 miles to the nearest resort and sprint to the pizza cafe there. That .4 miles of speeding to the cafe had my fingers hurting, my lips numb, water pouring out of my eyes and my teeth just about chattering. Yes, the sun had gone behind the walls of the canyon and to say it was freezing could would have been an understatement. I waited for my two cousins (in-law) who I was riding with. We scarfed a sandwich and hot chocolate. Then the agony started. .4 miles had been quite traumatic in the cold but now we had over 15 miles of it.




 We doubted we could descend (well the women folk did) and we plotted how to get out of it but nothing was going to come to our rescue! We had no other choice but to go down. Was it best to hobble down so as not to get too cold? I decided it was NOT and bombed down the canyon around 40-45 miles an hour pretty much the whole way. Today was not reminiscent in any way of the last time I descended the canyon which included such experiences as: Joy, peace, relaxation, sunshine, warmth, gentle breeze, FUN. This was more like: Agony, pain, uncontrollable shaking, teeth chattering, and a moaning so loud everyone could hear it as I flew by. Many times the shaking and chattering caused the bike to wobble. Finally I was in the last few miles!! Using the brakes was becoming out of the question since my fingers at this point were not only numb but aching and burning and frozen in one position.

I guess the only good thing that came out of the suicidal descent was that I reached the parking lot where I could get to the van and try to drive up the canyon to give a ride to my relatives. Amy, who had even thinner gloves than me had actually stopped halfway down and did the one thing every woman secretly wants to do when her hands are frozen: She put her hands in her husband's armpits! Now that is true love! (and a true case of frozen fingers and hands!) Thanks for the pictures, Amy!

This was definitely the worst prepared I have ever been for the cold. Lesson learned. ...until next fall.


Thursday, October 17, 2013

The Peace of Wild Things

In the years past, much of my life was spent in nature. I think I'm finally getting back to those roots after a break of over 10 years. Now I have more worries than before but the words of Wendell Berry in his poem "The Peace of Wild Things express my comfort. The wilderness is one of the places where God speaks.

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.