My outdoor days came to a close. . . or so I thought. Right before the turn of the new year, I was at sea level. By the 7th of January, I was at 7000 feet above. Add to this the strenuous nature of cold camping and 80 miles of hard cycling over the course of 3 days between Moab, Monticello, and the Colorado border (just for kicks, I had little face protection and I pushed harder than normal), and you have 5+ days of 12-hour sleeps and even some nap time on top of that. But what great price we must pay for the pearl! I remember getting dropped of at La Sal Junction and making a good distance, tolerating my toes until I saw the green sign of unfiltered reality: "MONTICELLO 14"
I got off the bicycle, removed my footwear and warmed my feet on my thighs. I called my friend in M and he said, "oh I know that sign. For there, It's all uphill to here. Dude I'm so sorry," as if he were delivering a fatal diagnosis. I was part expecting some help into town (five to ten miles, perhaps), but have also come to mentally prepare for the worst, to take the hard road. A prime example of that: After a quick bite of granola, orange, and Probar, as well as warmed up feet and morale, I gave a brave whoop of "let's DO this!!" and took to the road, quickly getting through the easy part. It's one of those slopes that you can see right where it begins. The grade launched off the earth in front of me, and I began the task. I soon became too hot. Removed the coat, placed it on the handlebars, leaving only my polypropylene thermal and polyester workout shirt. I grew more deliberate (brute force will get you nowhere on these). I chose my breathing and pedaling pace, setting the gears to a speed that assisted a fluid and non-jerking pattern of movement, and entered the zone. Expecting the worst, as I said, I went on as if each curve and hill would reveal yet another one, never expecting a reprieve, and soon duty became joy. It was seemingly over just as it had begun, and 4 miles later (the mile markers passed surprisingly fast. Now that makes you feel good) I came upon a frozen plateau, flatland a mile and a third in the air, with yet a higher set of mountains, covered in black-green nearing the southwest horizon. All around was an unbroken screen of untouched white. I had to take this new wonderland in! I sat in the sun, lying on my thermal, again warming up my feet. I basked in the brightness of it, the glory of overcoming. I waved and gave tokens of wild joy to passersby. One of them stopped. He had seen me all the way back near Moab! He offered his hand and a ride into town. How could I turn it down? I already felt victorious! I got in with plenty of time to see my buddy before he went to work. Truly a tender mercy. That night was starry and immortal, drinking deeply from the spiritual elixir of life, my friend marveling at how I had become a Kerouac in my own right, i casually leaned on the kitchen counter with my arm and ate the cleaned off the last of the skillet with the other.
I stayed in Monticello for a few days, and each night, I got to sleep in my bag inside the camper. Me and my buddy got a great "beatnik" shot, as he called it, standing at the entrance of the camper. I wish I could have stayed longer. It was such a perfect little town. The ride back to Moab was nice, but I have to say, it beat me up. I was doing this even after feeling the need to sleep for more than 12 hours a day and still feeling listless indoors. I got a bit depressed during the multiple days indoors, until Saturday night I was walking to where I'd be staying that night. It was nearing midnight, and I saw the moon over the large mountain overhead, and I sighed at my star. I waxed romantic and pondered on how I wanted to be wild again. I felt God tell me, "then do it." I imagined the midnight moonlight bathing the deeper ridges, glisten the snow even . . . maybe. Got to go find out! The world is one big playground! I have since gone back, and marveled at the moon sending the snow sparkling. You swear your eyes are playing tricks on you. And one more thought: There is no sweeter thing than sunlight pouring through the fabric of your tent in the early afternoon and it being warm enough inside for a good nap, lying on the sleeping bag.
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