Today: 103 Miles – AVG Speed: 14.5MPH – Top Speed: 34.6MPH
Total: 3,854.80
There was no shortage of trepidation in my mind as I began packing at 6:15 today. I was up at that hour for two reasons: Firstly, of course, was to see the sunrise over the iconic Monument Valley, secondly, was to try and beat the heat as I set out for a conservative 65-70 miles or so to feel my way back into the groove. I must say, with total honesty, that an exhaustion experience like the one I felt does affect your confidence.
I finished off the day yesterday with some University LADS ON TOUR from Cardiff. It was my first meeting with my native folk since I set out, and I thoroughly enjoyed their company. It was pleasant to spend time with some young chaps and I bet they’re in for even more recreational delights as their trip winds down. Bloody heathens.
At sunset, we were greeted by the owner, Dorothy, who after collecting the money offered up an insight into the Navajo traditions and their way of life. She explained with great grace how her family live and mused on the past, present and future of her tribe, religion and region. It was good fortune that she offered up the information so readily, as without her, I may never have learnt what I did.
On with today, then. I began carefully. In low gears I made the long gradual uphill on Scenic Route 263 and, as they say, returned-to-the scene-of–the crime of my collapse a couple of days prior. I daren’t even look at the ridge in case it brought back terrible memories. Much like spotting a former lover on the other side of the street clenching a new beau, I suppose. Trying to maintain dignity, all the while knowing, as does she, that you blew it. I was feeling good, though. I made sure to have many system checks in order to make sure I wasn’t dehydrating again and I had the all clear. Well, not all clear, you understand, but certainly healthier than the tarred, syrup-like colouration of old. A vast improvement, anyhow.
With some peace of mind tranquillity began to set in and I found myself appreciating the surroundings in a far more profound way than I had on the agonising inbound leg. The colours seemed more vivid and the thickly clouded sky had a purple hue. Things were beginning to feel extra-terrestrial. I made my way up route 261, which is off my route and therefore, I didn’t possess an elevation profile. As I approached the imposing crimson mesa I was left wondering how I were to pass it. A tunnel, perhaps? That would’ve been fun, but not to be. As I grew closer to the base of the beast I noticed it would be a 3 mile series of sharp switchbacks over a gravel road. "Breathe in, boy", I said to myself. Actually, it wasn’t that tough. As with anything, when the worst is feared the reality often soothes. It was difficult, but also fun to ride and, most importantly, the views were spectacular. Every day I awake in this region I have no idea what to expect, and sometimes, the shock is like having your head dunked in icy water. This road and the scenery it offered appeared as if they were imagined by a twisted genius. Each turn held more majesty in the rocks and the grind to ascend this mesa never beat the wonder. It was staggering. When I reached the summit, I expected (and if I’ve learned anything, it’s to expect nothing) an equally dramatic downhill, but it didn’t appear. Instead it was a gradual rolling descent to my destination. 60 miles completed, just like that. I felt great. So, dare I risk more? Well yes, I did, in fact. It was down hill and the tailwind was with me. I could handle another 34 miles. But then…
...But nothing. It was great. I began to traverse enormous canyons. The like of which I have never seen. There were so few cars on the road, I felt like the last man on earth who had happened to acquire (or fashion, depending on my expertise) a bike.
I found my way to camp by 16:30 and settled down for a gourmet meal of ramen noodles and Chef Boyardee tinned ravioli. Not quite the rural huntsmen yet, but with every day in this vast expanse containing no-one, I’m beginning to feel more like one.
Total: 3,854.80
There was no shortage of trepidation in my mind as I began packing at 6:15 today. I was up at that hour for two reasons: Firstly, of course, was to see the sunrise over the iconic Monument Valley, secondly, was to try and beat the heat as I set out for a conservative 65-70 miles or so to feel my way back into the groove. I must say, with total honesty, that an exhaustion experience like the one I felt does affect your confidence.
I finished off the day yesterday with some University LADS ON TOUR from Cardiff. It was my first meeting with my native folk since I set out, and I thoroughly enjoyed their company. It was pleasant to spend time with some young chaps and I bet they’re in for even more recreational delights as their trip winds down. Bloody heathens.
At sunset, we were greeted by the owner, Dorothy, who after collecting the money offered up an insight into the Navajo traditions and their way of life. She explained with great grace how her family live and mused on the past, present and future of her tribe, religion and region. It was good fortune that she offered up the information so readily, as without her, I may never have learnt what I did.
On with today, then. I began carefully. In low gears I made the long gradual uphill on Scenic Route 263 and, as they say, returned-to-the scene-of–the crime of my collapse a couple of days prior. I daren’t even look at the ridge in case it brought back terrible memories. Much like spotting a former lover on the other side of the street clenching a new beau, I suppose. Trying to maintain dignity, all the while knowing, as does she, that you blew it. I was feeling good, though. I made sure to have many system checks in order to make sure I wasn’t dehydrating again and I had the all clear. Well, not all clear, you understand, but certainly healthier than the tarred, syrup-like colouration of old. A vast improvement, anyhow.
With some peace of mind tranquillity began to set in and I found myself appreciating the surroundings in a far more profound way than I had on the agonising inbound leg. The colours seemed more vivid and the thickly clouded sky had a purple hue. Things were beginning to feel extra-terrestrial. I made my way up route 261, which is off my route and therefore, I didn’t possess an elevation profile. As I approached the imposing crimson mesa I was left wondering how I were to pass it. A tunnel, perhaps? That would’ve been fun, but not to be. As I grew closer to the base of the beast I noticed it would be a 3 mile series of sharp switchbacks over a gravel road. "Breathe in, boy", I said to myself. Actually, it wasn’t that tough. As with anything, when the worst is feared the reality often soothes. It was difficult, but also fun to ride and, most importantly, the views were spectacular. Every day I awake in this region I have no idea what to expect, and sometimes, the shock is like having your head dunked in icy water. This road and the scenery it offered appeared as if they were imagined by a twisted genius. Each turn held more majesty in the rocks and the grind to ascend this mesa never beat the wonder. It was staggering. When I reached the summit, I expected (and if I’ve learned anything, it’s to expect nothing) an equally dramatic downhill, but it didn’t appear. Instead it was a gradual rolling descent to my destination. 60 miles completed, just like that. I felt great. So, dare I risk more? Well yes, I did, in fact. It was down hill and the tailwind was with me. I could handle another 34 miles. But then…
...But nothing. It was great. I began to traverse enormous canyons. The like of which I have never seen. There were so few cars on the road, I felt like the last man on earth who had happened to acquire (or fashion, depending on my expertise) a bike.
I found my way to camp by 16:30 and settled down for a gourmet meal of ramen noodles and Chef Boyardee tinned ravioli. Not quite the rural huntsmen yet, but with every day in this vast expanse containing no-one, I’m beginning to feel more like one.
Still trying to perfect the old crop-top.
Looking out in consternation.
Looking out in wonder.
Looking out for love.
I came up that, I did.
...the new novel from Jonathan Franzen.
More of this sort of thing.
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