Canyonlands
“In this glare of brilliant emptiness, in this arid intensity of pure heat is the heart of a weird solitude, great silence and grand desolation annihilating all thought.”
Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey
Hello Friends.
It was 10 a.m. May 1st and I was on my bike and on the trail, the White Rim Trail in Canyonlands, just outside Moab, Utah. So far in my 68 years I had never been to Utah and I had taken up mountain biking only a couple of months before day one of our 4-day Western Spirit Cycling Adventures. https://westernspirit.com/ I was gung- ho and as so much told the group during our share before we were transported an hour away to our starting point.
After several miles, I began to realize that unlike what I expected, a rather easy ride through magnificent red rock canyons much like a bicycle vacation, the terrain was technical, dangerous and required great stamina to navigate up and down steep hills. I had to look ahead of me at all times to prevent possible catastrophe. The last five or so miles of the final eighteen for the day included a hot, relentless wind storm that seemed to hold me in place no matter how hard I peddled. Finally, I rolled into camp around 4 p.m. That night in the comforts of my sleeping bag thinking about the longest scheduled ride in day two, twenty-seven miles, my heart raced. Yet the next day as I maneuvered White Panther, the name I assigned to my newly acquired mountain bike, over bumpy sand stone and miles of red dirt, I sensed some sort of renewed confidence. Pep talks helped! They went something like this, “You are doing this! You can do this. You’re not competing with anyone. Do this your way.” And I did because I had to. I got off and walked my bike up (physically unable to make it to the top) and down hills (fearing a crash in the loose gravel that might mean skidding over and falling off into a steep canyon.) This is what I wrote in my journal before heading out on day 3: My spirit is not broken. White Rim Trail hold me in your grizzly embrace, your rugged beauty, your timeless rim that knows millions of years in your making. May I grant you my respect, my love, my comradeship with the other riders as we venture forward into another pure air day in Moab Utah, White Rim Trail, Canyonlands.
I rode for many miles alone. I was the last rider to reach camp that day and the day before. I was settling in to being with my adventure rather than feeling ‘less than’ or ‘not as good as’ other riders in our group. I began to embrace my fate and even started relishing the solitude. I realized that I was forming a unique bond with the canyons, the desert. My fears of being a stranger in a strange land dissipated.
As the hours unfolded on the trail, I found myself knowing that like the life here endurance and survival required struggle and adapting. I can learn how to ride the currents of the wind instead of feeling disturbed by the sand in my face. I can learn how to spend a moment appreciating the gentle beauty of the purple prickly pear cactus flower instead of focusing on my tired shoulders. I can get lost in the vast beauty with awe, walk the sandy washes with White Panther by my side. If I listen with my soul I can hear wise messages from the ancient ones in the cool, river breezes. Do I want this to be over?
On day 4 to the cheers of my trip-mates with wobbly leg and a joyous heart I hiked up the final 1.5 mile ascent.
Intention: Do it your way.