Jingle Bells Jingle Bells, Jingle All The Way, Oh What Fun It Is To Ride On A 60 Degree Day.....YEA!
I rode from Cheeva Falls trail-head up to Bellota Ranch road, caught the Arizona Trail back west and then tip toed down La Milagrosa. (I had forgotten my knee shin armour, which is BAD on this trail)
All together, with the ride back into town, it was about 25 miles. My mind still thinks that I am as strong as I was in October when I did the Centurion, my body says otherwise. Still, a 25 mile day in the middle of winter and I was feeling pretty good. Two more weeks of this and I'll be fit as a.... oh I don't know..... 
Gustifson H. has been digging the temps this year. It's a little cooler than in February when we normally come down. Still, he prefers to wear his white shirt, which I wet down with water. His little swamp cooler keeps him pretty happy for 90 year old dog averaging 10 miles an hour.
The 
For all the fun I have had on Slick Rock Trail, these days it leaves me somewhat bored. There is no danger, when the word "DANGER" is painted on the rock. The dots keep me from feeling the rock, from learning how much traction is available on any given stratified layer, from training my fast twitch muscle fibers to "PULL UP QUICK!" when what looked 
What if there was a Slick Rock trail that had no dots, no crowds, virtually no sign of man or his machines? What if there was a place in the desert where one can surf, riding frozen waves for more than six hours?
Well.... Such a place does 
And like all good surf spots, these waves are kept pretty secret. "It's classified." "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
So don't ask, and I won't tell. Be happy knowing that there is a place in 
Mountain bikers tend to use the word "epic" a lot. It gets overused and is a trendy word we like to use to describe rides that maybe weren't really all that uhh...."epic." The definition above doesn't really cover what we off-road cycling folks mean by the word. One above definition, which I highlighted in red, does discuss "great size," but I don't think a ride must be long to be "epic."
As the trail disappeared, the sand got thick, and the sun sank low, I could see Mary was suffering. After a year off the bike, pounding the middle ring through soft soil is not easy. But I could see that despite the cold, the impending darkness, and the sucky "trail" conditions, she was having fun.
In a last ditch effort to keep her hands from freezing I gave Mary my gloves and wrapped arm warmers around mine. The sun gave the tips of the surrounding mesa's one last red kiss and with that it seemed to drop 10 more degrees. Finally we started finding ATV tracks in the wash again. The wash dumped us out at a recognizable spot and we were finally heading back toward the truck. I looked at Gus's black fur in envy as he trotted along impervious to the dropping temp. The sky had very distinct lines of color as the light faded. Visions of flipping the trucks heater switch drove us on. Fourteen miles! Two hours! Yea, it was EPIC!
I'm always up pretty early. That's normal for me. And being the first one up I of course unloaded my bike, lubed the chain, adjusted this, fiddled with that.....all so everyone could use it to ride down to the restroom! Long live the POO BIKE!
Jacques Hadler--Broke his spine nine months ago. He's only been back on the bike a few months and he is already faster than me. Not much changes!
Ashely is a ripper, I think her husband has been teaching her some sweet huck moves, or maybe her boyfriend, heck I couldn't figure it out.
Even the bikes stop to enjoy the views on Gooseberry Mesa.
None of the bikes cared enough to give them a handlebar. Poor Dave and Rachel.
