Wolf Creek

Yesterday saw my longest and most difficult ride yet.  At 41.75 miles, it was only a little under two miles longer than the ride on Friday, but it was at altitude and featured a long uphill climb, starting at about 6500 feet and peaking at almost 9300 feet. (By way of contrast, the Mill Creek ride ended at about 7650 feet.)

We began by driving up to Kamas, which is about a 45-minute drive from our house, just beyond Park City.

We parked the truck in town, then rode through five or six miles of valley farm and ranch land before narrowing into the canyon formed by Wolf Creek, entering the Uintah National Forest at about nine miles.

The route had seemed fairly level up to this point, although Garmin's elevation chart indicated a gradual ascent.  But here is where the serious climb began and it continued for the next 13 miles.

As usual, it was difficult to try to capture on camera the scenery that we passed as we rode.  One cannot stop every five minutes to take a picture, so I reach around to the right pocket of my jersey, pull out my iPhone and try to take pictures as I'm riding.

It was a beautiful late spring day, and the climb was going fairly well.  We stopped near this brook for a couple of minutes to eat half of an energy bar before continuing on with the ascent, which was becoming increasingly serious.  

It was also at this point that three motorcyclists zipped by going at least 70 up the winding road.  We could hear their engines roaring for at least 30 seconds or so before they came into sight and then after they disappeared around the bend.  It looked like they were having fun, but Mark commented that it could obviously be very dangerous.  He has driven this road a number of times, both on his motorcycle and his bike, and he told me about the time he came around a curve and encountered a flock of sheep being moved down the road from one pasture to another.  If those cyclists had come flying around a curve and confronted such a situation, it could have been ugly.

As we climbed closer to Wolf Creek Pass, the groves of aspen caught our eye, as they had mine on Saturday when approaching Guardsman's Pass.  Because of their altitude, they had only recently leafed out, and their foliage was almost a translucent yellow-green (captured in the following photograph taken from the internet).

The psychological and physical tolls as we continued to climb toward the pass were proving challenging for me.  We kept expecting to see the summit just around the next curve, but instead the road kept climbing on and on (and on).  Finally, at about the 20 mile mark, Mark suggested I rest while he rode on to see how far it yet was to the top.  I was happy to do so.

The view down hill from my resting spot at 20 miles

The view uphill from my resting spot

Me at my resting spot

After a few minutes, with no Mark in sight zipping back down the hill, I got back in the saddle and continued the ascent for just over another mile, when I met Mark coming down.  I was happy to head back down at that point, so that's what we did.  

I'm still establishing a comfort level with speeding down mountain roads, especially given my past troubles with the death wobble.  I also have yet to feel comfortable using the drops on the handlebars.  That will come in time, I'm sure.  For now, my brakes are my friends.

Mark took this picture as we were back on the "flats" with the snow-capped peaks
of the Wasatch in the distance.  It still amazes me to see snow up there in June.

I liked today's Rilke passage, which is entitled "Wild Rosebush":

How it stands there against the dark

of this late rainy hour, young and clean,

swaying its generous branches

yet absorbed in its essence as rose;

with wide-open flowers already appearing,

each unsought and each uncared-for.

So, endlessly exceeding itself

and ineffably from itself come forth,

it calls the wanderer, who in evening contemplation

passes on the road:

Oh see me standing here, see how unafraid I am

and unprotected. I have all I need.

I also liked today's Hafiz poem, from A Year with Hafiz (a Sufi poet):

The Bed of the Sick

God is always there, beside the bed of the sick.

So many times He holds a cup to their mouths

and strokes their head.

If you don't believe me, try picturing that in your mind,

happening to you.

Enact this beautiful scene if ever you feel in need

of the Beloved's presence.

That is what an imagination is for.  Can you think

of anything better to do with it?

And who is to say it won't become real ...

somewhere along your path.

And I'll conclude with this wonderful Rumi quote that my wonderful sister Martha posted on my Facebook wall over the weekend:

Your task is not to seek for love, 

but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself 

that you have built against it.

~ Rumi