Moab: A Photo Essay

I got Freedom's ashes right before leaving, so this trip was kind of about him. Still celebrating him.

I hoisted my bike on top of my car myself. Super proud but shitty gas mileage.

Scored a powder day at Mammoth on May 9, 2015. Good thing i brought my ski gear!

Navigating a rock garden in Rock Creek. Practice for some of the technical terrain in Moab.

Photo by Colin Farrell (@oppcreative)

Gotta love riding with your friends!

Photo by Colin Farrell with GoPro (@oppcreative)

Hit Rock Creek, Sand Canyon and Wagon Wheel all in one day with friends before heading east.

Photo by Brahm Goodis (@bgoodis)

I may or may not have hit a tree.

Photo by Colin Farrell (@oppcreative)

Bootleg Canyon, Boulder City, NV. Running tubeless for the first time! The guys at All Mountain Cyclery really took care of us. Thats Fucci (total shredder) behind me.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Minco taught me i could love another dog again. He's an awesome trail dog, even at seven months old, and slept on top of me.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

This is just a damn good man. Finally on our way to Moab.

The first photo on the first day in Moab. BOOM! Circle-O Trail

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Dark sky BTS

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

Beauty and life all around

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

Potential EC (Explorer catcher) here, because my front end is a little wider, but i was stoked how well my bike handled the technical terrain.

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

I was definitely challenged with the technical terrain

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

Tight squeeze but look at that suspension working!

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

Klondike Bluffs. This was the hardest day of them all, physically. I was really challenged.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

The more time i spent with this guy, the more i wanted to be with him.

Have never seen anything like this. Some serious Cloud Porn!

Photo by Jeff Fox with iPhone (@foxonarock)

Slick Rock Trail. Lots of undulations and climbing this day, but my favorite by far. Really want to do this loop again now that i know it. That's Sylvie reeling me in. She's a good ride partner.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

The fun part!

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

if you could see down into this canyon, you would understand why i'm sitting there. Absolutely breath taking!

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

All smiles!

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

Shit happens

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

The Crew from Telluride Adaptive we met up with. From left to right: Sylvie, Ricky Bobby, Patty Wack, Madman Poole, Jer, and Jet (my fav). Cool to see all the different bikes.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

The terrain in Moab is so unique and I fell in love with it. If you haven't, you must.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Gemini Bridges! Blown away by the geologic history of this place. Taking this pic was a little sketchy, but i didn't care.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Pausing for a Free Wheel, Thule and Toyota advertisement. There ya go Pat!

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

As much of a ham as i am, I discovered i like to be behind the camera too.

Foxy and i stopped to check out the Crackhouse so he could play around.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Foxy is super talented and makes it easy though.

I wasn't gonna let these steps stop me.

Photo by Diana Proemm (www.dpphoto.net)

This should be a postcard! FOUR national parks in one day started with sunrise at the Arches. Felt the energy of this place.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Then to Canyon Lands

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Then to Bryce Canyon

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Saw a unicorn on the way to Zion

Then through Zion

Silver Canyon, White Mountains. Are we in Nevada or California? I don't even know! On our way home, we struck the biggest adventure of them all. 6000 vert in 10 miles. The Land of Milk and Honey awaits beyond.

Photo by Jeff Fox (@foxonarock)

Soaking it all in with a beer before crossing the last leg home to Mammoth. Thanks for the memories, Foxy!

Full Breach

Photo by Darlene Connoly

When i arrive at the area i last saw the spouts, sweating, i stop and float. Silence. Nothing. The anticipation of a sudden startling noise, breaking the silence instantly, of a very large creature surfacing from the depths of the ocean, builds, almost unbearably, like watching a scary movie, waiting for the killer to strike out of the darkness. I brace for it. What seems like an eternity passes and then, finally, i hear it....

Rewind to a few hours earlier.

Its not my day. I seem to have a knack for disappointing people lately. Enjoyment warms me, from the steaming cup of coffee in my hand and looking at that big blue beautiful thing out in front of me, but under it all lies an uncomfortableness, eating at me. I feel like a failure. This is what happens when i don't surf. Its been over a week and this day is dedicated to getting out in the water so i can put the chatter at rest. After feeding and taking care of my dog and myself, and much a-do, its time to go. Board and gear are already loaded because this has been the missed goal of the last few days: Get in the water. A quick stop at the market along the way for a sandwich and coconut water to enjoy in the sun and i'm actually going. I'm actually going to surf! When i arrive, i'm greeted by a band of three other wheelchair users. The brash, potty-mouthed audacity of one of them who is "Sponsored by everyone under the sun" turns me off and i just want to enjoy my lunch in the sun alone, so i politely excuse myself to my wave watching. I remove my shirt, feeling the sun on my back. As i sit and watch, my intent wanes slightly because the howling wind is ripping across the surf. Kite boarders enjoy it, slicing though the chop, drawing white lines that disappear several feet behind them. When the kite boarders are out, its not a good sign, but i still have hope. A ridable wave rolls in every now and then. I ask each surfer, normally a good motivator because the usual responses are things like, "Its better than the parking lot," or "It felt good to get wet," or simply, "Its small but fun." Not the case. This day, i get, "Windy," and "I couldn't get into anything because of the wind," and "It was better earlier." I check the report. Its supposed to get even windier. Normally, i'll go out in any conditions. I always have fun. Being in the ocean is healing no matter what, but i came alone. I would need to amass a force of perfect strangers to help me and i'm just not sure the conditions warrant such an effort when i can easily find an alternate activity i can perform solo. OK asking strangers for help isn't exactly "massing a force", but sometimes it feels like it. This does not bode well for my grumpiness though and, after thirty minutes or so, i retreat.

Paddling with whales a couple years ago. You can see a big one take a look at me.

Back at home, i enjoy another cup of coffee in the sun, watch the morning show for the surf contest in Australia, catch up on emails and trudge through a text conversation with someone who i am disappointing. I decide that a sunset bike ride along the beach is a good alternative, even though my heart aches. I want to be in the ocean. I go through the motions of loading my bike in the car, a task not to be taken lightly and, as i leave the house, my upstairs neighbor yells, "Whales!" from the balcony, "At 9 o'clock," pointing straight out...at 12 o'clock. I laugh, correct her and drive off with a seed planted in my mind to keep an eye on the horizon. Back at the beach, I arrive to a surprise. The wind has stopped. I don't need to watch the surf long before i'm scanning for potential board caddies. Aha! A lifeguard truck sits unexpectingly on the other side of the parking lot. As i approach, i see its not one of the usuals. A young, tanned, good-looking female sits in the driver's seat, scribbling away on a form support by a metal clipboard. "Hey! How do you feel about helping me with my board after i get my suit on?" She's excited to help, we discuss details and i'm rolling back to the car, frothing, not at her, but about the fact that i'm about to surf! I can't get my suit on fast enough, the whole process hindered slightly by the massive mountain bike contraption in my car with me, but i figure it out. Within a few minutes, i'm in the water with my board, thanking the young girl as she walks back up the beach. Thankfulness overwhelms me. The embrace of my Mother, the Ocean, instantly washes everything away. I'm happy. It takes a while for my core muscles to start firing so the paddle out and first couple waves are a little awkward, constantly adjusting my seat and position. I catch a couple waves and its really fun. Small, but clean and lining up well on the reef with the extreme low tide. I see a whale spout about mile out and yell about it. A couple more waves and see more spouts in the same spot. The thought hits me, "I could paddle out there." "No way. Thats way further than it looks and they'll be long gone by the time you get there. Besides your wearing a 4/3. You'll be dying of heat." Over the course of the next 15 minutes or so i see the spouts two more times in the same spot and its on. I'm paddling out into the ocean, into the sunset, chasing whales and i'm happy. I feel at home. As i predicted, the distance turns out to be much further than i thought, but the spouts spurt up every five minutes or so and help me keep my bearings. I'm getting closer.

When i arrive at the area i last saw the spouts, sweating, i stop and float. Silence. Nothing. The anticipation of a sudden startling noise, breaking the silence instantly, of a very large creature surfacing from the depths of the ocean, builds, almost unbearably, like watching a scary movie, waiting for the killer to strike out of the darkness. I brace for it. What seems like an eternity passes and then, finally, i hear it. The sound of a whale's exhale is like music, caressing my troubled brain with softness and wisdom. Its not too close though. Maybe 75 yards away...at 9 o'clock. As my attention focuses on that spot and i start to paddle in that direction, not even 40 yards away, directly in front of me, a juvenile whale launches itself into the air, its entire body except for its flukes out of the water, splashing down sideways, sending various geysers of displaced water 30 feet into the air. Its a baby, but still the length of my apartment. I scream! Then, seconds later, another full breach and another. Four full breaches! They are playing! "Are they showing off for me?" "No way. I'm nothing to them. They don't even know i'm here." And my doubts are silenced. A whale head emerges 25 yards away and stays still. Its one of the larger ones, an adult. She is looking at me. Silence. And then disappears into the dark blue water. I choke down a sob. Thankfulness moving my soul so powerfully, it hurts. I feel loved and trusted. I feel given to. A large pod of small dolphins races through, elegant and graceful. They cruise right by, seeming to take no notice of me. Their breathes and splashes causing me to twist and turn around, trying to see them all. They come close. Almost within touching distance, but i simply admire, now moved to tears. I am so small, but special simply in my being. 

Photo by Brandon Russel, Minaret Photography

After they pass, my thoughts move to the sun, now low on the horizon, and my dwindling time out here. I tell myself i'll wait to see the spouts one more time and then start making my way back. I sit. A straggler dolphin breaks the silence and startles me. After several minutes a tall white spout bursts into the air in the distance. There they are! Further away now and i think about paddling in pursuit, but decide to relinquish the chase. I still want to surf! The return paddle is arduous, especially in the thick warm wetsuit. The swell pushes me in and i work on my paddling technique, stroking hard to stay on the runners, resting between them, stroking hard again to stay on the next one, and i'm brought back to paddling in Hawaii last summer.  I crawl over the kelp bed, inching closer and closer to the surf line. White crests and eventually the red trunks of a paddle boarder begin to take shape. Then one black dot and another. The swells gradually increase in size and power underneath me and i finally find myself back in the lineup, turning around just in time to catch the golden sunset. I imagine my large friends frolicking way out there, as the sky changes hue, and i smile. Anything we do with a heart full of thankfulness, will have an element of grace to it...and i surf my ass off til well after dark. Friends in the lineup stay late to help me out of the water and when i finally get home, i walk my dog, order a pizza, and pass out watching Dumb and Dumber, with a smile on my face, in all my clothes, with all the lights on, into a deep satisfied sleep. 

Freedom Mosaic

Freedom Runs to Me

The all-to-familiar sound pulls me out of sleep once again. Half cry, half bark, light and airy from a parched throat of yelling at the wall night after night. I feel like a new parent, sleepless, waking throughout the night to care for a new soul. This one is old though. Dementia reaping havoc in the brain of my 14 year old labrador named Freedom, now held captive by his ailing mind. I don’t know if its the need for sleep or anger that my best friend is dying, but i feel frustrated and throw my covers off with a huff, leaving the warm confines of my cozy sanctuary for the seventh time this particular night. I jump into my chair awkwardly, muscles and coordination just as groggy as i am, still careful not to injure myself at all. One false move can be disastrous. I position my legs and proceed, through the darkness, towards the sound that woke me. I feel something wet on my hand but think nothing of it. Just slobber probably, a frequent occurrence in the home of a labrador. When i get to him, i reach down and caress his silky black fur, performing what little comforting i can, feeling somewhat powerless. “Its ok, Buddy. I’m right here.” I open the door to offer him an escape, if he needs to go out. He doesn’t. I offer him water. He’s not thirsty. I give him a treat and that seems to help. A little rough petting to pull him out of whatever dimension he is in and i make my way back to bed, embracing the silence and delighting in it. Sleep comes back quickly.

Golden Hour

In the morning, i awake feeling rested. He usually sleeps solid through the morning hours, 4am til whenever i let him. The thought of coffee pulls me out of bed after i scroll through Instagram for a little while, liking photos of friends adventures and girls butts. I smell something. Its not pleasant. Smells like shit. I look up, down the short corridor that leads to the door, and see a pile of dog shit. My first thought, “Ah poor boy! He must be embarrassed.” I feel badly for my sweet old labrador. I know how he hates to disappoint me. Do i make coffee first or clean it up first? I decide on the latter, leaving the smelly pile for later. I need my coffee in the morning and that is priority. I usually take the time to french press myself a nice craft of aromatic freshly crushed bean stained water, soaked for ten whole minutes, deliciously strong and smooth. I want coffee immediately though, so i use my single dripper to make a cup fast. This way, i can sip it while i’m waiting for the grounds to soak. Yeah, i know, i have a problem.

On my way to the kitchen, i notice dark streaks on the floor though. “They are all over! What the heck? What’s this from?” I must’ve tracked a bunch of dirt in. But how? I didn’t go outside. Then the realization hits me. “Oh shit!” Literally. Sure enough, a definitive wheel mark lain right through the middle of the brown pile on the floor, now cold from sitting all night, and i had tracked it all over my apartment. “Wait! The wet feeling on my hand last night!” Again, the realization proved true. There was dog shit on my hand. Not the worst thing that has ever happened, any parent who has changed a diaper would agree, but apparently, during my sleep i must’ve rubbed my face, a fairly reasonable and regular occurrence for anyone and, yes, upon further inspection, the shit smeared across my face as well, a mosaic streaking across my floor continuing over my right cheek.

Where do i start? I guess my hands and my face first, shaking my head in disbelief as i clean. Then my chair, which proves to be quite the task, wet wipes tearing as i scrub, barely reaching the tiny little crevices of my front wheels as i hold a precarious wheelie in the bathroom. All without coffee, mind you, and grey wet streaks get left everywhere i go now from my damp wheels. Then the pile on the floor, using way too many paper towels. How do i carry the pile of wet crap to the trash? I need to set it down and grab a towel to put on my lap so i can escort it to the outside trash cans, but when i do, little flakes drop out and sprinkle the floor like fresh chocolate shavings from your favorite donut shop. This takes a vacuum to remedy. Now i'm vacuuming at 6:18am without having had my coffee yet, wrestling with the cord as it wraps around my wheels. Freedom is annoyed with the sound and we have words about how i'm cleaning HIS mess and he needs to calm down. Then a wet cloth to the entire floor, and another, with intentions of steaming later, but i need my coffee first…and i need to wipe my dog’s butt.