Fat Tires and Fruita

Not the beer, apples and oranges but bikes and a famous biking town......
We headed to Fruita, Colorado, last Friday which is located just west of Grand Junction by 10 miles and believe me, when you're deprived of little things like good hair-cuts and oil changes, Grand Junction begins to look like a metropolis. The town has a lot to offer us Rez Rats so we hit the mall hard and we enjoyed pizza and beer at Old Chicago Restaurant. We met up with Brian and Holly and rode the famous Fruita single-track trails on Saturday. It was strenuous, fun and most of all, the fellowship was much needed. Late that afternoon we drove another hour to Glenwood Springs and took a dip in the largest hot springs around. We even got to visit a river-rat friend, Joe Molica, and his fiance Connie at their beautiful new mountain home. Wow!
It has been a long time since we've been in an English speaking church, so Sunday morning service in Carbondale, Colorado, recharged us with encouragement and hope! Not necessarily hope that our church will be exactly the same as that church, but that lives CAN be changed! This Sunday our church, Tsaile Community Church, will be hosting the annual Thanksgiving Dinner. The scene looks like this: About 300 people show up but be reminded, only about 70 actually attend the church. If advertisement like this could only be mimicked.....we still don't know how all these people find out. It's a MAD HOUSE all in the name of food! CRAZY.

No pictures this time.....we forgot to use our camera last weekend.

We hope your Thanksgiving is filled with goodness, family fun, food and most importantly, THANKFULNESS!!

By the way, thank you for your comments. They brought smiles and laughter.

Journey to the Blue-Green Water

"Ignore the dogs and enjoy paradise," said our good friend, Tom Riggenbach, when discussing the Havasupai Reservation. Paradise it turns out is truly the closest word that comes to describing the destination of our latest journey.

On October 25 Tracy and I met up with my parents in Flagstaff then set out for Hualapai Hilltop early the next morning. Haulapai Hilltop is a three hour drive from Flagstaff and even more out in the middle of nowhere than Tsaile, AZ. This hilltop is also where the eight mile trail begins that takes hikers, mule trains, and horses down to Havasu canyon and the village of Supai. The first mile of the hike is fairly rugged and steep with several switchbacks. One lady we met going up the switchbacks said that we should have taken the helicopter. The helicopter proved to be a constant throughout the three and a half hour hike to the village, and for me it was the only negative. After the switchbacks the trail flattens and evens considerably as it travels through the sandy bottom of Hualapi canyon. This canyon intersects with Havasu canyon about six miles down and there the true visual show begins because it is there that one first witnesses the alluring blue-green waters that flow throughout the year. Other than a couple of stubbed toes, my parents did an excellent job hiking down. Keep in mind they live at 600 feet elevation, whereas Tracy and I live at 7200 feet elevation. Another two miles down Havasu canyon we came to the village of Supai, population about 500. It was there that I saw that the object that was robbing hikers' solitude, the helicopter, was actually the center of attention and entertainment. The local Supai people and a myriad of tourists were enthralled with the landings of the helicopter on a one acre grassy field in the center of town. The helicopter would drop off tourists, supplies, and goods for the village then whisk tourists and locals to the top. The "Copter Field" was definitely the place to be. Adjacent to the field and a stone's throw away from each other were the grocery, the cafe, the clinic, the post office, the lodge, the church, and the corrals. The corrals being for horses. We were quickly finding out that horses were as important to this community as cars are to most American communitities. The scene of three very young Supai girls bouncing along on the back of a beautiful horse down the dusty dirt street will forever be in my mind. It seemed like I was transported back to a much simpler place and time.
Other than that scene the village of Supai seemed just like taking a small town from the Navajo Rez such as Lukachukai and placing it halfway down in the Grand Canyon. Yes, the dogs had a lot to do with that impression.

My parents stayed in the lodge while Tracy and I hiked another two miles down to the campground situated along Havasu creek and in between Havasu Falls (at left) and Mooney Falls (at top). The Grand Canyon has alwasy been a very special place for Trace and I, but to think we were in it as we set our tent up 10 feet from the swiftly flowing blue water was truly mind boggling. We have been on many backpacking trips in the Grand Canyon on such trails as the Hermit, the Kaibab, the South Bass, and the Bright Angel. Plus, we were married at Shoshonie Point right on the edge, but we had never seen this magical side of the Grand Canyon!
The next day we visited Mooney Falls and Tracy and I hiked down the treacherous trail to the bottom of Mooney Falls. We were fortunate that the mist was not hitting the trail, or it could have been real sketchy. With it being dry and having the chains and ladders always there it was not that bad. I went on to find Beaver Falls while Trace went with my parents back to the village to checkout more Rez life. The hike to Beaver Falls is a nice adventure, and I would love to hike all the way to the Colorado the next time I visit. I crossed the river (below Mooney it is definitely more of a "river") several times, climbed a rope ladder, and saw a palm tree. It was a fantastic hike.

Friday night as we sat at our camp and ate our dehydrated camp food we watched as the the campground filled up to its capacity of 200. The mule trains and copters must have been busy because not many people pack in their supplies on their backs. Saturday morning dawned and it was time to climb out of the canyon. Plans to get horse or mule help for mom and dad fell through. It was time to see if the sailors from the heartland had the "sea legs" to get up out of the earth.
The temperature, which had been on the cool side turned rather hot, but the first seven miles went pretty smooth and were actually joyous. One hiker coming down recognized my greasy St. Louis cap and congratulated me on the Cardinals winning the World Series. I'd been waiting 24 years to enjoy my team taking it all. The last time, in 1982, I missed the end of game seven because it was past my bedtime. This time I missed the game 5 clincher because I was in Havasu Canyon. Oh well, I figured it was worth trading some Cardinal red for some blue-green water.

The last mile of rocky, steep switchbacks hit us near the hottest time of the day with the sun bearing down on us. Exhaustion began to envelope the senior Hoosiers. Frustrations rose with the temperature. Salty words were flung at other hikers, luckily not within earshot. Things were not looking rosy except for my parents's cheeks. But with encouragement and iron wills they pushed through! It was a great accomplishment for them and an amazingly beautiful journey.

You've got to see this place to believe it.

I mean can you imagine that the Garden of Eden looked much different?

Standing at the foot of Mooney Falls the day the Cardinals won the World Series, unbeknownst to me!

Keep The Fun Between Your Legs

Biking was always a fun summer activity for me growing up in Tulip, IN. A good workout was to ride the two miles on Tulip road out to highway 157 and back. An epic ride happened once a year when a group of us would saddle up the aluminum steeds and ride the five miles into Bloomfield to purchase a watermelon, then bring the prize back to the homestead and devour it.
Now...well, I never envisioned mountian biking being such a big part of my life. The transformation from a flatlander who toyed with mountain biking to a true mountain biker occurred in Albuquereque, NM on two separate visits to my future wife. The first time I visited Tracy there and the sparks were beginning to fly she suggested we ride some trails in the Sandia foothills. I was excited to show off my athletic skills, so I donned my tight black tanktop and tropical dewrag and really stunk up the trail with my inept skills to the point I knew she knew that I was trying too hard and not really any good. A year later after riding some with our buddy Ken in Bellingham, WA I thought I was much improved. That was until Tracy and Ken suggested we ride down the Sandias in clipless shoes from the Sandia Crest. I had such a hard time keeping up with Tracy and Ken that I was almost in tears. Afterwards Ken readily admitted that Tracy was a better rider than me. Fortunately Tracy stayed the course with me and together we became better riders. When you live and bike in the southwest you are bound to improve because of the elevation and the ruggedness of the trails. So over the past three years I have made mountain biking my number one sport and hobby. I have excelled at it more than any other athletic endeavor I have ever tried. It is so satisfying to look back and see so much improvement, but more than that, biking in the beautiful environments that we bike in are spiritual times of reflection of our Creator and his creation. Just like my journey in mountain biking, we as spiritual beings are works in progress if we allow Him to take over and work.

Recently Tracy and I completed our fourth straight Chuska Challenge. This was also the third straight year that I led a group of eighth grade Navajo students on the ride. This year's ride was a one day 30 mile ride in the heart of the Chuskas. The weather was beautiful and the Aspen leaves were bright. It is always a good experience for the kids who live nearby but never enjoy the mountains from mountain bikes. This year's ride was also unique in the fact that it offered a single track option for more technical riders. I didn't take the kids on that part, but the week before I helped the Chuska Challenge director, Tom Riggenbach, pioneer that option and named it "The Bear Chute Loop". It is an amazing descent through aspen groves, douglas firs, and ponderosas. And to think the hordes of riders from Moab don't know about it yet. Speaking of Moab...
Tracy and I braved the crowds to meet up with Brian and Holly at the mountain bike capital of the world two weeks ago. The weather was awesome and the biking was the same. We cranked through the two classic rides, The Porcupine Rim Trail and The Slickrock Trail. Both trails were reminders as to why Moab is so great, and they were both reminders as to why we only do Moab once a year---Moab trails are brutal on the equipment. Tracy had to take hers into the shop and mine definitely got beat up pretty bad too. It was also another reminder of how far I've come as a rider. Three years ago on the Slickrock trail I pushed my bike up at least 12 of the hills. This time I cleaned the whole thing except for one insane hill, which proved to be a total yardsale for all the riders we watched attempt it.

Mountain biking challenges you physically and mentally. It gives you amazing times for spiritual reflection. It allows you to draw nearer to others you bike with. And it costs $0.00 per gallon.

So what's keeping you from keeping the fun between your legs?