going to the dogs

This is totally going to be a Milton-appreciation post.  We went down to Moab, very last minute: H texted me around noon on Thursday, saying that it looked like he would only need to be on-call for Friday so we should head down that night.  I emailed my boss to say I wouldn't be in Friday, grabbed a bunch of work that I could do off-site, and we headed out of dodge.   

Are we there yet?

The skies had cleared a bit on Friday, which was nice.  We worked all morning and then, once I had my hours in, Milton and I went off for a quick Hidden Valley hike so he could work off some fidgets.  For it being as late as it was, the trailhead parking lot wasn't packed.  We made quick work of the hike, pausing at the pass to share water and dog biscuits with other hikers, as well as to tell them how to find the pictographs and make a lollipop loop out of the hike.  We met a couple of other dogs on the return trip and by the time we were back at the car, Milton had run around enough to tire himself out.  That boy does not know the meaning of "pace yourself."

Watching for rabbits

Sunday, H wanted to do some town errands so Milt and I went off to MOAB Brand trails for another quick calorie-burner.  The skies were only a little hazy and it seemed a little warmer.  We headed north out of the parking lot to connect with the lower loop of the North 40 trail.  H and I haven't ridden it yet because it seemed more technical that I'm comfortable with.  After walking it, I can confirm that the technical spots are indeed technical, but that there's also a fair amount of flowy single-track, so we may just have to check it out.  Milton ran a LOT, after furry critters and lizards, and even though my mileage wasn't that high, his was and he - once again - overdid it enough that he had to lie down in the shade a couple of times to cool off.  Back at the car, however, after all the water he could drink and fortified by dog cookies, he perked up enough to keep a watchful eye on all the other MTBers and dogs.

Lemme just rest here a minute, okay?

That afternoon, at H's very good suggestion, we packed up sandwiches and pretzels and dog cookies and our books and (of course) beer, and went up to the Slickrock Trail parking lot for a picnic.  After just a few minutes, one of the covered picnic tables opened up and we claimed it for our own.  Sitting right next to the trail entrance gave us a good vantage point to check out all the bikes, and when a solo rider asked if he could share the shade, we gave him our extra water and chatted with him until his riding buddies showed up: an hour later, having been picked up out on the Slickrock trail by a Jeep guy.  The MTBers were all from Kentucky and the combination of heat, altitude (compared to Kentucky) and trail rating was more than they expected.  They were in Moab for a week and one of them was already planning to come back with his family. 

Keeping an eye on the parking lot shenanigans

 

red sky at night

We did go to Moab last weekend, and I'll soon have a little post up about what we did (spoiler alert: it's pretty much going to just be photos of Milton).  As we drove down Thursday evening, the sunset was positively lurid from all the blown-in California wildfire smoke.  It's a blurry photo because it was taken with my phone on I-70 but it still gives you an idea of how dang dramatic it was.

Practically apocalyptic

More later!

in the neighborhood

When Sunday morning rolled around, I found it difficult to get motivated.  The sky was hazy with blown-in smoke (from California) and I didn't want to deal with people at trailheads and on the trails.  So while H did a ninety minute road ride, Milton and I did a ninety minute neighborhood walk: up the long hill from our house to Granite Park, to the trails at Dimple Dell and back down home.

Speckled boi

It was a lovely morning for a walk, wildfire smoke notwithstanding (and even that seemed to clear a bit as the day wore on and the winds changed direction).  It was cool and not many people were out and about.  As you walk towards the Wasatch Mountains, the neighborhoods segue to older horse properties.  At the farm just across from Granite Park, a young Texas longhorn was standing in the shade by the fence.  We stopped to talk with him a bit (he was pretty friendly).  While we were there, his sheep friend noticed us and also came over to say hi, all the was from across the field.  I suspect the sheep was hoping for some snacks but instead she just touched noses with Milton through the fence as a greeting.

Sunflowers keeping summer alive

People had started coming out as we walked down through Dimple Dell.  We met a couple of other dogs, including a GIANT six-month old chocolate lab who was very friendly.  When we got home, Milton drank a bowl of water and then we went back out to weed the rockscape on the north side of our house.  The rest of the day was spent doing laundry and other chores, as well as quality time spent on the shaded patio with books and beers.  Not the most exciting of days but sometimes it's okay just to recharge the batteries.

three's company

 We reached out to our friend Ted towards the end of the week to see if he was interested in MTBing with us again.  He was, and so we all met at the Round Valley Quinn's Trailhead at 9:00 a.m. on Saturday.  It was busy - with kids' lacrosse games and several adult exercise classes all happening - but there weren't too many MTBers out on the trails.  With the last of the cool temperatures lingering, the air was a little cool.  But the sun was warm and as soon as we started riding, and climbing, because the trailheads are all located in low spots, we warmed right up.

Ted on the trail

We started out on some doubletrack to get our legs going, then hopped onto PorcUClimb for a nice climb, and the top half of Down Dog for a nice descent.  From there, we took Matt's Flat out northwest-ish to the hill that I used to call "My Nemesis."  It has since been rerouted and is a much nicer climb.  We had intended to take the Round Valley Express to the backside of Rambler, but there was a horse and rider and accompanying corgi heading that way; rather than spook them, we rode along Rademan Ridge (not my preferred trails as it is quite rocky) to the saddle, then descended Rambler, crossed Round Valley Express - where we said hi to the horse and rider and corgi who had just arrived - and climbed the sagebrush switchbacks of Rambler.

Me, finally catching up

I got passed by three people on the climb (including one guy who had a baby with him on his bike) but my pride wasn't injured because I managed to ride this one short, steep, loose pitch near the top that often/usually gives me trouble.  From there, we continued up Rambler to the Rusty Shovel intersection, and then descended that trail.  Ted doesn't complain but he doesn't like to climb quite as much as H and I do.  We rode out from there, taking our time on the winding switchbacks of the Practice Loop; that's such a nice section that it always makes me feel like I'm a decent MTBer.

Sugarloaf is everywhere

After a brief recap of the morning as we all put our bikes on their racks, we parted ways with Ted.  Once in the truck we noted the time - 12 noon - which is just when Grid City Beer Works opens.  By the time we got there, there were already a number of other patrons who also thought some good food and beer were a good idea.  It was nice to see word getting around and the bartender told us, with a smile on his face, that Friday night there had been a 30+ minute wait for people to get in.  That is encouraging news!

labor day weekend: afoot

Milton and I convinced H to make another try at finding Pocket Arch, again via the main fork of Millcreek Canyon.  H was skeptical that we'd be able to get past the pour-off at the deep pool above the waterfall but I was certain that we'd be able to ford it since the water in the creek was so much lower than it's been.  We drove to the Millcreek parking lot - which was much busier than we've seen all spring and summer - and headed up the canyon, splashing through the creek as we went.  We climbed up above the waterfall that everyone goes to (now with its very own "cliff-jumping is dangerous" signs, although that wasn't discouraging the locals at all from taking the plunge) and followed the sandy trail to the pour-off at the deep pool.  While Milton was fascinated by the labrador retriever and the golden retriever puppy fetching sticks, we waded into the pool and realized ...

Water is definitely down, tho'

... that we weren't going to be able to get past the pour-off because the pool was too deep.  H was right - I had been overly optimistic.  Foiled again.

I would like these in my yard

Our feet were already wet, though, so we decided to go into the other, lesser-known fork of the canyon - which I prefer - and hike to the cowboy jacuzzis.  We met a few people up there, hikers, trail-runners, tourists with cameras, but a fraction of the hordes we saw heading in to the waterfall as we were walking out.  There were people everywhere: the parking lot was full and people were trying to park on the side of the access road.  As we watched, surreptitiously drinking our beers by the truck, a couple of Moab sheriffs started marking cars to be towed and directing latecomers to go park across the creek at Potato Salad Hill.  They were very pleasant and helpful about it and about ten minutes later, we could see the redirected cars pulling in across the way.  

My boys

We also watched Potato Salad Hill as one jeep made a half-hearted attempt to climb the obstacle.  They didn't make it, despite a handful of helpful guides.  We were hopeful that someone would get 'er done, especially when a rugged-looking, doorless Tacoma pulled in, but it was not to be during our tenure there.  We eventually finished our beers - after talking with a couple of friendly guys from Puerto Rico who were doing a month-long western states tour - and gave up our prime parking spot.  Maybe we'll find Pocket Arch next time.

Carved by water

labor day weekend: wheels

 As we are wont to do whenever a long weekend rolls around, we hied it down to Moab, actually taking the Friday off as well and going down Thursday after work to avoid the traffic.  It was definitely busier than it's been down there, what with the holiday weekend, the last gasp of summer before school and the Moab Music Festival, one of the few live music festivals happening in the country this year.  But "2020 busy" is not the same as "non-pandemic-year busy" and, as such, it really wasn't that crowded.  Bad for the small business owners in town, good for us on the trails.

It was, however, very, very hot - like 103 F hot - which curtailed our activities somewhat.  To take advantage of the clear blue skies and not-yet present heat, we MTBed early-ish on Friday and Saturday.  We were at the MOAB Brands trails on Friday, doing our new normal route of Lazy-EZ, Rusty Spur, Bar M, Circle O and Lazy-EZ/Rusty Spur.  There were at least fifteen cars in the lot when we got there, including a couple of guided tours, but somehow we saw only a handful of people out there.

I am definitely not "riding the line" here

Saturday we drove up to Dead Horse Point State Park where the main parking lot was surprisingly full (again, with at least two tour groups).  We timed it perfectly, however, and again only encountered a handful of people out on the trails.  H was riding really well, having nearly conquered Twisted Tree, and I did okay, except for when I tipped over on my bike because I was going too slowly when trying to get up a steep and loose little pitch.

Other than that, we laid low, trying to keep out of the heat.  We did do a couple of evening neighborhood cruises, with me on my town bike and H and Milton "dog-boarding" (wherein H rides his longboard and Milton tows him).  We must have looked ridiculous - since I don't have brakes and Milton is a little unpredictable as a power source - but it was fun.  Luckily there is no photo evidence because we were all too focused on not crashing our respective modes of transportation.

cruiser

Just over a month ago, while looking for something completely different, I found this wonderful, old, OLD bicycle in a thrift shop.  I texted a photo of it to H, who told me to check for broken spokes and cracks in the frame, and then I bought it.  For $12.99.  It was filthy but with scarcely any rust on it.  I think this bike had been sitting in some grandparent's garage for decades before finally being donated to charity.  And now it was mine.

Love at first sight

Everything looked original on it, although someone had (sadly) repainted it and removed the Schwinn badge from the head tube.  We haven't found the serial number yet so we're not sure what model/year it is but we're pretty sure it's from the 1960s or 1970s.

Pedals before and after scrubbing

We set up on the driveway and cracked opened a couple of beers.  H took it all apart - except for the 3-speed shifter cassette, which is a little daunting - and we started washing it down.  While H worked on the fiddly bits, I scrubbed the pedals and wheels, even polishing the rims with rust-remover/chrome polish.  When it was done, they absolutely shone!

Rear wheel, pre-wash

Detail of the gunky chain ring

Detail of the shifter cassette, pre-wash

Pretty scruffy looking

The tires and tubes were obviously not  salvageable.  We ended up taking the front wheel to our favorite local bike shop, Fishers Cyclery in Sugarhouse.  They have been around since 1930 (!!!) so if anyone could help us with finding tires for a vintage bike, it was going to be them.  They totally hooked us up, with whitewalls, no less!

We did replace the seat

We replaced the seat, with another Schwinn to try to stay at least close to the original.  H adjusted the handlebars to a better position but we kept the original grips.  I'm going to need to add a cupholder and a bell, of course.

 

So shiny!

Look at those gorgeous curves!

It cleaned up SO nice

Other than that, H just put it all back together and I was able to take it out for a test ride around the neighborhood.  It doesn't really have brakes - we got new brake pads but were only able to fit one on there - and I haven't dared try to shift gears yet.  It is a total tank, weighing in at 41+ pounds.  It is classic and stylish and gorgeous and EXACTLY what I was looking for to take to Moab as a town bike.

Ready to ride

back to the bird

Since we stayed in Salt Lake last weekend, H wanted to take advantage of the relatively cool early air to do a longer road ride Saturday morning.  My non-MTB bike (see next post!) isn't really good for road rides of more than a mile or two so I took myself back up Little Cottonwood Canyon for a hike at Snowbird.

Looking up into the cirque

It was 59 F when I pulled into a spot near the top of the main parking lot, mostly sunny and looking much less like rain than it had when I had left the house.  (H had just shaken his head when I said I hadn't really checked the forecast before deciding on a plan of action.)  It hasn't rained all summer - why would it start now?  There were several guys on MTBs, getting ready to ride up the mountain (I assumed, since for pandemic reasons there isn't any lift-served MTBing at the 'Bird this summer), and a handful of people milling around the resort, but I felt like the place was all mine as I headed for the Peruvian Gulch trail.

Gad Valley view

I say this every time: hiking at ski areas is brutal, always way steeper than you expect.  Snowbird is no exception: the Peruvian Gulch hiking trail is terribly steep, gravelly and sandy and not that much fun, and the PG road (for MTBing and resort vehicle access to the summit) is nearly as bad.  It was quiet and cool and sweat was dripping off my chin as I stumped my way up, past the crispy remnants of the alpine wildflowers.  I passed one couple on the way up and they looked even more red-faced and gasping than I felt.

Off-season signs

The Cirque Trail is much pleasanter, I think, although you have to suffer the PG Trail to get to it: it follows long switchbacks across the meadow-y sides of the cirque before gaining the ridge - between Peruvian Gulch and the Gad Valley - which climbs to the summit.  The breeze picked up on the ridge and I could hear pikas scolding me from the surrounding jumble of rocks.  

Marmot

The Cirque Trail ends underneath the tram, at the access road/Big Mountain Trail intersection.  To continue to the very summit is a slog, and one I didn't feel like doing, so I just segued to the road and started down.  At this point - late morning - I saw more people on their way up: that couple I had passed earlier, numerous other hikers and some very determined MTBers.  That is a sucky climb and I am very impressed at those willing to do it.

Lewis's monkeyflower and some paintbrush

 Because the road is so steep and often loose, it took me about as long to descend as it did for me to climb up.  It was a little busier in the Snowbird plaza, with people having brunch and buying tickets for activities; I could hear hoots and hollers from the mountain coaster.  Still, the parking lot was mostly empty when I got back to the car, whereas in normal/non-pandemic times it would be overfull and we would have all had to pay to park.  I couldn't dwell on it, however, because H texted me that we had an errand to run in town - and then Grid City beer to drink.  Onwards!

hottest hike yet

 The third hike-on-repeat was the Moab Rim trail, which we had only just done at the end of July.  H opted out so I wanted some place close by and easily done since it was just Milt and me.  We cranked our way up the Stairmaster trail and it didn't take long before I broke a sweat.  That trail is just one of those that no matter how often I do it, it always kicks my butt.

Taking a break in the shade

I had hoped to do the loop that we'd done last time but it was noticeably hotter than the last couple of days.  Milton - who still hasn't learned that chasing after rabbits leads to overheating - was drinking a lot of water and throwing himself down in the shade a lot, even before we reached the halfway point.  

I didn't want him to get heat stroke so we just went out to Tire Test Hill and then went back the way we came; I also kept him on the leash to keep him from over exerting himself and draped my white long-sleeved t-shirt over his back to try to reflect the sun's rays.  This seemed to help and by the time we were heading back down the slab to the parking lot, he had perked back up.  It's tough being a black dog in the desert!

We paused in the parking lot for about fifteen minutes, Milt lying in the shade and me downing a cold one as, above us, a couple of jeeps picked their way down the hill.  We had walked past one navigating the Z-Turn obstacle and my heart skipped a couple beats as they almost went over.  I don't really feel the need to ride the Moab Rim but I sure do enjoy watching other folks attempt it.