Sego lily faces?

The outrageous sego lily bloom we're having this year has provided opportunity for much lily gazing and photographing. (It took us four hours to make the two hour drive to our creekside camp last weekend because we kept having to stop for flower viewing, sniffing, photographing...) In the process, I've noticed that the interior designs of sego lilies -- the bits that zero the pollinators in to the juicy parts -- are not all the same. Two eyes, a nose and a mouth appear on the faces of most humans, in approximately the same arrangement, yet the details of those features provide much of our unique physical identities. Could it be the same for sego lilies? Is each one unique? Can pollinators identify individual flowers? Why would they need to?

From dirt & dogs

From dirt & dogs

From dirt & dogs

From dirt & dogs

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From dirt & dogs

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From dirt & dogs

~trina

Sendoff

I sent Greg off on another solo today, this one a little longer and less local. He's riding to Moab not on the familiar, been-there-done-that Kokopelli Trail, but on unknown dirt roads and trails -- a new way that promises to be much more of an adventure, especially since he's not sure there even is a ride-able route for part of the journey.

To get him to his starting point, we had to go camping. Even on what is said to be the busiest camping weekend of the year, we managed to find a remote, quiet, tucked away spot along a lovely creek where, after a lazy morning creek-sit with coffee and Bella,

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we mostly lolly-gagged, read books, tromped in the creek,

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wandered upcanyon surveying the continuing "spring" bloom...

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From dirt & dogs

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finding yet more flowers we've never seen before

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...and where Greg packed his very minimal 3-night bikepacking set-up onto his bike just before departure.

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This photo shows the terrain of the first leg of his journey, which will take him down to one river valley, up over a ridge, down into another river valley, up into those snowy mountains, and back down into the Moab river valley where he is due on Thursday for a photo shoot. A dream commute for someone like him!

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~trina

Local Solo

Just a few shots from some of my recent solo rides, out hitting the local trails before, after, or instead of work.

The flowers are still hyperactive, though I'm going to suggest that Spring is on the downswing, or maybe even... Officially and astronomically, Summer doesn't start until June 21 or so. But locally, it seems to have started. The sign: cheat grass seeds in my socks.

Today I was riding like such a dorkus that I made lots of time for taking photos of me as a way of delaying another clumsy move. It wasn't quite One Of Those Days, since I didn't fall down and hurt myself or anything. Luckily I saw the early signs of dorkus-ism and took it easy.

--Greg

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

Wrasslin' Roxy

Sprocket's girlfriend Roxy came over to play today. She's just a sweet little bitty thing, six months old. See how cute?

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Cute. Heh heh.

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Needless to say -- but I'll say it anyway -- they are totally in love. While they were wrestling, chasing and otherwise being wild, Zeek was hunting goldfish and ardently defending his hunting tub with Ultra Nastyface.

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~trina

Falls

From 2010 Spring

I don't have any photos of the moment Trina started to fall down the cliff.

We were "hiking" up a steep canyon-side that had grown progressively steeper. Instead of turning back or trying another route, we continued upward.

A few short yards to our right was a near-vertical drop to the stone creek-bed far below. But where we were, it was merely a tough "scramble" in spots. Certainly not tough enough to merit going all the way back down the way we'd come to find another route.

Still, it was tough enough -- over slab rock, tumbled rock, and through clinging brush and stunted trees. There were a couple spots where our agile little dogs weren't able to make it on their own. One of us climbed up a short way, and the other of us handed up a dog.

Zeek has been through this. He'll patiently wait on a ledge where we plant him and wait for the next hand-up. Sprocket, the red dog, is newer at it, but seemed to be catching on.

We were on a sloping slab by a wide crack where Trina had handed the dogs up to me and I'd gotten them settled. Then she scrambled past me and started up the steepest piece of it all, just before it began to level out again.

I handed up Zeek and she held onto the rock with one hand and hoisted him up above her and onto the safe ledge above. Then I handed up Sprocket. He was a little twitchy about all this, his eyes bulging a bit and his ears flattened out. I did my best to make him feel safe as Trina got a hand under him and began to lift him upward.

This was going well until he was at about her chest level and between the rock and Trina. He got a little anxious about it all and did what he felt was the safest thing: he scrambled to get his feet on the rock. He got his feet on the rock. And then he stood up. Which wedged Trina away from the rock, pushed her off her one handhold, and her feet slipped.

In a split second she was falling. She instinctively grabbed a tree branch with one hand and squeezed Sprocket with the other -- enough to make him squeak. I heard the squeak and reached up to press her feet and legs into the rock to stop her. By that time she had pretty much stopped herself with the tree branch. She was scuffed on knees and elbow and thigh.

She got her feet back under her and scrambled up with Sprocket. I followed. On we went up less steep terrain.

This was not a major event in the annals of mountaineering. We know that. Her fall was no more than a couple feet, and was more of a slide-downward-on-a-rock than an actual "fall". But it did cause us to question that fine line between "fun" and "oops". And hopefully our questioning will help us avoid more "oops" in the future. But dang, being out there where the fun is does have a tendency to put one in the path of the occasional "oops". Which, I say, is a risk worth taking.

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

Our scramble had purpose. Part of which was to enjoy the scenery, which, as it often has of late, included some blooming cacti. The more focused purpose was to experience a different kind of fall. The human body is three quarters water. One might think it would fall more gracefully. But alas, the grace of water seems more apparent when it is on its own.

From 2010 Spring

We had lunch along the creek on a beautiful rock shelf. After more exploring we made it to where the creek plunged from above in frothy streamers down a channel in the the cliff, then under a water-carved stone bridge and through a series of smooth pools over bare rock. An amazing and beautiful spot. We sat and absorbed the sights and the sounds, letting the rolling hiss, the splashes, the textures and earthy colors, the flowing patterns soak in.

Like water.

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

--Greg

Sidewinder

The cool evening catches us. Outside again. One friend, one dog. We wind along a side slope of slickrock, press into the juniper forest on a sweet narrow trail, burst back into the sunlight and onto slickrock.

It is a voyage of discovery. We move past that which we know and we find that which we did not know exists. We boldly go where bikes have gone before, but where we have not.

Steady, gentle climb. Tight turns. Rolling rock. Hanging branches. Ledges. Steeps. Roots. Sand. Drops.

Shadows run east as the sunlight falls west. The trail continues, but time turns us around. We chase shadows back the way we've come.

The gentle climb that wound us upward unwinds with quickening speed. We burn through turns and pour over the rolling rock. We duck branches and dodge bushes. Tires sizzle against the sloping slickrock. We fly.

We return to the truck and turn toward town as a bright smile of moonlight burns out of the daylight and into the twilight.

--Greg

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

Sego-licious

We had intended to ride. At least a little. To meander along a trail with our eyes trained along the sides, alert for more signs of Spring. We had intended to ride and to, yes, stop and smell the flowers. But we hadn't expected this.

From 2010 Spring

We were still on the dirt road that led to the trails when we came upon this sloping meadow. Blossoms. Signs of Spring. Spilling downward in white and pink and magenta cascades amid the green grass. An amazing profusion of delicate flowers on spindly stalks. Each a small miracle of loveliness and grace. Together in such numbers, almost overwhelming.

It had rained before we arrived, and droplets still clung to petals and flower buds.

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

From 2010 Spring

All intentions were thrown aside. We went no further, rode no trails. Just happily spent our time amid the color and beauty. Sego Lily or Mariposa Tulip are two names for these. But, really, it didn't matter a bit what they were called.

--Greg

From 2010 Spring

Unfurling Segos

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