I went to bed Friday night thinking I would get up and attend our last 90 day Saturday morning workout. Still tired from lack of sleep during the week, and knowing I had a rough ride ahead, I decided it would make more sense to get up and make sweet potato pancakes, which I did. I offered one to Dee when he arrived. He tried to beg off, but after convincing him to try one he couldn't stop, and ate a couple more. One more sweet potato pancake convert. Why do so few non-Southerners know of their virtues?
I had carefully laid out my gear, knowing there was a likelihood of rain. When we arrived in Eden (or, more accurately, Liberty), I discovered I had forgotten my outer shell jacket, next to my bike my most important piece of gear. Consequently, we made a quick stop at Diamond Peak Mountain Sports in Liberty and found a terrific shell on sale. In fact, it was so terrific that both Dee and I bought one.
We finally hit the road around noon. The first 3 or 4 miles of the ride climb about 1400 feet. (Someday I will take my Garmin Forerunner to get an exact measurement of the climb.) That stretch of road isn't very good on its best day. After the recent week of rain, it is treacherous on a bike. In its wetter spots (of which there are many) it is more like stream bed than road, full of a lot of loose slippery rocks. Sure enough, I managed to lose traction in one particularly slippery area and went down hard. Fortunately, I suffered nothing worse than a couple cuts and bruises and kept going. At the top of the climb, which opens up in June to a broad, golden meadow, the trees had lost their leaves and the grass and flowers were all brown and dry. None of that, however, detracted from the spectacular mountain vistas that are a joy any time of year.
As we proceeded downhill toward Cache Valley the road improved and with it the scenery. We rode past increasing numbers of evergreens and even saw a few remaining deciduous trees ablaze in yellow. Dee noted a corral and commented that there is nothing he enjoys more than rounding up cattle, recalling the days he spend at Jim Clegg's ranch in Wyoming. (Jim's been gone 10 years now. He had a massive heart attack while riding his horse and was dead before he hit the ground. Can't think of a better way for a cowboy to go, though Jim was way too young, only 59.)
Since we got such a late start, I debated whether we should turn around and head back before we made it to Paradise. Always accommodating, Dee said he was up for whatever I wanted to do, but in his not-so-subtle way made it clear he would be disappointed if we didn't make it to Paradise. Heading downhill, the miles flew by so it soon became a non-decision for me to keep going till we hit the pavement. There Dee noticed with surprise the gorgeous ranches, wondering aloud, however, why anyone would want to live on Avon. After all, Avon is not at all close to convenience stores, movie theaters or gas stations. I observed that some people prefer the quiet, telling Dee of local opposition to paving the Avon Pass road. He seemed unconvinced. I at one time thought that paving the road was a good idea. But if that ever happened it would ruin one fine mountain bike ride, not to mention two of the best legs of the Wasatch Back. I am now squarely with the locals.
I told Dee it had to be about 10 miles from the end of the pavement to the Paradise Diner. Turns out that the first mileage marker indicated it was only 3. That's all it took to convince me we needed to ride to the diner, which was our original destination.
It took about 1:40 to make it to the diner. It was, as usual, empty, except for a couple of employees. I commented to Dee how I couldn't imagine they could make enough to pay two employees, let alone buy food. In his best cowboy way Dee observed that we showed up around 2PM, which wouldn't exactly be the lunch hour peak in Paradise. He suspected, allowing that he couldn't possibly know for sure, that they might have a bit more business around breakfast time, a decent crowd during the lunch hour, and a few more folks at dinner time. Had to admit he had a good point.
We ordered chile and hot chocolate. The waitress told us we would have one refill of hot chocolate, then corrected herself and said we could have as much hot chocolate as we wanted. Dee limited himself to one refill. It was so darn good I had two.
As we hit the road again it started raining lightly. Dee commented that there was one thing that could really spoil a ride like this. That would be concerning ourselves with whether it was going to rain. As he put it (more or less): "If you worry about the rain you'll ride like hell and worry the whole time. If you don't care, you won't worry about the rain and you'll enjoy it if it comes." In fact, I was worried about riding in a cold rain. After Dee's sage advice I calmed down and figured we would be just fine no matter what came.
As we rode past a canal near where the road transitioned from asphalt to gravel Dee mentioned a case currently pending before him where the US government has taken the position that grading a road next to an ancient canal running through someone's back acreage in Heber was permitted as "reasonably necessary" to the maintenance of the canal. Accordingly, the government argues it is not obligated to condemn the land for the road and pay the landowner for the taking. This got me sufficiently wound up that Dee commented I was even riding faster. I mentioned that this was the whole point of the due process clause, at which he commented that I sounded like a Democrat, which long ago for a brief period of time I claimed to be. It does in fact seem that if the government has more or less unlimited money to spend on blowing things up in Afghanistan and other far off places it ought to pay for plowing a road through a good American's back 40.
Dee then asked about my nutrition regimen, considering that since the 90 days began I have lost nearly 30 pounds. I told him I have cut out most sugar and starches, including breads, eat more protein and vegetables, and have gone cold turkey on Diet Coke. I added that I enjoy drinking water more than I ever have and even drink green tea in the office. At this point he shouted, "Stop! I can't stand any more of your monologue. You have eliminated everything I like to eat." I protested that I was just answering his question and that he was, after all, the one who got me to read, "In Defense of Food." He said he didn't care, he wouldn't hear it. I had eliminated a good portion of the fun in life. Which of course is fine if you have Dee's metabolism and exercise habits. If I ate like Dee I would look like an overfed hippo, to which I think I did bear some resemblance before I began the 90 days.
The ride back is a long, gradual climb. Somewhere about halfway to the summit the rain came down fairly hard. We noted with satisfaction the water beading up on our new outer shells, confirming the wisdom of our purchases. When we crested the summit we took a few minutes to enjoy the breathless view of Ogden Valley and the rugged backside of Ben Lomond. Then it was on down the steep final few miles of the road, which, with the afternoon rain, had rivulets of water running everywhere and even deeper ruts. Picking a passable line down the road seemed almost a technical challenge. I followed Dee, but still managed to wipe out once. Notwithstanding the valley view, it was a relief to finally hit the pavement. There Dee noted my mud splattered pants, shell and bike, and observed that I looked the way a mountain biker ought to look.
We stopped at the Eden Maverik to fill up with gas. Dee asked if I wanted anything to eat, then said, "Never mind, there's nothing in there you can eat." Still, I walked around with him and finally had got a pumpkin flavored frozen yogurt cone, which I enjoyed very much. Dee also talked me into only about my fifth Diet Coke since the 90 days began. When he dropped me off at my house, at which time the rain was coming down hard, he pronounced our journey the "perfect ride."
I couldn't agree more.
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