Lightning was striking everywhere, and each time it did, a blindingly bright flash was followed by a deafening crack of thunder. When the weather chaos first started, I’d figured it might be wise to do something about it, but I didn’t. But once the lightning bolts started lighting up individual trees, I sprang into action.
Ryan had never bonked before, at least in the metabolic shock/ overexertion sense of the word. When he started bumbling around and losing more and more of his edge, I knew that something was up and figured that’s what had happened. Not realizing what was going on, he kept trying to mountain bike farther up the Colorado Trail, though with diminishing returns. The big patches of snow that remained on the trail, even though it was June, were probably a good thing since they ultimately stopped us and prevented us from riding any further. His disrupted mental and physical state likely made the retreat more palatable to the 13-year-old, since he wasn’t prone to turning around before his goal was reached.
There must’ve been close to 100 elk filling the valley below me, and I was astounded. I didn’t want to do anything to call attention to myself, so I just sat there quietly, peering at them from behind a boulder. It was pure luck that put me in the right place at the right time, because wildlife viewing hadn’t been one of my goals for that day.
I was going downhill, and the trail flowed well. The section of the Colorado Trail we were mountain biking on drops slowly and steadily for miles as it winds its way down the Craig Creek drainage. It’s a fast, fun, and effortless ride that I’ve done many times before. Sure, there are some obstacles along the way, such as rocks in unfortunate places, encroaching Potentilla bushes, and washed-out ruts. But the only significantly tricky spots occur where small creeks, thick with willows, come in from the sides.
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