Last weekend the lady and I decided rather spontaneously to head over the Continental Divide, out of Colorado, and into the supposedly sunny environs of Moab, Utah. You know that, or uh, Broab, or, uh, Slickrock City, or Mother Of All Broabs if you’re not into the whole brevity thing.
It rained on us all Saturday night, and that meant no bike riding Sunday. Still enjoyed the camping, the riding, the sunrises, the sunsets, the birds, and I guess my girlfriend.
Good way to spend a rest weekend. Which makes me wish I had 52 rest weekends a year, as there’s so much to do and see out here.
Whitney’s first mountain bike ride, Whitney’s first mountain bike crash, my first trip trying out some sweet new camping gear. Can’t wait to go back.
Took in all the arches at Arches National Park while wolfing down Big Macs. I think if you were colorblind and couldn’t see the color red, you wouldn’t see anything in Moab.
Maybe 200 feet from where we camped, there was one of those of placard things you always see at National Parks, so we ran over to see what it was about. We were essentially standing in the dino tracks as we read the thing. Cool! See a child in the same tracks here
Hot babe, cold drink, gorgeous scenery. Not a bad Saturday.
Gorgeous wildflowers everywhere, including here at our campsite. Purple, lots of reds. April is the perfect time for them, apparently.
Note the tent in the lower right; Whitney cannot be seen, because she’s still asleep inside.
This was just off the mountain bike trails in Dead Horse Point State Park. Awesome views, solid beginner to intermediate trail.
Damn those sandy turns!