The Big Rock Candy Mountains - Ya can't hold-up the train!
When we woke up in the morning, we were surprised to see that the mountain range that had been green and sunny when we'd ridden in, 
was now totally covered with snow:
It reminded me of the old Utah saying: "if you don't like the weather here in the mountains... wait 5 minutes."
We rode with our pal Headwind through a rainstorm that was like getting peed on by a wooly mammoth in the arctic - cold, wet, primevally strong.
Eventually we came to a bike trail through the Sevier River Canyon, the gateway canyon to the red rocks, and when we got a little ways into it the rain stopped, and the wind became a tailwind for a quick second, and the trail was so flat and beautiful and we were feeling so good my dad said: "I could pedal all the way to South America!" to which I said: "Let's do it!" That little biking ant in the lower right hand corner of the pic is me.
But the change of luck was momentary, we were just feeling the effects of being so close to the "lemonade springs where the bluebird sings" - the little Nirvana known popularly as "The Big Rock Candy Mountains." Yep, the same ones from the song.
But the change of luck was momentary, we were just feeling the effects of being so close to the "lemonade springs where the bluebird sings" - the little Nirvana known popularly as "The Big Rock Candy Mountains." Yep, the same ones from the song.
We stopped at the lodge there for lunch, and on the TV in the kitchen the folks were watching the scene in "Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid" where they realize they have to jump off the 100 foot cliff into the Colorado river to escape the sheriff's posse who's right behind em. Butch's reasoning: "would you make a jump like that you didn't have to?!" My favorite scene.
When we left I forgot my water bottles on the counter next to the cash register, a fact I discovered 30 min. later after we'd climbed up a brutal hill. Now we'd have to ration my dad's water... well, we were out of the Big Rock Candy Mountains. The bad cold stormy weathered billowed back in.
We climbed endlessly through a frozen Siberian landscape, til we finally emerged on the top of a windy hill. To our left down a steep mile long drop was the grey beginning of Paiute Reservoir, 10 miles in the distance straight ahead was Oz - a sunny blue-skied gleaming green valley with the sparkling emerald end of Paiute Reservoir, to our right, tearing down the mountain towards the road ahead was the cloud equivalent of the KGB: an unbelievably cold, turbulent, iron curtain of snow. We looked at each other and like Butch & Sundance just kind of reared back, closed our eyes, and started pedaling as hard as we could, yelling at the top of our lungs: "SSHHEEEEIIIITTTT!" (balloon isn't in the original)
When we left I forgot my water bottles on the counter next to the cash register, a fact I discovered 30 min. later after we'd climbed up a brutal hill. Now we'd have to ration my dad's water... well, we were out of the Big Rock Candy Mountains. The bad cold stormy weathered billowed back in.
We climbed endlessly through a frozen Siberian landscape, til we finally emerged on the top of a windy hill. To our left down a steep mile long drop was the grey beginning of Paiute Reservoir, 10 miles in the distance straight ahead was Oz - a sunny blue-skied gleaming green valley with the sparkling emerald end of Paiute Reservoir, to our right, tearing down the mountain towards the road ahead was the cloud equivalent of the KGB: an unbelievably cold, turbulent, iron curtain of snow. We looked at each other and like Butch & Sundance just kind of reared back, closed our eyes, and started pedaling as hard as we could, yelling at the top of our lungs: "SSHHEEEEIIIITTTT!" (balloon isn't in the original)
The storm hit us like that water hit Butch & Sundance - a cold decisive smack, a wall of water. The storm was stampeding in at 30 mph from our right side, lodging snow like little needles in our ear shafts, and stinging our cheeks and noses. Visibility dissappeared. The cloud was all around us so that we couldn't see traffic until the headlights were 30 feet away. The sound was like a train engine grinding up a hill. All we could think was: "There's sun on the other side of this fucking curtain! Pedal! Pedal!" My dad hadn't brought any gloves or a winter coat with him, so as our body temperature dropped he pulled over and put on the only extra clothes he had over his icecube hands: white cotton socks, which quickly became the soggiest saddest sock puppets there ever was.
It was a rush - man against nature - exhiliration - survival.
After about a half hour of hacking our way through the ice jungle - we emerged on the other side. Drenched. Cold. Smiling from ear to ear. Cars coming in the opposite direction honked at us in congratulations - it was clear from the look of us that we'd just battled to victory some kind of wild weather beast.
10 miles later we pulled into a small town's only gas station and I got a bag of popcorn and leafed through a book called "Butch Cassidy and the Hole in the Wall Gang" while we thawed. Salt in the mouth and high crime in the eyes, this was a throughly satisfying break.
After about a half hour of hacking our way through the ice jungle - we emerged on the other side. Drenched. Cold. Smiling from ear to ear. Cars coming in the opposite direction honked at us in congratulations - it was clear from the look of us that we'd just battled to victory some kind of wild weather beast.
10 miles later we pulled into a small town's only gas station and I got a bag of popcorn and leafed through a book called "Butch Cassidy and the Hole in the Wall Gang" while we thawed. Salt in the mouth and high crime in the eyes, this was a throughly satisfying break.
We climbed back onto our metal horses, marinating in the happy afterglow a person gets after facing Nature and emerging alive, and pedaled out into the country for round 2. All of a sudden, a car honked and pulled off to the side of the road behind us. It was a girl in her mid-20's. She rolled down her window as I walked over. It was the cashier from the Big Rock Candy Mountain resort! "Hey you guys left your water bottles at the front, I figured you'd need em!"
We were in disbelief - 25 miles from Big Rock Candy Mountain, this gal came all this way. I pulled out a copy of Sing It As You Please and gave it to her, and thanked her and thanked her. Big Rock Candy Mountain really is a land that's fair and bright, where the handouts grow on bushes...
We were in disbelief - 25 miles from Big Rock Candy Mountain, this gal came all this way. I pulled out a copy of Sing It As You Please and gave it to her, and thanked her and thanked her. Big Rock Candy Mountain really is a land that's fair and bright, where the handouts grow on bushes...
No need to hold up a train.
And as we fought Headwind the last 12 miles into Circleville, we still felt the momentum behind of us of having come through that storm - and I knew that even if I broke my fucking leg out here I would crawl on my fists to St. George. And I knew I really would. Ya can't hold up the train...
And as we fought Headwind the last 12 miles into Circleville, we still felt the momentum behind of us of having come through that storm - and I knew that even if I broke my fucking leg out here I would crawl on my fists to St. George. And I knew I really would. Ya can't hold up the train...
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