The Arches

          If you were to ask me what Arches National Park was a year ago I wouldn't have known what to say besides a tourist attraction that lures in the wealthy, ignorant doctors and lawyers which is somewhere out in the inhospitable desert -- a place where nothing but the buzzards and lizards live and the cactus grow tall and mighty.  Now, almost six months later, I can tell you that this so called "desert" is more than just its stereotypical label.  It doesn't surpass its hostile tag by any means, but it does exceed the critics beliefs in my world.  The deserts diversity is intriguing to me and continues to interest me, even when I'm 1,700 miles away from it, living in rural Western New York.  The Arches shot up from the bright sand and towered over the junipers and cottonwoods that shaded the cryptobiotic soil.  Magnificence is the only word that I can think of that is semi-close to describing these massive concrete sandstone formations.  After taking in the breathtaking views of these rocks, and snapping over 200 pictures, it was time to move on to another part of my journey; never forgetting the Arches and the history that they hold under each layer of sand.

Desert Dust

          I never knew what the desert sun felt like until I stepped out of the air conditioned van in Moab, Utah with my group of friends and felt it firsthand.  Standing outside of Poison Spider Bicycles with my rented bike and a hydration bladder full of the finest well water west of the Mississippi, I was ready to explore the slick rock across the Colorado River and past Arches National Park.  We arrived at M.O.A.B. Brand Trails and rode the red sand and slick rock double and single-track trails for the next couple hours.  After having a sandwich out of the van a few of us settled on riding the Old Highway blacktop back to Moab.  The majority of the ride was downhill which was totally alright with us as the warm wind flapped my shirt, making a loud whipping noise that only the lizards and I could hear.  Once back in Moab we dropped the bikes off and thanked the staff at PSB for their services and friendliness in allowing us to have an unforgettable experience mountain biking through Abbey's country.  Until next time, I will reminisce on the culture and lifestyles of the wild, wild west.

Lattice Bridge Loop

Mon-AM: 1:03, 1316’ ~ Lattice Bridge Loop

(1,191’)

            After a night of tossing and turning, I was abruptly woken by the repetitive buzz of my alarm.  Austin and I began our run on Route 19 to a bright pink sky.  The sunrise was at our front while we scorched out 6:00 miles.  We crossed Lattice Bridge and watched the beaver swim up river in the direction that we were headed.  Around the 4 mile mark was a spring where we cooled off and drank.  The water was cool and quenched our thirst.  We were ready for the next 5 miles.  We attempted a few different paces but decided that we felt as good as we could feel around a 6:40 pace until the last two miles where we tested our turnover and ran all out to the Welcome to Houghton sign.  As we entered the college we noticed a sprinkler and without any communication, we ran through it.  Austin impressively knocked out a 5:00 last mile.  Breakfast tasted wonderful.