I mean, you could call it training, but we were just having a blast.
Our gang of gals gathered at camp late Thursday night. Since no one could rest immediately, we drank a beer and gazed at the bright moon. We schemed on what the weekend had in store—lots of mountain biking! While a hike and a frigid swim in a nearby lake were also on the horizon, we were mostly just psyched to spend time with other rad women.
I’d like to say that it was the smell of coffee that roused everyone on Friday morning, but it was actually our alarms. We stumbled out of our sleeping bags and shook up some Mountain Standard Scramblers for breakfast.
We hit the smooth Fruita trails with giant grins plastered to our faces. By noon it was blazing, and we retreated to camp for lunch… tortilla shabangs (family recipe, sorry y’all). As soon as the sun began to fade, you’d better believe we were out on the trails kicking up dust in the lovely evening light. At camp we lounged on Whitney’s tailgate, throwing back a Montucky Cold Snack. Why is it that cold beer is so welcoming after outdoor activity? Seriously, there must be a scientific reason.
Meghan brought the fixings for some killer burritos that night. We shared some local brew -- City Star Brewing’s Palomino barrel-aged saison was the perfect pairing — and whipped up some salsa (THANK YOU Mountain Standard for making camping salsa so easy!). Any salsa that was left over from our chips appetizer we poured into the burritos. I call BS on anyone that says you can’t eat gourmet while camping.
On Saturday morning we “rested our legs” with a hike amongst the red rocks in the area. A trip to the desert wouldn’t be complete without a snake in the path sighting, and I kept our whole crew awake with my shriek. Once again, the temps surged, and we found a frigid lake for an icy dip. The cold water took our breath away, but also some of the dirt that had been trapped in our hair.
The clouds rolled in that afternoon and brought the wind with it. We made a sand barricade around the tent and shook sand out of sleeping bags. (Whitney says there’s still sand laced in her belongings.) When the weather let up, we were determined to be some of the glowing figures peacefully rolling down Joe’s Ridge in the evening light.
In keeping with our two-a-days mountain biking routine, we rolled back out on the trail around 11pm, headlamps on, but mostly guided by the light of the moon.
Sunday morning, we broke camp and challenged ourselves one last time on Horsethief. We rode in segments, cheering each other over massive rocks and up steep sections. Back at the trailhead, Amber threw on her new ice cream print MTB socks and we relished our weekend in the Colorado desert.
