Worth mentioning at the outset here: all of the pics we took on this day show a warm, dry, fun experience. Not so! We simply kept the cameras holstered as we slogged through any kind of goop. And ultimately we cut the day waaaaay short because as it warmed up there was far more goop than any responsible rider would be caught dead in.
After the previous day's airtime, Skippy had no need to open his eyes for moves like this.
Hard to see from this angle, but this may well be one of the few drops-to-tranny anywhere out on the mesa. Smooth landing.
A common theme for me, riding-in-the-moment out there, is to pay close attention to the macro directly underfoot whenever heading west. But when the trail switches back on itself, or if we're scoping something new and turn to the east, I suddenly see and remember Zion. WHAM--right up in your grill.
I've seen much more snow out here but never as much ice.
Near the turnoff for Hidden Canyon.
As we'd learn, the only thing really rideable out there was S. Rim. And even then, by 10am the melt was on and it got ugly quick. HC was out, Yellow and N. Rim were waaaaay out. I never even brought up Grey Matter--as deep as the snow was I knew better than to go looking there.
Farther along S. Rim.
The time we spent on rock was stellar. Dry, tacky, washed clean of dust--you could easily stick to even the most ridiculous off-cambers.
But as we moved west we got into more and more mud, and it became obvious it was time to pull the plug.
Grudgingly we made the turn and headed back, and at our first opportunity bailed out to the road.
Any time spent up on Goose is time well spent. Having to cut it short merely meant that we could get Skippy home in time for his weekly Geritol infusion and into a fresh Depends before stuffing him into his rocker for another week of Golden Girls reruns.
'til next time...