In the desert that word is often synonymous with loathing and dread, or, at best, tolerance and patience.
Respite from the stifling heat and smothering smoke comes only when the rain does, and thus far monsoonal activity has been nil. Trails have been ground into powder, air quality is about the same, and runoff in the rivers is a distant memory.
Despite the lack of measurable precip, we managed to get deep into a half-day ride when a micro-burst lasered in on us and dumped it's load.
When we made it the last ~mile back to the car it was plain to see that not a drop had fallen there. Sheesh.
Paddling right now means finding a dam release or trans-basin diversion. Like it or not, our home state has no shortage.
I spent some time last month assembling Jeny's gorgeous new Meriwether fatbike, and listing her old one for sale.
Hard work keeping the old guy entertained.
Also spent some time debugging Jeny's new park bike. 180mm travel, tubeless carbon DH hoops, 2.5" dual ply tires, and slack-as geo. A veritable grin machine.
Jeny finishing a lap down Pucker Up on her old PBJ.
This storm packed a wallop. Unfortunately it was two counties to the north so we got no precip from it.
Todd boofing Slaughterhouse Falls, back when it had water.
Best fatbike hubs going--building them daily now.
Shot from inside the bedroom last weekend. They stayed, hunching ever closer to the house, until the last sliver of shade vanished after noon.
Don't call 'em bling--they're 'finishing touches'.
As hot and dry as it has been, this view will feature turning leaves any day now.
Bumper crop of thistles and sunflowers this year.
Thanks for checkin' in.