Pile on those Mashed Potatoes

The open spaces of Wyoming unfold before me. In tune with the landscape, my emotions do the same. Happiness, laughter, anxiety, tears.

I’ll blame a lack of appetite on the later two.

My first long mountain bike ride was Resurrection Pass. On that ride, a friend told me that he wavers between loving the trail, and hating the trail – all within minutes. Years later, I  begin to see his point.

Grapes, two apples, a yogurt and a hug from Carmella in Atlantic City help to restore the balance in my little universe.

I think of Jill Homer’s mantra, Be Brave, Be Strong. I think of Lael. I give Tyndall a fistbump and drop in, heading for the Basin.

We ride late, covering the miles between South Pass City and the A&M Reservoir in a day. The stars are out when we arrive at the reservoir.

In the night a noise wakes us. It’s a mouse, going for our candy bar wrappers. No bears here.

Another day, and we’re in Rawlins.

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