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Work on the roof of the shed continues. The trusses require cutting rebar into a lot of little pieces (550, not counting inter-truss braces). I have used up one blade, and have started on a second--as this before and after image attests. It seems to me that the saw cuts better when the blade diameter is less than the 14 inches of the new blade.

AJ and Brittney have agreed to take our old kitchen table, but to this point have gotten bogged down re-finishing it, and currently it sits blocking access to the rabbit house. Stored items just don't seem to last, and many of the joints have "become loose." Here we are applying glue to the deep interior of a joint using a irrigation syringe. Aren't the tools of modern medicine wonderful?

I sometimes hear a relatively quiet, non-engine related, squeal (for want of a better word) when my Geo rolls down the road, so it was with some trepidation that I contemplated this trip. After addition of grease to the rear wheel bearings didn't alleviate the problem; I simply turned up the radio and ignored the implications of the noise. This image documents passing 340,000 miles, but an additional thousand have flowed by since then.

For the second time, Dave Elliot and I bicycled along a section of Skyline Drive, a series of roads and trails that run south from the Utah/Wyoming border, and end in St. George, Utah. We chose to start at the highest point. (Why would anyone ride uphill any more than is absolutely necessary?)

Last year we got lost. I refuse to re-use a map that has gotten me lost (actually, I forgot to bring it). Dave reacted by bring two GPS devices this year, thinking that we could listen to them argue. The man who has one watch knows exactly what time it is, but the man who has two watches is never really sure... The altimeter and temperature functions on these devices were quite useful

The road in the background give some idea of the topography of this adventure. Long and laborious are adjectives that come to mind...

Each trip is different and has a different set of challenges. The rain missed us entirely, but we still managed to feel it's effects. Can you imagine riding down this pastoral lane at 20 mph? In a car it would only shake your teeth loose, but on a bicycle you would be airborne much too much of the time.

We passed a road grader repairing the road. The operator said he resurfaced about four miles per day. We wished him luck... And he did the same to us.

With exception of the distance, this sign is a pretty succinct description of the trip.

Dave stressed himself preparing for this trip, but he found at least part of the trip restful.

I started the trip with 52 pounds of provisions, but the bicycle was so unstable that I could hardly keep the rubber side down. So I dumped 16 pounds of water and things worked much better. We re-supplied our water from a roadside spring on the afternoon of the second day (after consuming about half of our food), and suffered no ill from jettisoning the weight.

Last year Dave's food consisted of a gallon of milk and two boxes of Twinkies (he managed to eat only one). This year, I copied his style and took more of a minimalistic approach to the food I carried. Lunch 1 = cantaloupe. Supper 1 = canned tamales. Breakfast 1 = instant grits. Lunch 2 = Nutella and pita bread (pita bread is tough enough to sometimes survive being carried in a pack). Supper 2 = canned stew. Breakfast 2 = Grape Nuts and canned milk. Lunch 3 = Mexican food at Los Hermanos (which, by the way, was very good).

We rode August 23rd, 24th, and 25th. The day before we started, a cold front moving through brought a lot of thundershowers and dropped the temperatures. As we made camp the first night, it was 28° F. We laid out our sleeping gear, and when we went to use it, found it covered with frost. The orange ground cloth here is a tube (circa 10 foot diameter), and we opted to sleep (I use that term loosely) inside it. I made the mistake of covering my head with the plastic, and the resulting condensation about drowned me. But with layers of clothing, I verged on being over heated inside the sleeping bag. By the time morning arrived, it seemed a lot warmer, and we started riding without donning even a coat (don't you just love summer!).

Ameilia, since I know how much you enjoy them, I include this composite image of the flowers we encountered in the mountains of Central Utah. In many places, they are numerous enough to change the color of the landscape.

The first day we stopped after 24.4 miles, the second day we traversed 34.2, and the last day we logged 18.8, for a total of 77.4. My bicycle odometer does not record distance when traveling at less than 2 mph, so those long, long hills up which we pushed the bikes are not included in these figures. I am quite comfortable claiming the trip covered 80 miles.

Some of the views were awesome. Last time we took a dirt road down and around this lake before laboriously climb up the other side of the valley to where Skyline Drive heads north. This time we took a freshly chip-sealed road that allowed us to coast at speeds up to 30 mph all the way to that same point. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

Dave continually ran away from me on the down hill slopes. I don't know if the front suspension on his bike gives him that big of an advantage, or if his "injury avoidance instinct" isn't as strong as mine. It is a bit ironic that when I was young and had all my life ahead of me, I enjoyed taking outrageous risks; but now that I am old and feeble, my idea of acceptable risk has been reduced to occasionally purchasing a new brand of cornbread mix at the dollar store.

Unbeknownst to us, the state of Utah had scheduled their seasonal bow hunt for deer during the time we were riding. It seemed like there were hunters posted at about 100 yard intervals. Notice the ones on the brow of this hill. In addition, teams of them putted along riding 4-wheelers. For those of you who have an aversion to Bambi-Burgers, you will be happy to know that we did not see a single deer in the area, hanging or otherwise. I suspect the success rate for archery is less than a single percentage point.

I enjoy adventures like this. I am unable to articulate exactly why, and I find that to be a bit unsettling. I would expect that someone who had lived with themselves as long as I have, would have developed a profound understanding of their motivations...

There were several towers visible along our ride. I assume they were for microwave and/or cell phone transmissions. Placing line-of-sight devices in high places is not unreasonable.

Dave's son, James, dropped us off and laughed as he drove away. Still, we were pleased to see him when he rescued us on the flip side...

The road work that caused us such headaches last year is still not finished. Sitting and waiting while a series of emergency vehicles went up the canyon effectively doubled the length of our drive back to Dave's house.

The mouth of the canyon is home to a small "wind farm." Power from these "green" generators is available, at a small premium, to anyone who desires to pay for it (although it is not clear to me how the source of power taken from an electrical grid can be unambiguously identified). Contrary to many conservative talk-show hosts, I think wind generated power is a great idea. Initial expense is probably more, but maintenance is probably less (there has to be fewer moving parts than a coal powered generating plant). Land requirements are obviously great, but after having just driven across two states, I can tell you that open areas with strong winds are not in short supply. I hope they prove economically viable.

Dave enjoys browsing yard sales, and at my request, picked up a new (used) mountain bike for me. This is a typical "Wal-Mart" special but it has front and rear suspension. I was unable to find information about model R4670WM on line, suggesting that it is not a high end piece of equipment. One sticker on it suggested the owner wanted $35, but that was under a second stickler marked with $25.

Noting a flat tire, Dave made an offer of $20, and now I own it. If I count correctly, there are seven thorns visible in this one section alone. Fortunately, the "slime" compound that I use in my tires is particularly good at plugging these types of holes. I put both bikes on the Geo's bike rack and brought them home without incident. The next day on my way to work, while carrying only one bike, a support strap separated. Fortunately no damage was done to either vehicle, but I have difficulty explaining the physics behind that series of events.

In a somewhat surprising turn of events, I drove all night and arrived home about 0300 hours. I really thought I had given up on that type of travel, but occasionally surprise even myself. Barbara told me that we had had a pretty bad storm with lots of rain and was accompanied by strong winds. After ascending the ladder, I noted that the cooler had been moved about 8 inches. That was one strong wind...

The wind also managed to roll up a section of shingles. This was on the north side of the roof. The south side where we worked earlier this summer seems to have survived intact. It took about six hours to repair the damage, and given my 4½ hours of sleep the previous night, I was not a particularly happy camper, making one stupid mistake after another. The "repairs" look about as pretty as the north end of a south bound horse, but hopefully they will turn water.

From the roof of the house, it is evident that the rabbit house roof also is in need of attention. Even if I didn't have to work for a living, it would still be a challenge to keep up the things falling apart around here.

As has become a tradition, I brought home peaches. In the past, these have been Utah's finest, but this year the weather there has not been kind. The few fruit stands that have peaches are not eager to part with them ($20 per box, vs $16 per box last year). Betty Ann suggested we check at Maceys (a local grocery store catering to volume food buyers), and they just happened to be running a special, offering 24 pound boxes (originally priced at $24) for $11.98. So, I brought home peaches picked off some of the 15,000 trees in Yakima, Washington (near Barbara's home). I suspect that these were on sale because were green and not selling well. When I asked the produce supervisor for the firmest he had, he was only too happy to comply. The peaches traveled well, and hopefully will ripen in a week or two.

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