What do you do when you have cycled, camped and experienced the Grand Canyon from atop the North Rim? Well, instead of seeing from above, you get down in the bottom of the canyon and kayak the darn thing. That is exactly what we did. Before I get started, I have to give credit where it is due. The concept for kayaking the Grand Canyon came from Dave the Crazy Canadian. He called us when we were in Frisco and said that he really would have liked to catch up with us so that we could take a little detour and do some kayaking in the Colorado River. Seeing that there was no way for Dave to catch up with us and do such a thing, we felt that we should honor the man and run with his idea. It truly was genius. Starting at the base of the Glen Canyon Dam, Neal and I set off on a 15-mile float down the sleepy Colorado River. Unlike other parts of the River, this part was pretty tame. Given the fact that neither one of us is particularly skilled or experienced in white water kayaking, this suited us quite well. However, it was an absolutely stunning day and we were 700 or so feet down from the lips of the Canyon. Needless to say, it was pretty incredible. The experience of doing something physical other than riding was pretty exhilarating in and of itself. But doing something like this takes exhilaration to a new level. Other than the occasional fishing boat that we passed, the river and the canyon were completely ours. OK, that is not entirely true. We had to share it with the tons of trout we saw in the crystal clear water, the herons with their majestically long necks and the extremely large ravens very appropriately nicknamed the "Navajo Air Force." As an added bonus, we stopped midway down our tour for lunch at a place along the river that had Native American petroglyphs on the canyon wall. I know what you are thinking: "OK, Mick, what is a petroglyph?" I am glad you asked - because prior to a few weeks ago, I was not quite sure either. A petroglyph is a stone carving that the Native Americans used to depict stories and actions of things they witnessed. Similarly, pictographs are paintings on rock walls used to perform the same function. We did not see any of those but the petroglyphs were pretty cool. As I mentioned above, the river was pretty mellow and as we neared the 10-mile mark of our float, a pretty stiff breeze picked up and literally pushed us up river if we did not paddle. That made for an interesting late afternoon. I am all about getting a good workout, but my back and shoulders were not necessarily ready for a crazy marathon of hard paddling to get to our destination of Lee's Ferry. It all was very well worth it. We rewarded ourselves with a few beers and ridiculous bacon cheeseburgers in Vermillion Cliffs at this local inn/tavern called the Lee's Ferry Inn. The gentleman who rented us our kayaks said it was a must do after a day of paddling. We owe Chase a big thanks for the suggestion.

Our next adventure brought us face to face with American history and the story of the west. The American Southwest has a very unique look and feel to it that many attribute to the Mexican culture from whom the United States acquired the territory. But there is another culture that has had a tremendous impact on the region that predates even the Mexican cultural influence. In keeping with the spirit of GOYAR and experiencing new and different things, Neal and I spent a few days deep in the heart of the Navajo Indian reservation. The Navajo Nation (and it is indeed a Nation) is the largest Native American reservation in North America. It covers a land expanse of 16 million acres in Northeast Arizona and Northwest New Mexico and has a total population somewhere around 200,000 residents. For those of you keeping score at home, this area is a little bigger than the state of Maryland. The parts of the land that we saw in our journey were fairly arid steppe territory that was pretty rugged and unforgiving. If I understand my history properly, it was not the first choice of the Navajo people as land they wanted to call home. However, after years of displacement and fighting with an ever-encroaching United States, it was a land they could call their own. Neal and I were looking to get a sense of who they are today and possibly experience a bit of their culture (as much as they would allow us to). Neal is rather studied in Native American spirituality and has a profound respect for it. In my knowing this, although never explicitly stated, I gathered this was a very important part of the trip for him. I of course, had my predispositions about what the Navajo Nation would be like. It wasn't the stuff of movies mind you but I did expect to see vestiges of a culture that was based on a belief that the earth and its creatures were kindred spirits with their daily lives. I feel I need to preface my comments by the fact that we only saw a very small portion on the Navajo Nation and did not have any contact with tribal elders and had limited engagement with citizens of the Nation. With that said, what we saw and experienced was quite depressing. The houses we saw more resembled shacks than homes and the majority of the properties were strewn with junk. What we saw appeared to be a people that did not care or appeared to have a defeated spirit that prevented them from making the most of the land given to them. Please understand that the history of what happened to the Native American people is absolutely deplorable. It makes me unbelievably angry that our government took land from a native people and gave them so many broken promises in return. If all of that happened to my people, I would be angry and maybe not care too much either. At the same time however, we experienced something very different at the Taos Pueblo Indian Reservation we later visited in New Mexico. The Taos appeared to be a very vibrant and prospering community still very much appearing to embrace their traditional values and way of life. I guess that is what I was hoping to see in the Navajo. We wanted to learn more about their culture, their spirituality and how they incorporate both into modern society. It is entirely possible that our observations are way off base. Maybe we just happened to be experiencing communities that were behind the curve, not unlike many communities scattered throughout America. I would like to think that is the case. But the first impression we had with the Navajo Nation led us to think the things they have traditionally held as a part of their culture have been lost and it is reflected in the perceived absence of their spirituality. We left the Navajo Nation not quite knowing what to make of what we experienced and a little numb. We left the Taos Pueblo, by contrast, somewhat more assured that some native peoples maintain at least some small semblance of their past and do so with pride and honor, showing respect to their land, themselves and others around them.

Continuing on our search for stellar mountain biking, our travels brought us to Santa Fe, NM. It was amazing to the both of us how much great biking there is and how every place we went claimed to have the best riding in the west. Certainly a subjective statement, all of the places we rode had characteristics that make the claim plausible. Santa Fe was no different. As was our custom, we found the local bike shop to get the lay of the land - this time it was Santa Fe Mountain Sports. We were fortunate enough to stop in at the right time and talk to the right guys, two of whom offered to take us down the Windsor Trail the following morning. We accepted the offer and were stoked for the next day's ride. The night's dinner in Santa Fe was at the suggestion of our friend Mike McCormack from Mav Sports in Breckenridge. Without a doubt, Mike clearly provided us with the best suggestions that truly made our ride one to remember. Most of these suggestions took the form of trails to hit on our journey all of which were incredibly spot on. So, when a food suggestion came up, we knew we had to give it a go. Maria's Restaurant, featuring New Mexican cuisine proved to be very much in line with the rest of Mike's suggestions. It totally rocked. It had killer margaritas and was set in one of the oldest cantinas in Santa Fe. We had no choice but to toast Mike and sing his praises. The next morning we met Daoud and Joel at the bike shop and proceeded to the Windsor Trail trailhead. These guys put on their full body armor and jumped on their full suspension bikes looking like they were ready to take on the Oakland Raiders. I was completely ready for these guys to totally bury us and leave us behind on our hard tail Solas. But, much like the rest of the people we met on our adventure, these guys were great. When they got ahead of us, they pulled up and waited for us to catch up. They were very gracious hosts (even when they struggled on the flats and up-hills, where the hard-tails shined). The Windsor Trail was absolutely brilliant. It had steep descents, speedy flats, great technical twists and turns and eight creek crossings all set in a beautiful national forest. With the exception of a flat tire that Neal suffered, it was one killer ride.

The next stop on the whirlwind tour was Taos, NM and the South Boundary Trail (SBT). The SBT was a very long (28 miles) high altitude trail that featured every possible facet of mountain biking terrain. It began with a very rude climb of about 2000 feet. The terrain was extremely rocky making what would normally be a tough climb even harder. When we finally crested, we realized why this trail has become the favorite of many bikers in the southwest. It was FAST! Winding through aspen lined ridges, the SBT screamed on sweet hard pack dirt along narrow ridges with nothing but cliff if you happened off the trail. It was on one of these speedways that I thought GOYAR was going to end a little early for me. Cruising along at last check around 24 mph, I hit something that sent me for a pretty wild ride. My first thought was Big Foot but Neal kept on telling me Big Foot does not exist - at least in these parts. Since Neal was riding ahead of me, he unfortunately missed the entertainment. To this day, I really don't know what I hit but boy did I fly. By the time I stopped moving, my left knee was hammered and I was partly down one of those ridges I was describing above. Neal apparently did not hear the commotion and kept on going. I caught up with him about 15 minutes later (he did finally stop!) as I limped along on my bike not 100% sure how bad the knee really was. Being 20 miles from the town, it certainly would have presented a problem if I was not able to go on. Fortunately, it worked out that I was able to go on but it took the sails out of me and the rest of the ride was a little defensive, particularly for the last five miles of the trail, which was very steep, very rocky and very technical. It could not however take away from the fact that the trail was fabulous and provided every bit of the promise its billing forecasted. Another incredible ride to chalk up for the GOYAR guys.

Entering the last week of GOYAR, we continued our journey north, once again returning to the beautiful state of Colorado. After a brief stay in Durango and a needed day off for my battered body, we set our sights on Telluride. Let me make a brief comment on the route we took to get to Telluride. It was truly one of the most spectacular roads I have ever had the pleasure of traveling. Understatedly named the San Juan Scenic Byway (Route 550), it offered us some of the most incredible vistas we had seen in Colorado. Simply stated, it was magnificent and a worthy day trip if you ever find yourself in Southwestern Colorado.

Telluride is clearly known for its skiing and its charming town. While I can't speak to the former, the latter was 100% accurate. Nestled in a notch mountain pass (or box canyon, as the locals call it), Telluride is essentially completely surrounded by mountains. One person I spoke to actually said that Telluride, due to its surroundings, almost made them feel claustrophobic. A little dramatic I'll admit but it does the job in conveying the proximity of the mountains. It was an extremely alluring town with an old Colorado feel to it. I can see why it has become a bit of a playground for the very wealthy. As for mountain biking, well, my body was still not up for any hard core riding but we did manage to cycle some of the trails around the ski resort. They were pretty fun but really could not hold a candle to the places we had biked over the last few weeks. I have little doubts that there is some righteous riding around there but we didn't look too hard for it.

While in Telluride, we also got a call from our friend Dave, the Crazy Canadian. He informed us that he made it to Breckenridge, which was a good thing. Unfortunately however, he ran out of money and was contemplating staying there for the winter. Pretty cool in theory. We passed along the names of the great folks we met in Frisco and Breckenridge with the hope that they would be able to help him out. There certainly are worse places to be stuck!

Getting back on the road, our next stop would be Crested Butte by way of Gunnison. We had been told that as you head to Crested Butte it would be a great idea to stop in Gunnison and check out the Hartman Rocks Trails. Neal and I became very accustomed by this point to accept any and all suggestions when it came to mountain biking trails. So, of course we stopped. It was clearly the right thing to do. These trails were fabulous. Finding ourselves in what was essentially a high desert, the trails had a completely different look and feel. The recommendations we received had us creating a makeshift loop out of the network of 20 or so trails. You could literally do a different loop for weeks without repeating a ride. Very cool concept. Rolling through trails like Sea of Sage, Luge and Dry Gulch riding Gunnison was a great way to break up the drive. Our four-hour shred prepared us for what would be our last stop on our adventure.

So here is how it ended. We arrived in Crested Butte looking for the Alpineer bike shop and a place to call home for the night. Much like the rest of the trip, we did very well to find both. Recommendations were provided to us by the good folks at Alpineer who suggested we try Trail 401. One of the other side items that we learned while on GOYAR is that when you ask locals (or are reading a book) about terrain, whenever they say that the climbs are not too bad, you need to multiply by a factor of 10 the difficulty quotient for the trails defined. You see, locals lie. I think it is a conspiracy to make tourists feel horribly inferior so as to keep them away from moving to the areas in question. Trail 401 indeed had a climb - one that was "fairly moderate" and it was only supposed to be 5 miles long. It was under these auspices that we began our ride that would turn out to be our last. Needless to say, the climb totally sucked and it was NOT five miles long but an excruciating 6.5 miles to the crest at 11,000 feet and above the snow line (yes, we biked through some snow). I feel compelled to say that this bit of whining is all mine because Neal "I am a Warrior" Levin did not seem to have the same difficulties that I did in negotiating the climbing part of Trail 401. I say this because I experienced something that I can say I never have experienced before. In working my way up the trail, praying for the crest to arrive, I succumbed to the immense and overwhelming power of my mind telling me that I could not navigate this trail. The trail itself was not any more difficult than other trails and climbs we had been doing for the past six weeks. However, my mind was in such a different place that it forbid my body to do what it really wanted to do. Granted, after riding for as long as we had, certainly fatigue was bound to rear its ugly head at some point but I did not expect it in the form that it arrived in. I was embarrassed. When I reached Neal after a bit of bike pushing, I looked at him and told him that I was done. I could not go through that again. We had planned one more day of riding in Monarch Pass that according to me was not to be. Neal was his ever gracious, supportive self and said he understood. Unfortunately, we were still another seven miles from our destination. I could not have had all these revelations at a worse spot. Fortunately, the rest of the trail was downhill and quite beautiful. I have reflected on that moment many times since trying to reconcile what truly happened and why. Mental fatigue is as every bit as strong as its physical counterpart but more dangerous. My spirit to go on faded and it took my body with it. I can conjure up so many correlations to everyday life and hope that I never have to experience that again.

That night I took the task of organizing the truck for the ride home. It was a cathartic experience exploring all the bags of soiled gear, recapping highlights and lowlights from the trip, trying to remember the names and the faces of people we met and trying to decipher whose stuff was whose and if the stink would ever come out of our clothes. I think Neal got concerned about me because after 90 minutes he came out to check on me and asked me what the hell I was doing. In all honesty, I was reliving GOYAR in all of its glory. I was slowly preparing myself to re-enter the reality from which I had departed for what seemed to be an eternity. I was trying to understand all of the lessons that were learned on this epic adventure. I was hoping that I would remember those lessons and apply them to my daily life as well as inspire others to do the same. GOYAR turned out to be so much more than we could have ever expected. Both Neal and I began GOYAR with a destination in mind and ended with a journey that has become ingrained into our being. For much of the ride home the next day, particularly as we saw the Rocky Mountains fade away in the rear view mirror, there was a reverent silence. Both of us knew that nothing needed to be said that could capture what was going on in our minds. It was our understanding.

There is little I can say or write that will ever be able to convey the experiences of the past six weeks. What I can offer is that you do what you can to find your own GOYAR and make it happen. This was an experience of a lifetime and one that I will always be grateful to my good friend Neal who crafted the idea and allowed me to share in it. It is funny, I find myself struggling on how I should end this narrative. I guess part of me wants it to go on but I know that it can't. Or can it….

GOYAR2003

Thanks for riding along with us.

Mick

Here's some new pics... (Click a picture to enlarge)