it was dark when I left home this morning, the sky hanging heavier and darker to the northeast, which was of course the direction I was headed. within half a block I felt the teeniest little drop of moisture on my cheek. no. dark skies, moisture, hmm, original plan not looking good.
ruby keeps heading toward emigration, which is what she's been trained to do.
the closer we came to the mouth of the canyon, the more moisture fell out of the air and onto us. when I started to hear it consistently ping on my helmet, I decided I was crazy to let her take me up that hill into the still-dark, threatening skies. I reined her in, turned her around, and headed south where the skies were lighter.
I don't like to do this.
I love my little morning ride up and down the canyon.
but I didn't feel like riding in a rainstorm, so I headed south toward the mouth of big cottonwood, a slightly up and down ride on wasatch that gives enough variety to keep my heart interested.
I had thoughts of turning up millcreek, but was prepared for neither the cold descent (always, even in early august), nor the longer tougher ride (not enough water or fuel), nor, as I approached the turn-off, was I prepared to ride that canyon in the rain. the pavement starting a mile or so before millcreek canyon road was wet enough to tick off my front wheel, so chances were the canyon itself was plain old wet.
so I kept heading south. south, south, south. when I hit the mouth of big cottonwood I decided I was feeling good enough to give myself one more challenge before turning around, so I climbed the big hill. right past the mouth, wasatch decides to head up the hill quickly and seriously, and I call this my Heave Ho hill. when I first began riding I lived nearby, and I would force myself up that thing, chanting heave, ho, heave, ho, to myself as I panted my way up. actually I think this was the chant:
heave, pant, ho, pant, heave, pant, ho, pant. and after a while it became heave, pant, hove, pant, heave, pant, hove, pant, just because it just seemed easier to make both words into 2-syllable words. (don't ask, just go try it sometime.)
so this morning at the top of the Heave Ho hill, I cruised another quarter mile then turned around to head home. and I stopped. at the first stoplight.
then I cruised for a while and then I stopped.
and went, then stopped.
rode some more, then stopped.
I'm sure you get the picture.
and this is one more reason I love my emigration canyon ride:
susan's house to little dell and back via emigration = 23 miles, two stoplights
susan's house to top of Heave Ho hill and back via wasatch = 23 miles, fourteen stoplights
pretty much a no-brainer, isn't it?
I think this is why ruby automatically heads that way each time I ride: she doesn't really like to stop, either. she'd much rather be flying.