Springtime in southern Utah has many rarities: desert flowers, vagabond friends, and perfect weather in some sparsely visited desert corner. Every day seems like an opportunity to enjoy the natural wonders of life in the wasteland. Poetic as the perfect ending to a good book I sent the first route installed into the cave above my house, with good friend and equipper Jorge Visser. A nest of desert bees prevented me from climbing into the extension (It actually took a lot of persuasion to get Jorge to belay me knowing that the nest was there.). Relaxing after a send is important to me, so I treated myself to a bike ride with friends.

Isaac and Corigan came down from northern Utah to kick it. Jazzed to ride… H2, Sac, Corigan, the Turner brothers, and myself shuttled the Goulds rim, a fast eight-mile downhill. Having a natural tendency for excitement I sped my way along the trail while keeping mind of Pierre. I underestimated a birm and augured over the handle bar just a couple miles into the ride. This incident was the first time in my adult life that I wrecked without landing on my feet. I knocked the wind out of myself. Wow… A myriad of things crossed my mind like: would I be able to finish the best of the ride; would I feel up to climbing; or whether I had all my teeth. Luckily I was able to dust myself off and press on. The riding got my mind off the soreness settling in.