Tough Days Breed Long Memories By Jay Bartlett The weather report for the day didn’t look too threatening, at least for the St. George area. There was the possibility of rain showers, but the sky was a mix of black and blue; it would probably be a fine day for a ride. Little Creek Mesa was our choice, and it had been an uneventful day as we sat down for a lunch break at The Point on The Peninsula trail, with its fantastic north-facing view of Gooseberry Mesa. With lunch and a nice rest done, Travis, Marty, and I got up to retrieve our bikes and head out. What met our eyes as we turned around was ominous. Above the treeline, the sky had turned an evillooking, purplish black. “Uh oh,” I thought. “We better get moving,” Travis muttered. Seconds later, Boom! A very close-sounding thunderclap shook the very air around us. “Damn!” we all exclaimed in unison. I turned to Marty, who up until this ride had been away from his bike for a while and was feeling the full-body workout that riding slickrock entails. “Sorry man,” I said, “We are going to have to really push hard for a bit.” We knew if we could make it a couple of miles, there was a deep overhang we could shelter under. However, this section of trail wasn’t “fast” due to its technical features, even when fueled by a sense of impending doom. I could see in Marty’s eyes before he even answered that the adrenaline was already kicking in. “I’m good. Let’s go!” he urged. We saddled up with heart rates already soaring and sprinted off into the forest. As we rode, several more claps of thunder cracked over our heads, making me duck closer to my handlebars in a futilely late attempt to avoid the lightning that had already struck. Not so soon enough, we broke out of the trees into a large, empty field of slickrock. The rain had started, and for the time being, the lightning was going nowhere. Crossing that field to the overhang we wanted to get to seemed a pretty bad idea. Travis jumped off his bike and ran into a gully of rock. “Down
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here!” he beckoned, and Marty and I followed to a small cave that the three of us could just fit into if we tucked our legs tight to our chests. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was just enough to keep the majority of the downpour off of us. The fact that there was a foot of sandstone over our heads felt a whole lot better than being the highest point in a barren landscape while astride metal machines! We hunkered for a while, trying to stay dry and non-conductive as the squall moved slowly along. Relief washed over us as the clouds broke, and we were able to make our escape. Luckily, we had time to make it back to the trailhead without having to shelter up again. What an incredible adventure an ordinary ride had become. Now, I’m not condoning that you ignore potentially dangerous weather reports or intentionally wander into situations that are over your head. But life is an unscripted event, and adversity is often the antagonist. This story happened close to twenty years ago, but I can still see the color of the sky when we stood up from lunch, and that crack of thunder still rings in my ears. So, when the weather throws you a curveball or you bite off too much trail to chew and you don’t know if you have enough energy to make it back to the trailhead, you may complain, whine, and About the Author Mountain bike veteran, swear that you’ll never ride again. But amateur filmmaker, and lover almost assuredly, you will have forged of long rides, Jay Bartlett has a deep personal connection with those been riding trails in Southern you shared this adventure with, and you Utah for over thirty years. Jay has over a decade of will have made a life-long memory—a experience as a bike mechanic memory that will feel a lot more fun a at St. George’s oldest bike shop, few years down the road. Bicycles Unlimited.
