Moab... because why not? Day Two

I'm a tourist.  As such, all trips to Moab have to include the iconic shuttle ride, The Whole Enchilada.  

David Wilson (of Nuclear Sunrise Stitchworks infamy) came by while we were waiting for our ride to visit and talk nuk-u-ler stuff with Bill Nye.  I can't remember the last time I saw his face part (or at least part of his face part).

The shuttle.  What an odd thing.  We were all masked up, but it was still the longest amount of time that I've spent with strangers in such a space.  I sat up front, wearing an N95 mask as well as double-buffed.

Safe?  Probably safer than riding The Whole Enchilada on a hard tail... at least as I had heard multiple times from our fellow shuttlers.

Burro Pass.   The "I made it to the fun stuff" point of the ride.  You're done with all the climbing for the day... except for all the other climbing.

The aspens were popping.  I was gonna Instagram a bunch of photos, but my IG feed was so full of golden aspens already, I couldn't bear to add to the conversation.

Did you know aspens are smarter than whales and communicate in whispers?

Bill Nye, La Sal mountains, bike, aspens.

Me, aspens... nothing to see here.

Hey, look... 

Sorry.

Bill Nye and I both planned on filtering water at one of the many streams up above the Hazard County portion of the ride.  Unfortunately, he forgot to stop us way up high in the pretty aspens *vomit*, and when he realized we were at our absolute last chance for gas before being in the real desert, we halted.

Ewww.  Cow shit everywhere.  I've never really counted on my filter so hard up until now.  I'm not dead, so I guess it worked.

Cruising down through Hazard County (one of my favorite parts of the ride), and I come around the corner to this:

Bill Nye misjudged a gap or something and ended up taking a flat pedal to the shin, slicing it down to the bone.  Flat pedals win metals and also ruin leg modeling careers,

Typical Porcupine Rim photo.

We got to the Notch/Snotch option as a still happy group of four.  Bill Nye rolled down Snotch, and then unfortunately unbeknownst to him, we headed over to Notch.

And thus started some panicked searching and worry and unanswered (at first) texts and riding and yelling and bell ringing and a badly timed flat tire and... sigh.  

Lesson learned.  Always stick with my wingman, never assume someone else told him what was what, and keep the guy with the key to the vehicle you rode across the country in on your radar.

Darren was anxious to get down the trail after wasting so much time getting our band back together, so Bill Nye had fewer chances than normal to snap a thousand pictures of me hucking marginally impressive drops to flat.

Evidence that I rode my bike.

Back at camp, Bill Nye headed out for a new spoke (another broken spoke?) and proper supplies to seal up his leg part.

He got it all cleaned out and taped back together, and then we spent the rest of the evening properly ingesting general anesthetics and visiting (again) with David Wilson at a very social distance.  

Our day three ride goals were not exceptionally aspirational, so beers and a nice sleep-in seemed like the thing to do.