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cyclists on the trail As our convoy wended its way to the last stop before dinner, I managed to get myself last in line. Which made it easier to stop and take pictures. In this case, it had been to snap a few shots of the habitat where three of our collared elk spent the spring. But that left me speeding down the road, trying to catch the caravan before I missed the next turn. Until I saw a flag flipping on the other side of the road, warning me to slow down just in time to avoid spraying gravel on a bicyclist heading the other way. Biking the Continental Divide, no doubt. I passed the female half of the duo a mile or so farther down the road. The two of them no doubt hot and tired, just now reaching the end of a 100+ mile stretch in the desert basin. Long days of sand, sage, hot asphalt and rationed water. Over thirty miles from their last taste of civilization. But just ahead of them the path would change, full of cool aspen, dark pine forests, wet meadows and remnant snowbanks. For another twenty-some miles, and then another whole state full of the same. When we flew for elk collars the next morning, the couple was pedaling together. In the high, cool country. |
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