Deacon Patrick

withabandon

In which snows become rains garnished with crisp, misty mornings that warm to wide open, deep blue skies and the fluttering swoops of butterflies.

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“If every flower wanted to be a rose, nature would lose her springtime beauty.”

Who better than Saint Therese the Little Flower of Lisieux and her “little way” from “The Story of a Soul” to accompany us through the meadows of the Highland Cathedral?

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Olympus E-PL8

Climbing the gentle, wending way...

Going mobile phone free, and needing, er, wanting, a camera, and hoping to take a step up but with trailing edge tech to aid the budget, I went with the E-PL8, and so far I am delighted, and hopeful it can survive riding in my saddle bag.

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Iris and snow make a rare and stunning combination.

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It seems nearly overnight that the green pops out from under the last slushy snow as temperatures climb from 20 over night to 70 the next day at noon. Out pop the new aspen leaves:

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The world is softer now for being harder now, Aspen bones draped in fingers of fleeting filigree frost, Silence shrouds by mist's embrace, dark stately pine, Winter's troubadour vanguard.

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In which I achieve escape velocity despite my bludgeoned brain to escape the noise of construction for the local festival, discover having a TBI headache in a tent in a hailstorm with zero count lightening is less fun than it sounds, and along the way I get to ride Beorn of Clan Gus Boots Willsen up, down, over through rocks, roots, mountains, streams all familier yet remarkable because Beorn can ride lines no bike I've ever had can. What a delight!

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In which I take Beorn of the Gus Boots Willsen Clan on his first bikepacking adventure expotition and he surprises me with his epic land-travel speed via a fog teleportation experience that saw me in Colorado, Scotland, Tibet, the Pacific Northwest, back to Colorado and briefly to Arizona, being at once more epic and less epic than I'd thought. Life, with its holy extraordinary wrapped in its everyday ordinary is like that a lot. Grin.

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Descending on tires that slip on wet rocks and roots is not as fun as it sounds. Beautiful more than makes up for it though! (Yes, I'm in there. Bottom middle, slightly to the left. Wee lad. Grin.

In which I swap tires after discovering Maxxis Icon+ are slip and slides on wet rocks and roots, aspen bloom, Pascha flowers blossom during Paschatide, and I'm happier than a clam on a bike 9,000 feet above the salty sea on my new Schwalbe Nobby Nic 27.5 x 2.8” Addix Apex Speedgrip SnakeSkin (Whew!).

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In which Beorn of Gus Boots Willsen handles gradients preferred by mountain goats and bears, both up and down; I meet nary a soul; and a bald guy ascends and sits atop Mount Baldy for a pipe and coffee.

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