Kokopelli Trail: Day 4 - Bitter Creek to Loma

THE LAST DAY OF BIKING
by Don Lyman

'Twas the last day of biking, when all through the desert

Not a creature was stirring, not even a lizard;

The mountain bikes were slung by the RV without care,

In hopes that they held together for the last leg of the dare;

We rode down the cliff side we might end up dead,

While visions of endos danced in our heads;

And Larry on Marin, and I on my Haro,

Rounded the Western Rim for a long honkin' hill,

When on the horizon cut the river grand,

I sprang from the bike to push through the sand.

Through Rabbit Valley we flew like a flash,

Spooked a horse/rider causing a dash.

The slog to the crest with camelback in tow

Gave the luster of mid-day to Salt Creek just below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a place to go swimming, just under the pier,

Larry descended the hill, so lively and quick,

But I crashed in a moment, I made a wrong pick.

We thought of Dad's eagles but only crows came,

And I whistled, and shouted, and called Larry by name;

"Now, Troy Built! now, Lions! now, Mary's and Home!

No Rustlers! no Steve's Loop! no Handcuffs I'm done!

To the top of the ridge! to the top of the hill!

Now coast away! coast away! coast away all!"

On Troy Built he left me, his bike it did fly,

Great views of the river, rock cliffs to the sky,

On to Lions Loop the sprocket heads flew,

With a pack full of Gatorade, and Cliff Bars too.

The double track of Lions, is best going backward

The rocky ascent the other way is awkward.

As I pumped up the hill, my chain jumped a tooth,

I was frustrated, mad, sad and uncouth.

Far down below, a lone tree with two elves at its base,

Sat Steven and Ross, come to size up the race;

A bundle of beers they had flung in a chest,

Liquid courage for peddlers, now not at their best.

Don's eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

He swallowed two Coor's, his nose like a cherry!

His dry little chain was bound up like a knuckle,

Ross had sun tan lotion to lube the debacle;

The cream did the trick: quite clever I say,

And the sojourners moved on to the last leg of the day;

Mary's Loop since the 80's has become quite well-known,

And is traveled by bikers from Tampa to Nome.

I've ridden and blogged it many times my own self,

Suffice it to say, its a fun little shelf;

Like Larry checks me with a twist of his head,

Let's go back to a story of a thing that need said;

On Lions we met two bikers oncoming,

They asked where we came from; then turned with a jerk,

Because Larry said "Moab"; the thought was berserk,

Back to our tale, the final ascent we arose;

We cranked to the top, to his wife gave a whistle,

And down to the truck hand in hand like a missile.

Kokopelli exclaimed, as we drove out of sight,

"Happy Riding to all, and to all a good bike."