Here I am in Moab. One of the mountain biking mecca's. These last few weeks have been crazy. Las Vegas was surreal. Zion Canyon, the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Moab, this whole part of the world: all surreal in a much more natural way. It's the sort of landscape that must be fake, the beauty of it is that absurd. It has an atheistic that speaks to the part of the brain that never climbed down from the trees, the part that still dwells on that African Savannah of our flint-knapping ancestors.
The trip's been pretty good. The highlights so far: riding the roller coaster at New York, New York in Las Vegas. Seeing Penn and Teller. Getting caught in a thunderstorm during a mountain bike ride at the Grand Canyon (lowlight actually, very scary indeed). Riding the Thunder Mountain trail in Red Canyon and getting around around almost all of the switchbacks on the scary descent. Driving across the desert of south west Utah blasting Richard Thompson's Mock Tudor album as the sun sets. All good stuff.
We're going to be in Moab for a couple of days then on to Fort Collins.
I've played my guitar a couple of times, mostly waiting for laundry to dry. Musically, I've been more inspired by the book I've been reading "Our Band Could Be Your Life" by Michael Azarred than the landscape and the camping, but I'm sure that'll change once I start sleeping in a comfy bed and having regular showers. :)