{"id":1311,"date":"2015-09-20T15:04:00","date_gmt":"2015-09-20T15:04:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/mywalkabout.net\/2015\/09\/20\/soapstone"},"modified":"2017-09-15T06:36:47","modified_gmt":"2017-09-15T12:36:47","slug":"soapstone","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mywalkabout.net\/?p=1311","title":{"rendered":"Soapstone"},"content":{"rendered":"
A mostly cloudless Fall day awaits those who slowly awaken this morning. I jump start my motor and head for the Uinta Mountains, ready to ride the fury of Soapstone basin<\/a>.<\/div>\n
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Small groups of hunters gather around camper trailers, drinking morning coffee huddled next to a burning fire.<\/div>\n
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I dress in bright red to avoid an arrow or trigger happy bullet, and the pedals turn.<\/div>\n
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The inclines are deceptively steep, and my water supply is quickly drenched. My lungs scream to be ripped from my body cavity, and filleted upon the open ground. I cough and wheeze as the autumn leaves laugh.<\/div>\n
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I push past the pain, blackout the cries to stop, and let the momentum carry me upward. A lone red tail hawk soars and circles above me, it’s tail shining brightly.<\/div>\n
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My beacon of safety is a sign from the Great Mother. I heed the message, climb the last hill, and look over the great Soapstone Basin.<\/div>\n
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Then with a fury of adrenaline, I fly down the backside of Mother Nature, whipping past the trees in a frenzy of untitled joy.
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