Excerpt
The High Sierra Century
or
Amber's Blustery Day
A Nonfiction Story by Amber Lea Starfire, ©2005
... At the starting point, excitement is high as our team of 13 mounts our bicycles and begins the ride. Coop counsels us to take it easy, especially for the first hour, until we acclimate. We stay in low gears, pedal easily, and are thankful for the first nearly flat five miles. Nevertheless, we’re all breathing hard. The first climb of the day is long and steady, not steep, but steep enough. It has us all worried as our breath comes in gasps. But, true to what we’ve been told, it gets easier. After an hour and a half, I’ve forgotten that I’m working my lungs at 7500 feet.
I don’t know if my forgetfulness is acclimation or the result of the scenery. Breathtaking, startlingly beautiful, the high desert stretches before us. The mountains are stark sentinels, devoid of almost all growth and lined with snow in deep crevices. Their colors are arranged in layers, from bright orange to cement-gray sand. The valleys are flat with stubby, rounded shrubs crowned with bright yellow flowers. The flowers here are all yellow, orange, or red as if, by being closer to the sun, they can do nothing but reflect its brilliance. I know that it’s too harsh here to support anything but summer growth. The peace is deceptive, and I want to live here forever.
When our bikes rush down the long hill from Dead Man’s 8500’ summit, I am gloriously happy. After 25 miles on highway 395, we turn right onto Hwy 120 and gather together to wait while one of our team members changes a flat. Mono Lake lies before us, its blue only a little deeper than the cyan sky, its salty waters clear, calm, and seeming empty. My eyes feast. I cannot get enough. My camera and my mind take pictures, but I want to stand here and breathe, fully saturated in the air and smells and sounds of this remote, quiet, and dangerous place. ...