Though it's been a week since the Vermont Fall Classic, I still cannot post a report. My heart is too full; this is a ride that requires some emotional rest and distance before it can be put into words. But privately some of us have been discussing it, rehashing it, testing the accuracy of our own memories by comparing them against the memories of others'. And one topic that's come up is the quality of the dirt. A few of us noticed that it was differed from our local dirt, and different from the dirt we rode in previous events. At the D2R2 in Massachusetts and Southern Vermont, the unpaved roads were a dark brown earthy colour that turned muddy when wet. At the Kearsarge Classic in New Hampshire, the terrain was rocky. The dirt roads in Northern Vermont were a light grayish-tan, almost clay-like in consistency, dusty and tightly packed except for a thin top layer that was soft from the rains of previous days. When it began to rain again, this top layer turned liquid, but not muddy exactly. It was thinner than mud, less viscous. I was certain it was some type of clay. Others thought it was more sand-like. A rider who often cycles in upstate New York then described the dirt roads there, which are reddish clay and leave a pink residue over everything. Fascinated by these nuances, we admitted that we never gave them much thought until now.
All of this makes me realise just how unfamiliar so many of us are with the actual soil we live on. Paved roads have defined and homogenised our landscape for so long, that we hardly consider what lies beneath. Do most of us even know what our local streets would look like unpaved? The streets in the next town over? Can most of us determine what a particular type of soil is by looking at it or feeling it? I was in touch with these things when I lived in the countryside, had a garden, walked in the woods, but living in the city has distanced me from that awareness. Now cycling on dirt through different parts of New England has reminded me just how important it is. I'd like to learn more about our region's terrain, about what lies underneath the pavement. I don't ever want to lose that connection again.
The temperatures at Paradise hovered in the high 70's all day today while Camp Muir fixated in the mid-50's. For the past couple of days it's been VERY warm, and those trends are going to continue. This sort of news is great for sunbathing but not so great for the snowpack. 
I didn't quite make it down to the beach for the sunrise, but the sun was playing hide and seek through the clouds when I got there.
It was a chilly morning, but that is sand, not snow.
Surf and Sea Foam.
Sand and Sea Shells.
Wind-blown patterns in the sand.
About half way to the destination, the little “V” between the sharp peak and the rounded one, it had warmed up considerably. The drop in elevation helped but so did the sun reflecting off the walls of the surrounding mountain sides.
The Window is the exit point for all rain water from the Basin to the desert. As you get closer to the Window, about the last half-mile or so, the trail becomes solid stone that has been eroded by the force of the water flowing over it. There were several areas with pools of standing water.
The end of the trail. When it rains the water flows off the edge 200 feet to the desert floor below. I imagine it is quite an impressive waterfall when there is a lot of rain. On certain days of the year the sun can be seen setting between the opening of the “v” between the two rocks in the center.
I couldn't get a picture of the full height of the rock on either side, but the view was impressive.
And the obligatory self-portrait at the end of the trail. Perhaps it was because of the other hikes I had taken but this was by far the easiest trail I had been on. Except for a few spots, notably at the beginning, the trail descends gradually so it is a much easier trek back than the other trails.
Hidden amongst the shadows of the morning light, the trail winds its way along the Zion Canyon Valley, up that “short” wall on the left, through Refrigerator Canyon, up to the West Rim and on towards Angels Landing (the top of that center peak).
Actually, even in the full light of day, the trail is discernible from ground level only in a few places (like that diagonal “line” towards the top of the short wall).
Heartbreak hill. That's what I called this steep section nearly a mile into the trail. It's that “diagonal line” shown in the previous photo. And it seems like it will never end. And what's around the corner? Why, yet another steep section!
Taken on the way back down, this shows the switchbacks that had to be navigated before getting to the steep section shown in the previous photo.
The trail weaves its way though the Zion Canyon Valley. Looking back towards the start of the trail on the other side of the river (photo taken on the way back down).
After nearly a mile through Refrigerator Canyon, you get to Walter's Wiggles, comprised of 21 short but very steep switchbacks and named after Walter Ruesch, the first superintendent of Zion National Park. In 1924, he helped design and engineer these switchbacks. (Photo taken on the way back down.)
Ascending the last of Walter's Wiggles you arrive at a broad area called Scout Lookout. There is more to come, and believe it or not, the easiest part is behind you!