There’s no shortage of activities to do in Park City. Starting with fat tire biking. A bit of an acquired art, I started off on the snow, shall I say, carefully. Darren advised that momentum is my friend which gradually improved my performance, boosting my confidence as my speed picked up. What I didn’t realize as we cruised past the Olympic Ski Village (from the 2002 winter olympics), was that we were going downhill with the wind behind us.
As we continued on our loop trail heading back into town, now going uphill and into the wind, I started to really feel the 7,000ft elevation in my lungs. My speed slowed and my energy was failing me. I was truly put in my place when a runner cruised past me, overtaking with ease and disappearing off into the distance.
One more thing to note about the fat tire bike – other than how cool and what a lot of fun it was – was the seat. Skinny as the one on Darren’s road bike back home and most certainly made for boys, I cursed at the bruising blows I received (which I actively voiced at every bump just in case Darren was in any doubt as to my discomfort). As the ride progressed, I tried to hover over the seat to ease my numb bum, which only rewarded me with shooting pins and needles – and not in a good way. Note to self: when hiring bikes, make sure to request a cruiser style seat.
Some interesting artwork at the side of the bike trail. These could probably still go faster than me.
Next day was running. Probably the biggest drama was deciding what to wear. When I saw my running partner Paola kitted out with gloves, beanie hat and multiple layers, I did a sanity check, a weather forecast check, even stuck my toe out on the balcony to test the temperature. Barely above freezing, I added layers accordingly, and we were off.
I was hoping to see a beaver, as there are a number of sets, dams and evidence of their existence in the marshy river running alongside the trail. Unfortunately not.
There’s a really tiny Paola way off in the distance if you look hard enough
Yay, snow free patch 🙂
The elevation was a factor once again, but on the whole I was able to keep up. That is apart from over the snowy sections where I demonstrated my surefootedness in a similar way as a toddler taking its first steps. Meanwhile, Paola elegantly trotted off into the distance, like a nimble mountain goat.
More fun ‘art’ at the side of the trail – any excuse for a diversion 😉
Given this was supposed to be a snowshoeing holiday, it was high time to head up to some deeper snow and don our snowshoes again. We were blown away by the impressive views from the top of Guardsman Pass (and nearly blown away by the accompanying wind). Very much off piste, we were able to break our own trails, meandering up and down the steep slopes and taking in the scenery – reminding us again of why we love snowshoeing.
I have been known to get a tad excited over seeing animal tracks in the snow. At a remote spot where we spied some fresh paw shaped prints, I was convinced we were on the trail of a mountain lion. I led Darren down the mountainside, closely sticking to the lion prints, eagerly anticipating this would lead us to its den. I started to get suspicious when the tracks were heading dangerously close to a mountain lodge. Then my anticipation was rudely shattered at the sound of a dog barking. I guess Fido and Rover have paws too.
