The beckoning of spring has caught me by surprise. In winters past, both in England and Colorado, the onset of my favourite season has happened in a day. That fantastic day when you awake to birds singing, only to suddenly realise there are buds on the trees and the sun has real warmth that has been absent for many a month.

Without the harsh and bitter clime of normal Colorado, my spring happened in a gradual realisation that winter wasn’t going to stamp its feet and make itself heard. Contrary to what some might think, todays little lapse back into snow isn’t winter playing catch up, but the standard Boulder spring – the moisture we need, and the brake on life that can only happen when the weather won’t cooperate with the ‘big plans’.

As the misty morning clouds part enough to reassure me that the flatirons still exist, and the bright pink cherry blossom begins to shed its temporary veil of white, I will be drinking coffee and hurrying to take everything in.

Without such a day-pause (for want of a better ‘word’), I haven’t done much writing. Here is the catch up, in pixel form:

The ‘points’ game was taken to a new level. It got serious. reputation was on the line. This section of Devils backbone was one of only two that stumped us. Three hours later, we ended on five points apiece. Chainrings suffered and ego’s were bruised but this kind of competitive sessioning can only be a good thing.

When the mercury starts creeping up, I tend to head in the same direction. Walker ranch is a eight mile loop of washed out sandy trails and terribly sketchy descents, bisected by a hard scramble out the bottom of a steep river valley. We tested the water quality; cold.

Mt. Eve isn’t something that sticks out as noteworthy, unless you have a reason to look at it. Sylvan Lake state park outside of Eagle, Colorado isn’t what most consider a mountain bike destination in March, until you go there. Its only a short hop down the road from Vail, but the trails twisting through the scrub oak and sage brush right outside of town should be marked on the map by anyone driving I-70 to somewhere else. Stop here: its worth it.

I know someone famous. OK, not Blake in this photo, but Kiel Reijnen who slogged his way through Milan San-Remo. We watched from the comfort of North Boulder, Coffee and Pancakes, and then emulated his awesomeness with our own fanclub.

Rides don’t have to be long to induce smiles. Short sleeves and sunshine, empty roads. ‘nuff said.

Joe’s Ridge, Fruita Colorado. Someone should be thanked for the design of this trail. Or at least, the beauty of the Bookcliffs (from which these spines originate, before hitting the Grand Valley floor) need to be appreciated.