Happy Romance Card Day,
Local towne election pollings suggest the desire for a multiple romantic outlets to display Hott spotts and rusty cycling couture. I've written delegates of Gnarniaville towne proper, and in aiding my run for comptroller, I've decided on this format as I sadly can't figure out how to host it on Angelfire or Geocities. Enjoi! -j.cøöl
We made camp the first night at an abandoned stone ranch house, complete with fire place and yucca stem roof. Nearby we found abandoned cinnabar mines, along with all the weird stuff that goes along with dusty ghost towns at dusk. Here we were treated to quite the sunset, and Jared channeled a space robot with hi powered SLR arm attachment.
After the mountains swallowed the sun and devoured the electric afterglow for dessert, the clouds cleared for yet another cinema of nature. The stars of one of the darkest places in the Americas shown brightly among the moonless sky, and could be viewed nastalgically through our ruined thatch roof. The fire place was all too tempting as evening temp approached Norde-Mex frost madness. Here we heated up our coconut rations and tucked in for the night. Foto contributed by @rivbike.
Day 2: began with the frosty tendrils of heavy poler vortexing reaching our sun baked time capsule. It was to be a chilly day for tanning, but tan we must. Here's Jared starting the day with a few puffs of creosote that we dried on the mantle the night before. Pipe made from entirely locally sourced artifacts, fair trade from me to Jared.
Off we rode around solar noon for some lazy pedaling and bike pushing gnar. Pushing works the glutes from a different angle, and really tones the buttocks for that Top Gun beach look.
We knew we had to make some shelter before the icy nightmare vortex set in, so we spotted some caves, ditched our bikes and hiked up an ancient creek bed to our home for the night. Here we birthed a roaring fire as Jared chopped wood with boulders.
Day 3: It poler vortexed on us heavy duty that night. Jared kept the survival fire going as Lorde Adam and I spoon train-ed him like olde scout leaders.
More sunset burroshit as we pedaled to an oasis and adobe ruin for some spring water and less survival based romantic sleep for the night.
We rolled some wakki red carpet down to a creeked cottonwood grove, where Lorde Adam washed "1000 years of dust" out of his hair *british accent emphasized. We drank our fill until we pee didn't look like Ecto Cooler anymore...
Up and at em. It's time for our morning Zumba calisthenics led by the spirit of Pancho Villa.
Back in the sleds for another day off bro-ing and shredded wheat waves. We needed to rooster it to the rondezvous check point by solar noonish to add more Hott boiy to our company. Manfred and Griz are doing compound power lifting moves under tanning lamps and natural sun out there at a strategic local.
Day 5: If yer still following the story line, you most likely posses volumes of Ivy League intellect and class. This is for you. Star studded Hott bod cast of rando boiyz, tastefully nude at the Hott spring rendezvous. @grizzaa and #manfred showed up here at 3 am, turning this Rio Grande spring into a historical hotdog boil resembling a Coney Island if sorts.
Since we were in the park, and had boiled out roughly half our body water weight, we decided to stay out of the sun for once and go nature hiking. If we had only packed the squirrel suits...
Late start hitting the wakki trakk, but it truly was the magic hour... Well, in this wizard land, it's more like the magic 3 hrs of generally royal purple Hott mists. It was great to be ripping rails with so many good brüz.
The sunset lasted for eternities. Truly the best of the trip, and my recent recollection. 360 degrees of dragons breath nukage Geiger readings.
Let's pretend we pushed all day, cuz maybe we did. But at any rate, we eventually evaporated into the nukage and our atoms split spawning a masculine metamorphosis. Hott tans.