The Ride, a bicycle adventure

The ride The dry yellowed leaf, once a verdant green, detatched itself from the overhanging graying branch as the gentle northeast breeze carressed its way thru the forested canyon. Gentlly surrendering to gravity's pull while it spun down to the duff covered trail to join it's bretheren as the man on the mountainbike pedaled slowly up the sloping verdant path. Knowing that this was only one of many yet to be undertaken challenges on todays ride, his first in many years, the mountainbiker kept his head and manouvered his way to the top and down the other side rolling along the dry dusty flat besides the truck farm where berries and who knows what else were being tended by peoples wearing large brown straw hats. The hot summer sun is beating down as he crosses the old wooden bridge careful to not catch a tyre in the gap between the dirt laden boards and enters into a tunnel of trees and bushes, the dark green leaves covered with a fine bull dust raised by passing travelers. Winding into the coastal mountains along an old logging road following the nearby creek awash in sunlight one moment and deep in shade from the towering trees and shore hugging bushes on the next, this rider breathes in the relief of being again in the bosom of nature.. Man and machine roll along crossing the creek once again over a narrow steel and wood bridge before the up to now fairly flat trail profile changes to become the days taskmaster. A wide trail is replaced by sinuous hardpacked trail, trod by thousands of day and overnight hikers along with the massive weight of many equestrian trail users and the rolling press of the bicycling throngs, following ever closer to the brim of the creeks crusty channel. Once here the trail goes ever upward, elevation gained in short lumps of effort overcoming the benches of millions of year old seashores. Laboriously he pedaled, for labor was the word of the day, breathing in great gasps, the tyres under his blue steed kept turning, turning, turning while the summit of the incline was inching ever so nearer. Little black flies buzzed his eyes and flirted with death by the intense vacuum of his mouth, drawn by the sweat dripping from his straight Saxon nose. In his mind he knew this was a test of not only his fitness, which he knew was not as of old, and his previously injured hip, but, also of his determination, yea his very will to ride as much of the formerly easy route as he could. The top was succeeded with nary a hint of victory, for to stop now would only lessen the desire to keep in motion. Forward up the forested road lined with redwood trees not much over 100 years old mingled with oaks and manzanita and lined with the tell tale red of the turning poison oak plant. Now a short respite along the crest of the incline followed by a too short and quick descent the brisk coastal air drying some of the persperation in a sadistic preparation for the next of several more dusty climbs along the track. The earthen enemy was conquered, one struggling effort after another until crossing the last footbridge leading to a twisty slow traverse of a granite rock imbeded singletrack along the picturesque creek, filled with boulders and fallen trees and showing hidden pools, concluded with a short flat roll along a red duff covered area. Here a postponement of work awaits and some raisins and an energy bar eagerly consumed with a huge draft of water from the bladder astride his back nestled in the custom gray and blue back pack. The soft burbling of the water moving among the rocks on a slow descent to finally tumble and slide into the mighty Pacific Ocean blends with the soft breeze flowing in the canyon rustling the oak leaves. Gone are the pestering black flies giving a restful time for today's turnaround point. At an elevation of some 300 feet above sea level means the trail back to the yellow Land Rover would be mostly an enjoyable coasting downhill bereft the arduous long inclines encountered on the way into the peaceful narrow canyon. Passing the blurring browns and greens of brush and trees focused on the hidden rocks and roots the rider skillfully descended the rockgarden and crossed the footbridge and using his tired legs surmounted the short rough hill. A deep breath and then rapidly down the other side full suspension working furiously, soaking up the unevenly eroded surface and a huge smile on his face carries him up the next short gradient followed quickly by a detour around a washout, thru a well marked singletrack amongst small redwoods and back onto the main trail. Once again a test for his already used up legs, the incline slowly overcome to the reward of the longest downhill in a darkened tunnel of fast, face splitting grin, motion. Hence rolling out along the south side of the creek until the arching steel and wood bridge comes into view and knowing that fully half the 7 miles back to the car are done, once more negotiating the trees in the drop to the old logging road. With the going not so tough anymore the miles pass quickly, back over the old wood bridge and past the truck farm, until the last formidable climb of the day. A slow crawl commenced at the bottom of the 40 foot elevation change in the dry dust and the hot sunshine continued with one pedal revolution after another the rider enforcing his will upon his flesh as the top of the grade crept into sight and was realized! Here he knew victory, blessed victory could be claimed as it truly was all downhill from here, in fewer than 5 minutes the rider pulled his bike up behind his motor vehicle, a 14 mile ride in just under and hour and a half including the break at the quiet turnaround spot. But best of all his hip was not hurting even though his legs felt like rubber :^)