The shift to riding at night is one that I anticipate with some uncertainty each year. Will someone with the same consistent zeal for riding come through this year, joining me for the adventure? Will the trails be naughty or nice? Will I ride and play in the dark with abandon, caution thrown to the wind until I hit that patch of ice before mounting studded tires - only to feel the bike disappear from underneath me- with that hard hip hit that aches for a week?
So far I have been out for 7 or 8 night rides and been joined for three of them. Some are sweet, but mostly the social rides involve many stops for light issues and head issues. The chaos is expected. The good time with my buds and accompanying sluggish nature signals the time to downplay the virtues of speed and constant rolling - the solo times offering the chance to ride end to end without a stop. Alone, I unbridle my fitness, become comfortable with the myopic 8 foot radius of vision - and the darkness that blankets me when I stop, go silent, and turn off my light to breath in the night, the woods, the calm.
Last night I did the drill- hustling home after leaving work a bit early, rushing to dress and get out the door, and the anxious ride to meet the guys in time. Nearly always, the more I rush, the more I wait when we come together. It is a force of nature, complicit in reminding me the world turns as fast as the world turns, no matter how much anyone speeds up or slows down. Rushing and waiting come together in neat packages, just like order and chaos.
We rode out to Mast Yard which is accessedvia no more than 1/2 mile of road and then onto railroad bed and a joiner trail system known as Lehntinen Park or "behind the kayak place", or the Snowduster's trail which holds the essential nature of the ride. It combines several seemingly independent systems built for different purposes- snowmobiles, trains, hiking, barge tow roads, mast tree harvetsing - that mell together when we ride... for biking.
At the lot where I met my buddies, a tree-tall shadow man called out "You guys ride up by Runnells Road?" "Yep, we do." A hand extended out of the dark and we met one of the land owners that open their gates to recreation- a godsend for all of us who use land with little regard for the owner's perspective, yet we openly receive the gift to us all. He simply asked us to keep an eye out for anyone going by his house under construction. Another figurative bridge built between biker and the community.
During the ride we passed through about 2 inches of crunchy snow with some sections having been shielded from the storm beneath hemlocks where bare ground quieted the otherwise noisy crunch of our tires. We passed through a couple of sections of woods - briefly- that were like the sugar coated images in past cards and of National Geographic where on top of the snow that had fallen, crystalline sparklies had formed during the past day or so of cold. In one of these sections, sparklieswere seemingly suspended in the air. Mike and I remarked upon it but the others had ridden right through them, self absorbed or altered in some other way to miss the kiss of unique beauty. Each sparkle was multi-colored producing a prismatic illusion. Science explains the mechanism, experience notices the mystery. Both areas were down low and next to meadows so cold air from radiational cooling must have caused the phenomenon that evoked wonder- or vice versa.
3 hours later I rolled back up to my door and noticed a slight shift- that time had passed, that something about the driveway, the house, and me had changed. Not sure what- but different and right and a bit more worn in a natural way.
Riding at night. Welcome back.
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