with a nor’easter on the way
Zeke and I retreat to Shearwater forest
We were walloped yesterday, dear reader.
The nor’easter that blew up the coast came with the intensity and fury of a surprise public colonic and just as welcome.
We knew it was going to be messy.
The night before I got a text from Zeke
Shearwater’s running great. Sneak in a ride before the storm?
The trails on the periphery of the former airforce, now naval base have been there since the late 80’s. Zeke cut many of them.
These days lazy locals use them as doggy toilets, leaving golden and brown gifts every few metres.
Fun fact dear reader: Once, after enjoying some cheese, I had a poo-mergency in that very forest. Bereft of a shovel, I left behind a pile of pancake batter, only to later find out from an acquaintance that his dog had rolled around in a mess of human shit, in that very forest. He then asked the group of us who does this?
Who does?
Me.
I’m almost as messy as a storm, almost as messy as Gary’s dog’s face after he rolled in my remnants.
But I digress…
The woods there and the trails therein are fairly well traveled - so much so that during the summer months Zeke and I will ride there as ‘tech riding practice’. It’s a mess of roots and rocks and at times, almost unrideable.
But with snow and heavy traffic, rutted, rooty, rocky trails were packed smooth and hard. It’s like a paving crew went into the forest and laid wet, white asphalt all along the way.
Riding yesterday was incredible.
It was a blast.
Except…
You see, dear reader, in thigh deep snow, people tend to step constantly in the same places. Even walking in a group, people tend to move single file making the packed strip - the rideable surface little more than a foot wide.
This is, as the young people say, problematic.
You see any deviation from the skinny little patch of packed perfection leads to front wheels sinking far above the axels.
And that?
Well, that leads to wipe outs - many wipe outs.
Lucky for me, the same snow that stops progress and sends one careening over the handlebars provides a soft surface for landing in.
You’ll be setting lap records out here all day Zeke.
Having built many of the trails there, Zeke can ride them in his sleep.
This is the best I’ve seen it here in thirty years he said as he sped off once again.
I can never keep up with Zeke in those woods.
In the summer, the rocks and roots slow me down. Despite that, I don’t crash. I have room to pick my lines and worm my way along weaving from one side of the trail to another, slowly and methodically finding my way.
In the winter? The ice sure smooths stuff out. I spent a lot of the day riding mere metres behind Zeke.
I would be right there with him, until of course I made my inevitable deviations from the straight and narrow path and ended up in tumbling, snowy mess.
In reality?
I likely made my way through the trail system in the same amount of time over all. Sure, my top speeds were higher than ever, the results of my mistakes were far more spectacular. Only a puffy blanket of powder saved them from being catastrophic.
It’s difficult, dear reader, living as a fool. I always seem to have one financial concern or another. Tour guiding and writing are not going to guarantee financial security.
I had thought of maybe joining the military as a reservist. The lure of a steady income is pretty intoxicating right now.
But if I did that?
I’d have to get a lot better at riding on the straight an narrow icy strips of human conformity.
And I don’t think that there are any soft landings on the margins.
Instead?
I’ll take my lumps and ride out with the rocks and roots of choice.
Sure, it’s more work, but the crashes are less catastrophic.
After almost three hours of bliss the first flakes appeared.
We peddled back to the truck and loaded up our bikes.
By the time I dropped off Zeke at home, the sky was shitting like a lactose intolerant imbecile in the forest.
It was messy.
I guess in the end, it really doesn’t matter. Straight and narrow puts me on m’arse. Rocks and roots pound me down.
One way or another, we always seem to get where we need to be.
One way or another, it always takes the same amount of time.
Smooth or rough?
There are no shortcuts.
Keep spinning you fools!
