hooligans holiday

the dirt is dry. 27% humidity is something not enjoyed since the high school days of southern arizona. the woods feature a 15 degree swing under the canopy of hundred year old trees. singletrack holds the season at bay. winters work is migrating via waterfalls and riverbeds to the ocean where it will mingle with the salt and evolve into something greater. the woods are a temple right now. day long trail traverse with the falcon without a word being said. thank you, my friend. he knew when he saw me that words were useless. borrowing from bukowski; "fuck it dude, lets go ride". therapy found in the buzz of hubs and gurgle of a bladder tube. finished with the aid of lithium ion illumination after a day in the sun. 81 miles, close to 14,000 feet of climb and descent. falcon finally finds the words and tells me "it's a hard thing to hafta know..."

word.

slept, finally. exhaustion will do that. creeped through a day of interaction, spoken words and repairs until the clockout and once again the woods called. new shooz. well, new version of an old favorite that once carried me to some healthy pleasures back in 2004. supernova trails, black once again and they finally renarrowed the heels and restored the proper fit. mckenzie, you old stand bye. i missed you. felt like a lifetime since my last visit. solo, on foot. vibrations take hold and provide guidance on this trip. no watch. only long shorts and shoes. minutes? hours? i don't know. enough to sweat and cover most of the trail. raw veggies, cold water and a burrito fill me while i stand waist deep in the water cooling and icing the legs. knotted. twisted. clenched. proof once again that the mind and the emotions affect the physical in many ways.

driving. reflecting. 48 hours spent on the body in the temple of mother nature grandest gift. my own little hooligans holiday.