quiet dog

sunrise. the rhythm of windshield wipers parting rain. coffee and an abandoned trail head. the lashing on of threads with elements and duration in mind. checking to make sure the fuel for the day was on hand, plus spares for mishaps. the click and whirl around, checking air pressure and brakes and then a short, sharp descent and the sluggishness of judging speed into that first tight turn on a wet sunday. slick, wet wooden bridges with raw cut wood and sawdust from a recent resurrection. the mix of mossy growth, snow patches and lichen trying to figure out which season we are actually in. having a loon answer back the howl of my wet, snow clogged discs hoping for love and companionship from the steel beneath me. almond butter, banana and honey sandwiches while cold water falls from tree branches right down the back of my neck. steam rising off of wool. being impressed with how versatile musa pants are, yet again. acknowledging the lack of full commitment trying to clean a tech section in jagged lava knowing the water logged surface could turn on me and how different that mindset is in winter versus the confident dry of summer. dam controlled overflow beds awaiting that spring run off and how these trails will disappear for a few weeks while mother natures work is moved towards the ocean. being impressed with how ride able snow can be, but humbled by a slick, parallel root that keeps me focused. being grateful for having an entire trail system seemingly all to myself. understanding the confidence that comes from retracing your steps back to where you came from and taking stock in the ironic psychology in that experience. expression on a trail, an not having it hurt...in that way. the glassiness of a snow tempered mountain lake not quite cold enough to stay frozen, yet looks so still. the awkwardness of changing out of wet into dry clothes while the rain continues to fall. loading up a bike and hoping the speed and rain will make it cleaner than it is now on the drive home. remembering when you used to be able to do rides like this without having to have the car involved and missing that...yet again. sunset and the same rhythm of those windshield wipers. hank williams on the radio. dry, wool socks,heated seats and drowsy eyes.