And then we burst on it, a basin in roughness. The house used to be there, the well pump has fallen over, a tank, and furtive gravesite when just then a sharp light is a spear impaling my breath against wooden crosses.
And then we burst on it, a basin in roughness. The house used to be there, the well pump has fallen over, a tank, and furtive gravesite when just then a sharp light is a spear impaling my breath against wooden crosses.
We talk into the pitch dark night, that fluent wobbling meander of two glasses of a vintage varietal on top of the beers, flames low, laughing guffaws, tales finding finally a looking up introspection everyone else goes to sleep.
Falling asleep on soft sand that I made conform to my body, looking up at uncountable twinkles, my breath clouding into the Milky Way. There is no where we ought to be, just where we are.
Curving, arcing, up down big rocks babyheads sand sharp edges, tearing flora on both sides. Riding I love so much, slow crawling problem solving, hard but not catastrophic.
Riding out of Phoenix is interesting, hiding in the seams between development. Like visiting a secret orthogonal dimension world, where we could see out of it but few could see in. And then a barely perceptible slide then a burst into open country, the angles of constructed spaces a memory of an echo.
These routes represent the cumulative wisdom of nearly two decades of the Tuesday Night Ride originating in Williamstown, Massachusetts.
A splendid overnighter with a perfect crew.
The San José del Pacífico tour is not exactly single speed friendly, which I knew in advance, but I kinda cornered myself into it. Which was glorious and great but also colossally stupid because I’m old. Obviously, it was the perfect bike for the job and I enjoyed the challenge.
We were a happily motley bunch, with nary a “normal” bike amongst us. Fixie Dave and I were on Bike Friday’s new All-Packa folding ATB (Dave’s was fixed gear, of course), Chris was on a Velo Orange Neutrino mini-velo with a fixed gear and pulling a trailer to haul Eddy Merckx, and Micah rode his singlespeed Surly Karate Monkey.
With summer ending and craving a last reflection: I’d been to 49 U.S. States, North Dakota was the only one missing. Flew to Williston, rode the Maah Daah Hey Trail down to Medora. The last week has been transcendent. Not a splinter of shade over the dust and palimpsest of extraction, geomorphology, western mythology. Riding solo through exquisite sadness and exultation, 150 kilometers of singletrack skimming a parallel dimension of 19th century lore and desolation, an infinity of heat or clay or cricket clouds. And then a headlong return back into corporeality on dirt roads and highways defined by oversized load trucks and hazy decoherence. Invited by heat and time to be tolerant of loneliness and grateful for the lucid fractal hallucinations it makes possible. Laying in the vanishing coolness thinking about how to make myself not think anymore, just waiting until massless photons crushed my gravity into cyclical forward existential abyss.
I frequently visited Patagonia when I lived in Tucson in the 1990s.