night ride

Inspired by night riding yesterday, and the preceding hours ● John Muir Mountain Bike Trails, WI

Night is a strange thing. Perhaps it’s the cloak of darkness that can make the suite of emotions that one regards it with seem so nebulous, to sway from the realm of fear into one of wonder at the whim of the day. Or rather the decisions that have been made during the day.

The decision had been made to charge up the lights and pack the bikes for a night ride; once the computers were shut for the day my dad and I hit the road. It was a beautiful fall afternoon. The kind where the world seemed to hang on the precipice of the last Indian summer. Clouds hang in silent display of the turmoil brought to the skies by the changing season, their silhouetted figures revealing a snapshot of the urgency with which they skidded across the horizon. As the light fades the world takes on a two dimensional feel, the contours of trees and clouds show in flat, crisp detail against a fire orange sky.

Even in the parking lot, once I’ve committed to getting out into the cold and the dark, the decision to dive into the woods in the dying light raises the occasional hair on my arms. What unknowns lie out there, just beyond the reach of my headlamp? Brace through a few minutes of giddy suiting up and we are on the bikes and rolling into the forest. As soon as we are moving I feel better; feeling the cool, wood scented wind rush by instantly fills me with a sense of confidence I rarely find off the bike.

The ride progresses into a speedy flow through the forest. With nothing but the ground in front of us illuminated, there is nothing to focus on but the present and immediate future. I sometimes feel like I ride smoother at night because of this. By the time we’re done, it feels sacrilege to return to civilization. The dark forest that an hour earlier had prickled my spine had become a haven.