pelican v

Unease drew me into the hills. A bit of a breeze, sunshine and snow melting on the tops. A minor need for a minor adventure. I'll admit, I'm a home body 90% of the time, relishing in good brew, food and a comfy warm imagination. However, inevitably when the last adventure ends the feeling of satisfaction fades nearly simultaneously with the arrival of a bored brain. Extra motivation can be cultivated from not currently knowing what or when the next one might be, the baseline can't be allowed to drop too low. The long humps on the bike can serve to fulfill the need for adventure, but only for a day or two. Unawares at the time, I was blown the 15 miles to the climb, which ended up being a snowy 3-mile push instead of a bicep numbing tug. A bit tired from pushing and feet clogged with mud, the sunshine finally broke upon my shoulders from the over the trees as the road leveled out. Using a faint map with hand-written notes, I mistakenly turned down a supremely challenging rubble strewn double-track. It looked as though there had been traffic, but only purpose built off-roaders or four-wheelers I supposed. Piloting my front wheel over loose boulders I kicked up a rusty Marlin rifle in the trail, I stopped to take a look at it, its chamber stuck open, the barrel severely rusted and the stock worn. A bit further down the trail which began to look like a dry stone river bed and less like a 4x4 trail at all for the lack of any distinct tracks, I saw some shooting glasses. I thought I might eventually find a body for all the cat poo and discarded sportsman's regalia. Instead, the trail vanished into a lawn which turned out to be an empty reservoir. The small stream that I'm sure once fed its water, cut lazily down the center and clove deeply through the dam on the far side. Some bushwhacking and I found a road nearby that terminated into private range land. Swerving around the gate and the "violators will be prosecuted" sign, I at last found the road I had intended to ride. Rutted and powdery it descended for a few miles down toward the pavement and the pan-flatness of the basin. Coasting from out of the shadow of the hills, I emerged into a headwind that slowly drained me to the point of feeling ill during the 25 mile paved ride home. A flicker of shadows danced in the corner of my eye. Obscured by the sun, a pelican v rose and fell, dove and rolled. I chased them, but it held no distraction from my fading. For all their maneuvering in the wind, they couldn't gain ground. I rode away as they finally resolved to tack their course against the wind and not attack it straight on as I had no choice but to do. If I could have pedaled as the crow flies I would have, straight back to town and out of the wind. Instead, I put my head down and pushed the cranks. I lost my love for cycling yesterday, but it was my fault for only bringing a couple bottles of water. Today, I'm just a bit sore, and the love has returned.