My, my, this blog is becoming a little bike trip log, now isn’t it?!
Aside from getting to eat more of my buffalo chicken strata than expected, another plus of missing the tailgate on Saturday was the fact that we were able to conserve energy for a night ride across the High Trestle Trail. Joe and Andy rode from Des Moines (they got a bit lost, but the one-way was about 40 miles) and Ellen, Miss Caroline and I drove up to Madrid, where there’s a good checkpoint. (And a bar called the Flat Tire Lounge, which I did not experience this time around.)
One thing I’ve noticed about my more frequent rides is that they tickle my sense of smell in a way that makes the seasons more vivid. You forget in a windows-rolled-up kind of world what autumn smells like. The darkness also sharpens the other senses, with only your bike lights and the moon to guide you. It was pretty crowded on the trail on Saturday and although the point of the full moon ride is obviously to experience the moon, next time I’ll definitely go before dusk so I can see the valley underneath the bridge.
Aren’t these lights trippy? It’s like riding into a time warp. I half expected to launch into hyperspeed and end up in the year 2087 or something.