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Not Enough Leg

It has been so long since I’d used my off road bike that both tires were flat and the whole machine was covered in dust. With air restored to the tires and dust removed, I found that it still functioned properly. There was room enough in the bed of my truck to hold it low and almost out of sight and then a little more room for Leah’s bike beside it and we were calendared for a ride around a forested lake together.

I live in a town that prides its self on its so called urban forest where trees are vigorously protected by the dictates of city ordinance. From the hospital that I can see from my kitchen window, I have never been able to locate my house through those trees. From the upper stories all I could see is the green canopy with some few houses peeking through.

It’s even better out of town, where this whole countryside is a lush patchwork of fields and forests.

We took the back roads to Round Lake. It’s not very far so we still had light when we arrived at the parking lot despite our late start.

As usual, I over packed. My bike has an over the tire rack and on it was a tool bag, camera bag, and monopod. Everything was held tight by bungie cords. The bike is overblown in some ways too, with it’s dual air pump (push air by hand with a plunger, or hook up compressed C02), dinger to warn pedestrians, headlamp, tail lamp, rack, a profusion of bright reflective stickers, water bottle holder, speedometer, and comfy spring suspension. I soon discovered that it also had just as squeaky a set of front brakes as any other bike I’ve bought in recent years.

Leah rode to the end of the parking area up a pile of sand and gravel while I donned my helmet and gloves after securing the  camera bag and grabbing a water bottle. That done, we scurried up hill to the trail head.

The shifters operate cables across two sets of sprockets and I’d forgotten how exactly they worked so I had a little trouble responding to changes in the ground contour. A little fiddling with levers cured that.

We moved from the rolling hills near civilization into the wilderness forest

The Forest

The lake is surrounded by a forest of large and plentiful trees. Firs make up the greatest numbers, but there are big maples with huge leaves also. Ferns are plentiful also.

Ferns grow through out the woods

Ferns grow through out the woods

Evening light in the trees can be super beautiful so it’s quite the place to excite an artist! That reminds me: next spring I must go there when the little iris flowers are in their glory.

The entrance to the path started us down a steep hill, then up an even steeper and longer one. It was there that I took my first spill, which I attribute to the excellent brakes, if a little grabby.

Neither of us crested that incline on pedals. I ran out of steam far short of the top. My legs were drained, the same as that first day that I was allowed to stand after being confined to a bed 24/7 during a month and a half hospitalization.

Winded and only a few minutes into the adventure, I knew that trail could be an excellent gauge of my state of physical tune if I returned regularly. Were the time to arrive when I could propel a bike the full  lap around the lake, that would indicate a satisfactory level of stamina.

We brake-squeaked down and walked up several more hilly stretches.

If your brakes don't stop you, there are trees.

If your brakes don’t stop you, there are trees. Note the log imbedded in the path. Some of those are large. Most have a little path around the end.

Mostly the trail was smooth. Serious rock outcroppings in some places and timbers stretched across the path  to slow the winter runoff made for interesting contrast. Some of the trail was in full sun, coursing through grass and flower meadows, but most was under the canopy of an airy mature forest. Sun broke through so that throughout the shaded expanse, there were glimmers of evening light and illuminated leaves.

Unlike some wooded places, this one is quiet except for squirrels and birds. I’ve been in places where the din of insect noises is deafening. Not here.  We only heard the wisps of breeze, bits of conversation as we passed others, and our machines rolling over the broad trails lightly matted with conifer needles.

Whenever Leah spoke to me about what turns to take, or which trail bifurcations to follow, or where we should go, I told her I would go wherever she went. So she chose our way.

It wasn’t without thrills. One particularly steep decent on the smooth part of the path was scary enough that Leah got off and walked.

I gave advice about how to do the decent while on the bike and doing it. We were both amused at the fact that while she had gotten into no trouble at all on her own decisions, I – the adviser – went down twice. That was one of them. In both cases, I was turning and the front brakes got grabby.

There were witnesses to the spills. The law of witnesses where no actual intervention is needed is that everyone has to be assured individually after they they start the process by asking, “You Okay?” even though the victim is fully functioning, alert, devoid of spurting blood or misshapen limbs, and standing. One assurance is required per individual inquiry because no one hears any answer not directed to them personally.

One of the places where the trail gets rocky and emerges from the canopy into a meadow of flowers and grass

The place hasn’t changed. This is Leah and her mom six years ago  where the trail gets rocky and emerges from the canopy into a meadow of flowers and grass

After we navigated the rough outcroppings along the cliff, I think Leah began to feel empowered. She took us up a trail so steep and rugged that even pushing the bikes was just about the end of me. That’s when I noticed that the handlebar of my bike was coming loose.  Later I happily discovered that my tool bag had the necessary tools.

Just like in the old days, Leah brought a sweatshirt but this time it ended up wound into her rear wheel. She extracted it from the bike and I packed it onto my rack with the camera and mono pod.

We got to a smooth trail again and cruised along side the gorge that carried away overflow when the lake was crested. It was deep and picturesque with it’s fern lined cliff walls, tall trees, and those strange carve outs in the rocky bottom that looked like Swiss cheese holes smooth and round.

The trail was evenly populated with Russian speakers, Latino people, and locals. There did appear to be tourists from Asia also.

On the way out, we had a couple of last adventures. Leah wanted to check out the little slough that borders the wide path near the playground. It was so depleted of water that only murky puddles remained in a long mud bog littered with decaying logs that crisscrossed the length of it. Leah walked across some of them.

There are no photos because the camera bag was so well secured that I couldn’t get to it timely.

What happened to the water? Normal end of summer levels.

What happened to the water? Normal end of summer levels.

Then we pedaled to a cluster of trees that normally occupied a view point out into the lake. This day, the water was so low that Leah went past the normal shoreline down to a short rock wall then beyond it onto a gravel bar that extended well into the middle of what should have been lake.  A couple of Russian people passed us and the lady asked in all seriousness, “What happened to the water?”

“Water thieves,” I told her. “Dang them.”

I’ve never seen it so low, but Leah says she’s seen it worse.

This is how I remember the lake around the same place and what I consider "normal".

This is how I remember the lake around the same place and what I consider “normal”.

Leah in what should have been the middle of Round Lake.

Leah in what should have been the middle of Round Lake.

There was still water enough that it could be fished. One family was seen getting out of the tiny boat that had held all four of them and their fishing poles. Cute boat. The family clearly was from somewhere a very long way from here.

Leah asked if I’d considered doing a stone-hopping painting, which I admitted I had been thinking about for years but hadn’t figured designed yet. I imagined a stream interspersed with dry stones that flowed through a local forest and someone getting across it by hopping from one rock to another. So she hopped shore stones and I took a picture sequence.

She wanted me to get some full reflection pictures and a stone to stone walking sequence

She wanted me to get some full reflection pictures and a stone to stone walking sequence

When I packed the camera away so we could ride again, the bike was mysteriously frozen. Something was binding the brakes, but Leah identified the problem. I’d passed a bungie through the spokes. I told her it was an anti theft measure. We had a laugh , I removed the feature and we headed back into the civilized part of the park.

For a few moments I lost her just when I thought we were leaving. I circled back and found her in the branches of a large vine maple where she lay like a panther along it’s sprawling branches against the glorious backdrop of it’s own canopy of light green leaves slightly illuminated with what was left of the evening light as it passed through them.

This was a diversion so fitting for a girl still in school! Climbing a little tree. It made me smile.

Even the return to the parking lot was an adventure as she showed me a death defying little side path that allowed us to wring out just a little bit more excitement from the ride.

Actually, once there, we both just had to go up those sand piles at the end of the parking area.

It was a successful outing, but it showed that I’m out of shape with not enough leg to do the trail without walking the bike. Leah proved sensible and fun, neither shunning adventure nor risking life and limb for it.

:  )

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