The First Trip (part four – Approach)

As we head deeper into the forest the trees grow taller. Pumping the pedals. Everything is sweaty. After the blazing sun the cool forest. Almost chilly.

The sweat makes me cold. The light is diminishing. It’s afternoon now.

Sun on its way down. Gotta get to camp before it’s too dark.

We keep going. There are some big hills on the way through Marin and into the deep roads leading to the camp.

What to expect? Will we be carrying our bikes up trails?

Some camp sites have hike-in camping spots, and some have bike-only camping spots (China Camp comes to mind, which we’ll talk about eventually).

I took off my stupid batman belt that I had on. The clasps were falling apart, it was so chintzy. And pedaling, the regular repetitive movement of it, wears on the clothes, the seams, the body.

I’m getting tired. Many long uphills are taking their tool. Slowly up a hill, then down the other side at 30 mph, and then trying to use that momentum for the next big hill.

Road surfing, on bikes. Up and down, up and down.

We’re starting to get chilly, the chill of the forest that doesn’t get that much sunlight. The coolness under the redwoods.

The road is narrow. Not many people. Not many cars. Not many houses.

It’s the last part of the journey and we’re starting to get fatigued. At this point, we just want to get to the site.

I’m thinking of the food in my panniers. I’m thinking of how satisfying it will be once the fire is going.

We’re both tired. I can see it on my friends face. We have energy, but it’s running low. We’re slowing down. The ride feels more like work now than it did when passing through the city. 

Passing through the city there is this expectation feeling, where you’re just trying to get through all the crowds, onto an open road.

Well, now we’re on the open road and the trees are closing in and night is approaching and we’re just pushing those pedals.

The concerns of the workaday world fall away from my attention. Now it’s just a matter of putting one foot down and then the other, over and over, and repeat.

We don’t talk. We push pedals and breath heavy.

The hills get less steep. The topography levels out. It’s cool, we’re in a valley, and the sun is a memory. We won’t see it again until mid-day tomorrow, when we leave the forested area.

We hear running water. A creek.

The bike lane ends, and transitions into a wooded path that parallels the road. This is a great little stretch of the journey: no people, the coolness of the approaching dusk, the smell of the forest all around, the fresh air.