The First Trip (part six – The Morning

The morning is tough. The fire has died, the chill has increased. We’re up early, maybe 8AM. 

The creek tinkles beside us in the gathering morning light.

It’s going to be a hot one today.

The hammock is uncomfortable. Sleeping, you don’t lie flat but lay like a banana poised over the ground.

Now that I think about it, I don’t think I had a sleeping pad that first time. Just a sleeping bag in a hammock.

Lesson: bring a sleeping pad (thin inflatable pad) to protect yourself from the cold. I remember waking up and my back was chilly. Not good.

The fire is smoldering, embers still burning, coals still burning amid the ash. We poke at it, get another fire started.

Wordlessly, we get food from the bear locker and hunch beside the fire. Though it is cool here in the forest, the sun is coming up and it will be beating down on us relentlessly once we leave the forest.

We eat. We lay on the ground near the fire. It hurts too much to sit. And we’ll be sitting plenty for the rest of the day.

Breakfast done, we start packing up. We let the fire burn down.

I’m still in my jeans and shitty shirt. Lesson learned for next time: bring clothes that are actually made for biking. There are whole companies based around making this products. Don’t try to reinvent the wheel, or the spoke.

We pack up and get ready to go. The park ranger drives by again, passes slowly by in his truck and waves to us. Sunlight gathers in the forest.

I pack up my two panniers, one being the “garage” and one being the “bedroom”–that is, one holds my sleeping bag, the hammock, a rain tarp which I brought just in case (didn’t end up needing it, although would need it on subsequent journeys), change of clothes, spare hat, socks, underwear. The other holds everything else–tools, spare tubes, hand pump, portable battery for charging phone, and other miscellaneous things.

There’s less to pack, as the booze was all drunk, and the food mostly eaten. There’s leftovers for the trip back.

I put my hat on and it is still wet with sweat and cold against my head. Everything is uncomfortable: the chilliness of the forest, the sweaty coolness of my clothes, the smells of sweat and dirt emanating from my body.

I fill up my water reservoir and secure it to the bike frame. I cinch the panniers closed and secure them to the bike rack. I re-seat my phone in its holder on the handlebars.

I pee on the embers of the fire, putting it out.

We walk our bikes up to the road from the camp. All is quiet.

It’s a Tuesday.

With a groan and a wincing face, I mount the bike. The seat feels like its got needles sticking up out of it.

A few minutes later and we’re back into the groove, pushing the pedals down, one after the other, putting miles under the wheels.