Lake Salinda: January 2020

"To appreciate the beauty of

a snowflake, it is necessary to stand

outside in the cold."
Aristotle

 

We have been spoiled by an unusually warm winter thus far, except for a couple of frigid days in November.  So the change from soaking rains and near 60 to 17 overnight, well, it was not really something I was looking forward to.   Still, when morning came, I wanted to do something.  Diana had bowed out on hiking, so I decided to grab my mountain bike and head to Salem and Lake Salinda to try the new mountain bike trail there.  I expected the cold and wind, I did not expect the snow.

Now I lay no claim to being a mountain biker.  Yes, I have done quite a bit of gravel.  At times I have even ridden my road bike on dirt roads or light gravel.  But I have never really ridden through forests and over roots and on terribly uneven ground.  I got a mountain bike to ride on the roads when it was snowy out.

As it rained the night before and was so warm, I am not even sure if the trail will be frozen enough to ride, but if not I will just ride the roads.  I am meeting my daughter for a movie and an early dinner, so I head out early as I need to get home in time to change and drive to our meeting spot.  The predicted sun has not yet arrived, and as I drive, the most beautiful snow begins.  It is not a snow that will stick.  It is not a wet snow that melts.  It is a dry snow that the wind immediately blows from the road so that the snow forms patterns that change and swirl along the roadside and in the road.

I arrive and find the beginning of the trail.  It is only after I have gone a bit in that I remember that this bike does not shift like my road bike.  Indeed, I find that I do not quite remember how it shifts.  It is no help having bar mitts on the handlebars as it hides the shifters.  After almost falling struggling to remember how everything works, I decide that perhaps some riding on the road is in order.  

And so I ride up and down the road on my mountain bike.  A few cars drive by and I smile to myself wondering what they think of a lone cyclist out on the road on a mountain bike when there is a trail nearby.  It is definitely more windy as I head north, but the wind is not as strong as I feared. The shifting begins to come more naturally.  And I am dressed warmly.  Despite the cold, I am not uncomfortable.  As my time to ride is limited, I decide to head back to the trail again.  My desire to ride on it wars with my concern that if I fall and can't walk or ride out, I will freeze to death rather quickly, so I proceed rather cautiously.  

I am much more comfortable this time round, but not comfortable enough to ride too far in.  At times I still feel hemmed in by the narrowness of the trail.  I admire how the trail has been made so that in one place, you can make a jump if you are advanced enough skill wise or you can ride a path if you are not.   And I find I am enjoying myself and the beauty here. I begin to worry less and concentrate more.  Relax more and tighten less. Handle the bike rather than fighting it.

I run out of time altogether too quickly and it is only when I get in the car to head home that I realize I have even been lightly sweating.  As I have said before, the hardest part about riding in the cold, at least once you have the clothing, can be talking yourself into walking out the door.  While I don't anticipate ever truly being a mountain biker, I enjoyed myself and I will go back.  Never hurts to work on a new skill set.  And when you are not dead, you are still alive.  The snowflakes God sent were just the icing on the blessings in my life.  Despite my longing for green and warmth, there is still beauty in the world.