It began harmlessly enough. The spring weather was beckoning and we'd been cooped up for a very long winter followed by isolation covid conditions. We opted to go for a bike ride to get some fresh air and exercise. After our first ride we discovered that we didn't have as much youthful energy as we thought. We were winded, spaghetti noodle legged, and plain tuckered out.
A few days later we tried again. It was better but we were still winded. Jim claimed he would need a written invitation to go on another of those exhaustion rides.
Whittaker found a blank card in the stationary box and wrote him an invitation. So we went again. We began riding once a week. Only rain deterred us.
We began to gain stamina and to feel more adventurous. The little boys have been learning about setting goals. They asked how long we thought the ride was. Unsure, I loaded an app on the phone and we set off on another ride. After we returned home, we consulted the app; 4 miles. Not too shabby. The boys decided this could be a goal. They wanted to ride 5 miles. Okay.
So we began to ride twice a week. And low and behold we rode 5 miles. They decided a new goal was needed... maybe something bigger! We mulled for a bit and then we decided, a destination might be a good goal.
The big goal: We would ride to the post office!
We looked it up. It was about 11 miles. So we began taking more frequent rides. We began trying new roads in the neighbourhood until we had ridden every road. We were still only averaging a little over 5 miles per ride, but now we were conquering rougher terrain and hills.
Daddy joined us on Sunday rides. Jim began doing little off-roading adventures when he got so far ahead of the boys and I. Riding in the sagebrush did not appeal to me and the boys.
We did not ride on rainy days. Our roads became mud. We also didn't venture out on overly hazy days. (due to the wildfires we had a few days of smoky air that we didn't think we should be breathing in)
We took visitors on rides with us. Caleb was vocal about his preference for shorter rides taken in cooler temperatures. Derek only wanted to go on one ride with us. Sarah had no qualms, but it tuckered out poor Boomer who ran the whole way.
There were a few injuries. Emerson took a tumble in some fresh soft road dirt and skinned his knees and ate some dirt. Whittaker took two tumbles. Once just turning a corner and misjudging the angle around some rocks. A second time, we were just riding along the road and he announced that he was going to fall. Only moments later, Jim veered to far left and bumped his back tire causing him to fall into me sending me into the ditch on the side of the road. Only Whittaker had scratches and a bad temper afterwards. But we all got back on the bike and kept riding.
By August we discovered that there was a road we hadn't yet explored. The adventure beckoned and off we went. We discovered that this was the biggest hill yet and would maybe even be a 6 mile ride. At one point as we were waiting at the top of a hill for the boys, I began to gather some rocks in my basket. I have a plan for many rocks and decided I shouldn't waste a rock gathering opportunity.
I should have wasted it.
(photo top left was the fateful hill) (This is the terrain we were riding in these days. I had no idea I was an off road mountain biker) (okay.. I tend to stick to trails.. bottom right photo is Jim out among the sagebrush)
It wasn't more than a few minutes later as were descending the new hill that we discovered that it was the steepest and rockiest terrain to date. The rocks in my basket didn't help my balance and I went headfirst off my bike and landed on my nose. I must have also landed on my left wrist and hip because as the day went on I discovered them to be very tender, but it was my cut and swelling nose that hurt the most. My sunglasses had cut into the outer nose and there was definitely some damage inside. A lady came out of her house to see how I was after she heard Whittaker yelling to Jim and Duncan, who were still riding ahead of us, to stop! He had abandoned his bike and begun running after them. Emerson had also abandoned his bike to come check on his mother sprawled on the rocky hillside. We assured her that other than my dirty, bloody face I was okay. We then turned around and rode home. Only a 5 mile day.
My basket was dented and they threw all of my collected rocks away.
From a minute after the wreck to about a week later. I really should have captured a photo when it was in its double black-eyed, swollen nosed glory.. but I had this dreadful headache.
We took a break from riding. It was almost ten days before we rode again. The hazy days and my recuperating necessitated it. But we set off again. A few simple rides at first. It wasn't long before we were tackling hills again. On one of the simple rides, Jim set off into the sagebrush as he often did. He had taken to trying to crash into some thistles. (he claims he was helping to reseed them.)
This particular thistle crashing expedition did not end well though. His bike hit the thistle and crashed Jim. He went down. From the road we saw him fall. Then we saw him stand up and then fall over again. Then we saw him stand up and fall over again. He was like a cycling jack in the box among the sage brush. After the third attempt to stand, we held back some of our laughing as we realized that the reason he kept falling back was he was injured. His hip. As soon as he stood he couldn't put weight on his leg. He couldn't lift his leg to get back on his bike. He finally straddled the bike and lifted it up to him. He was able to gingerly ride home again.
Once again we took a recuperating break. As the days were getting shorter and cooler, we agreed that the ride to the post office might have to happen next year.
And then the weather rebounded. There were some nice days again. So one Sunday we decided to return to the scene of my crash. We hadn't attempted to ride there since my fall. We were determined to make that ride because we thought it might connect to a road that would lead to an overlook of the green river. We had seen the river from the other side and felt certain that there must be a way to see the river on our neighbourhood side.
We set off. No rush, we paced ourselves. I was a bit nervous as we approached the fateful hill and took it much slower, and without any rocks in my basket.
We all made it safely to the bottom and so we continued on in our quest to find the river. This was definitely our longest ride to date. We discovered a rarely used access road that appeared to lead in the direction of the river so we turned and followed it up.. up.. up, but it began to veer away from where we knew the river to be. We could see another road in the distance that seemed to be the one we needed to be on but we weren't sure how to access it. Duncan went ahead trying to scout a path.. and then we opted to follow an antelope trail through the sagebrush that seemed to head toward this other road.
We began by riding. Riding through sagebrush isn't for the faint of heart. Every few pedals you hit the bush and it starts to send your bike leaning too far over and then you hit a rock or another bush and you're propelled the other way. Meanwhile the branches are scratching at your legs. Antelope trails are not ideal bike trails. Duncan and Jim forged on and soon were out of sight. I was doing my best with Emerson until I realized why Duncan and Jim had so quickly disappeared out of sight. The antelope trail we had been following did NOT lead to the upper road, it just looped around and took us back to the road we had been on before. We could now see that Duncan and Jim had headed back down the road in search of a fork that might lead to the upper road. There are no trees to block the views but the turns and hills do make seeing challenging, but eventually we could tell that they had indeed found the access. I sent Emerson to follow them and turned back to let Patrick and Whittaker know which way to head.
But they were gone. How could they disappear they should have been seconds behind me. Patrick is too tall for me not to see him. I was baffled. I turned and headed back toward the awful antelope trail. Then over the sound of the wind I heard some calling. I looked up toward where we thought the trail would lead. Apparently Whittaker had been struggling on the trail and Patrick finally gave up helping him every few feet and had instead hoisted both bikes up over his shoulders and they forged their own trail to the upper road.
Patrick then returned and carried my bike over the sagebrush and I followed along. We would be checking for ticks when we got home after all our adventuring. Within moments of my ascension to the upper road, Jim, Duncan and Emerson appeared coming up the road. We were a mere few hundred feet from the top. We rode on.
Low and behold at the top we discovered the river. We assumed it would be a cliff, but it wasn't it was a gradual descent down to the river's edge. We didn't go down, because we didn't want to have to climb back up and it was getting later and chillier. We sure felt accomplished though. A great end to our summer rides!
Except that it wasn't.
A few days later we determined that if we could ride 7.6 miles up over treacherous terrain and hike through the sagebrush, we should be able to tackle the ride to the post office. It was mostly a flat ride. We checked the weather. Arranged with Patrick to call every day as he left the job site. We figured if the conditions were good, we could leave when he called and meet him at the post office. (We were prepared to ride to the post office... but not home again!)
Three days later everything was perfect. So.. we took off. Indeed the terrain was mostly flat. Dirt roads, gravel roads, good temperature and no wind.
The vistas as we ride are of wide open spaces.
Sometimes there's wildlife... (the buffalo on the ridge are actually metal).. but the goats and antelope were real. The horses actually came running up to the road to greet us. The sheep just watched as we sped along.
For the first time all summer, we rode on pavement. Almost 4 miles of smooth riding. It was the first time we had to teach the boys to stay on the right edge and ride single file. Every so often there was a car, but most of the time, the road flowed out before us. One car that passed slowed and rolled it's window down and gave us a thumbs up and then there was some hollering as they passed Duncan... (friends of his) I'm sure they didn't expect to see cyclists, let alone one they knew.
We reached the highway and turned.. not onto the highway but into the cattle drift that runs alongside the highway. We planned to stay in the drift until we reached the post office. The highway isn't designed for cyclists, as lovely as riding on the pavement was, safety was preferred.
91 minutes and 11.3 miles later we succeeded. Reached the post office, reached our goal and boy did it feel good. And remarkably, we weren't exhausted or too sore! Duncan kept pace with us slowpokes but I think he could have done it in less than an hour.
We consider ourselves professional riders.. the official neighbourhood biker gang. We even went for another Sunday gander at the river, this time following the canal road to a lower spot on the river, only to discover that the grassy area before the river is very marshy. As long as the weather cooperates, we'll continue to ride. We're talking about riding to the junction (gas station), or maybe to the fish hatchery. Who knows maybe we'll ride to town some day.
The boys need a new goal. And bike riding has taught them that they can do big things, that they can overcome obstacles and get back up when they fall, that looking at what is right in front of you is the key to ascending a big hill instead of focusing on how big that hill is and that when the down hill, seemingly easy parts come, caution should still be taken so you don't end up flying over the handlebars and setting yourself back a few days.
