Nite Ride

Darkness gets a bad rap.  Admittedly it can be scary.  That fear may be based in reality or, I suspect more commonly, in our own minds. Darkness can also be beautiful. Tonight I found it particularly stunning.

When the sun was setting and temps dropping my muscles were warming.  In Duke Forest I stopped with the last traces of daylight to bundle up with remaining layers and snarf a few handfulls of trail mix.  I resumed pedaling into into darkness.  Helmet lights and handle bars lights fought a losing battle against the encroaching blackness.

Light and temperature plunged like two kids leaping off a dock into a summer lake.  My eyes strained at the darkness and my toes stung with the cold.  Then mother nature delivered a stunning second act.  A steep climb slowed my pace and revved my engine.  At the slower speed my senses adjusted to the darkness.  The work of climb fired my internal furnace.  Suddenly I could see. I could see the world bathed in soft moonlight. I reveled in the delicate balance of the warmth of my work against the cold darkness. The world slowed down and I slid into place like a link in a chain.

Night is really just mother nature's way of turning down the volume.  It is the visual parallel to taking the artificial noise out of modern music that is added to enhance loudness and overlaying a baseline synchronized to cardiac rhythm.  Take away the blaring and banging. Take away the noise. Take away the excess and leave the adequate.  Read the book, without the neon highlights.

Moonlight provided enough light to see the trail with an incentive to feel the trail. I could just make out the gravel crunching under the tires.  I could discern the edge of the trail by the change in texture and shading. Soft steering and harder pedaling attested to deeper gravel that sight only suggested. Trees and grass were present but winter's brown weight was shrouded.  The moonlight and headlights were bright enough to see what I needed.  I could perceive the here and now and get just a wist of the trail ahead.

I inferred enough to miss trees on the trail and steel cables at trail heads. I found the road along with the noise of cars, headlights, and civilization. I turned around and retraced my steps through the moonlit forest reveling in nature's mute button.