The Backroads

We decide to load up our mountain bikes Saturday afternoon and explore a gravel road that David found near Lake Wedington, a lake just twenty minutes from our house. The lake and the recreational area surrounding it has been around since at least the time that my parents went to school here, my dad taking my mom on a picnic back when they were dating, my mom telling me just a few months ago that he only brought bread and cheese, thinking that would be enough for the both of them. Lake Wedington was host to many an outing when I was in school here as well, both my dormitory and David’s holding games and cookouts together, all of us gathered along the lake shore. Today, it’s still a popular place for hikers, fishermen and families to explore and play, with the added feature of mountain bike trails.

But I’m actually not a big fan . . . yet . . . of mountain biking. Those narrow little dirt trails that wind around bluffs with steep drop offs right next to them make me a little nervous. Add in the speed you can pick up going downhill and it can be little hair raising.

Thus the safe, wide gravel road that David picked out for us to ride along.

To use a Joe Quote from when he was learning to talk: “That’s much more better.”

We splashed through streams and climbed long stretches of road. We came to forks in the road, each of taking turns determining which way to go. We had to stop a couple times to climb over huge fallen trees, lifting our bikes up and over. The wild plum trees scented our way, their fragrance our reward for the pedaling we were doing. I had to stop a few times (well, more than a few) to walk my bike up hill, my runner legs not used to biking. I spotted violets, bluets and Johnny-Jump-Ups growing next to the abandoned dirt road we were traveling. Looking out across the little valleys, the taller trees sported the finest of green lace along their branches.

We talked along the way, discussing various podcasts, fitness, the difference between single track and double track trails, our trip to Wisconsin and the beautiful trails that we used. We talked about the upcoming storms that we were expecting overnight. We rode in silence, too, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

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Maybe David will make a true mountain biker out of me yet, but as long as there is good wide dirt to ride on and a creek to splash through, I’ll ride my little red bike with him anywhere he goes.