Trail Love, or Bridge of Sighs

Maxwell, My Stunt Double, at Bandemer Park BMX Track

I took my first post operation mountain bike ride last night on the "Local Loop." I even snuck onto the BMX track in Bandemer Park for a furtive spin over the humps. Every other time I've been there kids are flying on it and I'm far too self-conscious to perform in view of their trenchant gaze. My version was quite milquetoast, but still fun as a cartoonish slo-mo variation.

The Bridge

Farther along, after crossing under M-14, weaving through the woods, up over the infamous logpile, and eventually across Pontiac Trail, I came upon a couple "spooning" (forking, knifing, panning, potting) in the woods behind Leslie Park. They were seated and entwined on the narrow wooden bridge over the steep trench drain. I had to wait while they liberated their interwoven limbs. They were in advanced middle age, so it took time.

The Logpile

I was patient as I watched their laborious extrication. They looked like a pair of aging vines that had been wrapped for eons as they detached from each other tendril by archaic tendril. Rather embarrassing for them, judging by their sheepish looks, since, though surrounded by a major roadway, a large housing development, a city park, and an active golf course, they thought they were somewhere in the wilderness and humans never ventured this far into the depths of that deep dark forest. I would have gone around them and left them to their allemande, but the drain had a wide channel of water coursing below and it would have dampened my Sidis.

The Logpile Up Real Close

Eventually they stood aside, brushing themselves off and muttering to one another. I crossed the bridge and rode beyond them toward Olson Park, letting them know over my shoulder that a pair of bikers I'd seen earlier would probably soon pass their way. I pedaled with abandon through the nearby trails for the next half hour and returned by the same route. I rode unimpeded over the now open ladder bridge, passed another trail rider coming my way, then found the couple trudging up the single track, acting a bit grumpus interruptus by a knobby civilization bent on crushing their sylvan romance. " Oh, you again," I said, and received a grunt and a sullen look.

Local Loop Beater Bike

It was a beautiful Indian Summer day for a ride--warm, blue skies, leaves in full chromatic glee, the heady musk of fall in the air--and at least some of us felt joyous and fulfilled by the marvel we'd been given, if only for a short time, before we retire for the season to the succor of our heated homes. I rode happily along the narrow trails back the way I'd come, my front wheel dancing over the responsive earth.

Ah, the great outdoors.