From time to time I've had a pretty good time mountain biking on single-track trails. Normally I am willing to try it just to please somebody else. But it is hard not to think about the adolescent recklessness of the sport, and that gnaws away at enjoyment.
That is why a recent ride is worth celebrating. I was just flat out in-love with a single-track trail for the first time ever. It was a new section of the Arizona Trail, which bypassed the town of Patagonia.
Here is what the terrain looked like.
You can see the spine of the dendritic ridgelines. The trail followed rough isoclines about 30 feet from the top spine. So the trail looked like gloriously perverse S-shaped curves.
The foreground was grassland. The background was lorded over by mighty Mt. Wrightson. But at the bottom of the declivities were large live-oak trees. To appreciate this fully, remember that the western third of North America is a barren leaf-less wasteland.
A cold front had arrived that day. There is nothin' in this old world of ours that beats chilly, dry, sunny air. The chilliness was a bit worrisome until the gradual ascent warmed me up. There is a perfect moment when you stop resenting the cold, and immerse yourself in it to the fullest of your imagination. You feel chilliness and warm sun equally and simultaneously, without them canceling each other.
In town it was dead calm but it was blowing a moderate breeze on the grassy ridgelines. Once again I was able to stop resenting the breeze, but to glory in its Promethean power, as a seaman would.
And yet, the crowning glory must go to the ground. After tolerating the ghastly rubble of the lower Colorado River area (Quartzsite, Havasu, Yuma) I was finally riding on ground that was 90% soil and 10% gravel. It is possible to relax on the descents because you aren't worried about smashing, bashing, and crashing into rocks.
Whoever built this section of the trail deserves an award. It must have been by a machine.
How I would love to watch this machinery building a new trail.
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