Quick ride to a neighbourhood ‘secret spot’ that really isn’t secret because I found it via the well-worn footpath off the main trail.
Sunday morning Dirt Church solo ride. Early morning a small black bear jumped out and ran in front of me on the trail for about 100 metres before jumping in the bushes. I thought it was a cub, and waited for others or Mama to pass, but after I stopped, made a ridiculous amount of noise talking to them, no one else materialized, so maybe he was actually a young bachelor bear returning from a rough night and wasn’t sure which way home was. Well, we’ve all been there. It was a tough day for handlebar accessories. First my @quadlockcycle mount stripped (probably due to my OCD over tightening) then, on a particularly bumpy and rocky downhill section, the silencing arm of my Incredibell Trail Bell that was Death Star customized, seems to have flown off. I didn’t notice at first as I had the Beastie Boys’ ‘Check Your Head’ bumping in the Air Pods. After going back and searching for like 15 minutes, I couldn’t find it and gave up. It was a long downhill. So much carnage in one ride.
Got out for the usual weekend ride. Some beavers had felled a tree across the trail, so I followed their drag marks down to the river and sat there for a bit. Took a bunch of pictures at few minute intervals of the same ridge of trees trying to catch the sun lighting them up. Did some yoga and stretching in-between. The little white speck in the bottom left corner of the photos that looks like dirt is a reflection of the Moon in the river. Then basically followed the sun coming up down the Nashwaak River to the Saint John before meeting up with Titus for a trip out to Oromocto and back. Post-ride root beer in the Clubhouse was sublime.
Universal Truth #1,437: when you are chasing the sun coming up down the Nashwaak River to its confluence with the Saint John, it really doesn’t matter that you never get to know who wins. (Note: Your results may vary. Can be applied to other rivers, trails, alleys. Test on a piece of scrap wood to ensure desired results. Offer not valid with any other offer. Proof of purchase required. Don’t try this at home, use only in a well ventilated area and only under hip-hop supervision. -Ed.)
Last day of August. As good a reason as any to go for a bike ride.
Got out to meet Titus for a ride today. On my way I stopped on the walking bridge across the Nashwaak River to watch for a bit and I was talking to myself as I usually do. I was actually talking out loud, so people – if there were any around – could’ve heard me. Then it occurred to me that I had no idea ‘who’ was talking. I don’t know who was talking really, or whom that person was talking to. Who was even listening? Who is the person hearing it? Sam Harris tells a funny story about this. When we are talking to ourselves – why are we talking to ourselves? We already know what we’re thinking – why do we tell it back to ourselves?
It occurred to me that in a way, my life is like a movie that I am both the only director and only audience of. Sometimes the other actors in my movie don’t follow or respond to direction. This can equate to suffering, if you choose to let it. Or not.
The last four photos of this were a bit of an accident. I got down this hill and expected Titus to come barreling down it, which I thought would make for a great photo. He was taking forever to show up, then he appeared – walking. He’d decided to walk a tricky section.
Damn actors, not following direction. What’s one to do?
Ok. Film is rolling.