Hi Gram,
I woke up this morning and took the chance to have a slow, lazy morning. I read a little, chatted with my friend T’Rell, and had some tea and chatted with Mark. It felt good to take it easy and let me mind and body rest a little. Some days I’m excited and eager, but some days I feel like I’ve been going a thousand miles a minute and get overwhelmed.

After a while, Mark and I went out to the garage and did a little work on my bike. The store I bought it from had already assembled it, and I’ve been wanting to adjust the handlebars for a while. I had tried loosening them before, but the wrench I had in my portable toolkit was too small and wouldn’t budge the screw. Mark had some big boy tools and we were able to break the screw free and pull the handlebars back a little. They only moved a little, which is when I saw that the store had assembled it with the headset and stem backwards. Without a diagram, the best way that I can explain it is that the handlebars could lean way forward, further than anyone could possible want, but not back very far. They’re supposed to be able to lean way back, so someone with shorter arms can reach them and a little bit forward in case someone had really really long arms. I was more interested in going for a ride than taking the bike apart, so I left that task for later and we headed out.

One of the great things about having an ebike is that you can explore a little further from home without worrying about getting back. If I get tired or sore, I can just use the throttle and motor to get me back. I’ve ridden the bike quite a bit since I got it, exploring my community while getting some fresh air and keeping the blood pumping in my legs. My doctor wants me to walk or bike a little every day ever since I had the blood clots a few years ago. I’ve never gotten to ride with someone else, though, as I don’t know many people with ebikes. Mark got an ebike last year after hearing Kevin Ha expound on the benefits of using his ebike to get around town. I’ve been looking forward to riding with Mark on this whole trip! Mark lives about eight miles south of the actual town of Crested Butte, and the trail he wanted to show me was on the north side of town, so we had a plan. We set off, riding on the wide shoulder of the main road into town for a few miles, then ducking off to a trail that got us away from traffic for the second half of the trip into town. I sound like a broken record, but the scenery before us was just gorgeous as we rode. There was one part where the path widened out to the equivalent of a six lane freeway. I asked Mark why it was so big there, and he explained that the town needed SOMEWHERE to put all the snow… it made sense and made me realize just how much snow this town gets in a season.

We stopped by the deli and grabbed a couple sandwiches for later, then wound through town to a road that went from pavement to packed dirt to tight gravel to larger gravel and eventually to a narrow dirt path climbing up into the woods. We passed some people hiking or biking, but for the most part we had it all to ourselves. Mark, more familiar with the area, zoomed down winding trails past shrubs and trees and across bridges while I slowed down and took it cautiously, unsure of what was around the next bend.

The trail finally led to a bench at the edge of the river, facing the mountains and scenery that looked like it was painted by DaVinci from the imagination of a nine year old – old enough to know where the mountains and trees and birds and clouds go, but still young and innocent enough to believe that the colors could be that vivid, the details could be that clear and vivid.

We parked the bikes and sat down with our sandwiches to take in the masterpiece in front of us. This, to me, is paradise. Rather, this is a version of paradise, or as close as we can hope to get. Sitting with a friend, nobody else around, no phones or emails or social media anywhere. Looking out at a landscape so breathtaking, created over millions of years, soaking in the scents of the wildflowers and shrubbery delivered by a gentle breeze, the warmth of the sunshine embracing the skin. Eating a fresh sandwich made of real ingredients and drinking some cool, mountain fresh water. I can’t imagine anything better. My imagination can render plenty of ideas that are just as good, but this is as good as I need life to be.

Done with our sandwiches, we packed up everything we brought with us, loaded up the bikes, and headed back down the path we came up. Have you ever noticed that the ride back always feels shorter than the ride out? I think on the ride out, your brain is taking in all the new information, feeling the bumps and turns and seeing all the landmarks for the first time. Everything is so new. On the way back, there’s still plenty of new sights and smells and sounds, but there’s plenty of “oh yeah, we turn there” and “oh, this was bumpy on the way out”. These allow the memory to condense the information into a series of “oh yeah, that” moments that make the time feel shorter. The trail behind us and a quick jaunt through town, and before I knew it we were passing the school and riding the path wide enough to hold all the snow. A right turn here, weave past some boaters pulling their rafts back up to the car, cross the road and we’re on the downhill shoulder headed back to the house.

The nice thing about this route is that it follows the preferred method of hiking, biking, and adventuring. Start your journey uphill while you’re still optimistic and full of energy. Climb and breathe in the mountain air, and believe you could do this forever. Reach some landmark, like a breathtaking view or end of the trail or a designated mile marker, then turn around to head back. Maybe you sat and took a rest for a bit, maybe you ate a sandwich to renew your energy, maybe it started to rain and you decided that nature can wait, let’s get back where it’s dry. In any case, you’re often starting to get tired and maybe a little sore. If attitude was a graph and the optimistic start was an incline, the mood has started to level off at this point or maybe even started to fall back down again. This is where the magic comes in. All that uphill has become downhill and gravity is here to help. Just like the attitude graph, everything is downhill from here. Whereas the motor helped with the uphill ride into town, gravity took over and helped with the downhill back to the house. Our bikes coasted around 25-30 MPH and barely needed any pedaling for the second half of the ride home.

After a quick shower, I joined Mark out on the front porch with my book. I took turns reading, falling asleep, and chatting with him about sprinklers. I made a little more progress with the book, then headed inside so I could continue falling asleep while trying to read on the couch in the shade instead of out where the sun was starting to get close enough to the horizon to threaten to burn. Mark made another delicious dinner, we sat around chatting for a bit, then I was off to rest my weary bones.