Biking in the snow

Biking In the snow




Old man winter beaconed us to come out and visit with his delivery of a fresh blanket of white snow.  So when everyone one was warm and cozy in their homes, we went out for an early morning mountain bike ride in the bitter cold.   The sky was leaden gray and heavy and the sun’s golden eye could not pierce the shroud.  The air was bitter and cut sharp on the exposed skin and our toes pained as we pushed the bikes forward.  The only sound was that of the tires crushing the snow that covered the hard land of winter.

We entered the living organism on a spindly dirt trail that was covered in a shroud of fresh snow.  It was so light that it swirled around like ghost dancers moving in and out of reality as we rode by.   We carefully rode the single tracks hopping the occasional logs, letting the bikes run down the hills and cranking it up the gnarly trails. It was so special, no one else entered our realm, just we and the forest and it consumed us.

All of the creatures were in a deep slumber, everything was locked in the frozen science, nothing moved, not a sound escaped and everything was muted.  The ancient sentinels  of the forest stood tall without movement at their posts as they had for hundreds of years, they had lost their canopy but their arms shrugged under the weight of their heavy limbs that were covered in the fresh white blanket.  They watched us pass under foot without saying a word.

We saw a rather large eagle silently glide through the gray firmament overhead. He disappeared into the grayness  across the icy waters. The lake was pewter gray, silent, and cold. Ice covered some of it and the shore line.  Even the normally playful, vocal and active canadian geese and the colorful drake mallards,  were all hunkered down.  They were silent, humble and huddled together as if frozen in time.

We passed some deer on the way to heartbreak hill and they were exceedingly silent as they slipped away into the depths of the forest. They wore their full winter coats now for the difficult winter siege that old man winter would through at them.  As we passed into a meadow, we saw a small herd of deer bedded down in the copper colored tall grasses under methuselah tree. The tree is unique and stands out as a multi-headed beast of the forest, we paid it our respects before heading onward.

After riding for about 1.5 hours, the Sun poked its tired eye through the leaden sky and with that everything came to life.  The shadows came to life and danced through and on the forest floor. The light streamed through the flakes of white powdered snow creating a kaleidoscopic array of colors.  The prism was blinding, it flowed directly into my brain and life was restored.  The animals were awakened and the birds sang melodious harmonies.   After the last stream crossing that was frozen, a rather large red fox guided us homeward on the spindly trail only to disappear into the depths of the forest.

So back in my home after a couple hours of riding,  I sat in front of a fire whose amber rays bathed my body in its warmth while it caressed my face with the softness of a lovers hand. The golden and orange rays streamed outward from the fireplace and illuminated the room in soft hues of light, it was narcotic like, and it lulled one into a dream like sleep.  My cat was snuggled in my lap and I was reading a soft bound leather book and listening to the soft sounds of Enya  and when the steel guitar and bass came together it was as though the angles and light of God surrounded me.  So at that special moment with this mot beautiful music playing, The book , the snow outside, the warmth of the glowing fire and the snuggling cat, I felt  all life was tied together in some beautiful way, like a thread that tied everything together that had a pulse and a meaning and I felt so lucky that I gave thanks  for all that I had.