[Closed for] the season…
Waxing philo: Having two seasonal sports gets complicated. The brain has been switched to mountain biking. But there’s fresh—beautiful, glorious, white fresh in the mountains. What do you do when the bike is looking at you, but the snow is calling? Do you pretend not to notice? Do you blame it on the weather? Yes. As the weather grapples with its own identity crisis, we get tossed into the turmoil of which mode of shred to pursue. Should we hike to that sweet, soft(ish) powder, making ribbons of our own, tying up the end of the season with love and lust. Or do we push out those thoughts of one–or two–last sailing, floating moments for that schralping feeling of hauling ass down trails while the 6-inch conquers any and all challenges strategically placed down the perfectly hard-packed, but gnarled and mangled trail?
That’s spring in the NW and it’s as f-ked-up and schizo as us addicts.
Only thing to do is head for the hills. (And go for a hike.)