Halloween Shred Session
When Mother Nature gives you sun rays in the fall in the Northwest, you get out in them. All the better that the scene is a vibrant canvas of autumn leaves punctuating the evergreen forests—all of it ready for carving muddy tracks around and through. The day after a Sleepy-Hollow-esque Halloween Eve and its masquerade parties, was a lazy Sunday—the kind that begins by rolling over to nestle deeper into the warm covers, then ever so slowly realizing that oh!: it’s sunny outside, it’s autumn and… you survived last night’s madness. Time to ride bikes.
Sunday afternoon shred sessions—bikes or boards—are some of the best. They’re carefree, laid back, unplanned. Somehow they just flow to the right rhythm, time- and energy-wise. They’re made of those good vibes that come with no expectations, but then overflow with childish fun. It’s just getting your fix—that feeling of the soft dirt under the tires, the pop in the air, the plush compression and solid smack of a landing. It’s the fast smooth corners and dancing down through the snaking line in perfect concert with the beat of the trail.
See, Sundays were made for tromping around in the damp woods with those special people who get why you feel at home here; who need know explanation why a mud-splattered face, tired legs and heavy smokey breaths make you feel alive. Those folks who will session a jump as many times as you need them to so that you can get that one shot in the slowly diminishing light. They do it because they love riding bikes, and because, really, there’s no pressure on days like these.
The rain stayed away just along enough for Billy and I to play around at Duthie, which was a quiet, sleepy hollow in the wake of the Halloween festivities. Then the clouds rolled in and a Northwest fall evening transpired. We retired to the warm shelter of the apartment in the city. It’s cold out there these days. But I like it. Means winter is on the way.