Nearly everything in the mountains is amplified and the
entrance of fall is no exception. The
energy and power of summer has grown weary and the forest is silent. The earth dries out and wildlife frantically
prepares for winter. Afternoons are still warm and for a window of time only
the nights grow colder. A few leaves fly
in the wind before the hills suddenly explode with red, orange and gold.
This is a time for reflection as we pause, ever so
briefly, between summer and winter. Our
recreation waits until the sun has warmed the forest. It is nice to be
unhurried. The objectives of the summer
have either been met or missed and the outcomes accepted. It is a time to look forward.
In this season of comfort it was unusual that I found
myself in the morning cold astride my bike before eight AM. Circumstances necessitated a completion
before one in the afternoon and simple arithmetic dictated the start time. It was about four or five Celsius with the clouds
and sun playing tag in a bright blue sky as I departed.
This was my first ride of the season with big gloves,
booties and a wool beanie under my helmet.
Summer is gone for good. My jersey pockets sagged with food and extra
clothing as I embarked on my long solitary ride. I passed through town and it
was comically quiet. In a week this
place will be busy with hunters getting coffee before seeking their trophies,
but this morning everyone must have still been in bed. In the summer this street is so busy you
almost expect to see jugglers on unicycles, but this morning it is deserted.
I downshifted and started the climb up and away from
town. In the shade of the hillside I felt suddenly colder than I had been in
the filtered sunshine. The ascent warmed
me and after ten miles I had only seen two vehicles. I scanned the hillsides for grouse and
deer. Squirrels darted across the road
and hawks soared overhead searching for their breakfast.
The road climbed gradually as I made my way north
alongside the Chewuch river. I wasn’t
warm and I wasn’t cold. My effort kept
my furnace stoked and I took comfort knowing I had a wind jacket in my back
pocket just in case. The eastern side of
the valley was still in the morning shade but the road had sunlight filtered
through the trees. I rode on the left
side of the road just to increase my sun exposure. There was no oncoming
traffic. There was no traffic. I felt like the only person on the planet.
As I continued north the road gained elevation steadily. I realized I had forgotten to account for the
conundrum of riding in the mountains. The higher you go, the colder it is. The increase in temperature by the day
warming up was almost perfectly offset by the decrease in temperature because
of the increase in elevation.
The grade kept my speed moderate and I was able to look around
searching for deer, elk and bear. Sightings are rare, but worth celebrating. On my return I would be going thirty to forty
kilometers an hour and my focus would be on avoiding the countless potholes in
this old road, so if I wanted to see wildlife, this was my chance.
Finally the valley floor opened up a bit and for the
first time on this ride I felt some warmth.
I pulled off my big gloves and rode with just my liner gloves on my
hands. My cadence was high and the road
continued to alternate between slight incline and steeper sections.
Nearly two hours into the ride the pavement ended and I
smiled at the wonderful sound of gravel crunching under my Sectors. As I
climbed and climbed the colors got brighter and move vivid. I was about 1000m (3,300’) above sea level
and autumn was ON!
The gravel road was steeper and alternated between soft sandy
patches and washboard at its end of season finest. I looked up the valley and churned onward. The valley floor was a mix of jumbled rocks
and a meandering stream that seemed to be in no hurry to send its water down
the valley. The ground cover was awash
with color and the mix of dark boulders and colorful foliage was stunning.
This spot was the site of a tragic fire in 2001 and in
the spring, when I usually ride this route, the black and grey of the snags is
only slightly offset by the smattering of green. Today the hills were muted grey under the
clouds yet the yellow on the valley floor was in bright sunshine and the
contrast was a treat I may never see again.
I passed the memorial to the young firefighters who died battling the
fire sixteen years ago. I bowed my head
out of respect as I rode past.
Any description I might try to convey would betray my
shortcomings as a writer and fail to relate the solemn majesty of this silent
valley on this crisp morning. I paused
and tried to absorb the scene. I wished
I could capture the feeling and relive it another time. The sound of my
breathing vanished in the vastness of the valley.
I had a keen sensation that reminded me that I was a
visitor to this valley. I could stay,
but not for long. I was a long way from people
and warmth. I ate a bar and thought back
to last May when I was here and the valley was flooding with snow melt.
It is such a dichotomy to be in mountains that have been
in existence since man stood upright, yet to be witnessing a color explosion
and light combination that may only happen a few hours each year. I soaked in all I could fathom then turned my
bike downhill and with the sun on my back I began the journey home.
I was struck by the steepness of the descent on gravel. I had been so entranced by the beauty on the
way up I had forgotten the unrelenting grade. The washboard and soft sand demanded my
focus.
When I was back on pavement I are a plum I had carried
and forgotten about until I felt it in my pocket. Then I zipped up for the speedy roller
coaster descent. My speed on the
sub-optimal pave’ demanded my full attention and only allowed for momentary
glances around me. I got in a good rhythm and pushed the pace. When the grade would let up or even turn
upward for a few hundred yards I got out of the saddle and pushed. I was feeling strong.
As I was nearing home I attacked a short hill and my
quads screamed when I got out of the saddle.
I was approaching four hours of ride time and I had spent most of it
riding a moderately serious tempo. It
was now warm enough that I took my liner gloves off and unzipped my jersey a
few inches.
Rolling back through town the tourists were now getting
lunch and shopping for things they didn’t even know they needed. I pedaled on and drained the last drops out of
my last bottle. Although I was tired the
climb back to the cabin was easy enough and when I unclipped from my clipless
pedals (ironic isn’t it?) I savored the satisfaction of a good day in the
saddle.
