Comin’ in Hot

November 11th, 2021

A la, Rog from ‘Men in Blazers’ infamy, my fingers are tingling in anticipation of a ride only 10 months away. As I sit here at my cozy kitchen table, I wonder why cold toes and a dripping nose seem so appealing? Oh yes, I’ll likely be with cool people. Also, the route. I’ll probably be on a bike too. That helps.

Although I often come up embarrassingly short, I strive to be a manifestation of positivity. “So, what if it’s raining and cold?” I’ve got good gear and snacks for that. “So, what if you can’t ride that section?” I’m an OK hiker. “So, what if we lose the trail?” At least we’ll be in the woods. These things bring out my best clichéd self.

Above all, I dig being outside in an unforgiving landscape. Last weekend my brother Matt and I were descending the Lung Ta Path at Cochran’s Ski Area. Cue sketchiness. The leaves were wet and the rocks were slick. It was as fun as it was gnarly. The climbing was beautiful(ly hard). The descents had nets. The type of net that keeps you from descending off a 150 ft. ledge. These things conspire to expand my perspective and snap me from whatever domestic slumber I’m in. I inevitably find myself saying, “Today, I’m alive and lucky.”

As someone that has been fortunate enough to live in a few different places, I’ve learned to love where I am. I don’t discount things just because they’re local. If I spin left hand blue, I’m all about left hand blue. I don’t assume inferiority. I used to dream of what it would be like to ride the White Rim Trail in Moab. Now I dream about riding The Sugarbench. I dream about SMBA and KP and TNR’s and the Fox Parcel and all the nearby nooks and crannies I haven’t seen yet. As a family, the adventures we access from our front door are the best. Local is gold. Love the one you’re with. They’re there waiting for you.

木漏れ日,
Andy