Last summer, in the midst of my busiest week of work, I had one of those rides that sticks with you. So here’s its story.
Last July I was deep in work for Freeehub, work for NSMB, and work for the SRAM All Day Ride. I woke up early to draw, and by the time 9PM rolled around, I was a wreck from crouching over my desk all day. So I decided it was the perfect time to try these “trippy” gummies that I’d bought (100% legally) at a local gas station. The packaging claimed it had no psychoactive ingredients, so I popped one, and headed out for a late-night summer lap.
I usually night ride in the winter, when it’s cold out, and the folliage is all dead and down. So the warm wind, and the shocking density of leaves, all reflecting my lights back at me felt foreign as I climbed in the moonlight.
And then, when the clearcut singletrack transitioned to thick woods, that psychoactive gummy kicked in. It felt like if Mountain Dew Baja Blast had drugs in it. It was exactly as gnarly feeling as you’d imagine from a gas station gummy. I tasted metal in the back of my mouth and I charged the rest of the climb. I giggled all the way down, even as I first saw the bat, even as I started to gain on it, even as it tangled in my beard. It was shockingly warm and delicate feeling against my face, and initially I panicked, not wanting to snap its fragile bones, or tear its papery wings. But as I tried to slow, to untangle it, the bat launched itself off my beard, and fluttered back into the sky, unbothered.
So I rode home and woke up my wife and the dog, incredulous at what I’d just experienced. My dreams that night were weird, and existential and calming.
And then last Sunday morning I pedaled up the same trail I’d ridden that night, stone cold sober. As I came around the corner, I saw what I thought was a red heeler in the trail. But when it turned and trotted off, it didn’t move like a dog.
The bobcat was waiting for me around the next turn, and again, as I caught up, it ran around the next island of bushes. We played this game for a few hundred yards, before it slunk off under a bridge. When I popped out into the clearcut, I realized another rider had been just a few minutes ahead but he hadn’t seen anything.
So I finally tried to communicate what I felt that night with the bat in this comic. I hope you have some good run-ins with critters on the trail this winter.