The rush of adrenaline and endorphins from riding was like nothing else. The pull of the earth as I round each corner, feeling the suspension of my spine and that of the bike enforces the feeling of oneness with the machine as it simply becomes an extension of you or perhaps the other way round. The twinge in my legs and back as the rear tire finds loose gravel on the ground and slides ever so slightly in the turn. The vibration in my hands as the smooth caress of the fresh glistening asphalt abruptly changes to the course, dull, gravelly pavement of old surface. I can feel the wheels of time roll back as the trees and plants around me begin to become larger and more majestic. The road gyrates in all direction, distracting me from the changes that are now rapidly occurring. Signs are posted to beware of Elk crossing. While looking at the huge display of moose statues in the campground, I suddenly notice one of them move, and look back from across the 50 yards of grass to say "Moose? Where? AlI I see are Elk!"
On a quiet road in the midst of Redwood giants, I dismount from Dragon and note as I venture onto a small path that even the smallest vegetation in these woods is almost my height. I look up to see nothing but tree...large enough around to almost encompass my peripheral vision; this tree has burrows in the base large enough for me to easily fit into, yet when I look up, straight up the tree, I cannot see the top, and I can't see sky either. There is a gentle breeze in the forest, but not enough of a breeze to rustle the vegetation as it just did 50 feet away. Seconds later, another sound--only closer and this time from the left. Turning, I realize that I have ventured several hundred feet into the forest, although it didn't seem that far when walking tree to tree and taking pictures. It is now an overwhelming distance between me and the safety of Dragon. Slowly, but with purpose, I make my way across the distance and when, once again, I feel the familiar solidity of paved ground under my riding boots, I turn quickly to see what it was that was following me. There was no movement. At this point, even the wind has ceased. Climbing back on Dragon, we (Merlin and I) set out further north in search of where the Redwood Nat'l Park meets the ocean. I am awestruck at the site! The Redwoods are on one side of me and the Pacific Ocean is on the other. Looking out into the ocean, I walk down the course dark sand that makes up the beaches and shoreline of northern California. The tide is on its way in along with the fog, as it creeps its way onto shore and steals away into the redwoods. Here, I said my last farewell to Merlin, reminding him that we finally made it together. Here is where the last of his ashes will lay, but I am not parting with his loving spirit and wisdom as they will live with me forever in my heart.
The return trip was an exercise in melding stamina, determination, and pure joy into one passionate ride through the same curves that so challenged and inspired my riding some six hours before. Now, however, it is dark, the sweet yet pungent smell of decaying redwood and leaves fills every breath with a reminder that I am in the presence of the most majestic living plants I have ever experienced. They stand tall against the cold and wind, having witnessed the entry of man if not life into their midst. Throughout the course of history, the forest has thrived in spite of the changes it has seen. On the edges of the road where the asphalt impinges on the daily life of the forest, eyes glow in the brilliance of the headlight, many looking back to take heed of the possible danger, others looking askance at the oncoming object, stunned and motionless until the final seconds of my approach when the animal makes a sudden decision to dart one direction or the other while another simply freezes, looking on in horror. On this night, we are not in harms way--me or the animals in the forest.
On the final stretch, I feel the cold dampness of the pacific seeping into my suit. Following the coast in these hills requires many turns and switchbacks and the ocean and wind seem to know it, together finding me at my most vulnerable, leaning hard into a right switch while climbing hard. Just as I accelerate to complete the maneuver, a cold blast of wind races down the road carrying the salty mist of the sea and blurring my vision once again. On the straightaways, the wind hit the cliffs and wraps around the top pulling me closer to the edge. In the distance is a faint light. That's it. The end of today's journey. Ahhh, what a brilliant day! I wonder what tomorrow...
~Topher
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