I went for a long bike ride today out at the base, spending a few hours wandering in the sun and in woods that are changing rapidly.
For the past few months the predominantly hard woods of the base have been bleak and empty.
Nothing but brown trunks, brown branches, brown leaves completely covering the ground.
Often the woods would look lifeless and the skies would be grey.
As I looked around me on the trails during the winter I knew from years of experience that the bleakness would not last, but still........there were many times when I was aching for color.
I miss winters in Juneau. Always filled with the dark green of endless mountains covered with pine trees.
And on the too-infrequent days when the sun was shining, the combination of blue sky, blue water, green trees and glistening white snow was always breathtakingly stunning.
A beauty without words.
A beauty that could make you cry.
Every single time I ride or run on the trails now I am keenly aware of just how much is changing, how quickly everything is changing, and how different the place looks every single time I go out there.
The world is waking up again in Tennessee.
The brown and grey is being changed out for blue and green.
The silence of winter is being replaced with noise. More people on the trails although still much fewer than other mountain bike trails in the region. Gratefully. Thankfully.
More boats on the water.
As I pulled into the gravel parking lot that leads to the trails I noticed first that there were no more vehicles parked where the riders park. I smiled inwardly. Good.
There were two trucks with trailers parked where the horse riders park.
Two women were readying their horses and we smiled and waved politely to each other.
They headed down one trail head and I headed down another.
I felt confident that we would not run into each other out on the trails...............
I headed in and began riding single track.
Slowly, warming up, getting my head into the game, more interested in unhurriedly being outside and being physical than in making good time on the trails.
Five minutes in l I hit a fork in the trail.
The right one throws you into serious up and downs quickly. The left one begins flat with tight switchbacks, is longer, with hills that begin later and are more gradual in the early part of the ride.
I took the left fork..................
One of the things that I greatly enjoy each spring at the base are the dogwoods.
Trees that will be filled with green very soon, but right now, in spring, they contain many white flowers.
They are beautiful and they are everywhere.
Not only in the woods at the base but throughout this region.
Winchester holds a festival every year in April called The Dogwood Festival.
A typical southern festival.
One of the things I did for a few years was take part in the festival century ride.
100 miles of country roads that spanned through a couple of counties, climbed laboriously up the back side of the mountain to the University of the South, took you fast and furiously back down the mountain and then weaved you through many small towns and more country roads back to Winchester.
Most of the riders who did the century ride were serious road riders and they all seemed to know each other well.
They had that same easy rapport with each other that I felt at the time when I went to races and trainings and caught up with others who did what I did.
These roadies all had fancy and light and shiny bikes with drop handlebars, fancy and expensive riding clothes, fancy and expensive helmets (many with little mirrors attached to them so riders could watch for oncoming traffic), hard shell and expensive road shoes.
I did not travel in those circles so knew very few of the many riders who lined up each year early in the morning.
I was never a serious road rider.
Rather, I rode pavement to complement the technical riding I did on the trails.
A chance to increase leg strength, work on cardio, get used to spending hours in the saddle.
I was an adventure racer and even though I had tried many times to talk local runners and riders into trying AR they all looked at me like I had two heads when I told them what was involved.
The first time I did the Dogwood Century Road Ride I wandered before the ride to the back of the pack with my 1990's Raleigh hybrid bike, my dirty mountain bike shoes, wearing clothes that I had received at races - a race shirt here, a pair of socks there, an old dusty pack.
I felt out of place but that was OK.
I rode alone, and it was early in April.
Cold, windy and with a sky threatening thunderstorms.
It rained, but the storms never materialized, and when I got back to Winchester was happy to have finished but disappointed with my time.
The next Saturday I followed the directional arrows that were painted on the roads and did the century ride again.
Totally alone this time there were no other riders and no sag stations located at regular intervals, providing encouraging words and food and drinks.
I left Winchester at 7am and spent all morning and part of the afternoon riding the same route I had ridden the previous week.
This time the sun came out and it was ungodly hot.
I ended up finishing the whole thing within minutes of my last ride, only this time I was completely trashed.
I had taken a fall in gravel part way through the ride when I took a turn too fast and spun out, so had road rash along my entire left side from hip to ankle.
I was horribly sunburned in one of those weird and ugly ways that only a bike rider can get while riding in the sun for many hours without sunscreen.
Bright red arms from the top of my bike gloves to the bottom of my short sleeved shirt - bright red legs from the bottom of my bike shorts to my knees - bright red face with raccoon eyes from wearing sunglasses.
People I worked with laughed at me when I walked into the building on the Monday after that weekend.
When I finally got back to Winchester I collapsed in an exhausted and overheated heap on a bench in front of the bike shop where I had parked my truck.
As I lay on the bench (and while using my pack as a pillow) I pulled off my shoes and my socks, stripped off my gloves, and dumped everything on the ground beside me.
I lay there drinking Gatorade and water and eating whatever I had left in my pack, until I finally had enough energy to stash everything back into and onto my truck for the drive home.
A long hot day................
As I slowly progressed along the trail I stopped occasionally, quickly snapping pictures of the trail in front and behind me.
These small white flowers were growing in and around a downed tree on the side of the trail................
And then growing in a flowering and complex vine, winding its' way in and around other small trees close by..............
After a few miles of relaxed riding I came to a trail intersection.
I had planned on continuing straight, picking up single track again for another 3/4 mile before hitting a rutted out horse trail.
As I hit the intersection I looked ahead of me and was surprised to see this sign blocking entrance to the trail.
The sign simply said that the trail was closed and call this number with questions.
In all the years I had been coming out to the base I had never seen such a sign, and was momentarily startled.
No explanation but OK.
Without giving it a whole lot of thought I turned left and headed down a jeep trail leading towards the power lines..............
The jeep trail that I was riding on went straight for about 1/2 mile and then circled around and towards the back end of the trail I had been riding.
If I had stayed on the single track this is where I would have ended up.
As I approached the trail entrance I fully expected to see another sign blocking entrance to the trail from this end as well.
There was no sign.
I stood looking at the trail entrance for a moment thinking "well, that makes no sense" because if I entered here I would eventually make my way back to the sign I had run into.
What was the point of blocking the entrance at one end but not at the other?
Flowers - flowering trees - flowering bushes - are everywhere................
One day last week I climbed a long and grinding and rutted out hill.
When I reached to top I looked down a trail to my right and unexpectedly saw beautiful green budding flowers growing as a vine around many fallen logs.
They were lovely and covered a large area, and when I saw them I climbed off my bike, layed it down in the middle of the dirt trail, and spent some time taking pictures of my unexpected find................
Today I did the same thing, and smiled when I saw them.
The budding green flowers had turned into something else.
A carpet of very sweet white flowers growing around the fallen logs and winding their way up and around nearby young trees.
Again, I climbed off my bike, layed it on the trail and walked over to inspect these new flowers more closely...............
For the entire duration of my ride to this point I had been greatly enamored with all of the growth I had seen.
Green beginning to appear through the bed of brown leaves covering the floor of the woods.
Flowering dogwood trees. Flowering vines. Unknown pink flowers.
But as I approached this thicket of tall pine trees I was stunned.
I had been to the base only a couple of days ago to run and did not remember seeing this.
And yet here it was.
A still new and still growing, but already very tall thicket of new ferns.
As I rode down the trail and closer to the pine trees the light was perfect, the blue sky was perfect, the reflection of the green ferns was perfect.
My pictures turned out.........nice.........but does not reflect what I saw..............
The most beautiful sight I saw on trail today...............
20 minutes later I approached yet one more jeep trail, looked up and was very surprised to see this equipment located at the end of the trail.
Another first.
I had never seen heavy machinery out this way.
I stopped, unclipped from my bike, straddled my bike sucking water through the hose of my water bladder, and then reached down to dig my camera out of the side pocket of my bike shorts.
A sign for a closed trail. Heavy machinery.
I suspiciously watched them for a few moments and realized that they were cleaning out the huge wood pile that had been stacked stories high in the same place for..........ever....
How can mountain bike riders label a trail "Woodpile Road" if there is no wood pile?
Oh hell.
For a woman who has been through far too many changes in the past couple of years, THIS change was unsettling.................
The guys saw me as I approached, and stopped working while I rode by them and headed down the wide open dirt road.
One more unexpected surprise................
And then thankfully no more surprises for the remainder of my ride..................
These heavy purple flowers WERE a surprise to me the other day.
I was trail running at the time and coming in from the opposite direction.
As I pulled onto this trail I looked up and was suddenly completely surrounded by purple flowers.
Kicking myself for not bringing my camera with me I stood looking in amazement at these flowers, and then began walking, continuing to absorb the scene in front of me.
They were everywhere.
Stand alone bushes.
Bushes wrapped around trees.
Single and random purple blooms hanging from pine trees.
Wrapped and tangled up with other burgeoning bushes, wrapped and tangled and battling for beauty with the dogwood trees.
They smelled wonderful and I smiled as I walked, stunned at their presence, stunned that I did not remember these flowers from years past.
There was so many of them, and they were beautiful.................
As I came close to the end of my ride I heard the unexpected (but also familiar) BOOM of a sonic boom.
And then 15 seconds later heard the second one.
As I imagined my puppy quickly cowering to the safety of her "bunker under the desk" I looked up at the sky hoping to catch a glimpse of the supersonic.
Of course I did not see it.
Far too high and long gone.
So I snapped this picture of a much slower and much quieter plane instead..............
I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you................C. JoyBell C.
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