riding on ice

There are studded tires for ice, and I wish I would have had them today.

Mountain biking is an incredible sport, and today was no less awe-inspiring than any other day. That's the thing about mountain biking. Every ride is a good one, except the ones where you wreck. During my rides though the forests, I have seen black bear, bobcat, deer, wild turkey, full moons, Carolina blue skies. Today, the world around me was blanketed in a quiet white. I saw only two other mountain bikers and the same number of cars. I rode about 7 miles up a logging road to the Blue Ridge Parkway. There was so much ice near the top that I had to get off and push for the last 10 minutes. The bike tires would just spin whenever I tried to pedal.

I shuffled my feet and my bike up onto the Parkway, which was closed to traffic and began my descent at about 5:15 p.m. I had 45 minutes to make it back to my car before dark. The Parkway was covered in snow and ice, making the descent treacherous. I fell three times, but the thing about falling on ice is that the bike slides out from under you, leaving you skidding on your rump. I escaped with no injuries, despite the falls and the two tunnels I had to get through, one so long that I could not see the light at the end of it (you know things are bad when there's no light at the end of the tunnel!). I normally carry lights, but today I did not. About midway through longest tunnel, worried that in the darkness I might collide with a wall, I got off the bike and walked, groping my way through the darkness until I could see a faint light at the end and then light casting itself on the pavement, the reflective lines down the center becoming visible.

I made it back, just as darkness filled the sky. It was a soul-stirring ride in a world of white.