Senses Writing

I would rather be at Two Rivers right now. Two Rivers is a mountain bike park situated where the Finley and James Rivers meet south of Nixa. This is where I went on some of my first group rides when I started mountain biking. Its beautiful. Big trees seem to go on forever from where the blue sky meets at the top to the blue waters of the rivers down below. The trail starts going up, never seeming to stop. There is the taste of caramel in the air from the dust that is kicked up by us riding. We would ride for two or three hours, stopping to take a break every now and then. I would drink from my Camelbak looking at a tree that was hit by lightning. You could still smell the chard wood, reminded me of a barbecue. When we started back up we spooked some birds from the trees, screaming in irritation. After a long climb the best part starts- the decent. I would catch myself listening to the air rush through my helmet going downhill and tasting the sweat on my lips as we rode back up. Our bikes are quiet except for the clicking of the freewheel. Its not uncommon to hear and see deer and beavers scamper off as they get startled by me going by. The musky odor from the moss and damp earth grows stronger the closer we get to the bottom of the mountain. You can hear the river flowing and see fish swimming in it. The trail gets faster and faster the farther down we go, switching from worn smooth rock to hard pack dirt and back again. It almost feels like I'm weightless every time I crest a mound. The trees grow a little to close for comfort at times, scraping my elbow as I ride by. The greatness of it is that it always changes. Its never the same. One day you go out and its as hard as can be, you're aching and sweating and the bugs are eating you alive because you forget your bug spray, or the spray gets in your eyes! Another day its seems like the easiest thing in the world and relaxing. The flowers give off a wonderful scent, but the pollen makes me sneeze. The maple trees give of a sweet smell, hinting of the syrup within. The sun setting spreads across the sky and water in a rainbow of color that seems to go on forever. It brings to a close what was a wonderful day. As we ride our bikes down to the parking lot, crunching over the gravel, we see some other riders washing their bikes down from all the dust. We take a break, waiting in line. I wash my bike off, dry it, and re-oil it. Its a weird mixture – oil, sweat, bug spray, and water. But it seems so right together. I take a drink from my Camelbak. The water tastes sweet and fresh, after all the dust I've ingested. The only thing better after a hard ride is a nice cold beer with my friends in the rest area. We sit and chat about our experience until it gets almost too dark to see. We take the signal and head on home, waiting for the next trip.