I look around and smile.
I mutter aloud, "What a beautiful day it is" in broken breaths as I push my legs harder, turning pedal after pedal.
I found myself atop the parking lot at Black Hill, in Morro Bay, California. What a gorgeous area, what a miraculous place to call home. I see a car and a grin is immediately stretched across my face. I see some dudes, some that I recognize. They're a few years older than me, but the only real difference between me and "them" is that they've got a car and I'm here on my bike. They're still selling pot driving around in a car leading their little lives around a gasoline based enjoyment. I continue onward and pedal myself onto the trails. It felt great to get my tires in contact with some gravel and dirt. My wheels scraped the shale to call out a perfect, "rrrrrippp" sound. That's something I've gotten use to, a false alarm. My tires have strong enough sidewalls, and journey upward continues.
At the top, I look around. I see the Morro's, the West Cuesta Ridge, and the rest of the Santa Lucia's nestled against the violent cliffs of the Pacific.
"Beautiful day," I muttered again. I found myself mildly delirious. I wanted nothing more but to be able to get naked and throat sing for a moment, but this I knew would be unacceptable here. Timing and placement is everything for the stage our actions play, and this was not the time.
I did find myself meditating peacefully. And, as I gazed at Hollister Peak, a couple approached me.
"I remember them!" my thoughts seemed to scream.
"could you take our picture?" The young pregnant lady asked me.
The thought, "should I just tell them so this can be easier?" flashed across my mind. "No," my brain responded. "If you told them now, everything you say from here on out will be regarded as nonsense and you will appear to be a loon. Just let them draw conclusions on vague inferences on their way back to their car. They'll get it eventually." This mental garb with myself took only a second before I responded to her.
"Of course, would you like the rock in the background?" I asked politely, referring to Morro Rock, a great spectacle for tourists from all across the world.
"That would be great!"
I found myself asking to turn the camera on sports mode and I took a number of photos. I found myself, "getting into it," as I took a number of photos from a couple different angles. She had a great Nikon without an adjustable lens, so I found myself being the adjustable focal length, moving forward and side to side. I even got a few pictures on the other side of the top of the hill with them having Hollister in the background before they asked if I would like a photo taken. After taking my own and collecting my email address, I talked with them of places to go, places to eat, and where not to get ripped off in the "Happiest place in America."
"The pictures of me," I thought, "are not entirely for me to receive later, but are mostly for them to have on their nice camera, for them to be able to recollect on that momentary part of reality where my path crossed with their paths, it was documentation that it had truly happened. Forever they will go on knowing that in my reality, their reality is also important. And, in acknowledging each another's subtle importance being exchanged in our brief contact, I hope they know that there is a part of this county that forever welcomes them."
After departing from them, I thought to myself, "yeah they probably know I was buzzed on something,
but I suppose it is my turn to be the wild local with strange stories to tell"
The mountain biking continued for another 5 & 1/2 hours that day. I think I covered nearly twenty miles and had a lot of fun on some great sized jumps in between.
What a wonderful Monday, I thought.
I realized it was Monday after thinking for a moment how wonderful of a day it was. It was a surprise. And then it occurred to me, "today is Monday. I have my mountain bike, a damned fine one that, and I know how to control well, I have everything I need for the day in my Camelbak (including more mushrooms), and the only thing I have to worry about is making sure that I can get myself a place to sleep tonight"
It was time to eat more mushrooms.
I mutter aloud, "What a beautiful day it is" in broken breaths as I push my legs harder, turning pedal after pedal.
I found myself atop the parking lot at Black Hill, in Morro Bay, California. What a gorgeous area, what a miraculous place to call home. I see a car and a grin is immediately stretched across my face. I see some dudes, some that I recognize. They're a few years older than me, but the only real difference between me and "them" is that they've got a car and I'm here on my bike. They're still selling pot driving around in a car leading their little lives around a gasoline based enjoyment. I continue onward and pedal myself onto the trails. It felt great to get my tires in contact with some gravel and dirt. My wheels scraped the shale to call out a perfect, "rrrrrippp" sound. That's something I've gotten use to, a false alarm. My tires have strong enough sidewalls, and journey upward continues.
At the top, I look around. I see the Morro's, the West Cuesta Ridge, and the rest of the Santa Lucia's nestled against the violent cliffs of the Pacific.
"Beautiful day," I muttered again. I found myself mildly delirious. I wanted nothing more but to be able to get naked and throat sing for a moment, but this I knew would be unacceptable here. Timing and placement is everything for the stage our actions play, and this was not the time.
I did find myself meditating peacefully. And, as I gazed at Hollister Peak, a couple approached me.
"I remember them!" my thoughts seemed to scream.
"could you take our picture?" The young pregnant lady asked me.
The thought, "should I just tell them so this can be easier?" flashed across my mind. "No," my brain responded. "If you told them now, everything you say from here on out will be regarded as nonsense and you will appear to be a loon. Just let them draw conclusions on vague inferences on their way back to their car. They'll get it eventually." This mental garb with myself took only a second before I responded to her.
"Of course, would you like the rock in the background?" I asked politely, referring to Morro Rock, a great spectacle for tourists from all across the world.
"That would be great!"
I found myself asking to turn the camera on sports mode and I took a number of photos. I found myself, "getting into it," as I took a number of photos from a couple different angles. She had a great Nikon without an adjustable lens, so I found myself being the adjustable focal length, moving forward and side to side. I even got a few pictures on the other side of the top of the hill with them having Hollister in the background before they asked if I would like a photo taken. After taking my own and collecting my email address, I talked with them of places to go, places to eat, and where not to get ripped off in the "Happiest place in America."
"The pictures of me," I thought, "are not entirely for me to receive later, but are mostly for them to have on their nice camera, for them to be able to recollect on that momentary part of reality where my path crossed with their paths, it was documentation that it had truly happened. Forever they will go on knowing that in my reality, their reality is also important. And, in acknowledging each another's subtle importance being exchanged in our brief contact, I hope they know that there is a part of this county that forever welcomes them."
After departing from them, I thought to myself, "yeah they probably know I was buzzed on something,
but I suppose it is my turn to be the wild local with strange stories to tell"
The mountain biking continued for another 5 & 1/2 hours that day. I think I covered nearly twenty miles and had a lot of fun on some great sized jumps in between.
What a wonderful Monday, I thought.
I realized it was Monday after thinking for a moment how wonderful of a day it was. It was a surprise. And then it occurred to me, "today is Monday. I have my mountain bike, a damned fine one that, and I know how to control well, I have everything I need for the day in my Camelbak (including more mushrooms), and the only thing I have to worry about is making sure that I can get myself a place to sleep tonight"
It was time to eat more mushrooms.