Essay: On the Reminiscent Ride
On one of the first rides atop the new gravel bike, a suggestion to visit an old mountain bike trail was thrown out there for consideration on the return trip. We were riding with Eric (we all remember Eric, right?) who made a day trip to catch some miles in his old haunts. That suggestion set off excitement in Eric and for the rest of the route, meanwhile I found myself trying to remember the topography of the trail.
In the meantime, we sought out hidden gravel roads. Central and northern Bucks County features at least two dozen unpaved sectors ranging from quick gravelly parts to steep and narrow roads that could pass as glorified trails. They are especially interesting when SUVs come down them as one would on our ride. There aren’t many places to go, especially if the SUV is toting a trailer. But I digress.
It’s been quite dry since the end of summer and the first weeks of autumn. The white gravel roads demonstrate the parched status by painting roadside leaves in heavy dust. There was hope a late September storm would provide a drenching. It didn’t, but the small amounts of rain were welcome. In the meantime, the gravel roads mimic the dusty clouds that follow Pigpen, the Peanuts character. In something we take for granted, the gravel roads cluster around the state park we were targeting - High Rocks, a clifftop vista part of Ralph Stover State Park. All of the unpaved roads powdered under our bikes.
We turned into Ralph Stover State Park’s campground for the full High Rocks effect. This trail is some of the most technical cross country mountain biking in the northeast. Shale is strewn across the area. Logs stretch across the path in numerous places. Rock gardens challenge balance. Drainage ditches arrest momentum. Meanwhile the hardwoods surround the area. On this day the yellow leaves provided an illuminated setting.
At one point Eric pulled up. He was waiting for me as usually happens on rides. Thinking it was one of those catch-and-goes I was ready to roll. Eric then began to talk about how High Rocks was one of his first places he mountain biked. I agreed with him, recalling that High Rocks was the only place at the time to ride mountain bikes.
I thought back to 2005. I bought a GT iDrive second-hand to try something new. In truth, the bike spent more time at Guy’s Bicycles than it did in my possession. I used my tax return (remember those?) to buy a terrible factory bike rack for my Saturn (remember those, too?). I joke that an entire mountain bike in parts is strewn about High Rocks courtesy of me. I would attack the trails with reckless abandonment, insisting I was cycling correctly.
Eric talked about coming along a little later. He would ride from his house to High Rocks, do a loop, ride to Nockamixon, do a loop, and ride home. All this happened before responsibilities and general tiredness before 9pm. He waxed lovingly about that first mountain bike, a Cannondale, and his regret for having let it go years after his memory. What we wouldn’t give to have crossed paths with our younger selves at that moment. Or maybe we did and we didn’t recognize each other.
Eventually the ride returned home. The cycling computers were stopped. Bikes were racked or loaded into cars. As is the case for all rides, the memory begins to fade as the anticipation of the next ride comes into focus. One thing remained about our outing with Eric - that pause in the woods along High Rocks where, for a brief moment, we talked about how we got into cycling and where we were today. That is a feeling worth reminiscing.
