Our annual weeklong stay at the Newberry National Volcanic Monument drew to a close with a final riding opportunity. With my favorite rides already under my belt, I would savor this one.
We have kicked off our summer vacation here since 2020, when I literally stumbled on this hidden gem in the Oregon Cascades, just an hour from Bend.
Last year my wife issued the decree that we would start somewhere else in 2025, and we made reservations to do so. But fate intervened, and we got the opportunity to get a week jumpstart on our trip, so we headed to Newberry.
I rolled along at an enjoyable pace, not pushing anything. I found myself glancing up and out a number of times without my typical laser focus on the crushed pumice trail.
Still way too early in the camping season, most of the trails haven’t been cleared yet. An apparently brutal winter left more downed trees than usual.
As I came upon a tree blocking the trail, I paused for a moment and just looked around at the amazing view. Who knows how many times I’ve ridden this stretch in our six visits? Somehow this felt like my first.
Already 90 minutes of riding passed without seeing another soul. The peaceful serenity of the moment washed over me.
The breeze.
The bees.
The trees.
My wife just officially retired, so I’ve decided to stop substitute teaching. I guess I’m retired now, too. it all just feels right.
Typically, I would never allow my breathing to calm. My heart rate to slow. My sweat to chill. Nothing seems typical about this ride.
Eventually I remounted with a completely different mindset. This would be a joy ride.
I hit the fork in the trail and turned to head up the steep climb carved into the steeper hillside that’s littered with tree roots that become more exposed each year.
Sometimes I’ll ride it. Sometimes not. Depends on the moment.
Since my mind no longer clicked with strategic options, I simply rolled up the climb.
Suddenly my front wheel popped over one root and then, just as my rear wheel encountered that root, my front managed to find another one completely freezing my motion and catching my off guard.
I began to fall down the steeper grade and somehow managed to leap out of my pedals, grab a 10-foot-tall Ponderosa Pine sapling about four inches in diameter, and swung around it like a pole acrobat, landing alongside as my bike skittered down the rocky hill.
I stood there, next to the tree that reaffirmed Ponderosa Pine as my favorite, kinda shellshocked. I’ve crashed hundreds of times. But always with my head in the game, not in the clouds.
I walked my bike up the steep section, jumped back on, and rolled on like a beginner, refusing to take any chances. Eventually the trail plateaus, and up there some patches of snow blocked the trail. I walked most.
But one patch was just 10 feet, only about eight inches of slushy summer snow. I blasted through and smiled, realizing I’d found that perfect combination of savoring and attacking.
Not much later I hit my turnaround spot and headed back.
When I hit the snow patch, I gunned it. Four feet in my front wheel planted itself and once again, I went running wildly for my life trying to keep from skidding on the pumice.
I wrenched my neck and shoulder with the crazy wiggle to free myself from my bike and find my balance. Suffice to say, the rest of the ride home was super slow and easy, not to mention somewhat painful.
This week’s question: Have you ever slipped out of your riding concentration mode, intentionally or not?
Since reading you guys I’m much more likely to mellow out and joy ride if that’s the mood I’m in.
Pretty much every ride on multiple occasions though I generally think of this zoning out as being in the zone. That said, yeah I’ve crashed out of nowhere while day dreaming for sure.