Potato Mountain: Where The Fair Wind Blows...
I have often remarked upon how the sense of adventure is a big part of the reasons I ride.
Generally it is much easier to fill that sense from the saddle of a mountain bike. It allows me to leave the easily accessible behind, bid a brief farewell to the predictability (relatively speaking) of pavement. A once-a-week spin on dirt re-entered my ride schedule a few months ago. I am not going to try and fool anyone into comparing Marshall Canyon, the Palmer-Evey, and the summit of Potato Mountain to an alpine trail in the Rockies for sheer wildness. There are those places along the way, though, that can make you forget the city is a fast descent away, and others with panoramic vistas which make the distance seem much further.
On Monday a thick fog had settled over the valley, but had slipped away from the mountain slopes as I ground along the P-E and then up Potato. As I climbed higher I could see it sliding down ridges to the west, while mountain peaks to the south and east, seemed as if islands thrust up from a grey, thick sea. There was not so much as a fair wind to disturb the calm - the fog an arrow straight line running east to west, with only blue sky above, and islands bobbing in the distance.
the toyon is spotty right now, though this one was very holiday-like
The way that you wander is the way that you choose,
The day that you tarry is the day that you lose.
Sunshine or thunder, a man will always wonder,
Where the fair wind blows.
(Tim McIntire and John Rubinstein, from Jeremiah Johnson)