Night Rides, Owl Screeches and Buttered Rum

Last night Steph, Maddie and I met up at one of our favorite spots for a night time mountain bike ride. It was cold, and dark, and the stars were shining brightly in the clear sky.

As we suited up, throwing on our backpacks, adjusting our lights, we heard a wild animal cry in the night.

“Woooahhh,” I said.

“That’s an owl!” Steph said.

It was a harsh piercing of the night, that noise, and it gave me both goosebumps and a thrill.

“Right on,” we said and we got going.

The ground was hard, thankfully, frozen and easy to ride.

The trails in the dark feel narrow, the turns quick. With my new headlamp Nick gave me I could see so much more than the last time I’d gone out, which I was thankful for.

There’s something so peaceful about night riding, and so special. It’s like you have a secret with the world, while everyone else is warm and inside.

At a stop, as Maddie adjusted her bike, Steph withdrew a small flask resembling a rocket ship from her bag. “I figured we could toast to our new female Vice President,” she said, which was met with enthusiasm and cheers. She promised all the shot glasses were sterilized and we passed the flask around, filled up our mini shot glasses and had our toast. To a new year, to new beginnings, to things already feeling more ok again under the new leadership.

In the night, on the airstrip, the large planes were hallowed and still. We rode over roots and rocks, dodged malicious gnarls in the ground and after 4 or so miles, came out to the street and head back to our cars, legs and hearts warmed.