A few times a year we manage to hit it just right on a trip to the Mecca down the road. Most times it is either too crowded, or windy, or hot. Sometimes it's raining, or sleeting, or snowing, or jeeping. On Monday it was none of these.
We were able to appreciate the satisfying sound of snow crunching between tires and rock. Enjoy the touch of a delicate wisp of wind on our cheeks. Savor the sound of one hand clapping. Ride without a need to hurry up, nor wait.
And once the novelty of all of that sank in, we were able to look past it and into the bigness and wildness of a spectacular scene.
Celebratory wheelies happened out of nowhere--you just had to embrace them.
Shuckin' and jivin', arcin' and carvin'.
Like eating an elephant--one small bite at a time.
Prehistoric elephant tracks?!
Sometimes you simply couldn't take it all in on the move. Stop. Plant feet. Absorb.
Yump for yoy.
Impossible to stifle the motorcycle noises emitted while arcing this one. Braaaap!
As with any great ride, using every last breath of daylight seems compulsory.
And we did. Finished up in the dark. Weaved our way to the pizza joint. Dove in, exhaled, dove in for more.
And dzamn it was good!
P.S. Greg Luck is the guy I was riding with and shooting that day. His view of the same day can be found HERE.