Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Quiet hour

Another incredible day in Sedona. Jason took us all hiking on some secret trails so we could decide if we'd like to ride them later. No sir. Just hiking parts of them were harrowing. We searched for cairns on expansive slick rock and fawned over flora on the narrow single track and held our breath stepping wide-footed around the exposed ledges. We were totally alone from the trailhead to our destination and back. The only people we saw were the microscopic ones crossing the bridge towards the horizon. The views were breathtaking, the stillness was humbling, the remoteness was exhilarating and sharing it with Lauren and my friends made it perfect. Really, perfect. No amount of planning or money or training or anything could have improved my afternoon. And then we improved the afternoon. Jason, Jeff and I pulled our bikes out of the truck and descended Munds back in to Sedona, back into our RV park, in fact to where Lauren had a dinner ready for all of us. The trail was pure fun. It took all my skill to navigate parts and all my stamina other parts and then plunged over loose rock so you brought the trail with you, changing it for the rider behind. The trail crosses back and forth over a dry creek bed like a legendary skipped stone over ancient and forgotten water. You'd descend in a private fury and then climb out with all the energy and ambition of that first polywog that dared to walk and fashion tools, but compressed into 20 yards and astride two cyclonic gyroscopes.

Coming off the trail and down the road, we turned into the RV park and glided to a stop in front of the airstream where Lo had flowers, tomato and basil and mozzarella, hummus, salad, pizza, cold beverages. We ate under the awning, soft yellow light spilling from the trailer around a picnic table. Jeff started the evening with a story reputed to be the funniest in the world and he didn't disappoint. From there we only got louder until a sweet woman with a flashlight reminded us of Quiet Hour. I honestly didn't know anything about Quiet Hour because I've never been the kind of asshole that needs to be reminded of it--I've always been the kind of asshole reminding others. So, looking around at all the dark and battened up trailers and listening to the accusing silence, we all instantly felt like those people. Of course that feeling passed quickly.