To Know a Place is to be Human

No Dabs, 11/21/23

When we ride the same trails over and over, week after week, year after year, we have our moments of boredom that creep into our psyche. It might cause us to not go out, to decide to do something else. Simply not feeling it, is was I’m getting at here.

It happens, but what also happens in all of that repetition is that we get to know a place. We get to know a trail. A rock here, unmoved for decades. A tree there, now a teenager with longer arms and bigger canopy.

We become intimate with the land.

On a recent outing in the Cuyamacas, I noticed something different. Working my way up West Side to the point where you can’t mountain bike any further up West Side, where most riders will cross over the hard road and journey more northward, I spotted the little trail sign for West Side:

I didn’t remember seeing the other signage behind it a couple weeks earlier, indicating a trail closure to all users. Public safety concerns, was the reasoning.

While riding at Crestridge, I came upon a much-needed trail reroute:

The previous way was a loose, scree-like climb/descent that was gulched-out. It was a mess. The new way meanders and provides a wonderful view of the surrounding hills. Looking over my right shoulder, I saw a new light on the land.

Speaking of light, this time of year, and as it slowly slides into winter, is my favorite time to ride. The long shadows and pale light, with warm sun’s rays countering the chilly breeze, make for idyllic mountain biking conditions.

Seasonal change can end boredom. Repetition ends when one seasons ends and another begins. Up in the Lagunas, the meadows never disappoint, but sometimes they shine brighter:

Come winter, it will be snow-covered and iced-over. If I’m lucky, there will be a window for the big tires to roll through, fat snow-biking in balaclava-adorned head a welcomed seasonal change.

To know a place is to be human.

To know a place deeply, which comes from repetition/visiting often, recognizing its sameness and its changes, and to care about it, is why we get to ride trails in the first place.

No Dabs is a monthly column by James Murren that celebrates our mountain biking community and lifestyle.