Building trail, as in life, requires a few skills, and many of them learned by doing. Building trail can be a mirror image of our day to day, one which reflects the activities and experiences of our “other life,” the one with the usual (and sometimes unusual) demands of work, relationship and survival in a world that can seem at times contrived and confining, or far better, free-flowing, challenging, rewarding and unknowable.
Out in our neck of the woods is a growing network of singletrack. Enjoyed by mountain bikers, hikers and equestrians alike, this trail system is borne out of love for our sport, for the enjoyment derived by other riders, and for the experience of being out in the “wild,” alone with our thoughts of flow and grade and jumps and drops and technical capabilities. It is a system being created by mountain bikers especially for mountain bikers, although other users are quick to express their appreciation for the new trails.
The success or failures of our trail-building efforts are measured out in the smiles and enjoyment we see on new and returning riders’ faces, in the expression of words at the end of the ride, of the excitement of hitting the technical features, the sections that roll and bank and swoop as if on a two-wheeled rollercoaster. Of course, success is also measured by the buzz generated in cyberspace. We builders make mental Post-Its where changes in trail layout would improve flow and views and challenge, of cacti in need of transplanting further from the trail, of technical features needing repair or needing establishment.
And when I return by myself to make changes to layout, or to continue on with new trail, it is a time to turn the volume down concerning thoughts of work, of personal relationships, of life events and life choices, of conflicts and triumphs large and small, without interruption of the day to day back and forth discourse, even with the ones we love.
In life, though I may strive to interact with others in the spirit of helpfulness, cooperation, compassion, and love, I am dealing with other people (as they are with me), after all, and I am a peculiar and contrary participant in our species. My successes and failures are within my control, but another’s interpretation of my words, expressions, body language and other social cues I exhibit even if I myself am unaware, oblivious, unwitting are beyond my control. In essence, I gauge my own successes or failures in part by the smiles and affirmations of others, by others’ expressions of words, and by the sometimes viral spread of public opinion concerning me, my ideas, my career potential. I don't seek approval, but approval can affect the course I take.
My interactions with others are in a constant, amorphous state of flux, requiring constant adjustment and self-evaluation and consideration of intent, of meaning, of logic, of empathy and consequence. These adjustments in interactions are based on social cues provided by others, by changes in the terrain of relationships, in the work place, in all aspects defining the landscape of my life. Perhaps I am far more and unnecessarily complicated than my peers, but I suspect that we all experience some similarities of the human condition.
When I am alone on the trail, laying out, moving earth, scouting ahead, pruning trees, transplanting cacti leveling off-camber tread and raking, my interaction with the landscape is also in a constant, amorphouse state of flux, governed by terrain, by obtacles and game trails and prickly pear. Out here, I can take a breath and think, unfettered by physical, social and psychic restraints. Or I can clear my mind and not think at all. I enjoy the physicality of my work, of seeing (and riding on) the fruits of my labor.
I am awed by the shades of red, ochre, purple, violet and indigo as they overtake the Superstitions, and by the flames that seem to consume the setting sun and and western sky. I am transported by the silence punctuated by the calls of Harris and red tail hawks, and ravens; and as dusk approaches, by the coyotes, owls and the audible social chatter of bats as they flit and zig-zag in their acoustic search for dinner. I savor the smells of fresh earth, fresh air, of brittle bush and creosote, and even the distinctive scent of the desert itself that is amplified as sunlight yields to nightfall's damp, fragrant coolness that fills the washes like unseen and gentle rivers of air.
Though this may be some existential Shakespearean plagiarism by half, I enjoy simply to be. It can be a transformative experience, the “Zen of Building Trail.” I can think of nothing, or I can refocus my perspectives, reconsider my words, gather my thoughts, come up for air. Whichever I choose, new trail unfolds, new challenges are met or created to test my own and others’ mettle, changes are made that improve flow and communication between rubber and earth; and I can return home a changed and better person.
PR, FEB2012
...musings from across the American Southwest and beyond, one trail at a time...
