And then there is me...and Betsy. My beautiful white unicorn of a bicycle built only for mountain terrain.
Staying upright was a task at times. Rubber side down is what the pros call it. Lava rocks with holes like Swiss cheese jetted the landscape. Tree roots unafriad to show their face to the sun dotted manicured trails. We spent days on repeat: bike, camp, eat, sleep. Campfires burned late into the wee hours of the night. Oregon wood burned hot like pizza ovens keeping the abundance of fire roasted cheesy tortillas toasting till nearly dawn. Bodies drenched in sweat and bug spray rested on moss mattresses of green fungus, sleeping soundly to the song of the river.