playing possum

Another week at the hospital, the clinic- treating patients with numerous aliments, Tuesday smells like Thursday, the days blend. Ticking cowardly, the clock's rotations slowly bring me closer to another anticipated weekend.

The legendary Umpqua River beckoned us forth, a summons for adventure. Cramming the truck with toys- climbing gear, crusty mountain bikes, guitars, books, Moose Drool and wine, we headed down south. It was almost midnight when we pulled into the camping spot, friends were still awake howling at the moon. Throwing my futon atop the dirt, tentless as always, I slept heavy.

Percolating coffee waifed through the woods, entering my senses like a dream luring me into an awakened state. I thumbed through the local guide book, my fingers stopping, lingering over the words, "...sections closed, too narrow, super exposed, must walk..."
I looked around, wondering if anyone could see my perverse smile? Perfect! an 18 mile out and back along the Northern Umpqua River.

4.5 hours later, Jay and I returned no less physically intact, but indeed mentally harangued and teased. This addiction to steep, harrowing rides has got to stop before someone gets injured. But not this weekend, as a brief liaison with The Woman in the Meadow awaits at Smith Rock, and Surveyors Ridge a favorite single track east of Mt. Hood calls.

To be completely exhausted, body worn ragged...
Adrenalin seeking refuge, body jostles under muscle memory of a hard day's ride.
We slept under the darkness of a new moon, stars exposed above us, melting into the snug makeshift quarters of the chilly night.
Our last morning gave way to pure sky azul with sunlight rays warming the air. We played possum, languidly tending to breakfast, guitars and reading while basking under the radiant sun.
Summer is beginning to fall from fashion, calling on its fall and winter wardrobes. Not ready to succumb to the inevitable rain, diminishing daylight hours and vitamin D deficiency, I fight until the end devising an escape route.