Outdoor writing runner-up: The Chase
The secluded mountain road ends in the shadow of looming evergreen trees, the iconic giants that forge Washington’s beauty. As the car comes to a stop, a flurry of preparation ensues. Jackets are zipped, helmets are buckled, bikes are lifted. Sitting down, the pillowy suspension sags under my weight.
Waiting for the others to assemble their gear, I feel like a corralled stallion, itching to go. Eventually, we pedal slowly to the trailhead, legs twitching in anticipation. We stop; all is still.
And the chase begins.
We scramble for position, never satisfied until we lead the pack. Legs churning, lungs burning, we power over the steep incline of the serpentine path. Fog looms ahead, an impending cloak of mystery, shrouding the trail that my brothers and I ride for the first time.
Our tires noiselessly bite into the pristine dirt, moist, yet firm after a fresh rain. As we are blanketed by the mist, the surrounding forest seems to hush. Our labored breathing becomes the only sound as we push on.
The relentless pace continues for miles without interruption. To slow or rest would be to surrender to my brothers, to the mountain.
Just when it feels that my body can take no more, the fog recedes, and the summit approaches. The grueling final push ends in shouts of victory, defeat, and resounding relief.
At the top, we are invincible. Looking down, taking in nature’s vast and exquisite creation, anything is possible. There are no rules up here, and as the mountain air rushes through the trees, freedom truly rings.
Soon, we are overcome by the beckoning of the descending trail, the reward for our effort in climbing. Nearing the drop, a sign reads, “Ride at your own risk.” The warning is mutually understood as a challenge, and we grin in anticipation. We stop, all is still.
And the chase begins.
I leap after my brother and feel the ever-present pull of gravity as it snatches me from the air and throws me downhill. The jolt of acceleration sends my heart racing.
We are battered by the barrage of air racing up at us, howling through our helmets, drowning out our shouts of excitement.
We ride in a train, closely following the leader, mimicking each other’s movement. The surrounding landscape blurs as we press our bikes down, faster, faster. All too soon, the trail flattens, and we slow to a comfortable speed. The ride down is exhilarating, and seems too short.
As we drive home, reminiscing about our journey, we discuss our plan for the next ride. As always, we want to go farther, push deeper into the wilderness, seek all that nature has to offer. We’re chasing the undiscovered world outside.
I pray the chase never ends.