Epiphany

It was last Sunday afternoon as I set off for a lap of Cascades and the Showground sniggle. I nearly didn't go because it was drizzling.

I had posted the ride late that afternoon as it had to fit in around manic Christmas shopping, afternoon naps and the outside chance of a dash to the SCG in case the rain avoided the One Day match. I set out alone which I have no hesitation of doing, in fact sometimes I purposely ride solo because I enjoy the solitude and having the freedom to explore new tracks or alter plans mid-ride. In my first 6 years of my riding it was just me and Jasper (a 50kg plus Rotti) we knew every part of Red Hill, we re-discovered many unused trails and on more then one occasion had to hike a bike after riding down an old water course that didn't pan out.

I have done my 20k Cascades/St Ives loop a number of times and the recent rains had left it soft and sodden which slowed things a little. At the end of the sniggle I decided to seek out a disused trail that I had only ridden once before. As I was riding towards this trail the rain started to increase and my drivetrain started to complain. As I left the main trail into sniggle curving into deeper bush, the rain increased more and I heard strange noises ahead. As I round the corner low and behold 4 German tourist (Bernd this is true) out for a bush walk in the rain with only two collapsible umbrella's for protection. We exchanged pleasantries; they didn't need assistance so I carried on.

I hadn't gone another 20 metres and the heavens opened up and it rained as it can only rain in Australia. The rain was so intense streams began to appear and within minutes the sniggle was a metres wide water course. I was following the water course down the hill, pretty sure it was following the track, but not really caring. Every so often I had to charge across cross-flowing torrent, making sure I unloaded my front wheel because the water course gave no hint of what the submerged terrain had to offer. I was going fast or so it felt but my traction never faulted, water sprayed up everywhere, even my drivetrain stopped complaining and I was grinning from ear to ear while trying to concentrate through foggy glasses on what lay ahead.

Out in the bush, all alone, in the middle of a thunder storm, charging down a hill, blinded by the rain, not a care in the world and trusting my bike to compensate for my lack of skill, I was having an epiphany, an FBO (flash of the bleeding obvious), this is one of the reasons I love Mountain Bike riding, because as my mate Darryl Kerrigan says “How’s the serenity”.

Note to self: Don’t let the rain ever stop you riding.