I was waiting for something from the post office today. From where we're camped (yes mom, I am officially homeless, I cook in the dirt, I sleep in a tent, and I watch the moon rise at night instead of checking Facebook status updates. I love it.) there are a handful of routes to town, which as the crow flies, is about 8 miles away. There's the highway that I rode every day this past winter. By far the fastest. There's Hunter Hill and Trail 400 which would have turned the ride into something just short of an epic, and then there's Trail 409.5. Straight up, to the point, with a wicked descent down to the Strand Hill area.
The fact that we're camped right at the base of the climb made the choice a no brainer. The fact that there's a spring a half mile up the road alleviating the problem caused when my camel back bladder spilled all the water I'd hauled in to camp (and ride) with helped the situation.
There is nothing better in the world than cold, fresh spring water. Seriously.
Except for maybe high altitude singletrack.
Whose last visitor was not human. The bear must have been headed to a similar place because I followed his/her track (aside from the part where s/he took a shortcut across the revegetation area) for miles. If I were a bear, I'd hang out here too.
I added some bonus miles on to the bottom section of my ride because...well, because I could. For a year when none of the streams are flowing, the canal was solidly deep.
When I got to the post office, my item wasn't there. It was probably coming with the afternoon shipment of mail.
I guess I'll just have to check again tomorrow.