It was the kind of day where the sun seemed to wink at you, suggesting shorts were a good idea, and the breeze—oh that breeze—whispered of adventures waiting just around the corner. On April 29, 2023, the first hot day of the year, I answered the call of the wild, or more specifically, the call of National Forest Trail 072.
Wagonhammer camping was on the itinerary, and let me tell you, it’s the sort of place that gives you the good kind of shivers. The air smelled like freedom, or maybe that was just the absence of city smog. With coordinates like 45.394458, -113.946508 etched into my mind, I felt like an explorer from the olden days, except my trusty steed was a mountain bike with gears instead of a horse.
The Elk Trailhead beckoned, and like any reasonable person who talks to trailheads, I obeyed. The terrain rolled out like a welcome mat made of dirt and rocks, and the hills? They were like slumbering beasts, basking in the warm glow of spring.
Now, the best thing about being on a trail when it’s the first hot day? It’s not just the warmth; it’s the transformation. Flowers you couldn’t pronounce were popping up like nature’s confetti, and the trees—those wise old spectators—seemed to be cheering me on.
But let’s not forget the real hero of the story: the bike. It wasn’t just a mode of transport; it was my partner in crime, a silent ally against the uncharted paths. We had our moments, though. A few times, it decided to nap on the ground, and I can’t say I blamed it. The views were, after all, quite breathtaking.
In the midst of all this, there was a pause—a moment where I stood there, taking a selfie, because if you don’t photograph it, did it really happen? My face must’ve been a picture of joy and a touch of ‘I hope I don’t look too sweaty’.
As the day waned, the campsite became a slice of home. The kind of temporary home that comes with a side of campfire and the best kind of sleep—under the stars.
This wasn’t just a day; it was an odyssey. A reminder that sometimes, the best stories are the ones you pedal through, with the sun on your back and the trail under your wheels. And as I packed up, leaving no trace but my tire marks, I knew I’d be back. Because the trail, much like life, always has more to reveal to those willing to ride it.
Boneshakerbike 
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