A busy shop Saturday behind us we leave the central heating confort blanket safely tucked under roller shutters. With a little foreward preparation we are ready and taking the long way home. In the literally sub zero air the micro craters of the tarmac glitter like emeralds under street light. Brief road miles to the trail head warm up work weary limbs. Three riders follow frost dusted black top oblivious to the unbelieving stares of the metal wrapped sofa bound.
Ahead of us the first glimpsed off road glistens with promise. Flanking the track, grass blades point white crystalline daggers at clear cloudless skies. Concrete hard dirt drops away gently to the valley below, tyres knock hollow drum rolls, every rotation summer fast on slop free runs.
Steam rises from warmed up shoulders. Breath anthropomorphises into serpentine vapour clouds. Billows turn to wisps and escape to the heavens droplets of exhaled effort invisible to all. Ride two thirds down the track opens out ahead. Bright wide beams blast out artificial daytime, conjured from unseen homes rabbits race across our path. Small mammal heartbeats vanish into the undergrowth safe from dark borne interlopers.
Final loop of the reservoir and the fun is all but done. Such a still night has polished the water’s surface silica smooth. Obnoxious orange light pollution is forgiven as it’s reflected auburn glow mirrors on the motionless fluid. I crane my neck heavenwards, a last look before we leave the artificial lake side, and I try my damnedest to engrave the night sky to an emotion filled etching. One to keep forever. Real life ahead, true living behind.
Fat Lad