A Robust Adventure The day started out simple. Locate the river. Locate trails that follow edge of river. Bike these trails. Where is the closest river? South. Alright, done. South... south, south, south. Ugh, how big do cities get. It's been like... 3 blocks here. South, south, AH, something different! A house! Alright, let's just kinda swerve around that, and keep following the road. I know there's a river South of me, so I'll hit it eventually. That, or houses. Follow the houses! There was much of this. BLOCKS worth! Almost dozens of houses! And then AHA, an opening! A path that seems to lead towards the river. A dead end. Shoulda known. Nice lookout spot though, be nice to have a picnic or random hangout there. Sound of the water, rustle of trees, can't go wrong. But it's not a trail. ONWARDS! More houses, another dead end (with an admittedly good view... they sure know how to pick these places). More houses... going trail? Hark, but what's that trailing off through the burdock, but a pencil-thin line of dirt between the burrs, almost buried beneath them. Nothing too difficult for 150 someodd pounds of human and wheeled steel to get through. Though to be fair, I go gently. I'm trying... as much as is feasible with a backpack and a bicycle... to leave as little evidence that I was there as I can. Eh, burrs grow back. ONWARDS! But gently. I remember this place. I've stumbled across here once before. The trail goes, but it just goes deeper and deeper into the burdock, until you can take no more and need to abandon trail. Only small animals need follow that one. The burdock... it never ends. It IS however in bloom right now. WONDERFUL smelling flower. If you see this pop of purple at the end of a spiky, burr-looking plant, stop and give it a smell. Thistles too, no idea why they got a bad rap. Probably the spikies and all. Amazing smell, regardless. Also purple, might be a trend. Purple and spikey smell good, mental note. Let's just leave that path for now. I tackled it much earlier in the year, it's best I pull up anchor and head back to the civilized world. Sidewalks and roads, houses and fences. Oohh, a squirrel. Hello squirrel! More houses. It's good and all, if that's your thing. Not what I'm looking for. I'm in search of a trail. The houses end, the burdock begins anew. The impenetrable fence of burrs beckons me closer. A trail tries to appear in the center... the maw of the burdock. Not this time burrs, I'm wearing lace. Also, I'd have to hoist my bike clean over my head, and I'd rather avoid that if I could. It's spent enough time on my shoulder as-is. ONWARDS! I skip forward from place to place, checking back with the river. My ultimate goal? Find my rock beach again. I'm pretty sure it was somewhere between Assiniboine park and home. Speaking of... Assiniboine park? I can get to you from THIS side? Whoda thunk it, the park backs right onto Portage avenue. Whelp, shortcut discovered, unlike the rock beach. Musta been on the other side of the river. Foodstuffs. Smokie vendor. Omnomnom. Water good. Wait, does the trail keep going on the North side of the river? What happens if I go West? Nothing of value. TO THE MONKEY TRAILS! Assiniboine park's monkey trails... some of the most fun I've had on a bike to date. They closed them down for a few years. Seems more technical now. Gotta take things slower. Probably for the best... lotsa people out. Beautiful day, not surprised. Let's keep trying West. WOOH TRAILS! YEAH! Oh wait, this is it? Aww, I was just getting started. ABOUT FACE! Alright, East it is. THAT'S where the fun trails are :D Your eyes barely blink. The branches and trees rush past you on either side in a blur, the sound of twig and leaf slapping against your legs and arms. You barely have time to think. Swerve your tire left. Now right. Rock, dodge it. Branch to your left, duck. Oh hey, check that out, there's a cool looking tree over there. Bet I could WHUP, another rock, almost got me. Slow down, just a hair. Your arms and legs move in perfect synch with eachother. You and the bike are one organism, blasting down the trail as fast as you dare go. You feather the brake with your hands, while your legs work like pistons to keep you moving down the trail. You can feel every movement of the bike, every pebble that the tires pass over. A microcosm of pure frenetic energy, focused solely on propelling yourself down a trail. Left, right, left, LOG! No need to wreck the bike, the tires are shabby enough. I hopped over that small one earlier, let's just kinda pick up the bike and put it down on the other side. Wait, a bigger one now? Ok fine, let's do that again. Over, under, over, under, how 'bout one of us on each side? The bike can go over, I'll shimmy underneath. Let's ease off a little bit. I've powered through half of my water, I think it's time for a rest. The hammock. The perfect rest stop. 3 meters of parachute material, strung between two trees with a pair of daisy chains and carabiners. Use mountain-climbing gear, don't cheap out. Lasts longer, works better. 10... 20 minutes of basking in the shade. Who knows, really. I half-nap, half-daydream, nibbling on a small wafer-cookie I tossed into my backpack. The wrapper of course comes with me. That's enough of that. I have a rock beach to find. The benefit of having a good hammocking kit, and knowing how to use it. You can set up or take down in a scant few minutes. I glance at the ground to make sure nothing was left behind, and head onwards. Trails, trails, trails, taking it a bit easier. I'm saving up my energy for the REAL fun. Well, not that the trails aren't really, really fun, but I've got a beach to find. I continue onwards, and see a rocky outcropping appear around a bend. My beach has finally presented herself to me. It feels good to be home. Not like 'sleep' home, but 'home' home. I grew up surrounded by rocks and sticks, I'm just returning to my people. Ahh, the beach, in all its filthy glory. The red river, coarsing strongly with it's opaque, soil-filled water. Well, not ENTIRELY opaque, I could almost make out my hands up to three inches deep! Gotta wash the rocks, y'know. Well, not all of them. Though they could certainly use it. The ground is barren, covered with rocks of all sizes, dry, cracking, clay-like mud between. Most of the rocks have an identical hue... mud-grey. Mmmmm... home :) Gotta wash the rocks though. They skip better that way. Not TOO many flat rocks, but plenty enough to get some good stone-skipping in. I give the left hand a few tries here and there. I think I skipped a rock like... 3 times with lefty there. Eh, gotta start somewhere. Got a good 13er or so outta righty though. Several really good ones, where towards the end it's almost dancing across the water in a perfect balancing act that ends not with a splash, but a gentle easing beneath the waves. The perfect gradient between disconnected splashes and a solid line. I like those... makes ya smile. It's like... 'Ooooohh, that was a GOOD one!' The sun beats down. There are very few clouds right now. Good. I absorb the sun like a reptile, devouring its energy. I bounce back and forth across the rocks. I climb the riverbank to the side. I listen to the water. The birds and insects sing their songs, broken periodically by the *galunk* of a poorly thrown rock. Skitskitskitskitskitskitkitkitkitttttt. Oohh, that was a good one. Bikers go past, as does a dog walker. Her dog is soaking wet, covered in the red river. Friendly as all hell, I'd have been hard-pressed to find a happier animal than the one in front of me. She goes her way, I go back to my rocks. A few more skips, but my stomach beckons. ONWARDS! Where to eat, where to eat? I've got a camping stove, dehydrated sweet corn, and enough water to cook it. Well hello there, convenient opening beneath a canopy of leaves, surrounded by the glorious smell of wild clover. A river in front of me, a breeze from the side, and greenery in all other directions. I would be hard-pressed to NOT stop there for a while. Food time. Light the stove, boil the water, and pour it into the baggy. Be still. Enjoy the silence. Eat well. Words on the bottom of my food packet. Good advice. Thanks AlpineAire, props on using the bottom of the bag to remind people stop and smell the roses every so often. Or rather, wild clover in this case. The corn is crunchy and delicious. I save a splash of the corn-water in my currently empty secondary water bottle. Bet that'll taste pretty good when it cools off. Added benefit of eating one of these dehydrated baggies of food? Once your done, it conveniently holds all of the garbage that's collected in the bag so far. Wafer cookie wrapper, that smokie wrapper, that bottle of water. Well, that can go to recycling, but you get the idea. I am at my furthest point from home. It's time to go back home. There's an ice-cream place across from the park's North entrance there, sounds like a plan. Stick figures first though. The wild clover is strong. Nice, sturdy stems, lots of branching out near the flowers. Excellent setting for a stick figure village. Wild dill works well too. The sticks are everywhere. Thin, light, and long. By gently balancing them between branches of the clover, you can create an almost Ewok tree-village on a small scale. Branch after branch after branch. The goal is to make as many branches as you can all touching eachother, while stretching your delicately balanced structure over as many plants as you can. The clover is plentiful, as are the flowers and sticks. I stop after a few dozen. A spiderweb of thin branches criss-crosses over the leaves. I smile, mildly amused at my unbelievably temporary creation. A gift to the planet, unless someone else happens to see it before a mildly less gentle breeze comes along and shakes it back to the ground. I need to find more people that would find THIS fun. Rock-crawling. Now THERE'S something I don't really see that often. Or hear about all that often. Shame, really... quite fun. The beach is covered with an assortment of various sized rocks, most round, relatively well spread out. Very fun to crawl across more or less as slow as you can move on a bike, carefully controlling your handlebars. It's pretty easy terrain there, but it's good practice. Not a lot of places where one can rock-crawl on a bike that I know of. I return to the monkey trails. Not nearly as frenetic, but I still pump my legs down the choppiest of trails. The closer you get to the river, the more interesting the trail gets. Only now I'm doing it in reverse! The ice-cream stand. Oh glorious ice-cream, my stomach thanks you. Also the peoplestuffs that made the food go into my hands for the pieces of paper. Thanks peoplestuffs! The trip home was not quite as exuberant as the one going out. No burdock this time, I'll stick with good old concrete and asphalt. At least for the home stretch. These lights... they take forever. I am however, extraordinarily pleased with myself. Arguably one of the best biking days I've ever had. Sunblock, bandanna, water, and a hammocking kit. And of course the bike. I barely even mention it. I've spent hours meticulously cleaning and caring for it. And she's treated me well. When you're well trained, you and your equipment become one. I need a bath. I don't *think* I smell, though I imagine what I perceive of myself and what others do would be startlingly different right now. For one, I stopped and smelled at least a half-dozen flower stands... all I can smell is plantlife right now :) Kabutroid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4u_BsEn9c8w