I meet Greg at Cafe Mundo and we talk shop. I congratulate them on landing a food booth at the Oregon Country Fair. “It’s a lot of work!” he exclaims, and tells me they ended up shutting down their restaurant during the Fair, just like Nearly Normals does every summer.

I finish my lunch, then take a long nap, all through the afternoon. Many dreams and half-dreams come to me, then vanish as I groggily wake. I scramble to get on the road, only an hour and a half before sunset. Enough time to ride over Cape Foulweather to Depot Bay, then back over the Otter Crest Loop. It feels good to get back on the saddle at last, to pump hard up over the hill, into the wind, then turn and enjoy the tailwind riding back home.

Breathing deeply. Tasting sweat on my lips. Stinging my eyes. The musky smell of exertion. Stopping long enough to take in the vistas, the enormous skies, the endless water and waves. The blinding brilliance of sun, reflecting off the restless sea. Sinking deeper towards the horizon. Colors across the clouds, high above.

I remember why I ride. To rediscover my life. To feel all that I am, all that I carry with me, all that I have yet to become. A solitary being, moving across the land, in awe of the wonders of nature and the follies of humanity. To dream of possibilities.

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