My bike is crusty and filthy. Even after I hosed it off. When I spin the crank a grating, frightening sound fills the garage. The dry, cement-like clay is trying to permanently attach itself to the paint and frame.
But I am smiling.
Despite the rain and the muck and mud, the riding at Camp Lynda 2.0 was fantastic. A much anticipated and needed reprieve in the desert. And in many ways the rain added to the adventure. The sage and the cacti and the rocks were all washed clean of the dust of the desert. The fragrance of the dirt and the vegetation filled the olfactories with the scent of the desert. An earthy, pungent, clean smell.
And everywhere the ethereal mystery of the desert manifest itself. The low hanging fog and mesas and riders drifting through the nothingness all created an atmosphere of surreal enjoyment.
Not even going over the bars into a puddle of soupy mud wiped the grin off my face.
I am already looking forward to next year. But in the meantime another trip to the desert will have to suffice. As soon as possible.