I am a road cyclist, at heart. Even when I’m in a car, I’ll daydream about riding the same road I’m driving. I’ll imagine how the tarmac might feel as my wheels carry me across it, the wind, the smells in the air. I’ll imagine how my lungs are expanding and contracting, cleansing me a little with every exhale. In my mind’s legs, I’ll feel the pressure building as I imagine myself rising out of the saddle to power over a pitch. I know I would feel the pain of such a ride, but I can’t really imagine what it would feel like. I can never really imagine pain.
The paved road is where we are the closest we will ever be to achieving flight. To restrict ourselves to tarmac, however, is to restrict ourselves to those places in this world which are most travelled. The most beautiful places do not lie at the end of such roads; they are hidden away, where those with some element of imagination might venture to look for them. A two-lane dirt track, perhaps, or a forest road that winds off beyond the damp forest and on to places unknown.
On gravel and dirt, we find a completely different sensation from that on the road. Certainly, many of the elements are still there, but the terrain demands a different kind of harmony; we dart along from one side of the road to another, looking for the best bits where the holes are smaller and the gravel is held together more. The dust or mud kicked up by our tires hovers in the air about us and covers our lips, teeth, and tongue. Suddenly, we taste the road as much as feel it.
Being away from traffic and in the wilderness awakens something primal in our spirits. The smell of damp dirt, moss, and bark or the baking scent of dry pine needles flushes the city from your senses and immediately awakens a calmer Self. My soul is at peace when I return home from such a ride.
The road is where my heart lies, but gravel is where I find my soul.
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Beautifully written Frank. I could do without you constantly inspiring n+1 bike lust in me though. My wife likes you less and less....
I routinely look at paved roads, river towpaths and tracks while thinking what they might be like to ride. Unfortunately, when it comes to a CX bike it would most definitely = s when thinking on Rule #12.
Maybe @JohnB has got the right idea.
It's so true. And thanks for not making this post about "us and them." Fat tires in the woods are great. Skinny tires on smooth pavement in the hills are also great. When you're moving yourself on two wheels across our Earth, you're earning your spot in our community. Bravo for putting it so well.
I don't have enough miles in my legs to feel this way about cycling, but the experience of stepping on a mondo track, even after so many years off of one, is visceral. There is a distinct smell, that brings a tinge of that adrenaline taste back to my mouth, and with it comes a palpable feeling of pain. Imagined or not, the feeling of trying to lift the pace for the last 200m of an 800m or 1600m run rushes through my body. For a brief moment I don't need to imagine the pain, it is real.
After a year of cyclocross there are some things I certainly associate with racing, but it will take some more time to find those little things that key me in. Those things become addicting, they are glimpses into enlightenment, but really they are just reminders of the suffering I love so much.
Very nicely written. Here in SE MN we have good roads, but great gravel. Rode 2 hours this am, saw zero cars, made friends with a new dog. All was right with the world.
A-merckx, Frank! I'll admit I've not ridden too much dirt, but being away from it all on those dirt paths has been pretty amazing. =)
Beautiful. I've found that the nuance of gravel is even broader than that of tarmac: the subtle tugs and pulls of the fireroad on the wheels, the quality of the grip offered by the loose rocks and dirt, the rhythm of the ripples in the surface all affect the riding experience
Riding gravel at speed requires a constant dialogue between rider and machine, a give and take that's not as much in road cycling, where the bike's job is to respond to inputs with precision and efficiency. Nor is the dialogue present in mountain biking, where the machine is designed to beat the terrain into submission. The original wheelmen rode only pitted gravel roads, so in a sense, gravel riding is the purest form of riding.
I remember an EARLY morning, mist in the valley, when I rode my new Armadillo tires down the newly graded base of a full-on four lane divided highway extension. I rode past all the rollers, dump trucks, excavators, loaders, paving machines, etc, sitting idle, behemoths in the fog with nary a soul around save myself. I'll bet the workers were mystified as to the lonely 25mm wide line down their beautifully graded pea-gravel when they showed up on Monday morning. Vive la Vie.
In the USA, when a map shows a road labelled CCC, try it.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civilian_Conservation_Corps
I totally agree regarding the calmness that comes with leaving civilisation behind and venturing into the wild. Every time I go I wonder why I don't do it more often. Everything you sense seems to be perfectly in place and you feel at one with a greater whole.. Looking forward to riding 80k of pristine single track on the Heaphy Track in the wilderness of the South Island NZ in a few weeks