The organic perfume of a thirsty forest drenched by summer thunderstorms through the night filled my nose. In the high desert this is a rare scent. I drank deeply from the clear mountain air.
The Ripmo clung to the moist dirt and in turn the dirt clung to the Ripmo. The wet rock provided precious little grip to the rear end and we’d frequently spin the tire looking for traction. I discovered caution was to be exercised around puddles where wet moon dust had settled into greasy cauldrons. As we flew into a corner the Ripmo’s rear end found its way far off field and I found myself closer to the ground than I expected.
The ride – Providence Canyon