In the lifetime of every hand-built trail, there is a very fleeting moment of this raw perfection.
Like a powder day on skis, the organic material provides a bottomless feeling. Pushing deep into turns, and releasing soil with each revolution of the wheel. During this special time, even the trail sounds different. Rolling over years of compressed leaves, bark, sticks and red rot sends a hollow echo through the ground that you can almost feel in your chest. But for these reasons, it doesn’t last long. Soon enough the soil will be displaced, roots and rocks exposed, and the once deep and soft tones will be replaced with harsh thuds as your tires catch newly formed braking bumps. But luckily there’s always the next trail, or the next storm, bringing another powder day.
For us, this is paradise.