The kids new exactly what to do:
Climb up the mound as if it were a mountain...
Tumble down with signature stunts....
Laugh uncontrollably...
Repeat endlessly...
The park itself is a legendary respite from City pace, but this random pile of maintenance gravel was a fresh addition that conjured their WILDest spirits.
Meanwhile I noticed a rogue, post-apocalyptic 'artcar' pull-in nearby. Coupling arc welding with a WILDass-hair-brain idea, the owner converted this 1980s Chevy Luv minitruck into a traveling tortoise shell camper.
The rock pile. The zany car. Suddenly I'm craving WILD things like a twitterpated Bambi in Spring. Birdsongs capture my attention bicycling beneath the vernal urban canopy around town. And with a spate of perfect weather, I've been riding to near exhaustion: extended noontime ascents deep into West Hill greenways on Thursday and Friday...out to Far East Portland for a workshop on Saturday...a Sunday morning joyride into the WILDerness of Forest Park...
The morning ride was a near bust as thunderheads threatened most of the City. I switched directions between North or South several times until a freight train finally blocked the Southern passage, leaving only one dry way out - through Portland's NW industrial area. Normally overrun with freight trucks and pollution, no sane bicyclist would ever venture into this eerie wasteland. But on a quiet Sunday morning, there was nary a soul out there.
Much to my surprise, I found a hidden connection to the elusive Saltzmann Road entry into Forest Park. At one point winding up the gravel grade, I heard a rustling in the woods, did a doubletake, and put her in reverse for a gander. Deer? elk? bear? cougar? coyote? Nothing emerged except a flat front tire. And I then realized that my pump was left at home. rrrrrrrRRR!
Rarely noticeable in the City, mosquitoes came swarming in as I patiently waited for a cell phone and pump-wielding Good Samaritan. A redheaded woodpecker provided entertainment until help arrived. With the flat fixed, I cruised through the forest for miles. Besides the mosquitoes and woodpecker, I didn't spot much WILDlife except an occasional mole feigning death in the middle of the dirt road. But the birds sang emphatically and the lush green jungle satiated my thirst for WILDness.
Sunday was capped off with Lilly & I joining our friends Holden, Dylan & Nicole on a Parkways ride. For five Sundays in 2010, over 10 miles of roadways are closed to motor vehicles allowing pedestrians and bicyclists to freely travel between City parks in Portland. The community comes out in hordes supported by a variety of local, indie retailers and entertainers. It's quite the liberating celebration to kick gas-guzzling, oil-spilling cars to the curb in favor of alternate transportation modes.
And it's always great to ride with family friends. Lilly and Holden were best buds in kindergarten. Through our daughters, Dylan and I realized that we both hail from Reno and share a common thrill for Portland's bike culture. Just before our Spring Break vacation to Nevada, he turned me on to the Reno Bike Project and Design Sponge Reno Travel Guide. Through Sunday Parkways, we realized that my friend Greg from 3rd grade is riding from Portland to Reno this summer with Dylan's high school friend, Dan. This wouldn't be completely improbable except that Greg & I are a decade older than Dan & Dylan, and topping it all off, Dylan's mom works with Greg at a high school in Reno.
I phoned Greg from Parkways to share this uncanny connection. "Small World," he laughed and then noted, "But it really isn't a 'small world'. It's a giant, complex world with these strange coincidences." Yep. It is completely WILD that bicycle community networks mysteriously across geographic boundaries regardless of time and space.
On our return home for dinner with Bunny & River, Lilly & I happened across another big pile of rocks - perfect for WILDchild bike stunts. rrrrrrrRRR!
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