Talk about your epic xc ride. Missed my pals in the parking lot, so rode alone. Got lost. Got reoriented. Found some mud. Climbed and climbed and climbed. And climbed. Bombed the raddest bermed-out trail. Then got lost again. Ate my banana. Stumbled across a fireroad going slightly in the right direction, sensed it was, and big-ringed it for home. Then, while apexing a corner like Ken Block on amphetamines, I nearly plowed into the most massive buck alive, like King of the Forest Lord of Stags kind of size, at terminal dirt-road velocity, necessitating a series of dramatic wobbles and sketchiness to recover without incident. Thankfully I found a paved road and only had to time-trail the mountain bike to the car for around an hour, arriving just as it got pitch black, somewhere around 10:00pm. Was in awe at the dramatically large and full blood-red moon looming on the horizon, balanced perfectly on the very tips of trees as I rounded a corner and was greeted by yet another unrealistically large animal of the elk or buck variety. What does it all mean? Only the Yosemite Double Rainbow Hippie knows. A sign of fertility, I’m sure. Very hungry for beer and Food From Mexico.