Seasonal Death and Rebirth
The cusp season of fall into winter is the sweet spot of the year. The water off of Cape Cod is warm, yet the humidity of August is gone. The deep pounding heat of summer in Moab relents and it becomes the desert playground again. In Vermont the spectacular colors are queued up and begin their show. And in San Francisco, the cold 52 degree days of summer end and its 49 square miles of perfect temperature begin.
Weekends are time to scramble and get the long rides in, the multi-day hikes, the last gasp paddling as water levels drop to stone-grind. Finally you have the best lungs and legs of the year and the rides are faster and smoother than ever.
As the nights lengthen beyond what we need for sleep, we sort the summer gear into their storage slots, clean out the deep sand of Burning Man, unpack the sleeping bags and unfurl the Thermarest. We pull out the old Powder Magazine’s and ancient videos. Give, Harvest, Sick Sense, Ski Movie or even Blizzard of Aaahhh’s one more spin.
In October the first few storms roll in from the coast as the jet-stream starts to tease; In November we begin the ritual of checking the snow cams where curiously the best picture is often no picture at all. One storm marks the change, the warm pavement doesn’t fight back as quickly against the snow, the grass doesn’t poke through and suddenly you’re into your next obsession. –John Bresee
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