When it comes to mountain biking most of us are mere mortals. Our skills are so-so and probably A LOT better in our minds than in real life. We also feel the internal tension because we’re not all criss-crossing the globe on Instagram-worthy mountain bike expeditions (especially now). Or if we do they’re not as often as we’d like … or admit. So what do we do in the meantime?
Micro-adventures.
There’s something buried deep within our psyche to avoid pain. Or if we’ve gone through it we quickly block it out (or try) and years later what we recall is a sanitized version of the events minus the pain, the struggle, the adversity, and the emotional and physical exhaustion we may have felt that the time. Obviously when it comes to true trauma … childhood abuse … loss … there is no sanitizing it. It was and is horrific. A broken record that we try to forget or at least attempt to mute.
We have the same inclinations when it comes to many of our so-called adventures, right?
Living in the Pacific Northwest there are endless mountain biking destinations. Whistler is the one on the top of everyone’s list and from there we work down the list. Thrown in there are all kinds of regional favorites from lift-assisted bike parks to free ride trail systems and more. From Portland one can hit all of these within a day. So why do I keep going back to Bingen?