By Ambassador Ruby Woodruff
Summer says goodbye quickly in the mountains. It doesn’t linger politely trying to make one last good impression. Fall kicks it out the door overnight and before you can retrieve your winter gear from storage, you wake up to find snow sitting on the surrounding peaks. The icy morning chill no longer disappears with the afternoon sun and you see your breath as you ask your friends, and strangers or wonder aloud: where did summer go?
Being someone who prefers warmer weather, I’ll admit I struggled during the initial cooler temperatures and increasingly shorter days. But once I got over those two minor inconveniences I began to see the beauty in the season that bridges the gap between warm enough and too cold.
The first big difference was the amount of people around. Back to school, back to work, back to milder climates, the trails had a calmness about them that allowed me to rip around on my new Kona Process even faster than I usually would (or at least it felt that way). The once sun-baked and sweat-inducing rides could go on for longer because pedaling was the only way to stay warm.
Accustomed to the sun setting at 10pm, some friends and I were caught off guard one night when we found ourselves in darkness halfway through our ride. Even though it was a familiar trail, it was hard to decipher the terrain and I had a few close calls on the descent. When we finally emerged from the forest, we noticed the full moon rising across the valley. Although I wouldn’t recommend mountain biking at night without a headlamp, I have to admit that it was one of the most memorable rides of the year.
Another change was that the multi-use trails, closed seasonally to bikes, were open once again. I was lucky enough to spend a day riding around the shoreline of Lake Minnewanka – meaning ‘the lake of spirits’ in the Stoney-Nakoda language – on the day it officially reopened. At the far end of the ride, I noticed bear claw markings on the trembling aspens and accidentally laid my bike on top of a fresh pile of scat. Even though we were only 15km from the trailhead, it was clear we were in an area seldom visited by hikers. We finished our snacks on a gravel spit by the lake and then raced the cross-country single track back to the car park. We didn’t run into any bears, spirits, or spirit-bears, but it was exhilarating to be travelling through an area that felt so remote.
Although the Bow Valley Parkway is a popular summer cycling route, it typically has to be shared with a steady flow of traffic. When September hits, it’s closed to vehicles once more which means I could enjoy the scenic drive without stressing about being sideswiped. I brought my mom, my boyfriend and my Sutra along for the ride. The turning leaves around us were as yellow as the lines we were swerving over. Looking up, the first dusting of snow on the towering slabs highlighted each one of their ancient stone layers. We picnicked in their shadows before heading back to town, taking up space and taking our time to enjoy the peaceful parkway. I always find road riding more enjoyable when cars aren’t involved.
Having grown up on the West Coast, the abrupt end of summer in the Rockies was new to me. Fall’s crisp slap in the face made me think that I’d head into hibernation early and spend my time indoors, getting some much-needed R&R. But once I realised how much riding the shoulder season had to offer, I knew that the only time I’d be sitting on my ass would be when I was on a bike.
