“Got a light?” was the first thing he said after stopping us from night riding. Which was weird, because even in the dark I could see the glowing ember of a cigarette dangling from his lips.
“I need a light,” he said pointing to our obnoxiously bright mountain biking lights attached to our helmets and handlebars. This made a lot more sense.
It was a Saturday night and we’d come tearing up to him in the dark. We were hooting and hollering, just getting started on what is one of my favourite Saturday night activities: riding mountain bikes in the dark, as fast as you can through the woods. It’s so much fun. Even the trails you know by heart become adrenaline pumping adventures.
Now I’m sure we’d scared the hell out of this dude. If I was him, I’d have panicked, crouched in the woods and let whatever those noises and lights were pass. But, he didn’t hide, he had something else on his mind. He got directly in front of us, blocking the trail so we couldn’t get past. My friend Cory asked, “hey could we get by?” which was when he asked for a light.
And why wouldn’t we oblige? We were curious why he was out here, so we sidled up to him and shone our lights on whatever it was he was fumbling with. He muttered something about how we might see his girlfriend out here too. Then I saw what was in his hands;
I saw some bullets, what looked like a handgun and a pair of frantic fingers trying to load the clip. My first thought was, “oh cool, that’s a pretty badass looking BB gun.” I’d never seen a handgun outside of a glass case before.
But it was my friend Adam’s reaction that tipped me off. “No thanks man, we gotta go,” at which point he took off. Cory with him. I watched for a millisecond longer, as the guy spilled bullets all over the singletrack while swaying on his heels. I took off as fast as I could, hammering to catch up. A few minutes later, I yelled between my gasping breaths, “was that what I think it was?”
To which everyone responded. Yep. A handgun.
Night riding is the best. Colin Field photo.
Quick lap goes long
What was supposed to be a short out-and-back ride became an epic. There was no way we were heading back in the dark towards a man with a now-loaded handgun. Instead we shouldered our bikes, sacrificed our dry shoes and plunged knee-deep into the rushing Bighead River.
While night-riding itself is a sure way to induce an adrenaline rush or two, throwing in a random dude with a handgun is a great way to amplify it all. As we rode back along the twisting singletrack on the other side of the river, our calves and quads burning with exhaustion, gunshot-like sounds exploded throughout the valley. Whether they were fireworks (it was the May long weekend) or gunshots, we’ll never know.
The speed of fear
Fear is an amazing emotion. It gave our ride a singular focus; get out of the woods as fast as possible. And on the way, we rode better than we ever have. We rode faster, with more confidence and a quicker pace than usual. Our legs pushed through the burn and our lungs sucked in more oxygen. And when we finally got home, that cold beer tasted better than any beer we’d ever had before. We were better friends now. Friends with one more story to tell.
Many rivers to cross. Colin Field photo.
Drawing straws
And after drawing straws to see who would phone the police we all agreed; we’d be night riding that same trail next year on Saturday night of the May long weekend. No question. And with or without a random dude with a handgun, we’d also plunge into the Bighead River again. Because that was a seriously awesome ride.
By the way, although we chatted extensively with the police, both the night of, and over the next couple of days, they never found the man in question.
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