To Ben and Lucas these are familiar textures, known in summertime and after work escape. Pedal along bike paths, quiet rural roads, in betweens and local knowledge throughs, river bridges hidden parks first the Minneapolis then the Saint Paul skylines crouching behind the trees. Everyone mentions how it was in the 70’s here last week, but today our fingers pinch sting when we pull them out of mittens to take a snapshot or adjust a zipper, we take a break at a Mexican grocery store, wide eyed appreciative of the expanse of candied fruit and spanish labeled staples.
Hours of that unhurried talk the way when you know that we’ll be sleeping in the woods tonight so not all of the details have to come out at once. Our accommodations are luxury, a yurt in a state park the wood stove hissing at the unexpected flurries that turn into a full snowfall. We’re met by companions and Ben plays his guitar and banjo, sleep to wake to winter and it’s fine (because) we’re on bicycles.