It's been cold in the American West this week. Where I live, a winter cold snap means frost-coated leaves in the morning, ice patches that linger through the day, unobstructed sunshine, azure skies and clear visibility that gives depth to the farthest horizons. So most everywhere else it's cold, but here, it's perfect.
fifty miles, 6,680 feet of climbing, over 6.5 hours. There was plenty of chatting, laughing, picnicking, and coasting down ribbons of singletrack so smooth and relaxing that they seemed to instantly erase the thousand-foot grunt we'd endured to get there. Some rides are just like that. No epic battles. No lingering pain. Just smiles in the sunlight.