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California
Our breaths curl visibly. We eye each other’s pack configurations. We are ‘dialed,’ describing the state of being well-tuned. We’re equipped with the latest and lightest camping gear and riding technology. Despite looking the part, I wonder how each of us will actually handle the challenges on the road ahead.
We move along through Chico, which—usually bustling with college life—is still sleeping. Empty porch swings, trimmed hedges and healthy green lawns. The fresh smell of flowers in full bloom intermingles with that of stale beer and fading images of students, early morning studies, and late night parties.
On the soft strumming sounds of our machines, we head for the foothills to the east. It is here—traversing through almond orchards and agricultural fields—where we’ve spent the last three years getting our riding legs. It is at once familiar and energizing. We’re a colorful cluster. Ken and Jeff lead the formation spinning along smoothly, comparing notes, gesturing animatedly.