Rode all the way up on the 401 Trail, a Colorado classic.
The view: gorgeous. The trail: thin singletrack, tall wildflowers just past their flourish of color and beauty. The pitch toward the end: wicked steep. The pain: tremendous. The riding time: around five hours.
That night’s sleep: ocean deep.
The quick scene, w/dialogue: A guy on his way down stopped and pulled off the track. He nodded his head, smiled, said “Yeah, dude. Get some.”
I got some.