Hunting for dark nights and wishing on stars

Shadows cast 10 miles long as the last sun tucks between ridges and mountain tops. Dusk falls faster on our basin side and slower on the other side, the sunset watched not by looking toward it but by looking in the opposite direction toward blood-orange peaks. End-of-day light climbs the highest summits till it’s airborne, and we fall into the shadow of the Earth. My internal compass starts up, shoulders relaxing as I settle into cardinal directions, brain tingling with orientation. My ass is sore from banging around all day on a broomstick. Is this spade-shaped taint-basher all we could think up for a bike seat design? At least I’m not crabbed over a keyboard, eyes two feet from a retina-splitting monitor, spinal column sinking toward the floor in a chair. It’s why I come out here, to shake myself off, cobwebs coughed out, pupils stretched as if waking. Nothing here is designed for us or our bicycles, certainly not this power-line road and not these Joshua trees, which don’t look lik ... Read full article.