Martin Luther King Day. I creep toward the edges of the natural area as I look for a place to park for the night. The day moves from hot to cold to hot again. Tourists fill the lots as they begin the long slog to the dam overlook. I unpack the bike, hit the same trails and begin the climb from the lake up toward the superstructure of engineering marvel.
It’s been ages since I’ve pushed the pedals. The New Mexican winter clamping down on my desires, but within a half-mile I remember why I love the bike so much. The trail is perfect, groomed and dives deep into a tunnel complex. I am almost alone on my pedaling adventure.
The lake lies below to the east and is a constant reminder of the fragility of our world. High water mark dangerously above the current level. Feeder pipe after feeder pipe exposed and left behind as the massive suck of Vegas demands. When will the tipping point arrive? Or are we already there?
Layering up. Camera out. A frame here, a frame there. Nothing good but enough to keep my appetite active. Time, always in short supply. “It’s okay,” I tell myself. “Keep the expectations within reason.”