I am sitting in the Starbucks in Incline Village with my netbook, the morning cool, crisp, clear and clean. A window to my left reveals a picture not unlike something you would see in a magazine. Green pines reach up to a sky whose color defies description, deeper and more pure than the best day in Sacramento. Mountains all around me. A crystalline lake out of sight, but only a half-mile away. Cars and trucks loaded with mountain bikes roll by, preparing for a ride they'll complete today but may talk about for years to come.
I am only here for a quick overnight trip to bring supplies and clean, but I too will ride. It will be one of many rides, but something during this ride will surely end up etched in my memory. That's how it is here. The riding is that good, the place that special.
I am off. Time to ride.