Legend of Leggett

   Albert awoke to the fresh, cool, Garberville mountain air, but could sense that the day was going to be hot. Today, Albert faced the two-thousand foot summit of Leggett mountain. The ‘Legend of Leggett’, was that many a touring cyclist’s remains and gear, were left scattered by the wayside. Albert, with respect to Leggett, heeded the warnings, and with love and not fear in his heart, set out to conquer.

   Albert swooping down highway 101 from Garberville, took the Benbow side road, quickly passed through the town of Piercy, and started his ascent. Rejoining 101, he passed by one-thousand year-old trees, and for the next ten miles, the road wound up the face of the mountain and with surprising ease, Albert summited Leggett.

   From the summit, Albert exited 101 and via Highway 1, started his descent to the coast. Passing ‘The Drive-through Tree’, out of the corner of his eye, Albert noticed a hand-written sign that read, ‘False Summit!’ “False Summit?”  questioned Albert, “what’s up with that?” The road continued to descend, and shortly after crossing over the Eel river, flattened out. It was here, around a sharp corner, that Albert suddenly faced a second ascent - the actual ascent to the real summit of Leggett Mountain!

   This was a haul! The road, not the steepest Albert had encountered, was simply unending. It twisted and turned as it made it’s way up through the deep pine forest to the two-thousand foot summit. Albert, sitting back in his seat, with a firm grip off his handle bars, pulled for all his worth. About two-thirds of the way up, with his arms and lower back burning, Albert just had to get out of his saddle. Standing, using all his strength to turn over his Campagnolo crank, Albert thought he could hear voices. Dripping with sweat, his heart and lungs working overtime, on the verge of faltering, he was now positive that he could hear voices. Yes, there, just up ahead he could see Blue Bird and Golden Piglet calling to him. But wait, they weren’t alone, alongside them, Albert could see J-Bird, Mo and Bo, and was that Ali? Yes, that was Ali, and they were all right there at the summit beckoning to him. With re-newed drive and a second wind, Albert turned up the pace. Now, off to his right he noticed wild deer – they were running alongside him, and what was this, on his left were a pair of beautifully marked skunks, and just off in the brush, there were rabbits and squirrels, snakes and frogs, and now it appeared that the forest was alive with the sounds of little critters and bugs, all pushing for him. And looking up in the sky he could see hawks and falcons, and below them there were butterflies, and humming birds, and dragonflies all pushing for the summit. J-Bird was right there, just off of his left shoulder, and now Golden Piglet with her little legs, was scampering along below, and of course, in her usual place, right out in front, was Blue Bird leading the way. The pace grew faster and faster, and even the trees and the shrubs, and flowers appeared to be helping as the collective energy seemed to pull a weightless Albert, effortlessly up and over the mountain. His experience was amazing, it was heavenly, it was Albert’s, ‘Alpe d’Huez’ moment, and in a spiritual, Pantheist sense, it was “Godly!”

   Now on top of the two-thousand foot Leggett summit, perched on the precipice of it’s descent, Albert, pulled to a momentary stop and while still strapped in, balanced his bike, rolled back a foot or two, rocked for a moment, and then settled into a comfortable, seated track stand. Turning to look behind him, there was the collective, all smiles and waves as they individually drifted away. “Ready for the descent?” he quickly asked. “No Little Prince,” replied the logical Golden Piglet. “Speaking for the collective, this one’s all yours.” “What about you J-Bird, you with me?” asked Albert. “No, Albert, I’m with Golden Piglet on this one,” responded J-Bird. And turning to Blue Bird, “how about it, you up for this?’ asked Albert. And being the spontaneous, little thing that she was, “wouldn’t miss it for the world Albert,” was her natural response. “Come on Albert, let’s rock ‘n’ roll!” And with that, Albert took a glance at the 8% grade sign, took a deep gulp, and from a standing start, with Blue Bird alongside, took the plunge.

   Down and down they flew, two-thousand feet of dark twisting, narrow road, straight down. Thirty-five plus miles an hour around tight unforgiving curves. It was pure exhilaration! Albert couldn’t believe the thrill and the joy of the moment. Nothing else matter beyond the here and the now. This was everything! Right now, Blue Bird and Albert were one with the world, this was flow, this was Zen, this was love!

   Reaching the bottom of Leggett Mountain the road headed west to the great blue Pacific. From there Highway 1, through coastal rolling foothills, lined with wildflowers and thistles, wound its way to the town of Mendocino. Here, under a blanket of fog, the day’s yarn expired, and with Blue Bird, now napping on his handlebars, after the most heart-pounding eighty miles of cycling, Albert pulled up for the night.