I pulled into the trailhead—bikes loaded, ready to take a quick ride with the family. For the first time in months, ours was the only car in the parking lot. We were relieved. We unloaded and rolled out, slashing down the rocky singletrack, taking in the views of the ski runs cut into the side of Brudage Mountain—our winter playground.
As we wound through the woods, we passed dispersed camping site after dispersed camping site. The third one we came to had a forest-service employee picking up toilet paper and other debris left behind by first-time campers who hadn’t yet learned how to use the bathroom in the woods. With a wan smile and a wave, we passed him by and continued on our way.
We finished the ride, loaded back up and headed into town. Pre-COVID-19, we would have likely stopped in at the local bakery, sat down and chatted for a while. Now, the bakery was only open to take-out and we still had some left at home. So, we headed there to have breakfast and coffee on the deck.
