the sounds that inhabit our trip:

early morning:

  • pshhhhhh of everybody letting the air out of our sleeping pads
  • creek of the bathroom door as we groggily change into spandex
  • the pop of the lids of our bins as we open them to pack up.
  • click click click of peoples’ clipped shoes (the ones who got ready fast)
  • (note there are no talking sounds in the early morning)

on the bike:

  • the constant whirrrr of chains spinning as we ride together
  • the collective cachink cachink cachink- as we all downshift for a mountain
  • the wooshhhh of the crashing waves to our left as we ride along the coast
  • the roar of a vehicle approaching from behind- each distinctive to its type (except for pickup trucks and semis which incidentally sound exactly the same)
  • the “woo!” of the first person to spot the van for a break

at the end of the day:

  • there are no night sounds. except for the frequent off the wall comment at family dinner. and dance parties on occasion.
these are the details of the trip i will fondly remember when i get back home

 

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