Gravity Check

by Alex van Tol

  “Sure, yeah.” Chase gives me the nod, and we gingerly lift the bike off Nolan. When we’ve got the bike untangled from his legs and pack straps, he rolls himself into a sitting position and gives his head a shake. Dust puffs off his helmet. Rico gives him a careful once-over. Nolan’s knees are bleeding pretty good, his chin is a red meaty mess, and he’s got big strips of skin missing from each forearm. I wince when I see them. So does Nolan. Those are going to hurt. He stares at his bleeding wounds and takes a big, shaky breath. I wonder whether we’re going to have to take him back to camp. A wipeout like that is enough to strike fear into the heart of any cyclist. And we’ve got four full days out here. I doubt whether he’s going to want to keep going.

  Everyone is silent, staring at him, watching to see how he’s going to manage his first serious stack.

  Nolan looks around at the mess spread around on the ground nearby. He takes another shaky breath.

  “Wow,” he says. He looks up at Rico and blinks. Then he looks back at the gear that’s strewn everywhere. “Holy. Got me quite the yard sale, here, eh?”

  Seth and I burst out laughing.

  Chase grins. “Let’s get you patched up, Nolan,” he says. He rummages in his first-aid kit.

  And just like that, we’re back in business.

  chapter seven

  The rest of the day passes in a blur of biking. No more serious bails, though, thank god. Chase did a good job of dressing Nolan’s knees and wrapping his arms. His chin looked a lot better too, after it was cleaned off and all the little bits of gravel were washed out.

  By the time we reach the campsite, it’s late afternoon. We find our packs tossed in a careless heap, baking in the afternoon sun. I wish a band of gnomes would come set up our tents and make supper for us.

  My butt is sore as I dismount and lean my bike on a tree near the fire pit.

  I’m not the only one. We’re all stiff.

  “Augh!” moans Seth as he peels himself off his saddle. “My ass is so done with being on that seat.”

  “Wait until tomorrow morning,” says Chase. “You’ll be even more sore. Sorer? Is that a word?” He shrugs, shoulders his pack and walks it over to a flat patch of gravel. He looks around the area. “What do you guys say we set the tents up here?”

  “You mean, what do we say to you setting up the tents for us?” says Seth with a grin. “Sounds good to me. Right where you are looks like a perfect spot, Chase.” Seth wanders over to the tree stumps circling the fire pit and eases himself down next to Nolan, who’s popping sunflower seeds like they’re Smarties. Seth holds out his hand, and Nolan dumps a handful of seeds into his palm.

  Chase laughs at Seth’s words, and I feel that familiar stab of jealousy. It’s always so easy for Seth. He even gets away with being a lazy bum because he’s such a charmer. But Chase surprises me with what he says next.

  “Not likely,” Chase replies. “Sore ass or not, there’s work to be done. Rico and Nolan, you two are on supper detail. Jamie and Seth, you’re helping me set up the tents. We’ll do the bear hang after.”

  I groan.

  “But I just sat down!” Seth whines. Chase ignores him.

  Nolan dives headfirst into the bag of food we packed earlier. Rico pumps up the propane stove. Pots rattle and crash as they get to work.

  Chase pulls a bundle of poles out of the tent bag. “When you guys get done helping me set up these tents,” he says, “I’ll give you some free time to roam as long as you’re back in time for supper. Tomorrow night we’ll switch. You’ll be on supper prep and the other guys can have freebies.”

  “Can we take our bikes?” I ask.

  “If you’re responsible about it,” Chase says, straightening the poles. He looks at us meaningfully.

  Seth and I look at each other. Right on! Time to ourselves on the trails? Sweet. My butt feels much less sore as I think about the prospect.

  We work like machines, laying down ground sheets, pushing tent poles through sleeves and pounding in pegs. Before long, we’ve got two nice sleeping shelters set up.

  Chase unzips the door to one of the tents and unrolls his sleeping pad. He waits until it inflates, then eases himself down on it. A copy of Surfer’s Path appears from inside his pack. “Where are you guys headed?” he asks. “It’s pretty remote out here. I’ve got to know where you’ll be in case we need to send the search party after you.” He winks and nods in the direction of Nolan and Rico.

  Nolan’s bent over a pot lid, chopping green pepper into little bitty pieces with his Swiss Army knife. His mouth moves as he works. Probably reciting Shakespeare or something. Rico fills the cooking pot, using filtered water from the stream that runs along our campsite. My stomach growls again. I look at the sky. The sun is lowering itself toward the mountains. If Seth and I head out now, we can get a good hour’s worth of riding in before we have to pack it in for the night.

  “How long until supper, Nolan?” I call.

  Nolan stops chopping. He straightens up and wipes his brow with his gauzy arm bandage, like he’s just chopped a cord of wood. “Forty-five?” he says.

  Good enough.

  “You know that trail we saw as we came into camp?” I ask Chase. “The one that heads east through the clearing? We’ll take that one.”

  “Sounds good. But stay on the main trail,” he says. “No funny stuff. No jumps, no tricks. You’re just exploring now, right?”

  “Right. That’s fair,” I say. “We’ll be back for supper.”

  “Sounds good.” Chase returns to his magazine. “Take a first-aid kit with you.”

  “Check.” Seth and I both completed the mandatory first-aid training before we arrived at camp.

  Seth is already buckling his helmet. I grab my own helmet and bike, wrestling my hands into gloves that are still damp from a day of sweating. Then we blast.

  I know we promised Chase no funny stuff. But come on. How can you tell two bikers to go check out unexplored trails and not mess around while they’re doing it?

  A few minutes away from the campsite, the trail starts swooping. It’s beautiful. Dips and hollows that remind me of the pump track back at camp. A couple of sweet jumps. We backtrack a few times to see how fast we can take them. I’m pleased to discover that I’m getting pretty good at moving my bike around under me when I’ve caught some good air. A couple of shaky landings, but nothing too ugly.

  When we get bored with that, we continue exploring. Seth takes the lead. After a few minutes of going dead straight, Seth pulls off the main track onto a winding side trail that drifts closer to the trees. I like this one already. I’m too excited at seeing rocks and roots to give Seth hell for leaving the main path. After all, I want to have some fun too. We’ll just play for a while, I think. Then we’ll return to the main trail.

  Dodging boulders and hopping roots slows us down a bit. Gradually, the obstacles fade and the trail changes again. The path opens out into an overgrown double track— the kind ATVs use. I’m disappointed. The surrounding forest gets deeper and darker. We ride along the track for a while, looking for a different path into the trees. Or at least for something exciting to jump. Nothing. Just grass and trees flashing past.

  I’m about to suggest we turn back when Seth pulls up short. I nearly crash into him. I jerk my front wheel away from his rear tire and hop my bike into the tall weeds growing beside the track. I lose my balance and fall off.

  “Jesus, Seth!” I shout. “What’s with the roost?” He knows better than to stop dead like that. It’s dangerous. If there were other people riding behind us, it’d cause a huge pileup. People get hurt doing that kind of stuff.

  He ignores my question.

  “You can’t just stop like that,” I bark. “You’re lucky I didn’t eat your back fender.” I stand and brush myself off, then grab my bike. “Dumbass,” I mutter.

  “Jamie, look around,” Seth says quietly. The way he says it gives me the chills. Immediately, my anger vanishes. I follow his gaze.

  For
as far as I can see, in every direction, we are surrounded by tall stalks of leafy dark green plants. They’re interspersed with the huge coniferous trees in the forest. Blending in.

  My jaw drops. “Holy crap,” I breathe. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Seth nods. “BC Bud. Acres and acres of it.” He leans forward and grabs one of the plants. “Just about ready to be harvested too,” he says. He looks at me, a mixture of daring and delight in his face. “Perfecto.”

  “Seth!” I hiss. I grab his hand away from the plant. “Don’t even think about it. This stuff doesn’t just grow out here naturally. Someone’s planted it on purpose. Someone who probably doesn’t want a couple of kids helping themselves to their crop,” I add. I look around. “Someone who most likely wouldn’t want those same kids to even know about it.”

  Suddenly I feel scared. It hits me that we’ve ridden into a very serious situation. I look around again, craning my neck in all directions. There must be thousands of plants out here. Maybe hundreds of thousands. All mixed in with the surrounding pines.

  We’re not just on a mountain-biking trail deep in the North Shore Mountains right now.

  We’re in the middle of a huge grow-op.

  I turn to Seth and lower my voice. “This isn’t some backwoods hick’s little pot patch,” I say. “This is a massive grow, man. I bet it’s guarded. We have to get out of here. We can’t get caught. If they catch us, they’ll kill us.” I’m not sure if that’s exactly true. But…what if it is?

  Seth’s blue eyes widen. Fear flickers in their depths. He hasn’t thought of this. He nods. “Okay,” he whispers. “Let’s go.”

  We turn and walk our bikes back the way we came, hardly daring to as much as crinkle the grass under our feet. For some reason that we don’t need to discuss, both of us feel better walking rather than biking right now. It feels less noisy. The less attention we draw to ourselves right now, the better.

  My chest is tight, like someone has wrapped it in thick rubber bands. We walk for what feels like ages, stopping and goggling at each other in terror whenever one of us snaps a twig or we hear a noise in the forest.

  We’re almost running by the time we get off the double track. It’s not until we’re deep onto the single track that we allow ourselves to mount up and ride.

  And ride we do. Legs burning, we hammer down the path toward camp, thanking the universe that no one spotted us.

  After a few minutes, the forest opens up and we pass the jumps we were playing on earlier. We slacken our pace. Just before we roll into camp, I slow my bike to a stop. I want to debrief with Seth before we arrive back at the fire pit. We have to figure out what to tell everyone. Or what not to tell.

  Seth rolls up beside me. “That was crazy, man,” he says. “What the hell? I almost filled my pants back there.”

  I nod. “Yeah, not fun.” I wipe sweat from under my helmet with the side of my glove. “So listen,” I say. “We’re not going to breathe a word about this to anyone, okay?”

  “What?” Seth asks. “Why not?”

  “If Chase finds out where we’ve been, he’ll freak.”

  “Jamie, we just rode our bikes into a major grow-op,” says Seth. “I have to tell everyone what happened!”

  Of course he does. Seth always wants to be the first one to spread news. But I can’t let him. Not this time.

  I shake my head. “Listen to me, Seth. If we tell them what we just saw, Chase might make us pack up and leave.”

  “What?” Seth says. “No way. Jamie, the grow-op is at least two miles away from the campsite. It’s totally far into the trees,” he says, gesturing toward where we’ve just come from. “No one’s going to come chasing after us. If they haven’t already, they’re not about to.”

  “I know that,” I say. “And you know that. I think we’re fine too. No one’s going to come after us. But Chase and Rico have a job to do. They’re supposed to keep us safe. And that means they might call the van to take us back to camp right away.” I pause to let this sink in. “And then we might not get to meet Mitch Woodgrove tomorrow.”

  A light goes on. “Oh,” says Seth. “Yeah.” He nods slowly as he works it all out in his brain. “Yeah, that would suck.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “So. We’re not telling anyone what we saw. And to stop anyone else from going down that same path tomorrow, we’ll just say that the terrain was really lame and flat and there was nothing to do. Deal?”

  Seth nods. “Yeah, that’s good,” he says. “They’ll buy that.”

  I look right at him. “Can I trust you not to tell anyone about this, Seth?” I ask. “You have to promise to keep your mouth shut.”

  Seth nods. “No problem, man,” he says. He presses his lips together. Uses his fingers to mime a little locking motion and then throws away an imaginary key.

  I nod. “Good.”

  Our dirty little secret parked firmly in the closet, we hop on our bikes and pedal back to the campsite.

  chapter eight

  The next morning comes before any of us are ready for it. The air is cold, and we pull our sleeves down over our hands while we wait for the water to boil. The sound of wheels crunching on gravel makes me turn. A tall, broad-shouldered guy pulls up to the fire pit and dismounts from his bike. Mitch Woodgrove. He’s bigger than I expected. “Morning, everyone,” he says with a wide grin.

  “Hey, Mitch!” Chase says. He’s standing by the stove, preparing our breakfast. He extends his hand, and they shake, firm and quick. We nod and wave as Chase introduces us.

  “You guys ready to shred?” Mitch asks.

  “Hellz yeah!” shouts Seth. His enthusiasm makes me smile.

  “For sure,” says Rico.

  I steal a glance at Nolan, who was so excited last night about Mitch coming that he wouldn’t shut up about it. But now the words fail him. He’s just staring, slack-jawed and starstruck. I don’t even think he heard Mitch’s question. I nudge him with my elbow, and he closes his mouth.

  “Totally ready, Mitch,” I say.

  Eight thirty finds us standing with Mitch at the top of a sharp drop in the forest, where we’ve come to play.

  Rico rubs his eyes and yawns. I don’t know how the guy can be so tired all the time. I’m wide awake. I don’t want to miss a thing today.

  “Okay, so you want to be looking ahead,” Mitch is saying. “You don’t want to be looking down at what your bike is doing. Look at where you’re going to be landing. Concentrate on making yourself go there.”

  The sun streams through the canopy high above us, lighting up the little plumes of dust kicked up by our wheels. Spread out before us is a whole series of jumps and drops that passing bikers have carved out of the earth over time. It’s a mountain-bike playground, deep in the backcountry.

  Nolan shifts uneasily next to me as he listens to Mitch. I can see this is taking him pretty far from his comfort zone.

  On my other side, Seth is watching Mitch’s every move with rapt attention. He’s been pissing me off all morning, sucking up to Mitch and trying to make him laugh. So far he hasn’t succeeded.

  Mitch backs his bike up a bit and hops on. “Have a look, guys.” He starts rolling toward the drop, talking all the way. “Make sure your speed is right, lean back, stay loose”—he flies over the lip, and then his wheels hit the hardpack—“and ride it out.”

  I nod. It’s pretty basic technique. Nice to hear Mitch talk us through it though.

  I look at Nolan. “What do you say, Nolan?” I ask. “You up for it?”

  Nolan shakes his head. “This one’s all yours, Jamie,” he says. “I’m happy to watch.” He must still be really sore from yesterday’s fall down those stairs.

  “You’re coming down too, Nolan,” says Mitch from where he’s standing at the bottom of the jump. His words are teasing, but his tone is firm.

  “We’ll see about that,” Nolan replies. He crosses his arms like a pouty two-year-old. “You’re not the boss of me!”

  I laugh at Nolan�
��s act. I know he’ll eventually cave and come down the drop. He just has to get used to the idea. Map it out in his mind. Nolan can’t stand not being a part of things, even if he sometimes gets in way over his head.

  I wheel my bike back from where I’ve been watching, on the side of the lip. As I turn to start walking it uphill, Chase comes screaming down from another jump higher up on the track. He’s got some serious speed—and a serious grin on his face.

  “Don’t try this at home, kids,” he shouts as he launches off the lip. My eyes nearly fall out of my head as I watch him chew through the air. He drops his bike down, below his body. Swings his legs forward. Slaps the soles of his feet together. Whips them back into position. Not a moment too soon, they catch the pedals and absorb his landing.

  Holy hell. The guy’s a machine.

  He skids to a stop a bit farther down from Mitch, who breaks into a full grin.

  “Nice,” he says. He looks back up the hill. I follow his stare and see Rico hammering off the same jump that Chase just took. He shoots off the lip and gains air. But instead of clapping his feet together, Rico just lifts his feet off the pedals and out to the side, like a jumping jack. His feet come down just in time to catch his landing. It’s a bit rough, but he sticks it.

  Fantastic.

  Seth, Nolan and I cheer. I want to try that.

  I walk my bike up.

  I go slower over the big jumps at first. I don’t get as much air as Rico and Chase, and certainly not as much as Mitch, but my form is good. The more jumps I take, the faster I go, and the more comfortable I feel with it. After a while things seem to slow down a bit, and I can make decisions in midair. It feels like I’ve got time to try different things. I experiment, popping up and turning my handlebars a bit. Sweeping my tail out.

  Rico keeps surprising all of us, pulling out crazy tricks and trying new stuff. He’s fearless, but he’s not stupid. He’s completely focused on what he’s doing. In the zone. He doesn’t think about the other people who are standing around watching. He just drops in, does his shred and pulls off to hear what Mitch has to say. I admire him. Especially when he pops off a jump and twists his bike from side to side before landing it.