‘25 Ride Report

“No, I’ll throw you in the bay, sir!”
- Ella

I’m biased, but I think this year’s Sugarbench was really fun. The weather, the good people, the dust and the bikes. As I sat down to record the mishaps and near-misses that kind of make it, I realized I can write on demand, just not on the topic of my choosing. Hence, Arrowcorn. Sorry or your welcome, depending on your stomach for ocean adventures.

木漏れ日,
Andy

ARROWCORN

Part I: Twelfth Winter

Long ago, before days were numbered and named, Arrow entered the world with a thud. He was short, sharp and strong. Only the wind dared whip him. Ant marching, leaf spinning and boulder bowling his way through days, he invented numbers and disobeyed seasons. In his twelfth winter, after chasing the sniffs and shadows of a meal, he stumbled upon a cranky sea. It roiled with such fury that the gulls wished for Nebraska and the otters begged for Alaska. In the void where joy and bird squawks once lived, an ancient wave-maker had awoken from a long, deep slumber. Coral crushing, cloud frothing, sand suckling, it teased the ocean into a nervous dance. Arrow's hunger grew as he scanned the shoreline below. Dinner had swam for safer waters. Soon his family found him there, entranced by the growing tempest. They gestured for a quick retreat to the redwood forest in the valley. Words of warning were devoured by the hungry wind. They shuffled, forward leaning, the storm chasing them into the dark and dangerous forest. Into the home of giant gnomes they went. These overgrown creatures lived wild amongst the redwoods. There, they saw towering trees that had been kicked into toothpicks for fun. The giant gnomes took offence to strangers and Arrow's people were such small, squishable strangers. Arrow and his family were captured immediately and stuffed in a hollowed-out tree. The giant creatures shouted at Arrow through the door, blaming him for the approaching storm. Piles of acorn cookies and heaps of blue-buckle pies glistened in a pantry behind the angry gnomes. The giants didn’t know how to or care to share. The forest brought no safe harbor for Arrow and his family. Despite the worsening weather, they longed to be back by the dunes where they were exposed, but free. Growling and stomping, the chief giant threatened to throw Arrow and his family far into the ocean. Arrow lit a match, catching her attention. 
"Aren't you worried about us returning?," Arrow asked calmly. 
"No," the giant gnome laughed. "You'll melt into the sea. That match has a better chance of surviving than you."
"What if we manage?," Arrow asked. 
"Well, you'll have done something impossible, then." The chief grunted. "The earth and sky belong to the impossible."
She then grabbed them all by scruff of their necks, made three wild spins with her body and hurled them skyward. They drifted into the clouds and crashed unceremoniously into the cold, curdled sea.

Part II: Space Between Stars

Arrow felt the ocean sting his eyes before he tasted the salt. The water's initial cold embrace  was followed by relentless chopping waves. The sky above was indistinguishable from the ocean below. Arrow didn't know which way was up so he kicked and hoped. Kicked and hoped. Staring at what he imagined was the sky, he took a breath and gulped the briny water. He spit it out, found air and asked the others to kick too. He pushed them, pulled them, yelled at them. Through the rainy night they continued, through a deeper darkness than the space between stars. When they finally washed ashore, many had already given up swimming. They floated to an incomplete safety. Most laid on the beach until their shivering bodies shook them into action. Arrow brushed the sand from his body, helped others, started warming fires, looked for food and hung up clothes to dry. He walked the full circumference of the island. The waves crashed and pulled at his legs, wishing him back. Arrow and his family wouldn't drown on the island, but there was a new, old threat. The island was barren. Not one edible plant could be found, just some brackish water trickling from a small spring. They survived on grubs and the odd scrawny hare that fell into Arrow’s snares. Days passed and Arrow fashioned a bow from driftwood and sinew. He knapped flint into sharpish points, fastening them to irregular sticks. When fired, the arrows dipped and dove unpredictably. Snow and freezing rain came in sideways. One day, after many days on the island, Arrow saw a crow float in the thermal breeze above the island's high point. He ran up the mountain, loaded the bow, pulled back his twine and let loose on the crow. The arrow struck the shiny beak of the bird, spilling a golden kernel of corn into the air. The bird spun away gracefully, the tiny kernel spun toward earth. It struck Arrow on his forehead, just above his nose. 

Part III: A Land Forgotten

The elders began calling the island home. They demanded that the golden kernel be planted, tended and harvested to feed the clan. They had given up hope for any return to the mainland. They believed the kernel and the future nourishment it represented was their last chance at survival. They worried that Arrow would grind it up to eat himself. Starving, they came to take it from Arrow, but he was missing. They scoured the island for him, looking in all his usual places. Eventually they found him at the beach. He stood still as a statue in the spot that they had all washed ashore. His bow was drawn and shaking, the arrow pointed away from them, above the horizon, toward the redwood forest. They rushed at him and noticed the kernel of corn served as the arrowhead. As the elders pulled at him, he let the arrowcorn fly, bending it into the clouds like a hummingbird, tracking toward a land forgotten. It was gone in a flash. Arrow squirmed as his brothers wrestled him to the ground and cuffed him on his head with their fists and clubs.
"How could you be so stupid?" They asked.
Arrow didn't reply. Others were too tired or downtrodden to fight Arrow. Many had been close to giving up. Now they had well and truly given up. Arrow went back to foraging for himself and others. On the 42nd sunrise after the kernel flew, the wave-maker that had battered them finally fell asleep. The skies cleared and shone blue for the first time since they landed. The world had stopped pressing down and lifted up. In the distance, across the now flat ocean, they could see land. On that land was a green hill, glistening with ripe corn stalks. The clan smiled a collective smile at the sight of so much food, so near. Their spirits touched the sky again and Arrow waved them into the water. They had remembered how to swim, how to fight, how to dream. As they swam, the wave-maker snored below them, its breath tickling their toes. They made it home for a breakfast of corn chowder. And lunch they ate. And dinner they ate. Build houses they did. All the things they had been missing, they did. The giant gnomes jogged angrily from the redwood forest to the shore to confront them. They saw Arrow first and stopped.
"Impossible", they cried down to him. 
"We're the earth and sky,” Arrow replied. “We’re impossible."  

The giant gnomes turned and ran. Turned and ran for their lives. 

THE END