Minutes into my mountain bike ride through the smoky Pacific Northwest, I sensed something was wrong. Wildfire smoke hung in the air, reducing visibility to under a hundred feet. The sun barely pierced the haze, casting an eerie orange glow. The familiar bike trail felt strange. Squirrels darted around, and birds chirped sharply, almost like a warning. Fallen trees littered the forest, unusual for late summer. The landscape seemed disturbed, as though nature itself had been shaken.
As I climbed the last rise, I noticed a flash to my right. I glanced back but saw only twigs and brush. My hand brushed the knife in my pocket—a precaution against mountain lions. But today, the air carried a different kind of tension.
I pedaled faster, finding my rhythm. Lava fields flanked the trail as I moved east. Mt. McLoughlin was hidden behind the smoke, adding to the unease. Thoughts of turning back crossed my mind, but I pressed on, feeling like something beyond the ordinary awaited me.
At the switchback, I tapped the brakes, leaned into the turn, and accelerated. The ride felt effortless, almost surreal. Trees seemed out of place, and I couldn’t shake the sense that I was heading into something unfamiliar.
The trail transitioned from lava rock to packed dirt. The squirrels disappeared, replaced by hidden birds. The light filtering through the forest felt strange, almost dreamlike.
At my usual turnaround point, I stopped, snapped a photo of the smoke-filled trail, and took a drink from my water pack. My back was drenched in sweat, and the smoke choked off the sun’s intensity. I left my sunglasses on, needing to focus forward.
As I climbed back through the lava fields, I saw a large rock in the middle of the trail. It moved. I blinked, and it shifted to the side. I didn’t stop, but my mind raced. Rocks don’t move on their own. Was I imagining things?
The forest felt upside down. Alone on the smoky trail, I kept riding, uncertain of what lay ahead.
The familiar crunch of gravel under my tires brought some relief. I sped through the trees, leaving the lava fields behind. Approaching the S-curve, I adjusted my speed, leaned into the turn, and navigated between the towering firs. But just ahead, a smoky figure appeared, watching me. Before I could react, it vanished. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind.
With two miles left, I pedaled harder, but the strangeness lingered. The ride didn’t feel normal. Only when I reached my car and heard the hum of music did I start to feel grounded again. As I packed up, I couldn’t shake the thought—had I missed something? Was there another world just beyond my reach?
Relief washed over me as I saw my car, ready to take me back to the familiar routine of everyday life.
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