Gravity Check (2 page)

Chase is hollering along with a noisy camp cheer now, pounding on the table as the program staff prepare to make their after-lunch announcements. Sitting next to Chase is the skinny kid from the bus. I remember his name now. Nolan. What a perfect name. He's exactly how you'd picture a Nolan. Sharp, alert expression, like a raccoon. Skinny. Smudgy glasses. Hair that sticks up in the back. He's obviously a total nerd. I wonder what he's doing here, in an intermediate mountain-biking group. He's the kind of kid that other kids would make life hard for in school. Not that I would. I'm not a dick like that. I don't need to make other people feel bad to make myself feel better.

Seth's sitting next to Nolan, but let's just skip over his blond, blue-eyed, grinning, freckled perfection and move on to the last person in our small group.

Rico. He's our junior counselor. From what I can tell, he's the strong, silent type. He seems cool. Doesn't talk unless he needs to say something. Not like Chase and Nolan, who are both motormouths.

Seth's a talker too. The three of them will get on famously, I'll bet.

Whatever. I'm going to focus on having fun this week, not on how Seth drives me crazy.

As of tomorrow morning, our group is headed off-site for four days of pure mountain-biking excitement. Chase says when we're done lunch, we'll need to figure out our menus and pack our gear. We'll still be able to get a couple hours of biking in before supper too. I'm a bit bummed that we're not going to be sticking around to explore all the terrain around here. But I'm sure there'll be even crazier tracks where we're headed. First thing tomorrow, we'll load our bikes onto a trailer and take the van up into the hills. Deep into the mountains. Where I can ditch my worries on the rolling single track.

Just me, my bike and my wits, duking it out with the dirt trails.

And my baby brother Seth far, far behind me.

Sweet.

chapter three

Chase says there's a pump track here, and we can go there after we've packed for our overnight!
Awesome
. I had no idea the camp had one. They're superhard to build and a lot of places don't even allow them. I guess I shouldn't be that surprised. I mean, this
is
a mountain-biking camp, after all.

I've never been on a full-fledged pump track before. I've just played around on the jumps that Seth and I have built up in the woods near our place. I'm totally busting to try it.

After we finish packing, we hop on our bikes and pedal down to the pump track. I love my bike. Last year, I was riding hard-tail on an old Hahanna from, like, the Ice Age. But by April, I'd finally saved enough to buy my Kona Cadabra. It's the sweetest ride. It's more work to pedal this sucker uphill, because the suspension adds weight. But the ride down is way, way finer. Pumping and jumping is a snap on this bounce machine.

Seth's got my old bike. It'll be good to him. He'll have to save up for another one, though, if he wants a better ride. As if that'll happen. Seth burns through money like a welding torch through pipe. Doesn't matter how many hours he works at the sub shop, he spends his paychecks as soon as they come in.

Nolan, Chase, Seth and Rico follow a short gravel road that leads straight down from the out-tripping building. I spot a path in the trees and take that instead. I didn't sign up for road biking!

The trail is short, dry, narrow and packed with roots. Primo. It's not a steep slope, so I don't even try to avoid the bumps. I stand on the pedals and rattle straight over them. I eat bumps for breakfast. I savor the jerky motion that the path creates in my wrists. My bike feels great. Tight and compact. Like an extension of my body.

I arrive at the bottom of the hill, primed and ready for more. I follow the others, cutting through a field of long grass. On the other side of a small hill, a huge oval has been carved up into paths. It's about the size of an Olympic swimming pool. Maybe bigger. And it's filled—jammed, crisscrossed—with waves, berms and jumps. My mouth waters just looking at it.

The pump track.

“Whoa,” Seth says. His eyes are huge in his face. “This is the dopest pump track
ever
.” I roll my eyes. Like he would know. How many pump tracks has he been on? Exactly none.

Nolan nods sagely. He looks like a skinny version of Harry Potter, without the scar.

Chase steps off his bike and turns to us. “Welcome to the Camp Edgelow pump track, guys. I'll give you a quick rundown of the rules. Skid lids, always. No rule about pads or guards here, but I'd never stop you from wearing protective gear. Only one guy at a time on the track. And stay in control. Okay?” He looks out at the pump track. I can tell he's pretty excited too. “Watch me.” And he takes off.

It's a total stoke watching him ride. My heart races, and my eyes feast on his every move. I can practically feel the adrenaline spurting into my bloodstream every time he flips off a lip and catches air. Up, down, up, around, down. Every motion Chase makes is as smooth and fluid as a surfer riding a mother wave. He's got it dialed. The guy's incredible!

Chase rides around the pump track a couple of times. He pulls out some fancy freestyle moves just to show off. He doesn't spin the pedals around once. That's the whole idea of a pump track—to get all the way around by using only the movement of your body and your bike.

Seth and Nolan cheer as Chase skids to a stop in a puff of dust. I dish the applause too, a huge grin splitting my face.

“How about it?” Chase asks, breathing hard. Seth hoots, and we all nod. “Few pointers before you head out,” Chase says. “The goal here is to get you pumping so you can have better traction and more control. It's a pump track, right? PUMP track.”

I nod, but Seth asks, “Better traction and more control? Doesn't that translate into
going slower
?”

Chase shakes his head. “Actually, it's the opposite. If you keep your body fluid, you can use the transitions and rollers to go faster. Think of a mogul skier whose legs move like pistons. Or a surfer soaking up wave chop with his legs. His upper body is quiet, right? Not moving a lot.” We're all listening intently, so Chase continues. “Same thing on the pump track. You use your arms and legs to add or decrease pressure on the wheels. The traction lets you store up energy to get over the next obstacle. You'll actually end up moving faster by applying pressure to the track at the right times. And,” he adds, “you'll be in control. Which is the most important thing.”

The physics of it makes sense to me, but it's too much for Nolan to take in. “Hold it,” he says. “Can you go over that again, Chase?” I half expect him to whip out a pad and pencil and start taking notes.

“I'll do you one better,” Chase replies. “I'll go around again. This time, watch how I stay active on the bike. Moving forward and back as well as up and down.”

He pushes off again and rides another smooth circuit. I think about what he said about the skier's legs sucking up the moguls. I can hear the knobs on his tires gripping as he corners, deep and swooping, in front of us and heads back into the bowl for the jumps across the center.

“That's wicked,” Seth says as Chase hits a jump, gobbles air and tracks smoothly down the backside.

“I don't know, you guys,” says Nolan. He takes his glasses off and rubs the lenses on the corner of his T-shirt. When he puts them back on, he sighs. “It looks pretty technical to me.”

“It can be as technical as you want,” I point out. “Or not. You don't have to go as fast as Chase. You're not supposed to be pro, Nolan. You're here to learn. Just go however fast feels safe. They're jumps for him,” I say, jerking my thumb in Chase's direction, “but they can be bumps for you.”

Rico chimes in, and we all turn to look. He hasn't said much of anything all day. “Your speed determines the nature of the obstacle,” he says to Nolan. “You don't have to burn it up on your first go-around.”

Nolan considers this. “Yeah, you're right,” he agrees. “No burning on the first round.”

Chase swoops in again, braking to a stop in front of our little group. “Who's up?” he says with a grin.

chapter four

Seth jumps up, punching his fist into the air like a kindergarten kid who Knows The Answer.

“Me!” Seth yells. “I'm going!”

I let Seth have his moment. I can wait. I mean, I can
hardly
wait. But I can wait.

Nolan isn't about to argue with Seth. In fact, Nolan looks like he might pee his pants right about now. He's so not ready. I want to laugh, but I don't.

I watch Seth drop in and go around the track once, pedaling lightly as he gets a feel for the obstacles and transitions. Twice around, this time a bit faster. He leans into a curve, pushing his wheels hard against the side of a berm.

“Right on, Seth!” Chase shouts. “That's the way.” Seth grins and speeds up a bit, pulling up on the handlebars and pushing down on his pedals as he negotiates the bumps. He gets a good head of steam up and catches big air off the lip of a bump. Showoff. He's rushing into it.

He pulls up on his handlebars too hard, raising the bike's nose.

Beside me, Nolan whoops, then gasps as Seth comes down. His back tire hits hard, followed by his front wheel. Both feet come off the pedals, and he drags heavy to keep his balance. I can see he's scared, but he has the sense not to lock his wheels.

I gotta hand it to him. He ends a stupid stunt with a clean recovery.

Typical.

“Yeah, remember that bit I mentioned about staying in control, Seth?” yells Chase. We all laugh.

Seth does another lap, nice and tight this time. He rolls to a stop at the top of the berm we're standing on. His wide smile tells me how much he likes the pump track. I know, like me, he's already making plans for one in our neighborhood.

“Dude! That was supreme!” Seth shouts. “I want to go again!”

“All in good time, Seth.” Chase smiles. “Everybody gets a turn.” He looks around at me, Rico and Nolan.

Nolan sticks up his hands, palms out, and shakes his head. “You go, Rico,” he says. “I'll watch you.”

I let Rico step forward. He's pretty experienced, being a junior counselor and all. Besides, I'll get a better picture of the terrain by watching the other guys ride it ahead of me.

Rico rolls his bike smoothly into the pit. He rides nice. Slow but fluid, like a snake through water. We watch and listen as Chase points out Rico's form and technique. Rico is completely focused, fully in the moment. He's good.

He does three laps. He lets himself pop up off the last few jumps. Does a couple little handlebar twists. Then he wheels in.

I look at Nolan and raise my eyebrows. He nods and steps forward. He rides two laps, pedaling much of the way, but he's got the pumping action pretty good. Not bad at all.

“Nice work, Nolan!” Seth shouts. Rico and Chase whistle. When Nolan gets back to the group, his eyes are shining behind his glasses. He seems to have grown taller somehow.

I drop in while they're still patting him on the back. He talks excitedly about his ride. He'll be yapping about it for another two hours, I bet.

I take off, coasting down the first slope. Up onto a bump, back down into a valley. I ride several more waves, easy and loose. Around a curve. I pedal across a berm, looking ahead and scanning the terrain on my first time around. I won't be pedaling for long. Soon I'll be using only my weight and pumping action to move the bike across the ground. Swooping low around corners. Pulling up and pushing down, riding the waves, over and over. It's the same motion you see horse jumpers using when they're leaping over high rails and water traps.

Same principle. Except this ride goes faster and involves a lot more dirt.

As I think about the motions—up, down, pull, push, pump—my body follows. My attention narrows, focusing to a sharp point. I pick up speed, and everything to the side of the track falls away. I don't see anything but the rolling dirt path ahead. I keep my head up, scanning the track, planning my route. Riding it hard. Active. I shoot across a series of waves, gaining speed with each drop. I'm a pogo stick on wheels. My legs and arms act separately, like shock absorbers.

I pump harder on the second round, dropping my shoulders and pressing into the transitions to build my speed. I become one with my bike. And we become one with the track, a marble rolling fast along a narrow chute.

I swoop into a berm, keeping my butt low in the saddle and pushing my rear tire into the wall. I shoot out of it and over a hump, catching air and coming down clean on both tires. With traction. In control.

Fast.

Then another series of bumps. Up. Off. Air. Down. Up. Off. Air.

Again.

A chorus of cheers erupts from the other end of the pump track, and I finish my last lap with a huge grin. Chase claps my back. Nolan claps his hands. Seth matches my grin, and Rico high-fives me.

Bike camp rocks.

chapter five

Sunlight wakes me up, streaming through the cobwebby window beside my bed. I struggle into a sitting position. My sleeping bag gapes open, and a blast of cold air hits my arms. Holy crap, is it ever cold in here! It's gotta be minus five. It's colder in this cabin than it is outside, I'm sure of it. I gather my bag around my neck, closing it off so my body stays warm.