I forgot that I could fly. It happens to all of us, but as I soared above the dusty trail at Bootleg Canyon, I remembered. We had come out to Boulder City—a short trip from Las Vegas—to find a different kind of excitement. My friend, Oscar, had been trying to talk me into testing my mettle at the world-renowned mountain biking park near Lake Mead for months and I finally had the time to give in.
Right from the start of the ride, I realized Bootleg Canyon was more closely related to a roller coaster than to a bike path. Even the environment hinted that I was in for something new: the colors of the earth and plants were subtler than the ones back home. The browns and greens were soft and worn, like sun-bleached fabric. The sky above was aggressively blue. The contrast hinted at a world not completely tamed, but I told myself I wasn’t there for the scenery. I asked Oscar if he really thought we’d have more fun here than on the Vegas strip, and he just grinned, like he knew something I didn’t. It reminded me of when we were kids and he’d learned to ride his two-wheeler before I did. One look conveyed superiority, mischief and genuine excitement for me to get up to speed.
