Pray For Rain

For most in the Northern Hemisphere, the month of June is the lead-in to summer, with rising temperatures, melting snow and days at the lake after a sunny bike ride. However, here in the Interior of British Columbia, June usually signifies one thing: rain. And lots of it. This particular spring in BC brought more than double the amount of dreary, rainy days, wreaking havoc on highways, roads and trails. On an almost daily basis, I would hear from other riders about it being 'too wet to ride' or that 'the mud is bad for my bike'. Suck it up buttercup. If there is one thing I know about the Interior, it's that if you don't ride in the rain during the 'June Monsoons', you don't go riding very much at all. Sure, my drivetrain probably took a three month beating in about three weeks, my bearings, pivots and BB felt like I was grinding rocks into concrete dust, while my riding gear all seem to have a permanent brown streak up the back, making me look like some sort of confused skunk. But with all the bad that comes out of riding in the rain, there is inherently some good that filters through. For me, it's the greens.



A recent POD of mine (top image of the series) and the ensuing debate over photo doctoring and color correction got me thinking about this little photo essay. The interior rainforest that I happen to live so close to and ride my bike in on a daily basis is something that I often overlook. I've grown so used to the lush forest, heavy canopy and enormous trees that I sometimes forget that many people have never seen or ridden in this type environment. When most people think about the rainforest, they picture an Amazonian jungle or coastal British Columbia. In Revelstoke and some surrounding areas, we enjoy the beauty of an inland rainforest, one of the only places on earth with this type of environment. Enormous trees, tacky dirt and soft loam make the riding experience unbelievable but in the spring, the greens are what really stand out in my mind.






The forest comes to life after being blanketed all winter in deep powder snow. As the snow melts, plants begin to absorb water and are injected with new life. They thrive the more it rains and the vibrant colors radiate in the forest. Ferns grow tall, Devil's Club bloom their beautiful yet dangerous leaves and moss turns from yellow to green to nuclear green. It is sometimes hard to even ride in some areas because the forest feels so alive that it is almost vibrating, a tangible feeling that stirs at your very being. For my photography, it makes things very simple. My singular focus is to find the greenest areas possible and then work from that. Keeping things basic and allowing the environment around me to dictate what I shoot is a very freeing activity for me. I've put together a collection of images that portray my personal vision of riding during the rainy season. In the past few weeks, the rains have subsided and the sun has finally made an appearance. People are stepping out into the bright sunshine, eager to shed the rain gear, throw their legs over the top tube and burn their pale white skin under the blazing heat of the sun. People's dispositions have flipped faster than Brandon Semenuk at Crankworx, with depression turning to elation over the course of a few days. And all it took was for the clouds to part and for a small, yellow orb in the sky to show it's warm face.. I, for one, am on the opposite end of the spectrum. The appearance of the sun and subsequent wilting of the foliage has got me in a funk. I had grown used to the cool temps, whereas now I, like the foliage, am also wilting in the sun. The heat has slowed my pace. Dealing with shadows in the forest has reduced my photographic motivation. And the greens just don't have the same vibrancy as when the rains fell from the sky. While most riders were harping about the rain and wishing for warmer weather, I was content with the monsoons. Now that those riders have gotten their wish, I stand mostly alone, wishing and hoping for the clouds to roll back in. Pray for rain....


Note to readers: I wrote this piece in early July and since it is now mid-August and alpine season is in full swing, I may not be praying for rain as much as earlier this year so that I can enjoy the alpine experience. And with the alpine experience, comes wildflower season. The last couple of images have me thinking about the next installment of The Color Series. Stay tuned....