I just thought I'd share with you my short story for our major focus topic/area of study, journey. Please comment on it and let me know where I can improve. It was cold and still dark. A typical 5:30am start. However I was warmed by the thought of riding through the forestry accompanied by the morning rays of light filtering through the pines, like ribbons being cut by my bike and I. Off I went, only 6km to the start of the track. Whilst riding I decided to incorporate a new section of track to my usual loop. I had only ever blazed its trail once before and recall it being beautiful - gunning down the side of a hill along single track, weaving in and around trees like a serpent and all of a sudden coming into a clearing fit for a movie and being confronted by a cacophony of sound assaulting my ears, but in a soothing way. To the left was a meadow of green grass, sitting as if it were carpet, to the right a body of water too big for a pond yet too small for a dam and straight through this picturesque setting ran the track and disappeared into the abyss that was the forest on the other side of the clearing. A menagerie of animals had been present the last time I was there: A mob of kangaroos grazing upon the grass; several ducks swimming along the surface of the water and a murder of crows as black as the night, yet also had a hint of majesty about them, surveying the area. I was now there, ready to challenge the track that beckoned. Down the track, around the trees, up the hills and across the rocks I went, dodging the slapping branches and taming menacing ruts. This is what mountain biking is all about I thought to myself - man and machine tackling nature head on in an enjoyable battle. On I continued and in what seemed to be no time at all, I was on track that was familiar with the clearing I had been waiting for. Soon I'd be there. Out into the clearing I came, the image meeting my eyes was alien. This wasn't what I remembered. I don't remember seeing a burnt out car on the once green carpet surrounded by beer bottles and fast food wrappers. I don't remember an old drier, baskets and old moth bitten clothes dotting the edge of the water! I don't remember any of this! Who would do such a thing? How could someone destroy something so beautiful? I turned my back, the image too difficult to bear, hopped on my bike and sauntered off into the forest, cutting a sullen figure amongst the dwarfing pines, disillusioned by what I had just seen. The reality of a degenerating society begun to dawn upon me.