A phantom is something that exists, yet has no physical reality, an apparition, a silent vision that may have been there, then maybe not. Evidence is far from conclusive. No definitive understanding can be reached. What was that experience? It appeared momentarily, then vanished as quietly as it arrived. There was no point of reference, as no existential memories held anything resembling it. Was it but an imagined phantom, a temporal vision of the mind, leaving no trace of its arrival, being, or departure?
Adventurers silently roaming the realm on human powered recumbent transports defy understanding of the multitude. They are mavericks, rogues transporting themselves in a manner that leaves the environment at peace, with no disruption of the serene powers of life. Trike pilots gracefully move along the edge of reality and road in a parallel universe to that of the petroleum driven human, and absent direct visual contact with such an adventurous pilot, evidence of his passing quickly vaporizes. The vision vanishes without a sound.
Trike pilots gracefully glide into campgrounds with no heralding of their arrival, no annoying diesel auditory clues, and no toxic particulates spread across the land of tents. They require little space, few resources, and blend harmoniously into the feral landscape. Next morn, these nomadic adventurers silently depart, their former camp space clean and quiet, conventional travelers wondering when they left, or even if they had been there at all.
On September 3rd, 2013, a tiny group of adventurous spirits on tricycles set out to pedal a great distance along a great body of water. They breathed the pure ocean mist, left the pristine air as they found it – optimized for human lungs. Their passage was silent and mystical, their spirits of adventure alive and palpable.
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Big Sur Redwoods State Park, California