When most people see a shovel, they merely see a tool created to move small amounts of earth from one place to another. But to me, my shovel is my key to heaven. Much like Buddhist monks and their relentless search for satori, I am on a quest for my own personal nirvana. For me to accomplish this, I must become one with my shovel and with the earth around me. My shovel becomes part of me, like an extension of my arm as I systematically dig, scoop, and bowl out the ground beneath my feet. My faith is laid on the line every spring as I spend countless hours creating jumps with my steel companion. It is hard work yes, but the ends far outweigh the means once summer rolls around and you’ve transformed a barren plot of land into a trail riders’ paradise. Nothing can compare to the feeling of flowing through a newly born rhythm section for the first time. I might even go as far as saying it is a near religious experience. But not every rider possesses this passion for building. If your local trails have someone with this devotion, consider yourself lucky. That guy with the shovel is a member of the cult. Don’t let the name cult scare you, it is a good thing. In fact, follow him. Emulate his actions.