2017.07.22 3 Bike Rides
Three rides.
Three lessons about riding.
Three sacrifices to the Biking Gods.
RIDE 1: Bent Creek
This was the first ride in North Carolina with Jesse (and Caleb and Nate). It was a surprisingly pleasant gentle single-track climb up past the Good Ole Boy pot-farmers to the top of the "black-diamond" trail we wanted to descend. It was a fun trail down, other than being slightly less technical overall than expected. Except, you know, for the gnarly boulder section that ate Nate. We decided to create our own rating system, designating the section that Nate went down on as "1 Nate". Therefore the climb was 0.2 Nates, and most of the trail down was 0.4-0.6 Nates.
Lessons: The Kona Precept 150 worked OK, but was nervous at speed. Or in the air. I missed the Slayer.
Sacrifices: Nate's skin and blood.
RIDE 2: Pisgah Forest
This was meant to be a 14-mile ride with a similar profile to the Bent Creek ride (this time swapping out Josie instead of the destroyed Nate). It was not that.
It was a 2-mile slog through a swamp (and a fucking rattle snake), a 4-mile hike up a washed out creek that maybe was a trail a decade ago (while pushing bikes and wearing pedal cleats), and a sketchy descent down stair-like roots. Seriously, any section you see Jesse walking his Ibis down is officially stupid. We cooked Josie from the insane climb, and had to bail onto a forest service road. Which was no big loss, because the trails were utterly unmaintained and total bullshit. Caleb and I started making up The Ballad Of The Bullshit Ride, singing extemporaneous verses as we tried to ride down before we got to the service road.
Lessons: The Kona Precept was really fucking heavy for pushing uphill. And the geometry was not suited for the combination of idiotic descent trail condition and my lack of skill. I missed the Slayer.
Sacrifices: Josie's krebs cycle, and my trust in the Trailforks app.
RIDE 3: Post Canyon
This was meant to be a re-match between me and the baby-heads that convinced me that I needed a more-enduro bike, plus some fun playing on the Kleeway. It was not that.
It was an ill-considered plan-free shuttle to the top of the reservoir and promptly getting lost. First we climbed what the guys referred to as a "Jeep trail", which roughly translates into a bunch of fucking rocks that only a powered rock-crawling vehicle would enjoy. Then we meandered through so much brown-pow dust that I think I've contracted blacklung. We did, however, stumble onto some truly epic views. Oregon is pretty.
We did manage to find Grand Prix on the way down to Family Man, which let us hit some Bermy Goodness and then Kleeway. My only actual regret was that I was too tired to fully enjoy the flowing joy of Kleeway, but that's on me. Afterwards (after begging Aaron's wife to help us fetch Colin's truck) Parham led us to an epic sub shop for lunch. Yum.
Lessons: The Slayer destroyed all trails laid before it. I need to stay in shape to enjoy it. Use a map.
Sacrifices: Aaron's fanny pack sacrificed itself for an OTB moment, and Colin's ability to say "Flamily Mlan".