For the first time in I can't remember how long, it didn't rain today. The
sky was blue and everything. Time for a celebratory ride!
I'd harangued Eric last night about how we'd need to get up early to get
in a good ride, so naturally I was the one who stayed up till 2 am
dorking with my computers and couldn't deal with the morning. Oops. I
got up to watch the end of the Tour with Eric, then we both went back to
sleep and didn't crack an eyelid till noon.
Okay, then. I gave Eric three new trails to choose from; he picked the
closest and shortest, Ceran St. Vrain. Something about needing to get
back in time to mow the lawn. Whatever. Off we went.
We didn't end up exploring this trail and its offshoots nearly as well as we
probably should have; we didn't have a map and we had to be back home in time
to play hockey, so we didn't have time to get lost. Sad.
Still, what we experienced there has me eager to go back. The beginning
portion of the trail is just gorgeous and fun; a loosely-defined path
meandering among widely-spaced trees, with the occasional root or rock. The
South St. Vrain creek burbled happily to our right. It felt like the perfect
embodiment of the concept of a "wooded trail." So much so that I felt like
I couldn't possibly be in dusty Colorado. The recent rains had made the soil
just slightly tacky; perfect for bike traction.
After a bit, the trail narrowed down to singletrack, climbing and
descending, the stream babbling alongside us all the while. From here
on in, we saw maybe 5 or 6 people total, and only one on a bike. The
steep dropoff into the creek and the tight trail made the technical bits
scary indeed. I walked some, cleared some, dabbed some, and enjoyed
myself thoroughly. Eric followed me, as he tends to do lately -- he'd
rather have me set a slow pace than ride ahead and have to stop all the
time. This works out pretty well, except that on technical trails like
this he often rounds a corner to find that I've come to a screeching
halt. I'm sure he'd clear a lot more of the trail if I weren't stopping
all the time. Still, he claims not to mind, and I do my best to keep
moving if I can't get out of the way. I figure he could always stay
back farther if he wanted to avoid my evasive actions.
I'm pretty proud of the aftermath of one screeching-halt moment. The obstacle
in question was two 6-8" drops, about a foot apart, followed a few feet later
by another, shorter drop and some rocks. I said to Eric, "I can do this,
right?" He said, "Yes." I said, "I'm afraid I'm going to endo." He said,
"You won't, as long as you don't touch your brake. There's a clear spot
afterwards where you can slow down safely." Okay then. I cleared it. I felt
completely out of control -- mostly because I hadn't dared clip in and was
expending all my effort just staying on the pedals -- but I did it. Yay me!
(I wasn't able to hack it going the other direction. That would require
reliable front-wheel lift or bunnyhop techniques; I have neither.)
About two miles into the ride (geez, that computer is annoying -- it
felt like a lot more effort than two miles to me!), the maintained trail
ended and a rocky doubletrack climb began. Actually, the rocks wouldn't
have been so bad, but the soil was looser than the stuff before and I
eventually spun out my tire badly enough that I stopped. Getting
started uphill -- well, it wasn't happening, though I kept trying. We
debated going back, especially when we encountered a hiker telling us
about how tough the next climb would be, but hiked our bikes up to a
flat section first to scope things out. From there, we hiked and biked
our way up to a fork. With no idea which way would be best, we chose
the right-hand fork for its downwardness. That didn't last long, and
soon we were scrabbling up that same loose soil, with roots and rocks
and whatnot intermixed. Half a mile past where the unmaintained trail
began, we wussed out and decided to turn around and head home.
What a gorgeous trail. It looks like most people just get far enough in to
look at the stream, then turn around before it gets too technical, so the
trail just seems ... pristine. No ruts. A forest wonderland. I
half-expected to see a gingerbread house along the side of the trail.
Er, I mean, this trail sucks. You wouldn't like it. Go away!
--
monique
"Get a bicycle. You will not regret it, if you live."
-- Mark Twain