A cardinal rule of biking must be that thou shalt always encounter
hikers on the most tasty part of the ride.
I'm cruisin' along in middle ring/middle cog, the suspension is smoothly
cycling beneath me. Up and round the banked corner I go left. Staying to
the outside I miss the rootiest section. Now I'm off onto a bit of
downhill and into a tight inside right turn, lest I slip out on the
roots angling across the trail. The knobbies are "pinging" and "panging"
as I ride over some of the smaller roots. "Twang!" as a stick fires off
a spoke. "Clunk" as a low branch grazes my helmet. It's a veritable
symphony of singletrack.
Now, having forgotten to put on my shades, and with the sun being at an
angle that produces a strobe like effect amongst the trees I zip around
the corner and.... "Hello there!" A very nice lady out walking her
rather portly Basset Hound. I'm hard on the brakes and have slowed down
well before I'm on top of them (I don't go *that* fast). The dog gave me
the most nonchalant look I've ever seen. It was almost like he was
scoping out my bike and completely ignoring me... Bike snob!
My tempo, such that it was, is now completely gone. I drop a couple of
gears, grab a bit of speed, head down the last little section of roots.
Up a bit, staying outside of the gnarled roots I'm down the hill, round
the corner, and out onto pavement. Linda is somewhere behind me,
enjoying a similar experience.
After that it's back to the trailhead and a picnic supper. I hang around
and watch the racing. Linda goes off on the paved loop to track down
some yellow lady slippers that have just bloomed. All in all a good
ride.
--
- Rog
http://www.wpcusrgrp.org/~rogerbuchanan/index.html
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