Mountain Biking, JC Style

So we drive out to Boone last weekend for the annual Jaycee Mountain Trip. We leave Friday morning so we can get there in time to go mountain biking while it’s still daylight. Someone else organized this folly, not me. We are scheduled to load up and leave the cottage at 1pm, to get to the ride site by 1:15 or so. Which is why we didn’t leave until 1:15 and made a stop early on. At this stop we found out we had options. We could ride 6 miles straight up a ski slope (which was 2 minutes away), or we could opt for a little longer, but flatter trail about 15 minutes away.

Most of us not being serious riders, and/or not having ridden in awhile, chose the latter. Well, it was a bit more than 15 minutes. Actually, it was a few minutes out until you got to the start of the long, twisting ride down a mountain of death covered in loose gravel. Being the third vehicle in line (and in a low riding sedan no less), we were blinded a lot during this descent. Which was good, since we were obviously going to die. It appeared our Tour Guide (name omitted to protect the innocent) was simply going to lead us to the bottom of this crazy, winding road and leave us for dead.

This was a nice little joke until we were passed by the Prison Inmate Transfer Van going uphill. Hmm, this is no longer funny. Although driving, I think I actually fell asleep during some portion of this descent, we just kept going. We finally got there, wherever the hell that was.

Ok, time to get out, stretch and get geared up. Of course, first things first, pee in river. Ahhhh. Now we can go. And go we did. Right off we start up the hill. This would be a common theme. We started out ok. Let’s say the first 10minutes. At this point I’m already tired. Damn, I am one fat bastard. Of course, the good news is my feet didn’t hurt. A few miles into the trek, some of the group decided turning back was a better idea. We’ll call them the smart ones. The rest of us continued on.

Why I don’t really know. Ok, I do know. One of us admitted, "I’m so stubborn, I must finish", another pretty well had to since they were the complaining party about going to this other trail instead of the first and finally our Tour Guide just didn’t seem to be bothered by the hills at all. As for me, I still don’t know.

"Again with the ‘up’". Yes, that certainly kept ringing true. As we got higher up the mountain, the slope seemed to get both longer and steeper between breaks. Ugh. Facing a steep slope and nearing death, I decided to get off and walk it up. This seemed like a good idea because surely this would be the summit. It’s like I’m retarded. Of course this was not the summit, this was about the halfway point.

Dammit man, where’s my robotics legs when I need them? The next few miles were simply painful. Not so much my feet hurting (although that was definitely happening on the steep grades), but just the general pain of being a short, bitter, out of shape little man. Ugh. A few mini-breaks and twice more having to walk the bike up, I finally reached the top. Up to this point I had just assumed our TG had just made up this fantasy of a ‘top’ to the mountain. But here it was, so perhaps he wasn’t a liar.

And now for the downhill. One would think that this is where al that hard work pays off. Simply cruise downhill and have some fun. This is why I try not to think. First, the initial downhill was more of a rolling thing, so there was even more climbing involved at points. Fortunately I was rested now. And the downhill seemed a bit fast and dangerous to me. We stopped at a turn and our TG got to show me what a retard I am (at this point it just should’ve been obvious). Adjusting the brakes was a lot easier than the way I was trying to do it. Thankfully he did this or I’d be dead.

And I don’t mean that as some sort of euphemism, I mean, I’d be dead. Once the real descent started I noticed a few things. 1, this was steep, fast and slippery. 2, I was not prepared. 3, even with brakes, I didn’t seem to be slowing down. So of course, the first log that jumps out at me I hit. Which I’m trying to avoid by going left, naturally catching my back tire, spinning me out right, and almost over the cliff. Hmm, that would’ve sucked.

In addition to my heavy breathing, I also notice a lot of large rocks and leaves. The leaves were evil – they simply caused you to slip and covered up more rocks. Very tricky those leaves. But at this point I don’t care. Barreling down this hateful mountain and easily 300mph (think Joe Izuzu), I have no time to care about such matters as all I can focus on is staying up and turning. Which is exactly why most fo the way down one of our other riders is cruising along pointing out wildlife all the way ("hey look at that so-and-so bird"). WTF?

Our TG and this man are squealing all the way down the trail ("weee, hahaha" and so forth). So am I, though it’s more like a frightened teenage girl left home alone in one of those B-movie thrillers ("holy shit I’m going to die!"). I mean, my throat was sore from the screaming. Eventually once I reached terminal velocity I stopping screaming. Not because I was over being scared – one look at the white on my death-gripping knuckles could tell you otherwise – but because my mouth was being used elsewhere. Specifically I was trying to reach out and grab passing tree limbs with my teeth in a vain effort to slow myself down. I have quite the jaws actually, so this isn’t as far-fetched as you might imagine.

Now let’s talk about shocks. Specifically that I didn’t have any. Hitting rocks hurts. Gripping the brakes so hard you’re developing instant carpal tunnel sucks too. Oh, look here, there’s a nice hill to jump. WTF? Yeah, that hurt. When I caught up with our TG he said he thought it would be funny if he went ahead of the pack and just laid down, sprawled out like he had fallen. Yeah, that’s some joke. And if I could release the death-grip from my fingers, I’d reach out and strangle you right now too. Just lean a bit closer to my teeth actually….

But we did finally make it to the bottom of the hill, down to the road. Which had an interesting phenomenon. The gravel on the road actually seemed to speed me up. Dammit. I think I’m actually skiing the bike around turns now, braking the whole way. Meanwhile,. ‘woohoo’ boy is actually pedaling harder! I’m going to smack him, I just know it. And finally, one last ‘up’ to get us back to the cars.

We reach the rest of the group and I collapse. Turns out they had placed bets that I had turned back earlier, yet either gotten lost or flipped over the side of a cliff. Had I known this before, I probably would’ve gotten in on the action myself. Now we reload (after some fun pictures) and ascend the evil mountain, back to the cottages. No one’s complaining now about taking he ‘easier’ route, that’s for sure. Now, wonder where those inmates came from?

Next up – why I shouldn’t golf