Liquid Courage - Final
This is the continuation and final installment to the Liquid Courage series. If you need a refresher, you can find it here.
Closer now to the beer stash, the never mellow pace quickened up Sawmill rd. Shortly before the turn off, we passed the LoweRiders crew. "How do you like our trails fellas?" we almost said out loud. A quick turn into the woods, Ben and Mark led the way up Mark D'Huez. DeCarlo followed with me and Henderson in tow. DeCarlo got hung up on a root or something as Henderson and I slipped by. Quickly we formed a four man uphill train and gaped the rest of the group. I recently moved up to Big Boy gearing. With the turn of each switchback, I expected the gearing to finally wear into me. Never happened. Our little train chugged along rise for rise. Finally over the final push, it was a mad dash for the stash.
Nearly a case of Hop Wallop was hidden beneath the leaves. As the rest of the group gathered, beers were opened and passed around. Somewhere through the second round the B group rolled through (an entirely different group of people, but more tolerated then some of the riff-raff that's out there). Many familiar faces, but a few new who obviously didn't know. With darkness closing in, we finished off the beers and headed out flying high.
From the top of Mark D' Huez, it's another loose rocky decent. Fueled up on liquid courage, I ignored the dark and let it rip. Some resemblance of fear was lurking in the back of my mind, as I didn't hit the log drop as I should have. In the woods, the darkness was quickly closing in. My focus narrowed to just the trail in front of me. Up the root climb I started to catch the B guys. Adrenaline, testosterone and now alcohol fueled my ambitions to catch and pass as many Bs as I could. I had two in the bag before hitting the road.
On Sawmill we regrouped as the Bs rolled ahead (some in our group were obviously walloped by this point). With a decent gap between us we rolled up Sawmill behind the Bs. In my head I pictured an attack. Our group swarming and enveloping the Bs in our pursuit to crush the school climb. Just as a smile drew across my face, Mark and Henderson sprinted it to reality. They took off with a vengeance chasing down and closing in and around the Bs. Like sharks in a frenzy, the rest of us followed. Around and past the Bs the aggressive pace continued back into the woods and up the school climb - Mark and Henderson way out front. Scott and I followed. The rush of momentum sent the alcohol faster to every region of my body. I started to hurt in places I didn't know could. Quickly we dropped the group to the distant sound of laughter. Determined to keep pace with the leaders, my focus narrowed again to the trail before me in the dark woods, so narrow I had to blink and shake my head to regain focus of the trail conditions. The school climb is washed out with loose rocks and narrow reroutes around the ruts. Balance and dexterity are necessary to make it clean. Balance and dexterity had already left me for rehab.
Out of the woods and across the road, Scott and I hit the sidewalk climb well behind Henderson and Mark. I slowed up a little trying to breath and recover, but followers were in hot pursuit. Ryan flew out of the woods determined to catch us as we climbed. Back to the crushing, I pushed Scott to the top before Ryan got us.
In the parking lot we circled to recover and wait for the others. Once we were all there, we headed for the woods at the far end of the school property. The fields kind of pour into a far corner where the trail starts. Like a drain, our pace quickened as we descended to the corner of the field. DeCarlos keen Copper eye saw what was happening and made a dash for position. Mark and Henderson went in first followed by me, DeCarlo and Ben. Taking an opportunity without consideration was a big Copper mistake. Ben hounded DeCarlo into the nighttime woods. DeCarlo had never ridden the new trail and his roadie prowess would hinder his and Ben's success of navigating the technical bliss we've come to love of this trail. Completely dark, we rode it by feel and memory. In front of me was chatter between Mark and Henderson. Behind me was Ben's relentless harassment of DeCarlo and DeCarlos feeble attempts at defense (Some advice. When a guy twice your size and ability tells you to get out of the way - do it). I felt like I was riding through a mad house.
Someone fumbled in front. Mark and Henderson were in a pile off to the side. I took the lead and prceeded to gap. The trail is completely off-camber with short steep ups and downs. I was pinned at maximum flow. DeCarlo had long ago lost his place. Sliding the rear around a quick right, I got a "Nice move" outta Ben as he didn't make the turn so nicely and I pulled away. From that point it's a fast down to the railroad bed. Winner is first to the gravel. Over the last launch something furry (a cat? raccoon? too dark to tell) scurried away from my point of contact with the gravel. High fives and hollers were passed around as each rider dropped out of the darkness and onto the gravel.
With the last rider down, we headed back on the Iguana - a flat sort of twisty trail running parallel to the tracks. It was completely dark now. I could only differentiate trail from forest floor by the darkness of one over the other. The trail was slightly lighter with dark spots designating obstacles to avoid. Closer now to the final beer stop, the pace remained treacherous through the black. Quick and smooth over a large log-over got another "Nice" out of Ben as we hammered to the field and sprint finish.
Somewhere in the dark Ben, Henderson and I pulled away from the group (enough that they claimed we short-cutted the end). Finishing the field, I gave up the lead on the downhill driveway. Ben's momentum took over and carried him first to the bottom. Between the lightweights (Chris and I) it was a battle of resolve. Who would brake first before spilling out onto the road? Chris (with a kid on the way) made the wise choice as I careened out onto the road to catch Ben. With a sketchy light change, Ben charged through the intersection for the sprint. Chris, making up for his conservatism on the brakes, followed through traffic. With a bigger gear and slight head-start, Ben easily took the win. As he crested the bridge, he threw his fist in the air for his very own special olympics moment in the setting sun.
-b
Closer now to the beer stash, the never mellow pace quickened up Sawmill rd. Shortly before the turn off, we passed the LoweRiders crew. "How do you like our trails fellas?" we almost said out loud. A quick turn into the woods, Ben and Mark led the way up Mark D'Huez. DeCarlo followed with me and Henderson in tow. DeCarlo got hung up on a root or something as Henderson and I slipped by. Quickly we formed a four man uphill train and gaped the rest of the group. I recently moved up to Big Boy gearing. With the turn of each switchback, I expected the gearing to finally wear into me. Never happened. Our little train chugged along rise for rise. Finally over the final push, it was a mad dash for the stash.
Nearly a case of Hop Wallop was hidden beneath the leaves. As the rest of the group gathered, beers were opened and passed around. Somewhere through the second round the B group rolled through (an entirely different group of people, but more tolerated then some of the riff-raff that's out there). Many familiar faces, but a few new who obviously didn't know. With darkness closing in, we finished off the beers and headed out flying high.
From the top of Mark D' Huez, it's another loose rocky decent. Fueled up on liquid courage, I ignored the dark and let it rip. Some resemblance of fear was lurking in the back of my mind, as I didn't hit the log drop as I should have. In the woods, the darkness was quickly closing in. My focus narrowed to just the trail in front of me. Up the root climb I started to catch the B guys. Adrenaline, testosterone and now alcohol fueled my ambitions to catch and pass as many Bs as I could. I had two in the bag before hitting the road.
On Sawmill we regrouped as the Bs rolled ahead (some in our group were obviously walloped by this point). With a decent gap between us we rolled up Sawmill behind the Bs. In my head I pictured an attack. Our group swarming and enveloping the Bs in our pursuit to crush the school climb. Just as a smile drew across my face, Mark and Henderson sprinted it to reality. They took off with a vengeance chasing down and closing in and around the Bs. Like sharks in a frenzy, the rest of us followed. Around and past the Bs the aggressive pace continued back into the woods and up the school climb - Mark and Henderson way out front. Scott and I followed. The rush of momentum sent the alcohol faster to every region of my body. I started to hurt in places I didn't know could. Quickly we dropped the group to the distant sound of laughter. Determined to keep pace with the leaders, my focus narrowed again to the trail before me in the dark woods, so narrow I had to blink and shake my head to regain focus of the trail conditions. The school climb is washed out with loose rocks and narrow reroutes around the ruts. Balance and dexterity are necessary to make it clean. Balance and dexterity had already left me for rehab.
Out of the woods and across the road, Scott and I hit the sidewalk climb well behind Henderson and Mark. I slowed up a little trying to breath and recover, but followers were in hot pursuit. Ryan flew out of the woods determined to catch us as we climbed. Back to the crushing, I pushed Scott to the top before Ryan got us.
In the parking lot we circled to recover and wait for the others. Once we were all there, we headed for the woods at the far end of the school property. The fields kind of pour into a far corner where the trail starts. Like a drain, our pace quickened as we descended to the corner of the field. DeCarlos keen Copper eye saw what was happening and made a dash for position. Mark and Henderson went in first followed by me, DeCarlo and Ben. Taking an opportunity without consideration was a big Copper mistake. Ben hounded DeCarlo into the nighttime woods. DeCarlo had never ridden the new trail and his roadie prowess would hinder his and Ben's success of navigating the technical bliss we've come to love of this trail. Completely dark, we rode it by feel and memory. In front of me was chatter between Mark and Henderson. Behind me was Ben's relentless harassment of DeCarlo and DeCarlos feeble attempts at defense (Some advice. When a guy twice your size and ability tells you to get out of the way - do it). I felt like I was riding through a mad house.
Someone fumbled in front. Mark and Henderson were in a pile off to the side. I took the lead and prceeded to gap. The trail is completely off-camber with short steep ups and downs. I was pinned at maximum flow. DeCarlo had long ago lost his place. Sliding the rear around a quick right, I got a "Nice move" outta Ben as he didn't make the turn so nicely and I pulled away. From that point it's a fast down to the railroad bed. Winner is first to the gravel. Over the last launch something furry (a cat? raccoon? too dark to tell) scurried away from my point of contact with the gravel. High fives and hollers were passed around as each rider dropped out of the darkness and onto the gravel.
With the last rider down, we headed back on the Iguana - a flat sort of twisty trail running parallel to the tracks. It was completely dark now. I could only differentiate trail from forest floor by the darkness of one over the other. The trail was slightly lighter with dark spots designating obstacles to avoid. Closer now to the final beer stop, the pace remained treacherous through the black. Quick and smooth over a large log-over got another "Nice" out of Ben as we hammered to the field and sprint finish.
Somewhere in the dark Ben, Henderson and I pulled away from the group (enough that they claimed we short-cutted the end). Finishing the field, I gave up the lead on the downhill driveway. Ben's momentum took over and carried him first to the bottom. Between the lightweights (Chris and I) it was a battle of resolve. Who would brake first before spilling out onto the road? Chris (with a kid on the way) made the wise choice as I careened out onto the road to catch Ben. With a sketchy light change, Ben charged through the intersection for the sprint. Chris, making up for his conservatism on the brakes, followed through traffic. With a bigger gear and slight head-start, Ben easily took the win. As he crested the bridge, he threw his fist in the air for his very own special olympics moment in the setting sun.
-b
posted by JenBob at
6:00 PM
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