My buddy Keith lured me into helping him drive halfway across this country, by offering an all expenses paid trip back to one of the first trails I learned to mountain bike on. It's also been many years since I've seen the Ozarks in the Fall.
Keith too, was having a kind of homecoming. He's been training this entire year for "the race that doesn't make sense." His goal was to go back to the place where he learned to ride and race a cross country mountain bike event that doesn't really fit his new style of riding. He would ride a long travel bike, wear the knee guards he always wears, have a visor on his helmet, use his adjustable height seat post, and wear shorts that don't make Missouri residents wonder about ones sexual preference.
They were off! The route was was almost 60 miles long, containing road, two track, and lots of rugged, rocky Ozark single track. After the lycra wave blew by I headed over to the Berryman Trail Campground, where I would depart for a less hurried ride through the Ozark hills. The trail I was riding would be used for the race, so I fully expected to eventually get caught by racers and forced to move over or fight for a position on the trail.
It was awesome out there. It was a blustery day so the forest was noisy. Leaves would get stuck in my tire and vibrate on the frame of my bike, a noise I hadn't heard in years. Acorns would painfully bounce off of my hands and helmet as they fell from the Oak's above. Squirrels would bound through the leaves watching me from trees. I was alone, the trail untouched, almost hard to see. But I new the masses were coming...
I happened on an old pond, the water was thick with Lilly pads and leaves, almost a soup!
This trail was built by the C.C.Corps during the 1930's. Most of the old trail signs are pretty much gone, but a few still hold on.
The Ozarks are in a drought year, so its ironic I was able to find the only mud bog on the trail. The leaf covered bog, swallowed my tires, gooping my chain and derailleur with gray clay mudd. I luckily found an almost dried up pool of water in the creek and did a full drive-train clean while trapped fish watched below the water. It was at this point that I was almost 1/2 done and I had still not seen a single bike rider. As I made a right hand turn, a connector road funneled into the main trail. All of a sudden the virgin trail surface was now churned to powder. Many bikes had been though here, but other than the pulverized leaves and dust, there was no body but me.
This video is not edited, nor does it have music. I was riding with one hand, holding my camera in the other. It ain't Whistler Bike Park video, it's "just riding along" on a trail that got me hooked on riding bikes...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gKbeYEi8C0 After 25 miles I popped out of the woods into the campground. I had somehow missed meeting a single rider on the trail during a race weekend. Four hours of riding, picture geeking, squirrel watching, and floating over the dry creek banks. It was shocking to be thrust back into the lunacy of a "cycling event." All the major players were there, including the guy above who claimed... "I like my helmet on backwards, it fits better this way." Time for a new helmet Chucklehead!
Keith finished strong, just under 6 hours, which was his goal. I'm proud of him for keeping a good attitude, despite being held back on every downhill by riders who never practice riding "technical" trails on their bikes. In our dream for the future of cross country racing, every kurmudgen will ride a longer travel, light weight bike, thus speeding everyone up on the descents, and still allowing them to "enjoy" their precious climbs. I doubt this dream will ever come true. Below are some random, funny or strange moments.
Like I said, it was a blustery day!
Missouri is the Meth capitol of the country, producing more than any other state. This town celebrated that fact by painting their water tower in celebration... (Mom, or any others who are blissfully unaware, an 8 ball is 3.5 grams of meth or coke.)
Our first breakfast in Kansas was "Mary's Waffles." As we left Missouri in KC, we ate at "Mary's Bar and Grill" My wife sure can cook!
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