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Mountain Biking, Forest Park |
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I ignored the weathermen. I ignored my mental weariness from the work week. I ignored housework I swore would get done. What I could not ignore is my longing to get away this weekend, to get out this weekend, but fate had another plan in store as the kids would be home. I also could not ignore the rekindling of a love long forgotten in the form of pace lines, pelotons, gears and handlebars. Having bought Amber a new mountain bike for her birthday, I cleverly planned to get out, to ride, and to spend the first part of the weekend with Amber, just before Johnny got home. Fate once again intervened as we drove to Browns Camp in the Tillamook forest, arriving with four inches of fresh snow on the ground. I was incredulous at the fickle weather.
Just a week ago, I was washing my rig in 64 degree weather. Now, nearing April, there is fresh snow on the ground at a low 1600 feet elevation. On the way home, I decided to try our luck at Forest Park, just 20 minutes from the house. Forest Park would offer primarily semi-boring fire roads, but quite easy for the new-comer as this was Amber's first mountain bike trip. The University Falls loop just may have demoralized the desire right out of her.
I could not go long before seeing what cobwebs I could shake loose, and shifted into Ole' Granny. The Fire lanes off the main road were steep, nearing 25 degrees in spots. My rear tire bit into the soft ground, forcing my front wheel to bounce with every half rotation of the cranks. I was climbing and climbing well. I felt good as I plodded over the steepest part, sitting back, letting the deep lugs on my tire gouge out huge chunks of mud. My heart rate rose and breathing deepened; I needed first gear and could not have it. The mud was far too slick for such a low gear. I stopped and unclipped. Amber wanted to try and got only 15 feet up before the struggling began and drama unfolded. It was time to practice some descending.
I was just staring to build the suit of mud that would eventually harden into dirty armor. I felt good and only wished I could push harder, faster, but relaxed and enjoyed my company.
Amber simply dug it as she got the thumbs-up from all the passing mountain bikers. Her ride was no joke, weighing in around 22 pounds with quick release - front, rear, and seat post. Sporting 21 speeds and cantilever brakes, she had four inches of travel on her hardtail that soaked up pulses aiming for her hands, arms, and shoulders.
The day was turning out to be quite pleasant, at least, more so than the cold, 32 degree day Browns Camp offered. The clouds were perforated, allowing sun light to periodically warm us as we pedaled through the woods, overlooking the port. Our quick 12 miles of play went all too fast.
Back at the car, most of the yuppies were already gone, haven taken their Bimmers, Mercs, dogs treated as human children, and several hundred dollar walking outfits, leaving us with plenty of space to peel our crusty armor off. Our tops weren't too bad, but from the waist down, we were caked in solid mud, just like it's supposed to be.
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