The day's weather was better than I had expected.  Really, anything other than the rain we've had for the past eight months would have been better than my expectations.  In fact, it was supposed to get into the 80s down in the valley, but we planned to be higher up in the thousand-foot range where it would most certainly be cooler.

After a short drive around the forest roads we picked a spot to unload the bikes.  Other than my water bladder leaking, leaving me with a pint for the day, things could not be finer - nothing was forgotten and the bike even started on the first kick.

I compiled my first videos from Matt's head-cam.  Don't know if I like them, or the code I used to weave them into the site, but I stuck them up anyway.  They are pretty large files, so you may have to give them a little time to load.  The original, first file was 2.8GB; a monster to compact down.

The first trail we tried is below;

I felt really good and took a few more chances than I would have, especially since I have been off the bike for nearly a year. I wanted to reach the top of the ridge in front of us and tried to convince Matt it was not that hard. He was not buying it.

I was feeling too good and was cooking along these old trails without effort, that is, until I tried a technical'ish section across a seasonal creek.  There was a down log on the other side of the creek, so one had to bank hard to an opposite bank around the log.  Not such a big deal, unless you are an idiot like me and have it in neutral during the first bank.  Down into the drink I went, landing upside down, bike on top of me-still running; in a muddy, Devils Club lined creek, flowing liberally.  I had to break the tree just behind me in the video to get the rear end closer to the ground so Matt and I could heave the thing out.

After the effort to get the bike out of the wash, I was spent.  We cruised around to recover, but ultimately decided to leave most our gear at his truck before hopping on our rides to find a way down to the Wilson River.   We found a way, but it required a rope, frayed steel cable an inch thick, and some slippery rock-hopping.

Finally at the water's edge, heads, feet, and legs were soaked in the frigid water. 

the icy-cold water felt good on the only injury I sustained in my fall.  Just a bruise where the peg scraped up the side of my chin and nothing more.  It never even broke the skin, but swelled up to the size of an egg later in the day.  I could not look at for fear of being blinded from all the light reflecting off my legs.  A year without sun is just far too long for the Cali-Native.

We just laid in sun until the shade covered us.  It was a stunning day to be followed by an equally fun night.  There was no way I could wait so long to get out-of-doors again.

Home