Mt. Bike Now

I went mountain biking in the Sierra Juarez mountains of Oaxaca. If everything works out, you’ll hear more about that later this summer. In the meantime, some photos of the pine-oak forest and the dry season foothills.

http://mountainbikeoaxaca.com/ http://vagoscribe.com/

A late November, mid-afternoon sunlight shines softly through the leaf-less trees as I am finishing up on the new Green Valley trail.  I think of honey, and of the idea that God exists.  Forest grasses convert the sun’s rays and beam water-fed green colors back into the woods.  My legs are tired, three hours of rolling up and down the hills of Brown County and across that gnarly path called Schooner Trace.

When I started out from the north side of the newly bestowed IMBA Epic trail system, I had the thought of  ”ride ‘em all.”  The day’s forecast called for blue skies and 60s degree temperatures, pretty much perfect for an end-of-season ride.  I had on shorts, but layered the torso.

Taking the “lefts” out to the climb up Hesitation Point, I rode that roller coaster ride with a big smile on my face.  The warming air, but with cool breezes, the smell of the woods in late fall, the forest light, my breathing, pedaling fast, all reminded me of being a kid again.  Remember those afternoons of youth spent riding around town and through woodlots without a care of proper hydration and nutrition?

Find Your Flow

Hoosier MTB

Up HP went well, save a back tire spin-out on that tight right turn that requires a scoot over the tree root.  It had been a while since I hadn’t made it through, but it didn’t matter.  I crested out and crossed over the hard road, making my way down to Schooner.

I rolled through, or maybe I should say “bounced” over, the initial rocks at the entry way, but the quick switchback to the right got me again.  ”Gotta work on ‘trials-like riding’ for 2012,” passed through my mind.  I clipped back in and muscled down the trail, feeling good and happy to be off the main trails.  Approaching the next “crux,” I cleared the entry into the tight left downhill switchback, but didn’t quite have the line, and wasn’t able to pedal cleanly through it.

Continuing on, Schooner offered some humble-pie jabs, and a few of the off-camber downed logs had me jumping off my bike.  ”Maybe some day I’ll clean all of Schooner,” was a laughable thought, but still a goal.  The first section finished up and I crossed the hard road to part two.

I was home.  The backcountry riding feeling, the ravines, the rocks, the “cliffy-ness,” the rolling down in the hollers, seeing riders flying by on the trail above, Brown County’s Epic-ness was alive.  From burly to freaky fast trails, from riding with the community to a solo ride where a limited rescue factor requires that your technical skills be honed and polished, Brown County  really does have it all.

Back Schooner Way

Brown County Backcountry

Schooner Trace Trail, Brown County State Park, IN

Back up on the thoroughfare, I turned right and pumped my way to the campground where I grubbed a little and stretched a bit.  Not wanting to chill down, I clipped back in and again enjoyed the “pump track” for a while.  It seemed that HP was coming along at a decent clip, keeping to the “bee” line and not dropping back in on Schooner.  Let it be said:  that little stretch of trail between the Schooner trailheads may well be my favorite piece of BCSP.  It rolls, but it also punches you and could knock you down.  Some finesse and muscle are in order.

Out on HP again, I stopped to get a photo of my own of the “iconic” Brown County view:

Long Shadows, Hesitation Point, Brown County State Park, IN

On the way down HP, I stood off trail as two riders made their way up through one of the rocky sections.  The first guy took a fall, tumbling off to the side.  He said he was fine, though ego-bruised maybe.  I stood again as a group of four huffed-and-puffed their way up a little further down.  And then I was able to hammer to the bottom.

I turned the cranks to Green Valley, more rolling along.  My legs started to tire,  but the scenery around me fueled me back in the direction of my car.  Keeping left after Green Valley, I ended the day by sitting back and beach-cruising on Pine.  Never will I not take the opportunity to roll rubber tires through pine trees.  Quiet.  Soft.

Nearing the end of my dirt ride for the day, I offered a prayer of thank you and gratitude to HMBA and the people who built the trails, for coming back out without injury, and to the engineers that build bikes that allow me and others to spend long days riding trails over and through the hills of southern Indiana.

www.vagoscribe.com

Greensboro, NC might not be on the radar as a mountain biking destination for a road trip like Asheville/Pisgah to the south, but if you’re going to be in the area, there’s no doubt you should bring your mtb.  Bur Mil Park on the northside of the city has what is one of the best set of urban trails I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience.  Situated at Lake Brandt and the surrounding watershed, if you ride them all both ways, you’re going to get 30+ miles of singletrack that varies from smooth crankfest to gnarley roots to undulating rollercoaster to berms for railing to some of the most fun log pyramids you’ll ever attempt to ride over.

I parked at the Wildlife Center in the park on a beautiful blue sky morning, the kind with no clouds to be seen in any direction.  The sun was warm.  It was windy, but once in the trees bedecked in leaves of colorful autumnal magic, it wasn’t noticeable.

Owl’s Roost was up first.  Considered the top urban mtb trail in the U.S. by Bicycling magazine back in 2003, it didn’t disappoint.  Some nice rooty climbs, if that’s the kind of riding you like (!) got the heart rate going, but other than that, OR, as it’s called locally, was all go-with-the-flow riding with some root sections that kept your ego in check.  Be sure to ride the mega log pyramids.  They’re not as bad as they look!

OR ended at the paved Greenway, a recreational trail that runs down to the city.  I headed south for a few hundred feet and then turned left onto Wild Turkey, part of North Carolina’s Mountains to Sea Trail.  If there’s one “claim to fame” for this trail, I’d say it’s the berms.  You can rip into them and maintain momentum that propels you down the trail.

Wild Turkey ended a little over four miles later at the hard road.  I headed north across the dam and turned right onto Reedy Fork Trail.  It started out fast and flat, followed by cross country up and down riding on, more or less, a straight east-west line.  I cranked it, reaching the eastern terminus in fifteen minutes or so.

Crossing over Church Street, I hopped onto the newest trail, Blue Heron.  It was similar to Reedy Fork, but maybe had deeper gullies of sort that you drop down into and go straight back up.  At the eastern end of the trail, you can see there is more watershed out there.  Some seven more miles of mtb trails are being planned for construction.

If you ride all the trails out and back, you’re looking at 30+ miles of riding, including the connectors.  Add in what will be seven new miles, and Greensboro will have near 50 total miles of riding in Bur Mil/Lake Brandt watershed when you include the Big and Little Loop at Bur Mil and some side trails of of OR.  Not to forget, Country Park at the southern end of the Greenway has 4-5 miles of trails.

I turned around at the end of Blue Heron and rode ‘em all back to my car, confirming that no matter which way you ride, Bur Mil and the watershed has some outstanding mtbing.  Congrats to the Greensboro Fat Tire Society on building a great urban mtb trail system!

Emergency is upon us.  Oil reserves have been tapped so that we are able to save some cash here, tricking us into spending some greenbacks there.  We open our wallets to find the same amount missing, bills not folded where air fills the void.  It’s the same difference, the paycheck amount never increasing, and the total paychecks handed out not increasing either.

It’s Obama’s fault.  It’s Bush’s fault.  It’s Clinton’s fault.  It’s Bush’s fault. It’s Reagan’s fault.

It’s your fault. It’s my fault.  We want more for less.  To get that, we have to pay.  Some of us end up paying more than others:

Land Mine Victim after playing with a “toy” he found, Denan, Ethiopia (formerly Somalia)

We put toys on and in our vehicles so that we can go out and enjoy a few hours of leisure time, burning irreplaceable fuels to arrive at the starting line so that we can compete against each other, some coming out winners and losers.  Or, we go to get away from our home lives and the office grind.  Maybe we do it to be healthy, to be out in nature, to connect with an inner something that we recognize as something bigger than ourselves but are not able to understand.  Perhaps it brings us an endorphin rush that has us feeling high.

Paying to Play

My costs will continue to be lower than those of other people.  I will continue to play, adding to their costs.  It’s my fault too.

Locally, Michaux isn’t called such by many.  You might say to friends and family that you’re going mtbing at Caledonia, or up by Laurel Lake.  Some know it as South Mountain.

Another three days of riding there resulted in happiness.  I’ve always liked this poem by Wang Wei, from the 8th Century:

You Asked about My Life. I Send You, Pei Dei, These Lines

View from atop Tumbling Run, Michaux State Forest, PA (aka South Mountain)

Kickapoo State Park in eastern Illinois was a coal strip mine.  Now it’s a place where people can go to hike, camp, scuba, canoe, ride horses, fish and mountain bike.  I get over there about five times a year to ride its tight, twisting eleven miles of singletrack.  I’ve only ever cleaned the entire loop once, the first super steep climb always being a nemesis.  Sometimes the three-short-gut-punch climbs towards the back end knock me off kilter as well.  The big steep climb on the other side of the ravine at the end, on the opposite side of the big steep climb at the beginning, can be ridden if you hunker down and shift forward off the saddle and pedal in a standing crouch.

Only an hour drive from Lafayette, ‘poo is great for post-work rides and weekend morning jaunts.  Fall colors are really nice, especially around the quarries.  Though tight, you can hammer the entire loop, honing your brake v. pump skills in some sections.

Better Looking than a Strip Mine

Singletrack State of Mind

A woodpecker batters its head into a tree.  The temperature is climbing fast.  Humidity is way up.  I am hot, a little muddied up, itchy from the tall grass in the meadow, and have decided to not go for the third lap.  A hawk flies ahead, perching on a different limb.

‘poo MTB

A few passing thoughts in the final mile:  feels like the Peten, or Lacandon…I wish everyone could have a/c…do I wanna stop and get an ice-cream…is it open…less than two weeks until Michaux again…take a drink…wonder exactly how hot it is…

The “new” Wildcat Trail shouldn’t be called “new.”  If we’re talking about the reroute that is to replace the portion of Wildcat that was the fast, rocky, scree downhill, then it is an entirely different trail.  There’s no “old” versus “new” Wildcat to compare.  The reroute is a cross-country trail along a ridge that is classic east coast riding.

I like it, a lot!  Perhaps the best thing about the reroute, other than how it joins up with red, other than how pretty the forest is while riding it, other than the loamy twist and turns, other than the occasional rocks to keep your focus, is how it begins.  You roll into it on soft, rock-free trail for about three minutes, you’re feeling high, and then you enter the Michaux welcome sign:  uphill through rocks that stretch on.

Way to go trail builders!  No need to get too soft on us!

Reroute’s Front Door

Anthills of Michaux (not by Achebe)

The backside of the ridge on red before dropping down to the reservoir is seeing more traffic.  The original trail/lines have become wider in the rock feature sections, riders choosing to not go mountain biking.  That’s too bad.

Riding the original lines, I cleaned it from the intersection up top down to the rock garden that sits right before dumping out at the rez.  That was a Michaux a first for me.  It felt great.

Around the rez, I went:

Pretty Pines

Long Pine Reservoir, Michaux State Forest, PA

I climbed up Yellow on blue and rode around back there where the deer fencing is before coming back to the powerline cut and dropping down to Milesburn.  Up Milesburn to Stillhouse and up some more on the powerline cut, is a nice rest for the arms and wrists.

PA Built

I rode Ridge to a seldom traveled multi-use trail that drops back down to Milesburn.  Proceeding north on Milesburn to where Ridge comes in and up to a trail that contains my favorite little Michaux downhill, I put it on cruise control. I then cut into the trail to the right after the gate, passing a few more anthills before the fast ending that’s a ripper down to Milesburn.

Satisfied, I spun down Milesburn to Birch Run and jumped back on rez trail to my car.  The stream was my mountain shower, cold and refreshing.

The storms and tornado sirens ended last evening around 11:00 after a day of disgruntled weather.  No funnels hit here.  I’m not feeling thankful as much as I am feeling lucky.

Later this morning the road trip to PA begins.  Tomorrow morning three days of Michaux mountain biking begins.

I never tire of riding there.

It’s home for me.  My uncle had a cabin in Caledonia.  Growing up, we–mom, dad, bro and sis, aunts, uncles, and cousins–would all go there and spend a weekend walking the forest roads and trails, cooking, relaxing, playing games and biking.  Imagine the freedom a kid surely feels when set free to wander the woods and streams behind a cabin all day long.  We’d return, my cousins and me, to the little cabin hours later, dirty-bodied, bug-bitten, and occasionally bloodied in search of food and sometimes, healing.

Family picnics by the Conococheague, swimming in Laurel Lake, AT backpacking and sharing love are Michaux memories from adolescence through early adulthood.  My first mtb adventure there was in 1994 on Bender, Huckleberry, Fuzzy, Grave, Logsled and a few other nameless trails.  I went solo on a rigid campus bike, with a fanny pack wrapped around my waste that contained a patch kit, tire levers and some granola bars.  Hydration was a water bottle in a cage.

This time around, I hope to find some of the new stuff Michaux is offering, and in between the fore casted storminess, hopefully I’ll get to sleep on one of her ridges.  I’ll be dirty for sure, and probably bloodied a little, but I have faith that being there will be all the healing I’ll need.

Rattlesnake Ridge, Michaux

I am on my hands and knees along the side of the highway, precisely where I-65 North to Indy begins and where I-64 ends when traveling east from western Indiana, meaning I am on the side of the bend in the median of the exit.  The weeds that nearly poke me in the eyes are a deep green.  They smell a little like garlic, I think.  I am puking for the second time in an hour.

Rewind.

We arrived to O’Bannon Woods State Park in a timely manner after leaving Indy around 6:15 a.m.  Meeting up with another rider at a parking area in the campground, it wasn’t too long before we were heading out on the Adventure Hiking Trail (AHT), a 24 mile, or more, backpacking loop that a few years back was opened up to mountain biking.  Cutting through O’Bannon and part of Harrison-Crawford State Forest, AHT is a newer back country ride in the Midwest.

The initial going was on the wet/muddy side, but the tires rolled fairly well.  Following the green and white blazes was going fine as we wound down the hillsides and climbed straight back up, sometimes requiring hike-a-biking.

No Hoofin’ Permitted

The humidity began to rise, as did my spirits as we moved around to the east side of the loop.  We navigated the logging areas with relative ease, and came upon a fun roller through the bottoms followed by a climb up to an enjoyable ridge line ride.  There were a few lookouts to the river below and another ridge across the way, which had me feeling like I was in a remote setting.  We pedaled into one of the back country shelters and ate some food.

View from the AHT

Though the going was slow with the endless ups and downs, and having to climb over and through downed trees, we progressed at a decent pace.  With each stop, though, we checked ourselves for ticks, picking them off in bunches of twos or threes or fives.

We continued on and came to another shelter with a beautiful stack-stone chimney:

Dreaming of Wood Oven Pizza

After the chimney admiring, we descended down the trail.  We then ascended.  And descended, and ascended.   Gnarley, rocky climbs requiring a lot of pushing the bike uphill and then carrying/sliding the bikes down nasty rocky-like gulches called backpacking trails began to annoy me.  Throw in downed trees and no real opportunity to get any cadence going, and the AHT was becoming a mental ass-kicker.

We stopped to grub a little.  I decided to eat a whole pack of orange energy chews shaped like little cubes.  I had never eaten all six at one time before that moment.  We had about seven or eight miles to go.  I swallowed some water and we moved on.

About thirty minutes later, I started to feel a little queasy.  I was minding the humidity more, and I knew I was probably on the dehydrated side of bodily fluid levels.  Still, my legs felt fine.

Some cross-country rocky sections were welcomed fun and games, taking my focus from my turning stomach.  Pushing on, we eventually came to the hard road that could be taken back to the parking area.  I immediately said I was taking it back to the car, nausea having set in.

It probably took about twenty minutes to get back to the car, but it felt like double that amount of time.  My gut was being rocked.  I wasn’t doing well.

Back at the car, I sat down in the parking lot.  Dizziness came on sudden, and the next thing I knew, I was announcing “I’m gonna puke.”  No announcement was necessary for the rest of the park.  When I puke, it’s loud!  Dry heaves followed by orange phlegm-like chunks in the watery mix was expelled from my system.

********

There’s a first time for everything, right?!  As I said after puking the second time by the side of the highway, “One for the ages!”   Lesson learned for me:  drink more water if ingesting a whole pack of those energy squares.  What’s funny is that as I was eating that pack, I commented about how they are my current favorite energy food because they don’t sit heavy in my stomach and seem to process easily.  Hah!

Regarding the AHT, it’s a dirty backwoods ride that requires patience and a willingness to accept losing elevation quickly after a long, laborious climb.

Next time, I’d like to ride it counter clockwise.

Friend of the Forest