Saturday, July 4, 2009
holiday
minor league baseball. 2 dollar corndogs and 6 dollar beer. fireworks a day early with kids circling the bases like whirling dervishes while parents pass one hitters and try not to care about getting caught. entertainment serenaded by the hippy hyena feeling the need to scream and howl at every explosion that moistened her nethers. late night bike rides on cruisers with u-locks sticking out of back pockets. back alley shortcuts to get after midnight burritos from spots on a local would know about.
post journey recovery has been about enhancing my resting pose. the day was slated for 90's and clear weather. the singletrack here is rooted in swoops, dips, rock. climbs of loam and descents so buffed out you can just skip like a rock on water. you can tell that mountain bikers had a hand in these trails. they might not have built them, but they damn sure maintain them. white trash and french kiss were up from cali. the bombshell was trying out to get a feel for her new hardtail. the millennium falcon was invited, but missed the departure time and location due to being trapped by the fog of his night of drinking. i was anxious to get the new swamper out for a shake out since it's been staring at me for weeks wondering wtf? the holiday weekend had the campsites around the reservoir filled with tent cities, redneck trucks driven up on rocks and more caravans than a irish gypsy convention. thankfully, none of these folks seemed interested in recreating very far from their coolers, so we largely had the trails to ourselves. started at sand point and followed the trail all the way to moon valley access road trail head. stopped at the winter work point for a swim in the river and lunch and then retraced our steps back with half the regroups and a lot more speed. the hunter and i bonded nicely after a few miscalculations on turns and a misplaced manual on a log ride that resulted in me typing this while sitting with a bag of ice planted squarely underneath my left glute. i look forward to the rest of the summer and fall. i smell an umpqua traverse coming.
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