Safety first: proper stretching technique is key before an all day ride.
It’s been a busy spring to say the least. With the recent addition of a new member to the family I’ve had my hands pretty full. There have been some great rides so far and the crew even made it up to Diablo Bike Park for opening weekend this year. When I think of making the transition this year from harsh winter riding to gorgeous spring single-track there’s one ride that always seems to come to mind. Before I continue know this: the following story does not contain any words or pictures involving ripping descents or sending it with style. This is a story about three middle age dudes taking a concept a little too far. OG has been cranking out some solo Pisgah loops lately without the use of a shuttle and with gas prices creeping up around four bucks a gallon we decided it would be cool to ditch the trucks for the weekend and actually pedal our lazy asses around for a change. Let’s face it, original Hucksters such as Brad, BBA and Moron used to do this type of riding every weekend while pedaling old school free ride rigs complete with Marzocchi Monster T forks, Sun Mammoth rims and 2.7 inch steel bead tires. If they could do it so could we. No cross country bikes allowed on this one. We were going to make a point to man up and pedal our big hit bikes all day. It all started innocently enough. The idea was to ease into our new pursuit with a loop that included pedaling 21 Jump Street to Schoolhouse Ridge from start to finish. Of course this wasn’t “crazy” enough for us so as a test of our manhood OG decided to up the ante and asked Steve-O and me to start our ride from his cabin in Gragg, NC.
Feel the burn. Steve-O helps OG prepare for our adventure.
He called us off the porch and in true North Carolina fashion and we took the bait…hook, line and sinker. We set off early Saturday morning and after four and a half miles of up and down fire road pedaling we hit the trailhead of 21 Jump Street. To be honest all three of us were felling pretty good. We all had sort of a “this isn’t going to be that bad” feeling when we started to roll down 21 Jump Street. Our spirits were high and the day was wide open. If you’ve ridden 21 Jump Street you’ll know the name is kind of misleading and that it’s really not a downhill or jump trail at all. Sure, it’s got some fast gravity assisted sections but the majority of the trail involves short punchy climbs mixed with steep hike-a-bikes. By now we were getting pretty stoked about our adventure. We had finished 21 Jump Street and had one more climb to go before we got to enjoy a taste of the wild downhill ride that only Schoolhouse Ridge can dish out. Feeding off the excitement of our day I asked the guys if they wanted to once again up the “crazy” factor of our ride and skip Schoolhouse Ridge to go find a new trail we’ve never ridden before. Of course nobody backed down and off we were pedaling up a stretch of fire road for thirty minutes until we finally saw the trailhead of Thorpes Creek. After dropping into Thorpes it only took about ten more minutes for the stoke factor of our ride to turn into an hour and a half of pure hike-a-bike agony.
Just a small sample of the good times to be had on Thorpes Creek.
There was a pretty harsh storm that passed through earlier in the week and it left the trail in such bad shape that we had to negotiate about fifteen separate snarls of downed trees. Some of the snags were so thick that we had to climb ten feet it the air and walk thirty feet over huge downed trees and limbs while carrying our forty-plus pound gravity sleds. Throw around eight creek crossings into the mix and the result was maybe about a quarter mile of actual riding the whole time we were on Thorpes Creek. Time passed and we eventually finished the trail and decided to stop at the Mortimer picnic area for a short rest and a snack. I couldn’t tell if OG and Steve-O showed extreme poise or if they were simply too tired at this point to smack me around for my lapse in trail choice. Either way we were all starting to feel the excitement wear off and the reality of a seven mile climb set in. We raised our saddles and hopped onto our bikes for what was to be a humbling experience. Of course we started off running our mouths and talking s#!t about who was going to quit and walk first. By the time we hit the really steep four mile part of the climb there was complete silence. All of us had gone to “that place” where you do nothing but take shallow breaths, watch sweat drip off your chin onto to the top tube and practically bury your forehead into the stem as you pedal as hard as you can to crawl up the mountain in granny gear. Our loop took us back to the trailhead of 21 Jump Street and we were totally beat. According to our original plan this would have been the end of the ride. Too bad all of our vehicles were still parked another four and a half miles up the road at Gragg. I was out of water so this last part of our odyssey was a blur of confusion, cotton mouth and chocking on dust as I watched the sky grow dark and the rumble of thunder approach. Steve-O and I arrived back at the cabin and fifteen minutes later OG followed behind us carrying a broken chain. Twenty-two miles in all with only about five miles of downhill and we were finally finished. Yeah, I know this is pocket change for enduro riders and twenty-four hour racers but this was a pretty big accomplishment for three weekend warrior park rats. As the sky swirled above we had time for one last round of blank stares, senseless laughter and high fives before all hell cut loose with lightning and hail. There’s nothing like a classic day of having your ass handed to you to keep things in perspective. Next time I’ll keep my mouth shut and bring extra water.
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