Snowshoe II – Billy Ocean’s Revenge

Hang time...Rat Hair drops in on the Basin side.
Because we left town so late we decided to crash out in Lewisburg Thursday night. When we hit the road Friday morning all of us were surprised by how windy and cold it was outside. The further we climbed toward the resort the further the temperature gauge dropped in OG’s truck. By the time we unloaded our gear topside we were looking at cloudy skies, 20 to 30 mph winds and temperatures down to the lower 40’s. The park had been pounded with rain for three days before our arrival and the trails were soaked to the core. We took a cautious warm up run on the Basin side and immediately knew this trip would be full of low speed technical runs. Tire pressures were dropped in an effort to gain extra traction and all of us had to employ a light touch on the brakes to prevent the wheels from locking up and washing out. I hadn’t ridden in conditions this sketchy since our little slop-fest at Sugar earlier this summer. In short, we all got our asses handed to us at least once during this session. We spent the rest of the day running the most technical trail combinations we could think of and, in a kind of twisted way, enjoyed riding some of the trails we usually skipped during past trips. A to K, B to I, C to J, M to O, D and E…you name it and we rode it all at least once. There was a race scheduled for Sunday so the course (on trail P) was open for practice runs. By the time we finished the race course our bikes were caked with mud so thick that it looked like we were running tires without any tread. Hats off to the racers, especially the ones who don’t get paid, that were pinning it down the course under these seriously sloppy conditions. The bike park patrol let us duck the ropes for one final shred down the hill and with that day one was over. We wrapped up the evening with our traditional post ride spaghetti dinner, poppin’ bottles of Yuengling and back to back episodes of OG’s favorite television show: Gangland.

Woodworking 101. OG takes the high line.

Steve-O rollin' out on trail M.
All good times must come to an end and reluctantly we packed up the gear early Sunday morning and left under a blanket of fog. As fate would have it we timed our trip just right as the next wave of wet weather rolled in. Another killer weekend of ripping trails was in the books!



























































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