Wednesday’s ride was a short one. I had a momentary lapse of judgment and suggested that we take the Blue trail down to the highway. I remembered about halfway down that the 6 inches of rain we’d received in the previous two days had backed up into the White River and surrounding creeks- including Livingston Creek, which the trail crosses three separate times.

Matt and Bruce rode ahead of Ryan and me, and, sure enough, when we reached the bottom, Matt and Bruce were wandering around looking at the quickly flowing, waist-high water. We decided to climb back up to Green Mountain Road and back to the Green Trail for a lap of nice rockiness. Afterward, it was back to the cabin to prep for Thursday’s Thanksgiving Dinner. And work on the puzzle.

 

Obligatory Green Trail Overlook photo:

Yes, I realize I’m sorely behind on posting about my 5 days riding in Arkansas, but you have to understand, Ryan and I were heavily involved with both riding our bikes and completing a 1000 piece puzzle. Priorities, man.

 

The night prior to our 3rd day riding saw downpours that brought 2-3 inches of rain to the area. So, more forest road riding was in order. Ever since this post well over a year ago, I’ve been itching to get back to Barkshed Camp to ride out of the camp on Barkshed Road, which (if you’re not the link-clicking type) I’d previously attempted but failed when I found the road blocked with a multitude of trees and brambles.

Luckily, this time, I had more daylight and the encouragement of Ryan and Matt. We found that much of the deadfall that had covered the trail before was now cut, and, though we granny geared and walked a little in the brambled spots, within half a mile, we popped out at a forest road gate that kept traffic off only that short section of trail. So, after sharing a ziploc bag of gummy bears, we traversed the the remaining 8 miles of Barkshed Rd. on nice, rolling, gravel.

The forest road eventually dumped us onto Push Mountain road. It’s a nice, low traffic (surprisingly rare for that area) road with a good shoulder. We followed it up to a gravel county road that led us back into the forest. Along the way, we saw two very large pigs as well as a forest ranger who stopped to ask (in a very polite, roundabout way), what in the spandex-clad hell we were doing out there.

Somewhere along the way, Matt bonked and yelled at his bike when the front derailleur stopped working. Luckily, at that point, we were only half an hour or so from Gunner Pool Camp, where we’d parked the car.

Random Caption Contest:

(All I can think of is this Wayne’s World skit: http://vimeo.com/476035 )

Some others:

 

 

Yesterday’s ride was somewhat abbreviated. Ryan, Bruce, and I took to the orange trail. It had rained earlier, so it was a good choice because of its relative lack of rocks. This was also the RDO’s first time out at Syllamo, and if I recall correctly, the first time I’d ridden gears on these trails since breaking a derailleur on the Air9 Scandium more than a year ago (and subsequently swore off gears on that trail forever).

The initial descent was a blast, and I decided I’d use the short climbs on the trail to do a little interval training and see how the new bike would perform. In the middle of the first interval, BAM! Stick to the rear derailleur. My shifting was immediately rough, but still somewhat functional. I finished the interval, rode back to meet with Ryan and Bruce, then kicked it up again for the next climb.

Ryan followed me up until we reached a stretch of open, bald, wet rocks. I knew they’d be periodically slick, but decided that today I’d take my chances and hammer across. I made it mostly through until I hit one last off-camber spot. My bike shot out from under me, but somehow I managed to catch myself and keep from falling by grabbing a nearby cedar sapling. My bike landed squarely on the right side, rendering the derailleur slightly less functional than before. Once I was at the top, I decided I’d swap hangers (I’d brought two spares). Unfortunately, the new hanger, though it fit the frame fine, was very slightly different than the old one, and the derailleur was horribly mal-adjusted. The amount of sand and crap in the drivetrain was making adjustments tedious, and Bruce, who had fallen chest-first onto a rock early in the ride, suggested we call it a day.

So, we bailed off on the forest road and coasted down to the car. Luckily, once everything was clean, lubed, and re-adjusted, the shifting was fine. Crisis averted, for now. I’m incredibly happy that Matt will arrive with my singlespeed Monday night, so the geared bike only needs to make it through one more day of riding.

PS- The RDO is still awesome. Even if it does have that silly “gear” thing.

Earlier in the week, I was scheduled for a tough interval workout. For whatever reason (mostly leftover fatigue- both mental and physical), I decided to blow off the intervals and hit the trail for a mountain bike ride.

There was a deluge of rain approaching on the radar, and, even though it wasn’t very close to my area yet, the air was heavy, and small drops were spitting from the clouds within the first few minutes of my ride. When I passed the trailhead, the parking lot was empty. On the trail, the rain had not yet breached the tree cover, so the ground was dry.

The trail is a pretty popular spot for morning  joggers and the occasional mountain bike rider, but today, I was alone. The sound of the rain on the trees over my head and the solitude of being the only person in the woods was absolutely sublime. Something about railing through the empty woods on a singlespeed gives you time to reflect and clear your head.

As the rain quickened, the leaves on the trail started to get wet and slick, and, through the magic of good timing, I made it off the trail just as the ground started to become saturated. The ride back home on the gravel roads through the north side of the park was equally as awesome…

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Tuesday afternoon, I received a text from coworker Kenny “Captain Sandals” Charles telling me to skip out on the afternoon and come ride the Epic that evening. I wasn’t sure- it’d been a while since I’d ridden at night, and I’d never ridden the Epic trails before. The trails have a “reputation” of being tough to navigate, and they run through bum villages and bad neighborhoods along the Wolf River/I-40 corridor. They’re also hangouts for rednecks on ATVs and 4x4s who drink and ride in the mud. So, since I usually ride alone, for personal safety reasons, I have never ridden the Epic Trails.

However, I was called to work the next day (normally my day off), and I got the thumbs up from Coach, so I bailed and went home to charge the lights. I packed up the RDO and met with the guys at a house a few miles from the trails. We rolled out, and, in a few minutes, were dropping in to a rough and rutted 4×4 trail.

These trails have a reputation for being difficult. It’s rumored that some of the mudholes could swallow a bike to the handlebars, and those mudholes are separated by a ribbon of raised berm that you must commit to and navigate in order to avoid the drink. I found that I have no problem (possibly even an affinity for?) following a tiny slab of dry dirt between mudholes- something that I was somewhat surprised by considering my problems with raised, narrow bridges. I guess it’s a heights thing. I think the other thing that gets people is that you basically have to quickly pick and commit to lines then be able to react quickly to unexpected features in the trail. It’s very much like racing on an unfamiliar trail… something I’ve grown somewhat used to.

We rode for nearly an hour and a half before turning back towards home (there was a chance of bad weather that would be rather unpleasant to be caught out in, so we thought better of trying to ride all the way downtown). Overall, the trail was a blast (even though I didn’t find it as “difficult” as the rumors say), the company was great, and I was home in time to cook dinner.

Our route: