Carolina In The Pines

Yeah, I know it's not a pine tree

 

 

Friday afternoon it was granite climbing.  Which is kinda hard after 8 hours in the truck.  The effort was well worth it.  Dupont State Forest near Brevard North Carolina is almost heaven for the rider of an off road bicycle.  That's my opinion anyway and right now that's the only one that counts.  Using my unsurpassed woods guiding abilities I lead our little group of 6 up and down Burnt Mountain and then up and over Cedar Rock.  Of course we had to have Mexican food in town afterwards and beer.  Always beer.

Saturday was another day of "follow the old man" and we were able to ride all of the "fun stuff" I knew about on Dupont.  It was a perfect day, low 70's, the leaves were just starting to turn, and the trails were dry.  I tried to impress upon my younger cohorts that you don't get many perfect days like that and they should slow down a little and enjoy it.  I do like to take a little time to look at the woods while I ride.  You know, groove on nature and all that stuff.  But it was always "which way Magellan?" or "now where do we go from here?"  Kids nowadays, what can ya do?

Just kidding guys!

Sunday was our day in the Pisgah National Forest.  Cloudy, breezy, and some rain.  Like most days in the Smokies.  BJS was our guide for this trip.  Our first climb and descent was excellent (we only went a mile past the trail entrance).  I was afraid I wouldn't enjoy Pisgah but this trail had it all.  BJS got us a little lost on the next loop, of course that resulted in climbing 4 miles past the trail head.  But hey, he's not quite the Ranger Rick that I am.  He and Big T half wheeled themselves the whole way up.  When I got to the top I knew we (Jim) had screwed up.  He had the map out, which is a certain sign of desperation for him.

 

 

When we did find the trail head I noticed it was labeled Intermediate Difficulty.  It took off from the nice friendly gravel path we were on, up a steep clay bank, then disappeared into the trees.  Only Big T, BJS, and the Bearded Wonder tackled it.  I went on my own ride and had a perfectly lovely afternoon.  I'll let them tell you how theirs went.

 

 

I've taken these type of trips before in my moto days.  I was glad to see I am still able to irritate people to the point of insanity.  My ability to have one beer and suddenly become entertaining is a talent few posses.  I was in bed by 9:00 every night and up before dawn.  My companions did not appreciate my healthy sleep habits.  There were no fights and BJS only threatened to kick me out of the truck once.

I guess I should find people closer my own age to play with.

The Dirt on My Spaghetti

 

It wasn't a race.  So what was all the furor about?  Something about a jersey that said "World Champion".  If it wasn't a race how could there be a champion?  There were no timing chips, very few course markers, and no published rules.

Even knowing all that, plus the fact I had no hope of being in the front at the finish, I took off at the start like a dog chasing a squirrel.  My water bottle popped out on the first rough clay road.  Visions of Fools Gold danced through my head.  I still had another one but 62 miles in 85 degree weather was going to be hard if I didn't stop at all the sags. 

What in years past had been a pleasant roll through the south Georgia plantation country had turned into a blur of bikes, mud, and clay.  There were crashes, team tactics, and absent sag stops.  Unfortunately I only got to see about 18 miles of the "race" before I had had enough.  The Bearded Tree Hugger (BTH) who I had been following looked over at me as we tried for what must have been the fifth time to get back on and said "I'm about done, how bout you?".  "Screw em" I wheezed.  We then began our own version of the "race".  It still hurt.

The Bearded Tree Hugger sans shirt

I owe the BTH for taking almost all the pulls on the way in.  That being said I really didn't want to know the name of every freaking bird that chirped.

Anyhoo the after ride beers were great, as was the spaghetti.  Complaints?  Sure I always have a few.  The path to the lunch sag was not marked.  The last sag was not there (I was really counting on this one since I had only one bottle).  Orange spray paint on orange clay is not the best way to mark a course.

There seems to be quite a bit of interest in these "dirty" type of road rides.  I'd like to see some more pop up locally.  Of course you can only be "World Champion" once.