Tuesday Night Mountain Bike Ride, July 29, 2008 -- O'Connor Mudfest

By Tom Clark

Instead of going out Goldstream to the trail behind the fire station and up the "Pack Trail", we opted to ascend the O'Connor Creek trail, something usually reserved for winter or a prolonged dry spell. This was neither, and we knew it, but we couldn't resist the temptation to check it out. OK, it was my idea, but I did get support for it... Geoff hadn't been up the trail so he didn't know what he was agreeing to. It was a quick pavement ride to Ivory Jacks and a fast ride up to the trailhead at the 90 degree turn on Jones Road. About forty-two seconds into the trail, we knew that this was going to be ugly. There were already dismounts and wet feet. At the first creek crossing, three of us were already across, and somehow Eric convinced Dave to try to ride through the creek. His front wheel sank past the hub, and Dave spilled off to the right, smack into the creek, splash. There ensued many bad words, unfit for the club website, but they rhymed with "chit", "othermucker" and "puck", mixed and conjugated in clever ways. Fortunately, Mr. James was saying all this with a smile on his face, but I don't think that he'll trust anyone who says "you can ride through it" for some time.

I got this quote from Dave James after the ride:

"If you haven't written your ride report yet, I'll offer a quote if you care to use it: "It definitely had an above-average dumb factor." Also, feel free if you so wish to say that I tried to make a biathlon out of it by going swimming. Just make sure and blame Troyer somehow.

Damn, that was some of the best stupid fun I've had in a loooooong time. "

You'd think that once you get out of the valley bottom and start climbing up from the creek, things'd dry out. Nope. This is a special trail, retaining a lot of moisture in all its dips and swales. Throw in some torquey four-wheelin' action, and you've got a trail that has lotsa deep channels, ruts, and mud pits. We pressed on, trying to ride as much of the trail as we could, some sections better than others. What is a quick, rolling ride in the winter on packed trails is a slippery, pond-filled slop-fest in the wet. Blech. Miserable as it was, it was still entertaining. The second creek crossing was almost as funny as the first. I led the crew on a trail around the worst of the creek crossing, but it featured a two-foot drop off. I just barely stayed on the bike, getting way off the back, dropping the front tire down and lifting out. The Endo was lurking, but didn't strike yet. It waited for Eric who made a nice wet "splat" when he rolled over the handlebars and landed in the mud. Dave was many feet back up the trail and could still see the flash of metal and legs akimbo through the woods. Much hilarity. The trail after that featured some longish ridable sections that we were happy for. That isn't to say that it was all good. Some of the worst rutty sections were in this stretch.

Do you get the idea that this is a stupid bunch?

Dave and I have done no less than three stupid rides together, and we knew it was stupid at the time. We acknowledged it and even celebrated it. There's a weird satisfaction in completing what turns out to be a really dumb ride. You don't want all your rides to be stupid, but once in a while is OK. Eric and Geoff and myself did the "Really Dumb Ride" chronicled in these ride reports. So it was with practiced eyes and hard-earned experience that each of us assessed the evenings sport and progress so far and pronounced it "what a stupid ride", "really dumb", etc. We don't come to these conclusions lightly. Experts, all.

Anyway, with repeated confirmations of "stupid ride" as our theme, we merrily proceeded up to the third and final creek crossing before the climb out of the bog. This crossing was wet, but almost entirely rideable. We took the direct climb out, going straight up the hill into the subdivision at the top. We crossed the first subdivsion road, and then regrouped at the second road. The climb is a steep one, but I think that everyone was grateful for it -- we warmed up, and there were no muddy bits to deal with. We rode as a group over to the really bumpy trailhead (I'd sure like to know what the name of the trail is, if there is one) about three miles away, over the rolling hills of Old Murphy Dome road.

At the trailhead, we braced ourselves for what was coming. We know this trail to be challenging in dry conditions, what with its millions of roots, and body-bouncing bumps. In a solid rain, it could only be harder. This was true, but after our stupid climb up O'Connor, none of us could muster up a serious complaint about the trail. There were a few grousings about sore backs and arms, but this is normal for this particlar trail. We stopped to pluck downed trees out of the trail (six? eight?), and stopped a few times to rest our aching bodies. Geoff was really and truly missing his bike, which is still in the shop. Because we hadn't suffered enough, when we got near the exit to the subdivision road, Eric took us out Cranberry Trail and Grateful Dog trail and others. These totally bypass the subdivision and the radio tower road, connecting way down the trail near the airstrip. It was getting pretty late and heavier rain clouds had moved in, and the forest canopy was thicker here. There was even a dense fog. So, it became damn hard to see the ground in front of you, and there were lots and lots of little stumps and diagonal roots to hit and go careening off of. It hadn't occurred to anyone that we might need lights on this ride.

The connection to the airstrip road goes over private property, and the landowners have posted no trespassing signs, so Eric led us on another dark, rooty trail that had a lot of descent in it, thus we had to climb back up. I passed Eric when a combination of steep ascent and wet roots got him, and kept going. I saw sky through the trees up ahead and aimed for it - peddle, peddle, peddle. I passed a trail intersection that looked like it paralleled the airstrip and ignored it, popping out on the airstrip instead. Geoff Orth was right behind me. We heard some yells about going the wrong way, and we grinned at each other and ignored them, opting to cross the airstrip and ride out the road -- smooth, packed, well-drained subdivision road. Ah...

Dave and Eric joined us a minute later, having ridden the last little bit of trail. That makes Geoff and I a couple of wimps, I suppose. We coasted down the road, getting colder all the time, stopping to look at Rocky and Gail's new place, under construction. Back at the cars, nobody availed themselves of a cold soda. Bags of chips were passed out, and we each went our own way, Dave riding home through the rain. It was about midnight, and we'd only ridden 18.6 miles in all that time. There was about 3000 feet of elevation gain, with 700 feet of that getting from the start to the third creek crossing. With the heater cranked, wipers on steady low, and visions of a hot shower I sped for home, honking at Dave as I went by. He still looked like he was enjoying himself. Definitely the spliff thing.