Tuesday Night Mountain Bike Ride, August 5th, 2008 -- Ester Dome Fireplug

By Tom Clark

Nine folks showed for this ride -- Byron Broda, Jeff Gimble, Jon Hufman, Geoff Orth, Liam Wescott, Pete Wilda, Doug Yates and myself. I donned my backpack with stapler, pinflags and arrows and off we went. I was using the opportunity to mark a course for a race the following Thursday.

We got up to the powerline on Goldhill Road, and went left, and took the next to last turn uphill to the right to begin our ascent. I started putting down course markers somewhere in here, and I was reminded of just how much work it is to stop, plant a pin flag, and get going again, over and over. I sucessfully planted a few without stopping, but if anything, it's more effort, not less. Just before the nasty uphill to the east of the mine, I somehow managed to pull well ahead of the other riders. I figured that there must be a mechanical or some such. At the top of the climb, riders rejoined me and said that they'd waited for Liam, and when he got there, he went the other way around the mine. Ah.

We took a little circuitous couse through a willow patch and came out in the mine, which we promptly exited, coming out on Henderson. While the others went off to inspect a folding table laden with what looked like party leftovers setup on a bluff overlooking town, I kept on going because I didn't want to hold people up. At the entrance to the Marathon trail off Henderson we met Liam. Rather than go up the trail, he elected to ride up Henderson and meet us at the sharp outside corner on Ester Dome Road, which is where our trail would take us. We left the man to his own devices, and enjoyed a fine climb up the trails, taking a sharp uphill right at four-corners, and following the four-wheeler track uphill through the nastily eroded, fall line trail. When the four-wheeler trail finally crested and began its descent, we turned left, following a weird little trail that was cobbled together a few years back from other bits of trails. It's pretty well packed now.

This little trail is a tough climb, from a technical standpoint. It's getting easier, but there's still some hairpin turns and roots and steep grades that force a lot of riders from their steeds. Pete Wilda said that he really wanted to clean the trail tonight, that he'd always had to dab somewhere. I think that I jinxed it or screwed him up somehow when I got to the hairpin and said "tricky spot number one". Moments later I heard "FUCK!" Oh well, maybe next time. I'm just glad that he didn't lob something at me.

A few minutes later, we'd topped out on Ester Dome Road, on the sharp corner. I kept going up the hill, planting the occasional marker. I decided not to regroup with the rest of the group, again not wanting to slow them down by making them wait for me while I planted flags. I kept on riding right on past all the antennas, and then stopped after some descent got me to the three-way intersection of the Tri-Con Mine Road and the "Out and Back" part of the Marathon course. Jeff Gimble was right there with me, and told me that Doug Yates had gone down the Alder Chute, reducing our number to eight. After marking the turn I left him eating blueberries or whatever he was finding to chew on, and headed up the next hill. At the Y intersection where we turn left down to the Fireplug trail, I stopped to see where everyone was. They arrived pretty quickly, and after a short BS session, we donned warm layers, and headed down the trail.

I love this trail. Not everyone does. Some hate it, actually. It's twisty, rooty, muddy and slippery. Great fun! Except for stopping to plant the occasional pin flag, I rode hard, clattering down to the saddle. After that it's a short, low climb to actually meet up with the Fireplug. It took quite a while for the next rider to show up, and I feared that someone had either had a mechanical or had a crash. Turned out it was a crash. John Hufman got caught in a rut, which wasn't all that bad, but then it let go suddenly and he went off tangentially, smack into a good sized tree. He caught the blow with his bicep and thigh, but his ribs took a hit too, which really hurt. He snarfed a few Motrin, supplied by Mr. Drug Scene Orth, who had white pills, red pills, a little dangerous looking snap-in-half jobber, and two very hallucinigenic looking small capsules, red and white. He just needs "Inna Gadda Da Vidda" playing when he whips out that pill bottle.

We parted company there, Pete Wilda and I going down the Fireplug to mark the course, and the others going on the rest of the ride, which is going out the Fireplug, across the section line trail to Old Nenana Highway, to Old Wood, and down a trail into Ester Creek valley. Pete and I stopped a short ways down the trail to move a large birch tree that had fallen over the trail. We peeled as much of the canopy off the thing to lighten the load, then scooted it out of the way. What brutes. The bottom of the trail was really horrible, made worse by the heavy equipment that somebody decided to run up the trail. Then it was a uneventful ride back to the cars, out Ester Creek valley. Other riders filtered in, and the best finish of the night was Byron Broda. He had literally just pulled up close to his car, brakes on, scrubbing the speed from dumping out of the trail adjacent to the road, when his rear tire blew like a pistol shot. I'm sure that it was heard up in Ester. I can not think of a better place to blow a tire out on a ride. Nobody said "bummer", we all said "Wow, that's pretty cool. How'd you do that?" So, Byron gets my vote for uber bike-geek of the night.

Really, other than John Hufman's near death experience, and Byron's tire exploding, a pretty tame night. Jeff Gimble said that he endoed once, but pretty much bounced up and kept on going. Nothing keeps that guy down. Great ride, great group.