Tuesday Night Mountain Bike Ride, August 26th, 2008 -- Fairbanks-Circle Trail

By Tom Clark

We met and started off from the parking lot at Cleary Summit. Nine players, all same-old-same-old regulars, all middle-aged guys. What the hell is wrong with us? Where are the women? Where are the youngsters? We rode up to the intersection of Fairbanks Creek road, and turned left, and zipped along the road for a couple of miles. After a brief climb, we descended, only to slow down again for a left hand turn, onto the marked Fairbanks-Circle trail.

Evidently, this was the way to get to Circle back in the days of yore. I mean, I've never seen the trail indicated on the topo maps, but people tell me that's what it is... Anyway, we didn't end up anywhere near Circle. Sergey almost went to Chatanika (went left at a fork where we needed to go right, as indicated by the little signs that say "Fairbanks-Circle Trail"), but we yelled loud enough that he heard us and came back. We stood for a while in that spot, listening to an incredibly deep baritone voice emanating from the woods. I yelled "Larry!", thinking that it could be Larry Katkin, but got no response. Soon the other riders were yelling "Frank!" "Pete!" "George!". It was time to go. Shortly after that, we were bombing down a steep pitch and my rear tire flatted.

I figured that I'd impress everyone with how fast I could fix a flat tire, and I had the wheel off and tire off before everyone had even come to a stop. Got out the new tube, put a little air in it and put it in there and started pumping it up. Gosh, I sure am cool. I sure changed that in a hurry. I rock. Why isn't it taking any air? Sergey offered his pump and I tried it. No luck. Sigh. I took the new tube out to discover that it wasn't actually a new tube. Nice little pinch-flat in it too. So, I took Sergey's tube, stuffed it in the tire and aired up. Woohoo! We ride!

I was almost falling off the bike, I was so tired. Working all day doing hard physical labor is kind of a rough way to lead into a Tuesday Ride, but I think that I bitched about that last week, so no need to beat that particular dead horse. At the top of a strenuous climb up a knobish hill (featuring lots of loose rocks and slippery muddy patches) we veered off to the side to take in the view and attend a lecture by Mr. G. Orth.

I'll have to get some clarification on the matter, but it sounded to me like Geoff was conducting primate research on commercial fisherman. Apparently in some species of primates, how the animals' rear end is displayed is important to members of the opposite sex. Geoff, at one time a commercial fisherman, but probably too geeky to properly fit in, sought to study commercial fisherman and see if there was a discernable "rear display" amongst them. Y'know, see if they wag their rears at the ladies. This was how I understood it, anyway. Interesting guy.

Shortly after the discussion, we were riding down the trail, me in the lead. I raised my rear at Eric Troyer who was a few bike lengths back there. He noted that my rear was on display, but it wasn't doing anything for him, so I reached back, and yanked my shorts down. Full moon. Hairy scrotal sack and all, complete with little bits of toilet paper rolled up in the ass-hair. Brrrr. It definitely had more of an effect on Eric. I think that he was pretty disgusted, which was what I was shooting for.

We found ourselves at the four-way intersection. Straight keeps you on the Fairbanks-Circle trail, left goes off to a mine (we think), and right goes down to Fairbanks Creek road, about seven miles in. That's where we went. It's a pretty long descent, and we had to stop partway down so that Sergey could fix his flat tire, also a very pretty "snake bite" flat. Fresh out of tubes, he begged one from Geoff Orth. It worked the first time, and soon we were back underway. There were two or three stream crossings to deal with as we rode along the valley bottom. One of them is even named "Too Much Gold Creek". Must be a common problem with creeks, as there is another "Too Much Gold Creek about six miles away to the southeast.

Finally, it came time to pay for all the great descending. We had a sustained two mile climb up the dirt road. At least it kept us warm. We passed the trailhead for the Fairbanks-Circle trail that we'd taken earlier. I couldn't quite talk Sergey into another lap. The rest of the ride back to the cars didn't take long, and though quite a few riders had lights, nobody seemed to really, really need them. That'll happen this next week out at Moose Mountain.

So -- good ride. Best part: mooning Eric Troyer. Worst part: having mooned Eric Troyer, I'm wondering just what kind of a sorry excuse for a grown-up I am -- I know that seeing someone elses junk would probably be the last thing that I'd want to see on a ride where the view are otherwise very agreeable. I probably need some psychotherapy. Or at least, a pair of bib shorts. Harder to pull down.

Two more weeks and it's the RB Muggle Currie show!