Salida binge

The weather turned for the cold, and our last business in Colorado was just about done. We rode low and managed to find new trails like Double Rainbow and South Backbone.

Then we woke up to snow in Salida! It was the start of a rough 24 hours in the Scott office.

I sat in the dentist chair for 2 hours, and the result was not what I had hoped. “Is there any flexibility in your plan for heading to the desert?” “Can you stick around through the weekend?”

Ez had to go to Boulder for followup with the magic doc that fixed her. No more Ez in Salida.

The trackleaders server decided it didn’t want to talk to SPOT’s servers anymore. They weren’t on speaking terms. I’m pretty sure I slept a little that night, with aching teeth, but I was on the computer the rest of the time. 175 boats were set to roll out, and panic was in the air.

I got everything going with time to spare, then collected what little energy I had for a chilly but beautiful ride just before the sun set. Sleep was glorious.

Too much time on the computer, too much time getting drilled in the dentist chair, too much sub-par weather and missing riding partner. Time to bite back. If I was going to be “stuck” in Salida for a weekend, I was going to make the most of it.

Nothing like a solo night ride to clear the mind and turn thoughts to other, more basic and primal, things. Programming? What’s a ‘for’ loop, what’s a web server?!

I nearly stuck to Northbackbone and the town trails when I felt the bite of the night’s air. But the full moon was rising, and I wanted to get out there, get away, get into it. So I kept pedaling and seriously regretted my meager three layers.

The air in Cottonwood’s gulch was cold, the trail an absolute pleasure. Discomfort is temporary.

15 second exposure

I rounded the corner and the whole of Salida and the Arkansas valley was before me, under the now high full moon. Oh yeah.

The next morning, I headed over the pass to meet Jefe and Sam at Hartmans. Right out of the parking lot I knew I was in trouble. Both of them were riding race light, on hard tails and Jefe on a singlespeed. No warmup for the wicked, the first hill hurt. Luckily my body woke up nicely after that, and I was very much in the mood to hammer the living daylight out Hartmans.

There’s no better guide than Jefe. He knows all the lines by heart. I had to tell myself over and over, “if he can ride it on a hard tail, you can follow,” which was generally true, but only if I followed close. You have to be on it out there.

He took us out to Aberdeen, where you feel as if you aren’t at Hartmans anymore. New to me.

I couldn’t list all the trails if I tried, but it was a grand tour of Hartmans, culminating with Rattlesnake, Tech Becks and Freefall. Adrenal gland – empty. Legs – worked. Heart – stoked. Head – pure happiness.

Thanks Jefe. I needed that, bad.

Facebook told me I had a taker for more rock fun the next day. Craig was in.

He was kind enough to slow to ride my pace up the climb. In exchange I was kind enough to show him one of the best trails in the Arkansas Valley.

Oops. He picked up the style of riding pretty quick.

Scared himself pretty good (I think), and rode some stuff he didn’t think possible.

The look on his face after conquering an obstacle was priceless. Adrenaline spike, relief and huge satisfaction. That’s always fun to see.

Some serious stoke going around. What a brilliant trail.

I feel very lucky to get to ride it again.

Pizza at the Eddyline wrapped up the weekend binge. All that was left was a (this time successful) dentist appointment, then I packed things up and bid Salida a fond farewell.

A brief stop in Durango meant I got to ride with Cat, eat a burrito at Zia, pick up one last belonging we left, then at last head to the desert and Ez. Next stop, St. George!