Last year, in order to make the snow something to look forward to, I started riding during every winter storm and then I would grill out afterward. Yesterday, there was no grilling done due to time restraints and general body toastedness, but there was a ride.
Ian and I headed out towards the Tosa trails again to do some more exploring. It was only my second time riding those trails and the first time was half in the dark. Road conditions were cruddy, so much so that we had little trouble keeping up with many vehicles. My Nokian 45mm studded tires worked great because every time I would spin out through the snow, my tires would find pavement or ice underneath and grip up.
We wandered out to the trails and after a while stopped to share some disgusting cola flavored power bar gel things. Ian was sans balaclava, thus his frosty facial hair.
Shortly after this he had to turn back to meet his lady friend. I kept going, determined to find the Harley woods trails. Which I did, after searching the wrong side of the river for about 20 frustrating trailblazing minutes. I knew it was supposed to have signs, I just didn't expect it to be where it was.
It was clear that I was the first person on these trails for at least a few snows. The snow was deep and I was pedaling down hills. I had done heard tale that the trails had been expanded and that I could just follow the marking. Well, I thought, I finally found this place so I should explore. I got to a fork in the obvious trail and saw more, very unused trail, so I pushed on, and by pushed on, I mean every pedal stroke was like riding up a very steep incline.
It was tuckering me out. I had already been riding over 2 hours when I got to the sign post on which my bike is leaning.
This sign pointed to several trail directions. Do you see any trail here:
Neither did I. So turned around and eventually found the rest of the originally trail. From there I back tracked my way out route until I could no longer ride trails and opted for the sloppier but less muscle sapping road. It was only a little over 4 hour ride but by the time I got home it felt like 6 or 7.
Ministor, this is a great tale indeed. Snow rides are teh amazorz. And to top it all off, your "tags" for that post remind of some lyrics from Turbonegro, from the song entitled "Train of Flesh."
ReplyDelete"And it will never stop
yes it will never stop
never ever stop
This Train of Flesh will ne-ver stop!"
Truly inspiring.
All tags thus far, sans one, have been tidbits from Clutch lyrics. I find them entertaining, especially out of the context of the songs.
ReplyDeleteI know you just wanted to post something about Turbonegro, they're so yucky.