Today was a biking breakthrough for me. Nothing miraculous happened; no angels came down from the
heavens to sing my praises; just a nice, clean ride with good line choices and no bonking. A few
dabs, but no disasters.
It didn't start out looking good at all. Not being morning people, we'd arranged to meet our friends
at noon at the trail. Around 11:45, ready to go, we get a call that their morning errands are taking
longer than expected; they won't be able to make it till one. Sigh; okay.
So, finally, we drive to Heil Valley Ranch, which according to the brochure is part of the North
Foothills Open Space. It also turns out to be a very short drive from our house, so now I'm really
hoping it will be a good ride.
Get there; no sign of our friends. Take our time assembling our gear, checking tire pressure, etc --
still no sign. It's now 1:20 or so. Eric's phone has no signal, so we decide that our friends have
probably called us and weren't able to get through. We head up the trail.
Heil is one of those "go up a trail; choose a direction to loop; go back down the first trail"
places. The route up and down is 2.5 miles each way; the loop is 2.6.
The first part of the ride is a simple dirt road; I wondered aloud why this trail was rated
intermediate compared to Betasso and Rabbit's novice rating. Eric pointed out that we'd just barely
gotten started. (Apparently I wasn't the only person with this concern; at the end of our ride, we
encountered a gentleman riding up who asked whether there was actually any singletrack to ride.)
Soon enough, the road ended, and the trail began. It's a nice progression; first the abovementioned
dirt road to get warmed up, then progressively narrower and more rocky ground.
(Eric just walked in and said, "Tell them that the trail sucked and they wouldn't want to ride it!
It was awful! Anything to keep 'em away!" So there's his ride report. Now you know it's good stuff.)
Heil is neat in that it is well-maintained, but in such a way that you really feel like you're
riding through the trees, rather than riding on a designated wilderness trail. There were spots
where I had to watch carefully to figure out where the path continued (mostly because the trees are
so widely spaced alongside). None of the climbs are all that steep, but the rocks make it
interesting. The rocks also wouldn't be all that tricky, except that there's enough shade that you
can't even see some of them till you're right on them (and my shades are too dark). Anyway, Eric and
I took turns going first all along the way and generally had a good time.
We paused at the top to evaluate the situation. Eric is getting over a nasty cold that I handed off
to him about a week ago; my stomach was upset for no apparent reason. Eric suggests just turning
around and heading back down (highly un-Eric-like; the cold is clearly affecting him). I want him to
not be miserable, but on the other hand, we'd managed to make it to the top -- I want to see what
the loop has in store. I suggest that maybe I could do the loop while he waits; he says he'll just
do the loop with me. I feel slightly guilty, but move on out.
Here on the loop is where I really hit my stride. Ordinarily, the granny gear is my friend -- I mean
*all* the way down on that granny gear. If I could add one thing to my bike, it would be another
ring. I actually rode some of the loop on my middle ring, though, which *never* happens. That loop
is *fun*, and I'm glad I stuck to my guns.
Description of the scenery ... diverse. There's freshly laid cedar here and there, which of course
makes the trail smell heavenly. Parts of the loop are surrounded by trees whose bottom 5 feet are so
are completely charred, but whose tops are green. As my head is generally down, the effect is that
of riding through a burned-down forest, and it's kind of creepy. The trail is still expertly blended
into the terrain, perhaps even more so than on the climb, so the whole ride has a real
one-with-nature feeling. Oh, and through some stroke of luck, though we ran into hordes of people
(mostly bikers, a few equestrians, and a very few hikers) on the way up and down, the loop was
strangely empty. We only ran into one other group (more on that later).
The trail is surrounded by woods; this isn't one of those places where you're surrounded by
majestic mountain views as you ride. There is a scenic overlook, though, that truly deserves the
name. It was about
2/3 of the way around the loop, and we stopped there to admire the sight of what we guessed was 66
meandering through the valley. Eric wondered aloud where I'd gotten all this energy -- I'd really
been hammering it (for me, anyway). I attributed the success to my new shorts and jersey. He
suggested it probably had more to do with the fact that I actually ate something before the ride.
Finally, on we went, and shortly thereafter ran into (no, not literally!) the only other group on
the trail -- our friends. They can ride a lot faster than we can (for that matter, Eric can ride a
lot faster than he does with me) and were doing the loop in the other direction. We decided that
they should see the overlook, but I really wanted to finish out the loop, so we agreed to meet at
the intersection with the approach.
As we meet up with our friends, another couple approach from below. They ask us about the loop; we
talk a bit. This is clearly yet another "experienced guy biker introducing his girlfriend to the
sport" scenario, just like us, and it turns out that, just like me, she has started out with
clipless and switched to flats. In fact, this is her first ride on "normal" pedals. We swap clipless
horror stories and I suggest "multi-release" cleats to her, in case she ever does decide to go back
to clipless. Finally, we go our separate ways, and as our friends ride down the path, the guy biker
whispers "wow, that's a nice bike!" Eric agrees. Our friend got a new bike for her birthday; ever
since then Eric has been experiencing new bike fever.
If he does get a new bike, I don't think it will be quite as nice as our friend's new one, though.
Not unless we decide that food and the mortgage are optional expenses.
Downhill was a lot of fun; I've never done that much mostly-downhill at once, and it was a blast. I
was definitely taking everything much faster than I have in the past, feeling generally cool and
confident. I really think these flat pedals are the key to my happiness -- my pedals are to me what
the feather was to Dumbo. Sure, I always could do it -- but the pedals make me believe.
One exciting thing did happen, about 500 feet from the trailhead. Our friend was bunnyhopping with
her new bike, just a bit ahead of me, when suddenly I see her do a horizontal trackstand on
completely flat packed dirt. Bloody nose, road rash, the whole nine yards. Ouch. She recovered like
a champ, though.
The dirt road to the car was actually a lot of fun after the constant jarring of the trail; nice
smooth downhill. Good stuff.
So, in summary, the trail rocked, and I finally felt good about my biking. The people we encountered
were all very nice; there were no bitter hikers and no speed-freak bikers screaming down the trail.
The horse people were nice, too, and the open trees gave us plenty of opportunity to see them before
the horses had time to worry about us.
In conclusion -- this trail sucks. Don't go there! You'd hate it! Go somewhere else! I'll take the
hit and ride it so you don't have to.
(Apologies for all the tense-switching. I don't really feel like going back and choosing one tense
for the whole report.)
--
monique
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