E
Edwards
Guest
We hit the bike path and it was on...
It was high noon- easily 85 degrees and a typical dry Aspen, Colorado day (7908 ft. above sea
level). Blue skies and a little hazy from the fires in central and western Colorado made it a fine
day for a session. Troy had some bad luck- snapping his Rocky Mountain frame at the left chainstay
on the bike path (that is just the start of our woes this day).
So we were down to 5 strong riders- and charging out the paved path to the trailhead in Snowmass. I
had only ridden with one of the people in this group, and had a feeling we were going to push a fast
pace. Sure enough, we arrived at the Tom Blake trail (6.1 miles from my front door) in what seemed
like time warp speed.
Turning onto the parched warm Colorado soil, the Tom Blake trail takes us gradually up -up -up-
twisting peacefully through vast groves of aspen. I felt warmed up by now and pretty strong. The
dust was so fine it seemed almost like smoke rising off the track. But we are just getting underway,
and this ride proves to be one unlike most. Making a couple of turns off the Tom Blake trail
ascending steep singletrack up to the start of the govie trail. Having completely soaked my bandana
by now, the steep climbs are tolling my legs more than expected. Making our way at what seemed like
race pace up to the Government trailhead, Barney is easily the fittest and leads us up the powerline
trail cracking jokes about shitting himself the whole way. This guy is 28- his tan shaven legs
dancing on his pedals like a giddy Lance Armstrong on a fully-suspended knobbed machine.
We arrive at the trailhead and have to wait for Kurty for a minute or so. Snacking on homemade
chocolate goodies, expelling foul gasses and cracking up at our childish fart blasts- we decide to
clip in and go. I take the initial lead on this rocky dusty 16 inch wide path of goodness. Flowing
deliciously and trying not to swath the path completely with dust -we charge through some nice cool
stream crossings and negotiate toward the rocky dusty ascents ahead.
What seems like minutes later while picking our way along up through the rock filled singletrack, I
hear Barney declare "OH-Your DONE!" Barney, who is a mechanic and following my friend Jansen,
witnesses a rear wheel spoke pop free and wrap itself around the rear XT-deraillier shearing it
instantly into two pieces. "FU-UU-UU-CK" is Jansen's next word...we stop...to the bugs' delight.
Making easy targets, the bugs swarm in for the feeding. Barney immediately goes to work on the gimpy
steed. Myself and Kurty pack the glass with a fat lime green nugget and take turns puffing and
passing. The Singlespeeder it now is- we discard the fragmented shimano carcass into the camelback.
Piecing the chain back together Jansen thanks Barney for his expertise and mechanical prowess and we
get back into the grind.
Barney, rightfully so- takes the lead and we push on dropping the rest of the crew in a 2 man train
of furious pedalling syncronicity. Barney by this point is determined to set a fast pace, and puts
on a clinic of how to flow proper. Admiring his skills, the two of us arrive at the rock garden. We
chew our way through this minefield of jagged stone and earth to the final descent through the
Buttermilk mountain ski area boundary(winter X-Games venue). You can really let the bike rip on this
final 2 miles or so of uncomparably buff twists and technical switchback goodness. Barney says "well
I feel like a **** not waiting here-but oh well". I concur- knowing that we can wait for the rest of
the crew at the pavement-and join him for best part of this mountain bike smorgasborg.
We start RIPPING through the West Buttermilk like hot liquid fury rolling unbridled. Passing the
tree drop easily I hear Barney just ahead moaning. I wonder what happened. Did he soil sample? Doubt
it... Reeling him in and passing him I ask "you all right?" Looking pained and in anguish he
responds "I just slapped my nuts SO hard". OWIE! I think to myself...being very near the end of the
trail, I say- "well..not much else can happen today". Hitting the pavement in the blissful whirl of
a tired endorphin stupor, I hear Barney again...."OWWW!". What else? I think to myself. His tires
hit the pavement and he is cupping the side of his head with his hand. A bee flew into his ear and
stung him leaving a swollen pussfilled lobe to hear out of. That is how Barney's day went. I chime
in and say now to make the day complete, "you should go ahead and **** yourself". He laughs and
agrees with my quip. We rehash the days bad luck while waiting for the rest of the crew. Laughing
and practicing wheelies for almost an hour, Kurty and Jansen appear quietly cursing to themselves.
We share Barney's woes on the way back to town making for some good laughs...
This was a RR that had to be shared...
Edwards
It was high noon- easily 85 degrees and a typical dry Aspen, Colorado day (7908 ft. above sea
level). Blue skies and a little hazy from the fires in central and western Colorado made it a fine
day for a session. Troy had some bad luck- snapping his Rocky Mountain frame at the left chainstay
on the bike path (that is just the start of our woes this day).
So we were down to 5 strong riders- and charging out the paved path to the trailhead in Snowmass. I
had only ridden with one of the people in this group, and had a feeling we were going to push a fast
pace. Sure enough, we arrived at the Tom Blake trail (6.1 miles from my front door) in what seemed
like time warp speed.
Turning onto the parched warm Colorado soil, the Tom Blake trail takes us gradually up -up -up-
twisting peacefully through vast groves of aspen. I felt warmed up by now and pretty strong. The
dust was so fine it seemed almost like smoke rising off the track. But we are just getting underway,
and this ride proves to be one unlike most. Making a couple of turns off the Tom Blake trail
ascending steep singletrack up to the start of the govie trail. Having completely soaked my bandana
by now, the steep climbs are tolling my legs more than expected. Making our way at what seemed like
race pace up to the Government trailhead, Barney is easily the fittest and leads us up the powerline
trail cracking jokes about shitting himself the whole way. This guy is 28- his tan shaven legs
dancing on his pedals like a giddy Lance Armstrong on a fully-suspended knobbed machine.
We arrive at the trailhead and have to wait for Kurty for a minute or so. Snacking on homemade
chocolate goodies, expelling foul gasses and cracking up at our childish fart blasts- we decide to
clip in and go. I take the initial lead on this rocky dusty 16 inch wide path of goodness. Flowing
deliciously and trying not to swath the path completely with dust -we charge through some nice cool
stream crossings and negotiate toward the rocky dusty ascents ahead.
What seems like minutes later while picking our way along up through the rock filled singletrack, I
hear Barney declare "OH-Your DONE!" Barney, who is a mechanic and following my friend Jansen,
witnesses a rear wheel spoke pop free and wrap itself around the rear XT-deraillier shearing it
instantly into two pieces. "FU-UU-UU-CK" is Jansen's next word...we stop...to the bugs' delight.
Making easy targets, the bugs swarm in for the feeding. Barney immediately goes to work on the gimpy
steed. Myself and Kurty pack the glass with a fat lime green nugget and take turns puffing and
passing. The Singlespeeder it now is- we discard the fragmented shimano carcass into the camelback.
Piecing the chain back together Jansen thanks Barney for his expertise and mechanical prowess and we
get back into the grind.
Barney, rightfully so- takes the lead and we push on dropping the rest of the crew in a 2 man train
of furious pedalling syncronicity. Barney by this point is determined to set a fast pace, and puts
on a clinic of how to flow proper. Admiring his skills, the two of us arrive at the rock garden. We
chew our way through this minefield of jagged stone and earth to the final descent through the
Buttermilk mountain ski area boundary(winter X-Games venue). You can really let the bike rip on this
final 2 miles or so of uncomparably buff twists and technical switchback goodness. Barney says "well
I feel like a **** not waiting here-but oh well". I concur- knowing that we can wait for the rest of
the crew at the pavement-and join him for best part of this mountain bike smorgasborg.
We start RIPPING through the West Buttermilk like hot liquid fury rolling unbridled. Passing the
tree drop easily I hear Barney just ahead moaning. I wonder what happened. Did he soil sample? Doubt
it... Reeling him in and passing him I ask "you all right?" Looking pained and in anguish he
responds "I just slapped my nuts SO hard". OWIE! I think to myself...being very near the end of the
trail, I say- "well..not much else can happen today". Hitting the pavement in the blissful whirl of
a tired endorphin stupor, I hear Barney again...."OWWW!". What else? I think to myself. His tires
hit the pavement and he is cupping the side of his head with his hand. A bee flew into his ear and
stung him leaving a swollen pussfilled lobe to hear out of. That is how Barney's day went. I chime
in and say now to make the day complete, "you should go ahead and **** yourself". He laughs and
agrees with my quip. We rehash the days bad luck while waiting for the rest of the crew. Laughing
and practicing wheelies for almost an hour, Kurty and Jansen appear quietly cursing to themselves.
We share Barney's woes on the way back to town making for some good laughs...
This was a RR that had to be shared...
Edwards
