Biking Turtle

I’ve been trying to figure out a compelling way to declare my love for mountain biking came up empty.  Instead, here’s a silly story about a time I fell mountain biking. 

I LOVE MOUNTAIN BIKING!  It makes me feel alive.  It’s so easy to scrutinize my skinny legs, prominent ribs, presentations and writing…  But I celebrate everything I am when I’m biking because my muscles, lungs, heart, and brain are working together to power up the mountain.  My skinny, clumsy body was designed for pedaling a bike uphill. 

Last year was rough and I was looking to start 2016 off right.  I’m most happy where I can feel the sunshine on my shoulders and warm sand between my toes and St George is the closest I can get to that in January.  So I bought a ticket to the late night showing of “Star Wars” on New Year’s Eve, borrowed my mom’s car (thanks!) and headed to Latitude 37, Elevation 2800 ft.  Not truly warm, but warmer and full of sandstone.  “Star Wars” was great and I got out of the theatre just after midnight, in time to enjoy a fireworks display.  The next morning I rose feeling certain that I make great decisions and headed for the Bearclaw Poppy trailhead. 

I chose the Bearclaw Poppy/Stucki Springs trail in order to have the most options (4 miles, 7 miles, or 27 miles) and because the trailhead was a familiar place (the Green Valley Gap).  Starting early meant I had the trail to myself most of the time, and gosh did I need it.  The whole trail system is rated as mostly intermediate with some beginner sections (rated just like ski runs), but there is also a section called the Acid Drops.  Many Mountain Bike Project commenters rate the Acid Drops as fun, but I’m a timid downhill rider and I rate them as Super Scary.  As I descended drop after tiny drop (natural jumps) I got increasingly scared and my least helpful mantra began running through my head: Stay on your bike, dummy.  I kept getting off my bike to scout the drop, remounting and getting my butt back as far as I could, and descending with my brakes on.  (According to this wikihow page I just found that is partly right.)  Or I just walked my bike down. 

Elevation profile, speed, and feelings

Then the tears came.  This wasn’t fun.  I wanted my friends there so Karina and Emma could laugh at/with me and Brent could show me what to do.  What should have looked bad ass, riding down the steepest section and conquering my fears, looked less so with tears streaming down my face.  At least I was alone.  Atop one of the last and longest drops I ran into others going up the trail so I paused to see what they would do and stop crying, but downhill riders have the right of way on that trail so they waved me down.  I had little pride left over by this point (1 mile/20 minutes in) so I admitted to the others that I was scared and would be happy to wait.  Then the great thing that almost always happens when I run into people in the wilderness happened again: they helped me.  The oldest of them pointed out the line I should take, told me I was awesome and could do it, and guided me down the line and it worked!  (Thanks riders, that was awesome!)  Then I watched the three of them pedal all the way up that section, including one in snow boots.  Good thing badassery isn’t a zero-sum game. 

Acid Drops below, they were scarier than this picture captures

After that everything was awesome and also mildly ridiculous.  The rest of the Bearclaw Poppy trail just flows. Up and down but mostly down.  I actually “whooped” with joy.  It was the happiest I’d been in a long time, so when the trail ended I opted to continue on the Stucki Springs loop.  This trail climbed and climbed and climbed for four miles, and I love climbing!  I saw cacti and great views and few people.  At the highest point the most wonderful thing happened, the trail ahead was straight and clear: rolling, hard packed trails.  I felt lucky to be there. 

This is what true happiness looks lie

It felt rewarded for my work.  I was fast and strong and truly happy in a way that only happens in the mountains.  Turning around and heading back down I hit my fastest speeds and accidentally let my blood sugar drop, but I was deliriously happy.  I’d spent the last few months feeling incompetent and questioning every decision, but here on my bike I felt capable and wise!  At peak happiness I ran into the steepest hill of the whole thing with a group of four at the top.  I tried to wave them down, right of way and all, but they adamantly waved me on up.  The trail had a 15% grade (steep) for a few hundred feet, strong legs could have pedaled up it but it would be difficult and the rock was loose.

After a good effort that got me half way up the hill I opted to walk up the finish, because that was not the time for pride. I un-clipped my right pedal and leaned toward the… left. 

People were watching, this is so uncool.  I was going to crash because I un-clipped the wrong pedal. 

So I went with it, tipped on my side and then rolled over on my back like a turtle, still stuck to one of my pedals.   

Rolling onto my back, while undignified, allowed me to free my left foot instead of trying to crank my ankle with my bike on top of it (basically the definition of panic).  Then I walked my bike up the hill to meet my new friends. 

They were totally cool, saying things like, “Glad to see someone else does that, too.”  And it’s true, everyone who uses clip-less pedals has crashed at least once because they forgot their shoes were clipped into their pedals.  Such low-speed crashes it’s just tipping over.  I do it at least once a year.  Humbled again, I got back on my bike laughing and pedaled away.  I heard one of the group saying, “Oh, look at that hard-tail, we’ve got a professional.”  It was so confusing, a hard-tail is an older form of suspension and I had just crashed in front of them very un-professionally, but he sounded so sincere.  Turns out some hardcore bikers opt for hard-tails, probably because they’re great bikes; I didn’t learn this until later but he might have been sincere. 

Flow

The joy stayed with me well past the junction of the two trails, so I opted to do the fun part of the Bearclaw Poppy again, and it was fun but perhaps unwise.  Hours after my first ride through there were so many more people, I had to wait for some and allow others to pass me.  Nearing the eastern-most end of the trail, where things were really fun, I enthusiastically jumped the top of a short hill only to discover (mid-air) that there was a second short hill behind that, which I hit like a wall.  I went over the end of my handlebars (an end-o), which cannot be done gracefully.  I grunted, cursed and quickly got on my bike pretending nothing happened.  Except something had and I had bruises for weeks to remind me.  Even better, as I started riding again I looked to my right and there was a teenager with a terrier riding in a handlebar basket, just like Dorothy and Toto.    

I wasn’t prepared to climb back up the Acid Drops so I tried to find a path through the Green Valley Gap.  There is one, but you can’t ride through it, so I hiked my bike through the last ¾ mile and ended up back at my car as the sun was beginning to set.  Adventure and misadventure combined are really what makes for a memorable experience.  With every mountain bike ride I find both parts: the sections where I have to remind myself to stay on my bike when the going gets hard and the parts where I must sing because my heart is so happy.