I don’t recall the genesis of my desire to purchase mountain bike, but I believe initially the intent was to cycle railbed that, in times past, had been base to tie and steel.  Indeed, I started there, and enjoyed those rides, although I found myself leaving safety of gravel surface in favor of hardpack when opportunity presented.  This went on for some months when I learned of a large, wooded property which was a haven for those craving a more intense cycling experience.

A buddy of mine, who had also acquired bike, consented to join me in this off-road adventure.  We followed dirt trail that led from parking lot and almost immediately encountered a rough, rocky area that caused unexpected bounce and foot to go down to arrest fall.  Prior to this expedition, we had no idea what real trail riding consisted of.  Having no toe clips, no clipless peddles, no knowledge of the term technical in describing path’s difficulty, we possessed only entry level two-wheeled machines and a longing for fun.

After negotiating the initial obstacles which included large roots as well, we arrived at gully’s edge.  We looked below and observed that trail continued down steep hill bottoming out for short stretch, then up a grade that matched decent.  My bud turned to me and asked flatly, “People really ride this #$!@?”  I think I laughed but didn’t answer question as I couldn’t with confidence.  We chose to portage our bicycles yet descending and ascending proved difficult on foot.  Once back in saddle, we rode for miles although we stopped may times due to terrain and fatigue, none the less we were hooked—a pure adrenaline rush.

We continued to improve with practice, though cuts, blood, and mud were part of the admission fee.  By this time, we had added toe clips and a second cage for bottle, but despite sharpening our skills and our minimal hardware upgrades, there were certain obstacles we hadn’t overcome.  One being the previously described gully at trailhead—until a particular day.

I believe it was a Saturday, a crisp autumn day.  Our plan was to burn four to five hours negotiating the topography.  The ride out started as it always did, and we pulled to stop at our nemesis’s edge.  We were discussing our angle of attack when another rider blew by, full speed, applying no breaks to mitigate risk.  Down the first wall he flew, blasted through the base, and up second wall not peddling until three-quarters through embankment—his feet never touched earth and he was out of site before we spoke.

After seeing Zen mountain biking dude make mincemeat of our archrival, we decided to employ his techniques.  In some ways this new approach was higher risk given the speed required, but in other ways it was lower risk as coming to an abrupt stop midway up far incline was no party.  So, fly we did and ascend we did, both of us leaving our problem child behind.

Did we experience setbacks, yes, we all were rudely separated from frame for mistakes made, but proficiency increased as we logged hours, learning how small shifts in body’s position will assure rear traction or prevent launch over handlebars.

The gang I rode with have now largely given up this sport, but I still ride.  My style these days is more conservative, but there is still magic to be found in the woods through creek and climb and stone and slope.  I hope to ride for years to come as I’ve never tired of these two-wheeled exploits.

The fella who adeptly negotiated gully may not have realized he taught two rookies how to conquer impediment.  Maybe he learned in similar fashion.  It pleases me to know we can learn from each other, whether on trail or in school or at office or in life in general.  Where would we be if we couldn’t stand on another’s shoulders to achieve next level?  Something tells me we would still reside in caves.