I don’t run. I’m one of those people who will only run if the police, zombies or witches are chasing me. And yes I do mean only those three. Axe murder? Nope, I would rather turn and fight. House cat? OK. You got me. Those scare the shit out of me. But that’s it, zombies, witches, police and house cats. Outside of that I am standing my ground. So the fact that I was running was kind of a big deal.
Yesterday was Sunday. Duh. This means the Alliance, being the religious group of people we are, were attending the Church of the Holy Alliance of the Mooseknucklers. We had a guest speaker all lined up in the likes of one Brad Pastir and his lovely girlfriend Christine. Brad is the mountain demo driver for the Big S. He had come down to do a demo at the shop and we got together yesterday for a jaunt around Suicidal Tendencies.
Roller Coaster Kim, Super D, Shelby, KB and I met them at the bottom of the SCRR. Things began as they usually do, until KB realized she had forgotten her helmet. I phoned Joey “I make kick-ass logos for the Alliance” Dye to see if he had an extra helmet tucked away in his pantry. He did. We busted over to his pad and procured KB a lid for her noggin. Good thing we did.
I don’t recall the exact sound I heard. I only know that it stopped me in my tracks. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew things were not good. Before my bike had come to a complete stop, I was off and running in the direction that I had just come. I think it was a yell, but it probably was more that it was combined with the sound of carbon hitting rock, hard, that grabbed my attention.
We started up the trail. Three single speeds leading the way. Until my chain, once again, was thrown off and I had to get out of the way. We were inspired by the climbing prowess of someone so known for going downhill. Never missing a pedal stroke, Brad showed us what spending all your time on the road pimping bikes can do. And that is make you be able to ride anything. Fucking mountain goat.
It quickly became obvious that everyone that was riding a single speed was more worried about making it up, than down things. It started on the ride up to the water tank. All of us gave it hell and cleaned the steep, loose section right before it flattens out. This was aided by the recent traffic the trail has seen leaving it less loose than normal.
As we made our way up toward Suicidal Tendencies, the pace did not let up but the talking did. It’s seems funny, but I have this condition that whenever I ride with Super D, I get lightheaded and short of breath. I don’t ever feel that way otherwise. I must be allergic.
As we dropped into Suicidal, just as I am about 5 feet into the rock cut, I hear Christine say, “I kind of have a fear of heights.” Hmm, this might get interesting. I think what she meant to say was more along the lines of, “I don’t fear anything and I’m gonna ride the shit out of this trail. I don’t care how exposed it is.” I can see how I could have misheard her.
All I could see was her helmet. I had no idea what to expect as I ran toward the Tombstone. My first thoughts were of her face being smashed against the boulder and a flash of Cimarron’s accident came into my head. I didn’t stop running. Super D was right ahead of me.
I stopped before climbing the Tombstone to give Christine a heads up of what was to come. For those who haven’t had the pleasure of riding Suicidal Tendencies, the Tombstone is a rock that was placed by the trail builders. It’s position is akin to that of a cement barrier on the freeway as it is there to make sure people don’t go flying off the cliff. When you are riding up it for the first time, and quite possibly many times after, you feel like your wheel is going to drop right off the ledge. It can make people panic, until they realize they turn right and head up the side of the hill. It’s called the tombstone because it looks like a tombstone.
There was no reason to stop. We all rode up and found ourselves at the top of the world. After 7+ miles of climbing we had finally topped out. We took some pictures, had some snacks and then headed down. We all looked forward to the reward of our effort and thoroughly enjoyed coasting. Except for Brad who showed us that he could really ride downhill. Not like the rest of us who went slow. We all stopped and regrouped at the fork of the lollipop right before the tombstone.
Then we continued our ride.
I’ve never not cleaned the Tombstone going down. There is some body English needed, but other than that it doesn’t have the scary “I’m going to fall of this cliff and die” feel that going up it possesses. Everyone was in front of me except KB and Roller Coaster Kim. The group was jovial as we headed back toward the car, dropping the 7 miles we had just climbed.
And that’s when it happened.
KB tried to jump off the cliff.
OK. She didn’t try to jump off the cliff, but the demo bike she had borrowed had stupid wide bars which hit the rock to her left and launched her over the Tombstone onto a giant boulder.
Super D reached her first and immediately grabbed her Camelbak as it seemed like a pretty damn good harness. I arrived seconds later, grabbed her arm and threw the bike out of the way. Brad came from below. The three of us lifted her up off the rock that she had somehow grasped on her way toward a 10 foot cliff. It took some effort but we got her back on safe ground. I’ve never felt so relieved in my life. She was more mad about not making the move than the fact that she had almost just launched head first into an abyss. A day later and minus the adrenaline and that fact has changed. She is bruised and scratched, but we are happy it wasn’t any worse.
Be careful out there.
P. L. and R.