My son Bryan and I, as well as a couple of the other local guys havebeen working on the trails of the Hare Scrambles course at Healing
Springs, NC over the last couple of week-ends and today we were going
to ride.
The trails are passable, but in very poor condition. There are
holes, roots, rocks, ruts and assorted trail junk littering the old
race track. The ground was wet, and water was standing in all the
holes, ruts and low laying areas. A couple of the streams were high
and in places out of the banks. Still, in other places the ground
resembled loam, and good traction was available.
I rode a total of 4 laps, which is about what I would do in a typical
race there. It did take me more than an hour and a half to get them
done on the other hand.
The first lap I felt like a total spode, well ok, even more so than
normal. I remember having thoughts of just selling the bike and
changing my name to Alice 'cause I sure didn't seem to be able to
ride
the blasted thing. At the end of the lap I pulled in and stopped for
a bit. Drank some water and shot the s*** with the guys that were
there with us.
I ran the next two laps back to back, I was beginning to get the feel
for the bike and getting into a groove riding. For sure I wasn't
haulin' a$$, but I did have a good pace and more importantly to me, I
was starting to get that feeling of flowing with the bike. In a
couple of sections I found myself actually attacking the course and
the obstacles on the trail. I took another lengthy pit stop at the
end of those laps to rest and re-group. I still had one more in me,
and as I was getting familiar with the course I hoped that I'd be able
to put in a lap at a quick pace and then park it for the day.
Leaving on the last lap I felt confident and good. It was great to
be on the bike, and though I rode through some of the more technical
and difficult sections like the total spode I really am, in others I
felt like a hero, connecting several turns and straights at a time
making few mistakes and keeping my pace up.
I was coming out of a slick small little downhill section and
remembered a line at the end of the section that lead right across
the
middle of a piece of bottom land. I had been going left and around
over some nasty a$$ slick roots and losing time, so I decided to go
right down the middle in this wide rut that was full of standing
water.
In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have tried to do it like some
sort of GNCC hero but at the time it seemed perfectly logical. I
twisted the throttle and got the old 432 Clatterdale up on the cams.
The front end was light and I was standing, crouched with my weight
back. At first the rut was about as deep as I'd figured it was and
my momentum was carrying me easily through it, the front end not
really touching the water but just skimming across the top. Traction
was there so I continued pouring it on focusing on the top of the
rise ahead.
I could actually feel the rear tire digging in and the bike
accelerating through the mud and goo. I was in control and focused.
Life was good.
