Tuesday Night Mountain Bike Ride, September 9th, 2008 -- Ester Night Run

By Tom Clark

Six of us were there, plus Eric Troyer who wasn't riding that night, but came out to say "Hey". Or deliver paperwork to someone, or some damn thing. It was good to see him, anyway. I don't know how it came up, but Jim Brader reminded us of the time that he shot his bike. I think that I covered the story reasonably well in my recounting of the "Death Ride", earlier this season. At the appointed time, we took off: myself, Jim, John Hufman, Dave James, Geoff Orth, and Todd Redinius. I was too tired to really care which way we went, so we decided to follow Geoff. There was a good deal of blabbing, and after we'd gone up Ester Creek road a ways, Dave and Todd were out in front. There's a little knoll that you used to go straight up, but the face of it has been excavated, so now you go up the side. Dave and Todd went around the other side for some reason, and Geoff and I were totally crappy about it and didn't call out to them. We were already up on the knoll by the time they discovered they had to turn around. That was our passive-agressive fun for the night.

We went up the Tri-Con mine road and turned right at the Subaru muffler. (It's about three quarters of a mile up the road.) We went down the trail and followed Geoff, because he's the one who knows the way. At a low-hanging tree, I impressed myself so much that I was able to ride under it that I had to go back and do it again and again. Limbo time! Any tighter of a squeeze and I'd have trouble getting the top tube out of my ass crack. Eww. There were two or three serious climbs that Todd and I rode up, I don't know if everyone else did them. Todd and I were the first to the top, and entertained one another by wheezing loudly. We wheezed our way up to, what, Azzurite? Saphire? I don't really know. We did end up on the trail that goes behind the Stone's place and connects with the Marathon trail. We did the funny single-track that is probably more fun to come down than it is to go up. The free-ride style jumps are still there, but I gotta say, they don't beckon to me. I'm sure I'd crash, ala Jerry Bruckheimer style.

Once on the Marathon trail, we did an interesting little trail that you had to be there to appreciate. It offered a great view of town and comfy seating in the moss. On our return trip, (it was an out-and-back) things were getting dark, so most folks turned their lights on. We bombed down the Marathon trail, and before we got to Four-Corners, Geoff took us off up to the left, up a really, really, really dodgey bit of four-wheeler trail that might be rideable, but not on my first time, not in the dusk. This took us to the old mine site above the abandoned house, the one you pass if you go straight uphill at four-corners. We did the climb to the north of that, the one that goes up the really rutted road. Again, Todd and I wheezed at one another, though I think he was wheezing just to make me feel better.

We came out on Henderson and things were downright dim. It's hard to describe where we were at this point: as you are going up Henderson, y'know that last road uphill to the left before you get to Ester Dome road? That was us. Once everone safely arrived (hey, that rutty road down has claimed a couple of cyclists, so back off), we found our turn into the woods, about 100 feet down Henderson. It's on the downhill side of the road, and used by four-wheelers. I led the charge and quickly outpaced other riders, and was rewarded with a sideways crash into a whole bunch of really pointy things, I couldn't tell what. I couldn't get unclipped from the bike and told it to get the fuck off me. That didn't help, so I struggled some more and finally got untangled. Nothing seemed to be stuck in me, so I got back on the bike. At an intersection, I stopped and we regrouped. We got going again and there was another intersection and I slammed on the brakes. Next thing I knew, Todd Redinius and his bike were flying through the air and landing on me. Jeez, more pointy stuff. I got some minor cuts out of the deal, and I suppose Todd did too, but his bike was fine, so we kept going. He did another surprise endo shortly thereafter, right in front of me, with little apparent cause. Good thing that he thought it was funny, because I was laughing pretty hard at that one.

This trail that we were on is labeled "St Pat's Bypass" or some such in the FCC maps section. It's a fun, sweeping doubletrack that goes from a dilapidated cabin off Henderson all the way to very nearly the end of St. Patrick road near Sheep Creek. Cool trail. I took it fast, hoping that there weren't any seriously bad surprises across the trail, which there weren't. There was some tall grass that gave me a scare (you never know when a big rock is going to be lurking), but other than that, it was the smoothest descent of the evening. It eventually dumped us out on St. Patrick road, where we turned right and started riding back toward Henderson.

After riding the length of St. Patrick road in relative silence (we've already said it all, what more is there to say?), we got to Henderson and turned uphill. My legs were pretty tired at this point, having done a number of climbs to get here. Todd was still looking pretty fresh, but I think that everyone else was tired. We went around the corner then took that steepish, uphill four-wheeler trail, just before the mine. We regrouped at the top and then rather than bomb down the straight descent (which we probably should have done), I veered left and went into the woods, beginning our singletrack fun. Someone else endoed on this stretch, I'm not sure who. I'll just say that it was Air Todd. No injuries though, so we kept on, until Dave went down.

Todd and I were a ways down the trail, and we stopped to look back. Either that or Todd endoed again, I can't remember. Please don't think that Todd isn't a great rider; he is. He's strong, fast, and technically proficient. This was just his night for some air time. Anyway, we were looking back and saw taillights, where we should have seen only headlights. Called out "what's up?" and got Geoff's reply "issues". We tromped back uphill and found Dave James being inspected for damage. He'd launched off his bike (WITH NO HELP FROM ME, KAREN) and landed on his face. Ooof. There was some fine swelling on the bridge of his nose and he seemed either in a lot of pain or dazed. Maybe both. Poor dude. He had a crappy endo last week too, so he definitely did not need one this night. Dave left us shortly thereafter, at a bail-out point that took him right out to Henderson.

The rest of us finished the night riding a bunch of single-track that wasn't particularly rewarding. I like it a lot during the day, but I've come to expect a sustained, swoopy downhill (Ester Back-Door trail) as the final touch to our last ride. This trail, which I won't bother to try to describe where, does go downhill, but there's so damn many roots and trees across the trail that it is frightfully dangerous at night. Todd aired it out one more time on this stretch, into some high-bush cranberry.

The five of us parted ways in the dark, on the Healy-Fairbanks intertie near Henderson. I didn't feel like riding back to the cars then turning around and riding home. No sooner than I took off on my own than I started thinking about things in the dark that were out to get me. Dumb brain. I wish that it wasn't trying to scare me all the damn time.

Fine ride, fine group. Next week, we meet at Musher's hall for a post-season Tuesday ride. RB the wonder dog will be there!