Friday. 6:14 pm. Punch out from work, hop in the car, and get on the 80 heading East. Whaddaya know? Traffic. Pull off the freeway at the first exit and opt for an early dinner while traffic simmers. It’s Chipotle. It’s only okay. Things shape up around 7:30 or so and I am finally at cruising speed. Three and a half hours later I’m creeping into South Lake, welcomed by the familiar scents of pine, fresh air, and nature’s nectar (not to be confused with baby batter….that smells way different). Check into my room that’s already occupied by Mr. Mike Fine. He’s sleeping and I’m quick to follow. Different beds.
Wake up call the next morn @ 4:50am. A poor night’s sleep interrupted by Mr. Fine’s gas and an uncomfortable mattress was now a thing of the past and I quickly prepped my gear, lubed the chamois, and off we were to the Meyers golf course. We dropped off our cars at this end point and hopped into Rann and Meghan’s behemoth of a truck who were waiting patiently with their toddler twins in tow. An hour later we’re at Mount Rose Meadows. It’s quiet, dawn-like in all respects, and as we pull up alongside another truck surrounded with men, bikes, and testosterone, I knew the show would quickly begin.
Greetings were exchanged amongst the 9 riders, poops were deposited in their respective homes, and helmets were buckled. A quick group photo was snapped and I only hoped we wouldn’t be referring to it 5 hours from now trying to determine who was missing and what they looked like. Anyway, we hop on the TRT and begin our epic to Meyers. 60 plus miles with a gang of climbing (AND DESCENDING!), 9 riders, and 1 SAG vehicle meeting us @ Heavenly and then finally @ Oneidas.
The route was solid with minor room for improvement (no Marlette Peak and no Chimney Beach downhill, but my legs did thank me) and the crew was two thumbs up with a consistent pace. I arrive in position 4 at the top of the 5 mile climb to the bench near Genoa Peak and no one’s there. Erik and I have a quick bite and then rally down to Kinsgbury. I love that descent like Mr. Miyagi loves rice. SAG stop @ The Fox & Hound where I put away 2 PBJ’s and have a quick safaety meeting with those not yet safe enough. Reviewed protocols, accident prevention, and then mounted our steeds again.
Mr. Fine still has some gusto half way thru...
Now is when my body and mind became two separate entities and both were vying for control of my attention, and ultimately, my trail chi. The loose, sandy, windy climb up the pavement, onto the dirt, and up the stair steps to Freel Pass was like a scene from Groundhog Day. After every turn, every revolution of the pedals, each deep breath taken I had to check myself with a, “I swear I just rode this part. WTF?”. Summiting the pass @ 10,000+ feet I then fully embodied a tortured soul and regretted those missed training days over the past few months.
The legs were soaked in Star Lake, more food was consumed, weary glances were exchanged amongst us first 5 riders to reach this point, and then it was showtime for a ripping downhill that quickly honed in that misplaced trail chi. At the Armstrong trail intersection, Mike, Rann, and I bailed right and opted for the Armstrong/Corral option since we had a nice 3 hour drive back home that night. Back at the cars @ 4pm on the dot brings my estimate to 8 hours in the saddle, 1 hour of the bike, and countless memories of an epic ride, an epic route, and awesome friends. Thanks for rallying all that made it, props to Jared and his 50 lb Ellsworth/sandal/flat pedal combo, and for those who didn’t, these words are now worth a thousand pictures.
60 lbs, 60+ miles, 24" tires, 3" width
