Once upon a time, I hated this trail. Or maybe it was just one night.
Two or three winters back, a group of us turned on to Blue Dot in total darkness, only a few days after a snowstorm. Manny’s Hell Ride, I like to call it. To this day, there’s a statement from Oscar the Grouch that elicits chuckles from many, but is fully understood only by the handful of riders who were there that night: “It was a great ride, until it started to suck ass.”
That trail was six inches wide with 18-inch walls of powder on both sides. You couldn’t turn the pedals without hooking a foot in the snow. Oscar’s light was dying. My patience was fading. And Tony’s GPS, unfortunately, was working. He assured us we were almost at the end—repeatedly—because each time he said it, it felt like we were turning in some new direction.
These days, Blue Dot is one of my favorites. Especially in winter, when it’s buffed out and every twist and turn only adds to the fun. And in a winter like the one that is ending, it is heavenly on a fat bike.
In a couple of months, we’ll be wrestling with its gnarly, exposed roots, slipping on the water-soaked boards of its crumbling bridge, and donating blood to its hordes of mosquitoes—none of which will be as fun as its snowy singletrack.
Trails like this make me look forward to winter.
1 comment:
Each season has its perils and its pleasures. I enjoy them all but particularly look forward to the transition between them.
Post a Comment