Second Riding of the Fourth Ride
Friday, July 4th, was Independence Day here in the good ole US of A. As has been tradition for years and years, the annual Fourth Ride was held, leaving local frame-builder Don McClung’s place just after 4:20 in the morning. And, for my second year, I joined a very hearty group of near-exclusively local riders on this Salida institution.
About 37 rolled out for the 85mile slog that climbs 4,000′ up to Monarch Pass where we rode the most-spectacular Monarch Crest Trail for the first time this season. Down the gnarly Silver Creek Trail to the Rainbow Trail at highway #285, coolers shuttled up the night before by the great people at Subculture Cycles await, hidden in the trees. Beyond there, a 1.5 – 2hr hike-a-bike punishes riders before the Rainbow Trail mellows out. Down Bear Creek, onto the road and home. A stately ride by any measure celebrating America’s national birthday.
Days before, I had already decided that I’d complete just the 60mile version of the ride, turning down highway #285. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel after last weekend’s three-day bike-packing trip and did not want to burn myself out before next week’s 230mile one-day riding of the Death Ride. Reilly and Pat had also expressed a preference for the short ride. In fact, Reilly suggested we start later, around 6am, since those 60miles would not really demand such an early start. Perfect; after a long day Thursday without dinner, I was looking forward to sleeping in. As it turned out, the desire to honour tradition and join all the other riders at Don’s for the start trumped any need for sleep. Swallowing this changed plan, I quickly ate dinner(around 10pm) while packing my bike and gear. Up at 3:30am, I had about 4hrs sleep. Oh well, I can always sleep when I die, as they say.
Climbing up to Monarch Pass on paved roads, dirt roads, rail trail, double-track and single-, I felt strong, much stronger than I had anticipated. So much so that I reached the Pass in exactly three hours, bettering last year’s time by about 20 minutes. There, I rejoined Pat and Reilly, with whom I rode the rest of the day.
All was going well, it was a beautiful sunny Colorado morning. Wonderful people enjoying tremendous trails in the friendliest of atmospheres. Perfect. Well, it was until I crashed on the Silver Creek Trail.
Flying down-hill on a narrow section of single-track within the lush Aspens, a branch slapped me in the face. Wincing, I turned my head to the right. Regrettably, my arms and handlebars followed. In an instant I was down, grinding to an immediate halt on my left shin, knee, hip, elbow and forearm. Reilly ahead said it sounded awful; Pat behind said it looked terrible. Although I was rather cut-up, despite grunting and groaning for a few minutes, those mere flesh-wounds did not prevent me from getting back on the bike for more fast down-hill action!
At highway #285, an angel awaited our arrival. Lindsay Haarmeyer had come to meet Reilly, Pat and I with cold water and Cokes, watermelon and other snacks. Like I said, an angel. We four chatted for a moment about possibly continuing on for the rest of the full ride. Rather, they chatted about it, I was resolute in my decision to head back to town. I was feeling great, reaching the highway 45mins faster than last year and did not want to thrash myself against the impending hike-a-bike section of trail. I’d had a great day of riding and was content with ending it there. The others agreed it was the best option, particularly since we could stop by the Elevation Brewery for a cold frosty.
For some people, a national holiday means getting drunk all day or perhaps a day in the park with the family, maybe a parade. For myself and the rest of the Salida mountain-bike locals, it meant getting on our bikes at4:30am and riding for the better part of the day. Ya, I dig this town.
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