Trail with No Name

Wheel's-eye view.
Going down is fun, but getting up is a
challenge —  there are more roots and
step-ups to bring even an experienced
MTBer to a standstill. 

Hiding in the bushes and weeds, a sign
indication the trail with no name
now has a name.

"Walk?" ... who said anything about walking.
This thing has single track, roots, stumps,
a log, nasty step up root climbs.

It may be short, but it's close to home.
I'll work it.

  I don't know how we managed to go through the entire summer to date without consuming a single margarita, but somehow we did.

 So when M placed the order — ahead of happy hour, dinner and T-storms — for her namesake drink, I figured I better get a ride in, if I was going to earn one of these mucho-calorie tequila-based beverages myself.

  That, and the body's screaming need to do something for fitness, and I was saddled up pretty quick. Looking at the local radar, I figured I really better get a move-on to beat the approaching front sliding in from New Jersey and Pennsylvania.

  With a month- and-a-half stretch coming up of 6-day working weeks, I was pulled by the urgent need to  build up a head of exercise steam, momentum to get me on the right track.  I'd had a soft spell after returning from vacation, and my riding chops felt like they were in the scuttle. 

  And there is a steep hill out there that mocks me. "Bet ya can't ride up me from the north, go all the way down the south side and then climb back all the way up from sea-level!"

 It's been a while since I did the long side back up, since the neck disk herniation, so the challenge is back on. In the mean time, I need to practice, so it's up one side and then, hill and trail repeats on a different side.

    With my neck still out of whack, I decided to ride the most neck-friendly, upright bike in the quiver, and that meant the mountain bike with the 130mm fork fully extended. 

  I count my blessings. The one good thing about living on a hill is you are guaranteed to get the heart rate up.

Three out of 4 approaches to my home hill are Cat 5, and the big one round the corner, is a long Cat 5.

Get a grip. Can you guess the brand and the tread?

  The menu for this weekend (since I missed Saturday morning's surf) was punishment and more punishment: Back to back hill-repeat days, Saturday and Sunday — including the big one: Beacon Hill. And the reward: dirt trail time on a nearby mini-trail.

  In the trail area, which is VERY short, there are only a few sections, and they are mostly all DOWN, or all UP. But that's OK — DH and a long wind-sucking grind back up, it's all good, and theoretically burns a few calories.

  Not that I'm a stranger to this trail section, but things do get steep enough that I find myself doing mini wheelies at times. One of these days I'll get that move down on flat land, before I'm 60!