bagtagley
03-29-2004, 10:40 AM
Sorry, it's pretty long.
I went back to Charleston this weekend to install the 888 and get some riding in. The plan was to hit the freeride trail that we've been building on since last year. In Charleston, the best riding around is in Kanawha State Forest. The place is 5 minutes from my folks house and offers some of the best, most technical riding in the state. My favorite aspect of the forest is that you ride up to the top and then bomb down, none of the up-down-up-down that is typical where I live. Another advantage is that all the downhill trails can be accessed by fire-road. The final advantage is being friends with the superintendent. He has free reign to the place, so he had one of his assistants drive us up the otherwise closed access road to our destination. I have no hesitation cranking my 40+ lb bike uphill, but I'm not going to turn down a free ride.
The trail consists of a series of 4-8 foot drops, bridges, skinnies and teeter-totters. It doesn't have the best flow in the world, but its technical nature makes up for that. I had ridden the whole thing before, but a nasty wreck mid-season last year spooked me out, and I still had a monkey on my back in the form of a upward-sloping ramp to steep downhill landing. I had only ridden this feature once right before my wreck, and my landing was super-sketch. So, it became my major concern on this trip to conquer this drop.
Saturday was overcast and pretty wet from an early morning storm. I spent the early part of the day installing the 888 and hoping the rain would hold off long enough for us to ride. Luckily, no rain came, and it was cool enough to be comfortable in the pounds of protective gear. I was a little apprehensive, this being my first "freeride" of the season, but once I hit the first drop I felt great. However, the monkey wouldn't be going anywhere today. I was a little frustrated with myself, but my excitement for the 888 quickly helped me forget.
Sunday: Today had to be the day. It was sunny and the trail was quickly drying to perfect tacky conditions. Passing XC riders on trip up, I felt a little guilty cheating, but was also glad I wasn't struggling to get to the top. Getting a ride would also allow us to take 3 runs today, which I figured I'd need to work up the balls. As I expected the first and second run ended without me doing the final drop. I wasn't worried though, I figured the final run would be enough to build my confidence. However, sitting at the top for the final ride, I wasn't feeling it. The only thing on my mind was that one drop, and it just wasn't going to happen. Sadly my preoccupation kept me from enjoying one of my smoothest rides on this trail.
The final section of the trail is by far the most challenging as well as the funnest. You ride down a steep section to a large rock suspended by almost nothing over a short, very steep drop. Built off the front of the rock is a wood ramp that matches the incline of the trail below it (the landing zone) perfectly. You drop that, make a hard right and ride over a small rock garden right into a teeter. Off the teeter you ride across the hillside to a gradual left that takes you back down the fall line into a wooden ramp with slight uphill incline, and here is where I stopped...right at the edge, peering down at the landing zone that my wheels have made contact with only once. I stood there frustrated, watching my friend speed off into the distance. From this vantage point, it looks ridiculously easy. 7-8 feet below I see a fresh tire mark on a perfect transition. However, if you step 10 feet back all you can see is the end of the ramp and trees. It's an ominous sight that is the major source of my hesitation.
Before long my friend walked up to me to provide moral support. "Dude, it's cake. Keep it slow until your front wheel hits the ramp, then let go..that's it. If you blow it there's plenty of room to bail...bla bla bla." 15 minutes, 30 minutes...ride up and stop, ride up and stop. I'd look over the edge and see how doable it was and I'd try to run back up and get on the bike before that image faded. Nothing! It's so frustrating, you're just waiting for that one time that you get that "feeling". When, for some reason, you know you're going to do it. Well, that never happened. It was getting late and I explained to my friend that I had to hit the road. I hopped on the bike, rode slowly toward the drop to get one last look before I skirted around it and it hit me. I realized that I HAD to do it, then my mind just cleared. All the mental hurdles dissapeared for a split second...just long enough for me to overcome my better judgement and launch it. I popped off the edge, stuck the landing and rode out the rest of the steep downhill faster than I ever had.
He was right, it was cake.
I went back to Charleston this weekend to install the 888 and get some riding in. The plan was to hit the freeride trail that we've been building on since last year. In Charleston, the best riding around is in Kanawha State Forest. The place is 5 minutes from my folks house and offers some of the best, most technical riding in the state. My favorite aspect of the forest is that you ride up to the top and then bomb down, none of the up-down-up-down that is typical where I live. Another advantage is that all the downhill trails can be accessed by fire-road. The final advantage is being friends with the superintendent. He has free reign to the place, so he had one of his assistants drive us up the otherwise closed access road to our destination. I have no hesitation cranking my 40+ lb bike uphill, but I'm not going to turn down a free ride.
The trail consists of a series of 4-8 foot drops, bridges, skinnies and teeter-totters. It doesn't have the best flow in the world, but its technical nature makes up for that. I had ridden the whole thing before, but a nasty wreck mid-season last year spooked me out, and I still had a monkey on my back in the form of a upward-sloping ramp to steep downhill landing. I had only ridden this feature once right before my wreck, and my landing was super-sketch. So, it became my major concern on this trip to conquer this drop.
Saturday was overcast and pretty wet from an early morning storm. I spent the early part of the day installing the 888 and hoping the rain would hold off long enough for us to ride. Luckily, no rain came, and it was cool enough to be comfortable in the pounds of protective gear. I was a little apprehensive, this being my first "freeride" of the season, but once I hit the first drop I felt great. However, the monkey wouldn't be going anywhere today. I was a little frustrated with myself, but my excitement for the 888 quickly helped me forget.
Sunday: Today had to be the day. It was sunny and the trail was quickly drying to perfect tacky conditions. Passing XC riders on trip up, I felt a little guilty cheating, but was also glad I wasn't struggling to get to the top. Getting a ride would also allow us to take 3 runs today, which I figured I'd need to work up the balls. As I expected the first and second run ended without me doing the final drop. I wasn't worried though, I figured the final run would be enough to build my confidence. However, sitting at the top for the final ride, I wasn't feeling it. The only thing on my mind was that one drop, and it just wasn't going to happen. Sadly my preoccupation kept me from enjoying one of my smoothest rides on this trail.
The final section of the trail is by far the most challenging as well as the funnest. You ride down a steep section to a large rock suspended by almost nothing over a short, very steep drop. Built off the front of the rock is a wood ramp that matches the incline of the trail below it (the landing zone) perfectly. You drop that, make a hard right and ride over a small rock garden right into a teeter. Off the teeter you ride across the hillside to a gradual left that takes you back down the fall line into a wooden ramp with slight uphill incline, and here is where I stopped...right at the edge, peering down at the landing zone that my wheels have made contact with only once. I stood there frustrated, watching my friend speed off into the distance. From this vantage point, it looks ridiculously easy. 7-8 feet below I see a fresh tire mark on a perfect transition. However, if you step 10 feet back all you can see is the end of the ramp and trees. It's an ominous sight that is the major source of my hesitation.
Before long my friend walked up to me to provide moral support. "Dude, it's cake. Keep it slow until your front wheel hits the ramp, then let go..that's it. If you blow it there's plenty of room to bail...bla bla bla." 15 minutes, 30 minutes...ride up and stop, ride up and stop. I'd look over the edge and see how doable it was and I'd try to run back up and get on the bike before that image faded. Nothing! It's so frustrating, you're just waiting for that one time that you get that "feeling". When, for some reason, you know you're going to do it. Well, that never happened. It was getting late and I explained to my friend that I had to hit the road. I hopped on the bike, rode slowly toward the drop to get one last look before I skirted around it and it hit me. I realized that I HAD to do it, then my mind just cleared. All the mental hurdles dissapeared for a split second...just long enough for me to overcome my better judgement and launch it. I popped off the edge, stuck the landing and rode out the rest of the steep downhill faster than I ever had.
He was right, it was cake.