My cabin internet connection was not as reliable this trip, so rather than posting my daily Ozark adventures, I was forced to save them up for when I arrived back home to civilization.

As is often the case with my training at Syllamo, I rode alone for the first couple of days. People always comment that they can’t believe I do so, and, yes, I can see the risk involved. The Syllamo trails are slightly far flung from town, and it’s very common for me to ride out there for days and never see anyone else on the trails. The biggest risk, of course, is that I’d wreck and incapacitate myself with no help around to save me. It’s a risk I am willing to take, though, and one that I try to minimize by both riding smart and letting friends/family back home know what time I plan on being finished (always by 4:00!) with my day. I’m reasonably confident that if Ryan hadn’t heard from me by 5 or 6:00 on any solo ride day, that a search party would be out by 7.

I love riding alone.

Wednesday morning, I drove out to Mountain View, and was on the trail by 1:00. My legs were a little stiff and disagreeable when I hit the trail, so I took it easy and did a little sightseeing. One of my favorite things to do is explore old roadbeds that wander off from the trail. The one I found near the “Old Highway 5” section of the Orange trail did not disappoint. I hope that my loved ones find just as peaceful of a place for me to be taken back into nature…

 

Once I was back from the side road, I did a little more gravel exploring…

 

Back at the cabin, Turbo and I relaxed and watched some satellite TV… which, I’m sure at some point, will rot my brain. As with all solo ventures, I take precautions to ensure safety…

Ok, the first defense/noisemaker takes a break sometimes, but check out the ears… she’s always listening.

P.S. The toaster oven at the cabin is possessed.

 

Friday, I didn’t take any photos. Instead, I figured out how much harder it is to ride the trails in the clockwise direction instead of race direction. I spent 4 hours fighting with the rocks and grinding up the short, steep climbs. Cold? Miserable? Maybe a little. Cathartic? Definitely. Riding solo on the most difficult routes possible in the trail system is a privilege that I’m incredibly lucky to have the opportunity and ability to undertake.

Friday night, Ryan arrived from his business trip in St. Louis. We watched satellite TV together so that our brains could rot in harmony. Solo riding, finished.

I’ve been on a bit of a Gray’s Creek kick lately. It’s a 4-ish mile 4-wheeler trail that most people ride as an out & back along the Wolf River from Germantown Parkway towards Houston Levee Rd. Most people turn around at Gray’s Creek (hence the name of the trail). However, the 4-wheeler tracks continue down the sand bar creek bank a ways and across to the other side. The trail continues another mile to Houston Levee, but was rumored to be grown over. Yesterday, my curiosity got the best of me, and I decided I’d give it a go.

Lucky for me, the worst part about the trek was the hike upstream to the crossing, then further upstream to where the 4-wheeler tracks turned off into the woods. After that, the trail was a little rough and a little muddy, but totally passable. I did take one (unplanned) detour where the trail took an abrupt turn towards the river and dead ended at someone’s campsite:

 

I turned around and found the trail that continued on towards the road. It wasn’t much further before I reached the end:

The route from creek crossing to road looked something like this:

 

Once I was out on the main road, I turned and headed north back towards home. I took another detour (planned this time) through the woods behind Briarcrest private school, where I found a slightly creepy shrine to God and John Deere tractors:

 

I eventually ended up back on Macon Rd, where I took to the unfinished greenline, which, in its current state, is just an abandoned, slightly overgrown rail bed. The rocks are extra fun on the singlespeed. The entire thing was about 20 miles.

 

I’m happy to be back at it. Tomorrow- 3.5 hours. This weekend? Weekend Worlds and 5 hours on Sunday. W00t!

Yesterday, I had a recovery ride on my schedule. I’d planned to meet co-worker Kenny at Herb’s for a couple of laps, but he never showed up… I think he had the New Year’s Eve Flu. I rode my geared A9C for the first time in as long as I can remember and generally enjoyed an easy, flowy lap of trail.

It seems like everyone with a mountain bike has been or is at Syllamo right now. I miss it. For the last two years, I’ve spent large chunks of winter training time at the cabin. Thanksgiving aside, this year, with Worlds training, I’ve been staying close to home for training and cross racing.

I swear I’m not complaining… it’s been great, and my fitness is better than ever. However, I have a strong desire to retreat to the trails for a few days of soul-searching on the side of the mountain. It’s looking like the last half of January is fair game for kicking off some serious long ride endurance training.

Stay tuned.

Wednesday’s ride was a short one. I had a momentary lapse of judgment and suggested that we take the Blue trail down to the highway. I remembered about halfway down that the 6 inches of rain we’d received in the previous two days had backed up into the White River and surrounding creeks- including Livingston Creek, which the trail crosses three separate times.

Matt and Bruce rode ahead of Ryan and me, and, sure enough, when we reached the bottom, Matt and Bruce were wandering around looking at the quickly flowing, waist-high water. We decided to climb back up to Green Mountain Road and back to the Green Trail for a lap of nice rockiness. Afterward, it was back to the cabin to prep for Thursday’s Thanksgiving Dinner. And work on the puzzle.

 

Obligatory Green Trail Overlook photo:

Yes, I realize I’m sorely behind on posting about my 5 days riding in Arkansas, but you have to understand, Ryan and I were heavily involved with both riding our bikes and completing a 1000 piece puzzle. Priorities, man.

 

The night prior to our 3rd day riding saw downpours that brought 2-3 inches of rain to the area. So, more forest road riding was in order. Ever since this post well over a year ago, I’ve been itching to get back to Barkshed Camp to ride out of the camp on Barkshed Road, which (if you’re not the link-clicking type) I’d previously attempted but failed when I found the road blocked with a multitude of trees and brambles.

Luckily, this time, I had more daylight and the encouragement of Ryan and Matt. We found that much of the deadfall that had covered the trail before was now cut, and, though we granny geared and walked a little in the brambled spots, within half a mile, we popped out at a forest road gate that kept traffic off only that short section of trail. So, after sharing a ziploc bag of gummy bears, we traversed the the remaining 8 miles of Barkshed Rd. on nice, rolling, gravel.

The forest road eventually dumped us onto Push Mountain road. It’s a nice, low traffic (surprisingly rare for that area) road with a good shoulder. We followed it up to a gravel county road that led us back into the forest. Along the way, we saw two very large pigs as well as a forest ranger who stopped to ask (in a very polite, roundabout way), what in the spandex-clad hell we were doing out there.

Somewhere along the way, Matt bonked and yelled at his bike when the front derailleur stopped working. Luckily, at that point, we were only half an hour or so from Gunner Pool Camp, where we’d parked the car.

Random Caption Contest:

(All I can think of is this Wayne’s World skit: http://vimeo.com/476035 )

Some others: