I've only "cleaned" The Snake once in some 5 or 6 attempts. It's steeper and tighter than it appears, with drop-offs on all sides. It never fails to psych me out... including the time I made it through without a single "dab." In fact, just knowing it's coming makes me uneasy. I end up plotting new ways to attack it, which diverts attention away from the "traps" at hand. Ah, another reason to "live in the moment," I suppose.
On a brisk and beautiful spring morn we made a ride from camp to the south Klondike Trail Head, a little over three miles. Never one to rank style over comfort, Bobbie eschewed snickers from her one-man "peanut gallery" and donned a thick knitted headband in order to keep her ears warm... which rendered her "bonnet" useless as a safety device and likened her to Abe Lincoln in top hat, minus the "tails." :)
We rode Jurrasic, a nice rolling warmup, to the North Klondike Trailhead. After some lobbying on my part, that her helmet position wasn't exactly protecting critical areas such as "temples, frontal lobes, and brain stem," she finally agreed it was warm enough to remove the headband and secured her lid properly for what would be a more challenging return ride on Dino Flo.
I can jest because Bobbie is currently at home in Lovely Ouray and I am well out of arms reach :). The reality is that her "skills" are much improved since riding The Klondike. She is more confident and aggressive, drops major ledges on narrow, obstacle-riddled single track with more ease than I've ever witnessed. And this is where I think we should all knock on wood.
Our Red Rock camp in Eastern Utah is certainly a pleasant place to come home to, one of my all-time favorites. On hiking days we can walk to the "loaves" and "bobbleheads" and explore to our hearts content. If there is a God, He must smile upon this place and the sundry ways we entertain ourselves with it. Nothing like giving The Man a chuckle now and then, what with all His other aspirations for mankind going to Hell in a hand-basket.