|A view from the Summit Saddle|
Having hiked this loop with Bobbie, then once again with Brent and Anita on the day before they headed home, I thought I had done my "homework." I was not seduced by false illusion, that a meandering horse trail could be ridden end to end. Not even close. This would be a hike/carry-a-bike outing, one with a great probability of hike-a-bike as much as ride-a-bike. Being a simpleminded optimist, I've always been quick to bite off physical challenges that, in hindsight, leave wondering what the Hell I was thinking. Can I do that? I won't know if I don't go.
Since Brent and Anita had headed home to Golden...dodging blizzards and arriving in temps that hovered below zero...I was on my own. No Biking Buddy Brent to second guess this choice or bail me out should I go OTB. I packed the SPOT, just in case...
|If only half the trail was like this it would have been worth the misery|
Turn's out that I was not the only starry-eyed "fool on the hill." Both times I hiked Bobbie's Loop, I noticed come and go knobby tire tracks interspersed amid Vibram Boot prints and horseshit.
Hmmm. If some hardy, slightly insane person was willing to pack a mountain bike up this steep, rocky ascent, there must be a long, free-flying, gravity powered descent...you know, the kind where you get to stand on pedals and weave through picturesque thorny vegetation. What have I got to lose, other than a little skin and blood?
|Hoses string for miles to bring water from springs to cattle troughs|
|Another short section of decent trail|
So narrow and bouldered were the steep sections that I was forced to carry my clunker more than push. When I could push, there were ledges over which I had to hoist the bike...first the front tire, lock the brakes, step up (if you had the luxury of a place to find a place to step), then the rear wheel, up and over. If I had a nickel for every calamity as a result of this method of propulsion, I would be rich enough to call for rescue by helicopter. But what good is money when you are rich in experiences, I thought, while staring a streams of blood trickling down knees and elbows.