The Black hills and their foothills, aren’t necessarily “mountains”, especially in comparison to the Olympics or Cascades, but to be able to ride from my house to them and climb up into a beautiful fir/cedar/hemlock forest definitely holds a magical feeling.
Also on the agenda for today was to check out the new routes that have been cut in by our ever so diligent local diggers.
Holy shit!, they have really done a lot of work, not only with the extended traverse up hill grade trail, but also with a sweet line, in the same corridor that I’ve been planning a route in for a long time
that makes its way all the way from a far west lookout peak all the way down close to where pinnacle ends. I was impressed to say the least.
The ground was frozen which made for slightly slick ice crystal dirt. As well, the frozen ground was as hard as concrete, which completely removed the cushiony feeling of the forest loam that typifies our closest trails.
Headed up pinnacle to check out the downed tree, and discovered that someone had already sliced her up,
Such a gratifying feeling to think back 3 or 4 years ago, when a few of us had a dream that these “sub-black hills” would be an actual “destination” for the local riding scene, and to realize that here and now - that dream is an actual reality.
Bombs away!, as we dropped in. I’m fucking in love with pinnacle trail, the flow factor and sustained slight downhill, plus the fact that when I cut her in, I actually weeded all of the salal roots out of the soil by hand, which really has made for a sustainably buff trail surface over the years. By the time we neared the bottom, the stoke factor was in full effect, god I love that trail! Thanks to everyone that has contributed to keeping her alive and running well.
I then headed to Trader Joes for a few groceries, as lasagna was on the menu for tonight. The magical feeling that I longed for as a kid (mentioned earlier) was manifested there in one sweet moment. While I was riding through the parking lot and pulling up to the bike rack, I looked over my shoulder to see the sunset gleaming through the trees up in the “mountains” where I just had been riding. My endorphins were still feeding off of the “singletrack high” that I had just experienced. Yet here I was in a town, at a store, with a bunch of people and their cars, winter jackets and holiday grocery bullshit; that have no idea how magical the woods are up in those hills that exist just a short mile away.
Great piece! I can feel the post-ride stoke from here. It's awesome to be close to great hills, and SBH is a good set of them. I miss Pinnacle!
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