The following is a lame excuse for reading entertainment, a foggy recap of our Wednesday Night Pirate Ride at Wyandotte County Lake. A trail system that I'd never experienced before and why? I'm really not sure, it was phuking phenomenal.
My day started out like a total shit circus. I'll spare you the details, but it sucked ass - all but a short part of my workday when Detlif was passing around celebratory shots of scotch minutes after lunch. Fuel for the ride ahead.
A small band of yahoos arrived at the lair at 7 o'clock sharp. We loaded up the bike wagon equiped with none other than the sexy yet functional Kuat NV and made our way to the Wyco trails. Farmer has been frequenting these trails as of late and had some kind of mega loop established in his mind that sounded like an epic few hours in the saddle. Instantly this became our plan.
We start off on trail that was well established with a ton of climbing. The dirt was bone dry. There was a cloud of dust so impressive, we could not run our lights on high or it was like your car brights in a thick fog. You just couldn't see a damn thing. A case of the black lung was sure to befall us all.
Soon we end up on an offshoot. The trail was super-tight, twisty and strewn with logs. A 'Beware' sign with a tiki man marked it's entrance, and warned of it's level of pure awesomeness. We should have done laps on this tiki trail, it was about as much fun as you can have with your clothes on.
More and more rolling hills, mega climbs and then a sweet long descent consisting of more switchbacks than you can count on three hands, and you couldn't help but skid through each and every one.
Then we were damned, literally. Farmer points up and says 'go that way', which translated to 'climb out the back side of the Wyco Lake damn'. Nothing like slogging up a 45 degree grass slope strewn with 3' deep culverts to get you redlined.
Finally we reach a newer section of the actual mountain bike trail. Still dustier than Iraq, we trudged onward, enjoying sweeping curves and smooth single track for miles.
Eventually we hooked-up with a crew of dirtbag hipsters and set forth for part dues of our ride; get lost or die trying. Uneventful yet entertaining, we rode for miles on bike trail and non bike trail alike, eventually dropping 4 of our 9 person crew during a desperate pave' descent back to the damn.
We did however regroup, after much mocking and name calling, only to ride up the damn damn again, and then into more mega hilly single track.
At some point we drop off to only three still pedaling: Macgyver, Farmer and me. Farmer tells us to be ready for some mega climbs, some so long and hard we'd be hiking. He was right, and we quickly laid waste to our thighs during numerous ascents up rocky steep phuking climbs. My legs fell off and are still lying there, lost in the woods as some small nocturnal creature devours what was left of my soul. Holy shit that was some fun. Nearly eighteen miles of dirty goodness.
Thanks for the tour Farmer. Thanks to Macgyver for working his ultimate magic and making the creaking noise on my bike go away. There is just something about riding a single speed: the silence of it all. Welcome back to freedom.