Look. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know here, when I say how great the bike camping is. You know all about the "hardships" involved- the working out (juggling) of schedules with adventure partners and the climBING! that is Henry Coe's stock-in-trade and the low lows and the high heights. It all works out.
Sunday night meet-up at the trailhead parking lot might mean a lot of moonlit sangletrack. Climb. Climb. Climb climb climb. We rolled (climbing) the ridge top for a while then. Deciding to drop down what felt like a full half of our hard earned up was a choice I made twice. At the top, of course it seemed like a fine idea, but a little ways down the 2nd guesses slip in and your confidence seems ill-founded. Can you really afford to lose all this elevation (and so quickly!)...what if we missed the turn? Etc. The serene, surreal feathered grasses all blown sideways by windy moonlight only underline the queasy thrill of dropping like a bad habit; no lights, half drunk, 3/4 moon, wholly joyful.
So, wake up at Wilson Camp:
Your bike had a party last night?
It's a nice spot to ease on in to your camping out. A spring, a roofed "shelter" so you can cook "out of the wind". It was cold down in the bottoms, but up there it stays pretty mild.
Fire roads from there. What? Yes, climbing. A hard winter's 65* day all day...
and Hoover Lake is testament to the continuing dryness. We came here in 2011, and it was booming. Look at it now. We considered lying cheek to muck with the parched bottom and thrusting our arms down in search of valuable doubloons or sunglasses or fishing hooks, but in the end just rolled away in search of some ripping singletrack descents.
Lunch at a high point. Always a nice time to break out the Kelly Kettle for some cowboy coffee.
My favored riding bibs- the shorty camo overhauls I found at the dingy thrift store in Craig, CO. Maybe it was Meeker. I forget, but it bears out the strategy of stopping to thrift shop...
Wide front load. I appreciate the 800mm bars for the steering when loaded. It helps.
T___ was using the Platypus Gravity Works in-line filter , and it beats the pants off sitting on an uncomfortable rock lake-side while awkwardly opening and closing my leaky Katadyn for 10 minutes. I will be getting that set up toot sweet...or as soon as it is back in stock at the QBP, anyhow.
After filling our bladders, we climbed up out of the cold lake bottom so we could sleep warm. The road bed was dead level and there was no risk of litter catching fire when cooking dinner.
It was so still and quiet that it woke me up several times. The moon was bright enough to be a bother, if you can believe I said that. I ran out of booze. So, there was a lot of hardship up with which to put.
_odd claims he's not a expert bike tourer, he's "just a guy who likes to ride out into Henry Coe and get drunk". Now, I'm no expert neither but that sounds like the voice of reason at the least.
Sunday night meet-up at the trailhead parking lot might mean a lot of moonlit sangletrack. Climb. Climb. Climb climb climb. We rolled (climbing) the ridge top for a while then. Deciding to drop down what felt like a full half of our hard earned up was a choice I made twice. At the top, of course it seemed like a fine idea, but a little ways down the 2nd guesses slip in and your confidence seems ill-founded. Can you really afford to lose all this elevation (and so quickly!)...what if we missed the turn? Etc. The serene, surreal feathered grasses all blown sideways by windy moonlight only underline the queasy thrill of dropping like a bad habit; no lights, half drunk, 3/4 moon, wholly joyful.
So, wake up at Wilson Camp:
Your bike had a party last night?
It's a nice spot to ease on in to your camping out. A spring, a roofed "shelter" so you can cook "out of the wind". It was cold down in the bottoms, but up there it stays pretty mild.
and Hoover Lake is testament to the continuing dryness. We came here in 2011, and it was booming. Look at it now. We considered lying cheek to muck with the parched bottom and thrusting our arms down in search of valuable doubloons or sunglasses or fishing hooks, but in the end just rolled away in search of some ripping singletrack descents.
Lunch at a high point. Always a nice time to break out the Kelly Kettle for some cowboy coffee.
My favored riding bibs- the shorty camo overhauls I found at the dingy thrift store in Craig, CO. Maybe it was Meeker. I forget, but it bears out the strategy of stopping to thrift shop...
Wide front load. I appreciate the 800mm bars for the steering when loaded. It helps.
T___ was using the Platypus Gravity Works in-line filter , and it beats the pants off sitting on an uncomfortable rock lake-side while awkwardly opening and closing my leaky Katadyn for 10 minutes. I will be getting that set up toot sweet...or as soon as it is back in stock at the QBP, anyhow.
After filling our bladders, we climbed up out of the cold lake bottom so we could sleep warm. The road bed was dead level and there was no risk of litter catching fire when cooking dinner.
_odd claims he's not a expert bike tourer, he's "just a guy who likes to ride out into Henry Coe and get drunk". Now, I'm no expert neither but that sounds like the voice of reason at the least.
No comments:
Post a Comment