Sharing the Stoke....'3 bottle ride'.

[DDB@OCR]

Bottle one-
Took off from my ususal staging area by the cliffs over looking the surf. It's a spectacular afternoon with Catalina looming on the horizon.

The sound of my Panaracers clawing into the concrete sidewalk make my heart beat a little faster on the first climb to the dirt as I wonder- is the awesome grip still there from this past gift of liquid traction delivered by the Trail Gods?

After hopping the curb and dropping in my wonder turns to delight at the first turn- epicness awaits.

A 15 min. grind finds me at the top of Del Burro. A 20"er busting some moves was at the bottom by the outhouse doing some tricks.....neat show too. I put some effort into the last pitch and middle/middle'd it up and big/little'd it over the top. 15-20 seconds later- the stunter pops up! I easily had a 30 second head start. He hammerd his 1/1 single stunt bike all the way up that pitch and almost caought me! I was completly humbled and aknowladged his efforts. I was rewarded with him showing me more of his skills in his driveway just down the street with completely sick whips, air 360's/'pirouette's' on the rear tire etc. Again- way neat show. I killed the last of my first bottle and topped off at the fountain.

Bottle two-
I thanked the lad for the show and stared my drop in on the single track. I noticed a familiar truck- I wondered if he was out here riding or hiking....I crested the hill and saw him across the canyon- but just barely.
I let loose the reigns and hit the singletrack back down, only touching the brakes sightly to straighten it out when the hard-tail protests in the rocks getting slightly askew. The dirt was awesome, the grade had even risen some from the moisture making all the square egdes softer. Way yummy.

After a while, and raping all the single-track on the way, I made the other side and started another climb to the top by Rolling Hills. My bud is not yet in sight and he has a huge lead, so I kinda put that out of my mind and let the music roll in my head from the song that was playing in my truck on the drive over, the beat matching my cadence and stoking the fire in my legs.

Topping out at Portuguse Bend Rd., I take a look back at the ocean and Catalina again- man, how lucky am I....a million dollar view.

I scoot out onto the asphalt intersection and cut-across via the private drive (a big no-no, but the gaurd knows me) with some trepadation. It hasnt been that long since my last run in with 4-wheelers and every car that goes by makes my heart skip a beat as images of that damned wheel-chair cross my mind. I steady myself with the reassurance of the safety and sanctity of the Dirt that is just ahead a mile or so...... The pace goes up.

I reach Del Burro again...kill the second bottle pop a Gu and top off my drink. The sun is getting lower now and the few little clouds that are around are turning an electric orange. I study the forms through the trees and the wonderful changing colors and appreciate all the Great Spirit has given us to enjoy. I am humbled for the second time this afternoon.

Bottle 3-
I drop in again on the same single track- and something catches my eye up ahead....it almost looked like a hiker, no, it's a rider. I thought it might be my bud so I wick it up.......but to my suprise, it's a Uni-cyclist, bounding down this rock festooned triail!

I bail off the side and take the dirt road. I'm pacing him at a darn good clip as he tackled the terrain. Just in credible. We stop at the water tank and chat and I shake his hand...humbled again for the third time today. He nods, hops back on and drops in off the side and disapears between the foliage. Another rider and I just kind of look at each other with a 'wow' on our lips.
That has to be the essence of Cycling. No bar, frame etc. Just a wheel.

My ride contiues a little further and I run into my bud. We have not seen each other for months and we blab at lentgh catching up on life, ride's, race's, bike's, bike's and more bike's. We part and I soilder on back to the truck hoping I have enough in my legs to make the climb out and not take the 'walk of shame'.

Sitting on the tailgate of my truck I reflect on the ride and watch the sun get ever closer to the horizon as the sky changes colors and those few clouds turn a darker, more flourecent orange. I glance over my shoulder and notice a very large full moon coming up over the Harbor as well, taking it all in and the smell of the tide line just below me at the base of the cliff.

I finish off the third bottle, pat Trigger on the saddle and am filled with Stoke......the sun dips below the horizon,it's time to head home.

*

Stay Stoked and Thanks for reading.