The Yawp! Company recently went to Breckenridge. We've ridden there before, but the trails are so numerous that we were compelled to return. I'm happy to say it was not a mistake. 9 of 10 hammock dogs agree. So does Hammock Ian.
Do you ever feel like you're an insane person whose performance as a sane person is only barely convincing? I sure do, and that's how I was feeling when we arrived in Breckenridge. Fortunately, a bike ride (almost) never fails to return me to whatever semblance of sanity I do sometimes enjoy.
Rebecca and I had a short ride on Friday evening, up the increasingly rocky Colorado Trail toward Georgia Pass. I profoundly enjoy climbing nonsense like that. I could do it all day if it didn't make me so tired.
On Saturday we rode a number of trails, the names of which I mostly can't remember. Flume, Mike's, Slalom, and Western Sky are names I vaguely recall. However, remember that you are reading the ramblings of an insane person who's pretending to be sane, so those may be trail names from some other region, or perhaps names of hot sauces I've never had.
We found a swing.
Breckenridge's trails are numerous and circuitous, and it's easy for a group of tourists to get lost. We didn't, actually, get too lost, but I did see this Blair Witch type object in the woods.
We spent some time riding around in circles, waving.
We saw a hole in the ground that smelled of sulfur. I've heard that witches--some of them--are followed by an odor that might be described as sulfurous.
Despite all of that foreboding, the ride was great. We finished with a descent for the ages, an endless flow trail with a couple of wicked tabletops in between trees that were as far apart as a handlebar is wide. It was a very nearly perfect day. 9 of 10 stump dogs agree.
On Sunday, we rode about 10 miles on Tenderfoot Mountain. The climb was wooded, dark, lush, and loamy, and we made the mistake of not turning around and descending back the way we'd come. Instead, we descended fire roads and kitty litter. That's what I get for following the little line on my computer instead of thinking, and that's what the rest of you get for following an insane person.
Bikes are just things, but they've brought a lot of joy into my life. It makes me uncomfortable that an object can do this. For years I suspected that happiness was more or less a decision, and that it had very little to do with circumstance. I no longer think so, and I'm grateful (and lucky) to have found an object that can relieve stress, introduce me to new friends, and keep me sane. Riding a bike does those things in ways that running never did, though I can't explain the difference.
Linking happiness to belongings isn't a step I'm ready to take, and yet without a mountain bike I would be poor in friendships and completely insane.
Thanks to everyone who came and made this a very pleasant couple of days.
P.S. It snowed on the way home. In June.
