Reunion (3)

I quickly shrugged off my pack, donned my windbreaker, grabbed an energy bar (one of the trial sizes that I got from boothes in town) and reloaded myself, and then we were off.

I took a position in the lineup, and we turned onto a trail cutting through the sparse trees at this altitude. It took us across the ridge to the far side of the mountain, and then through several rocky switchbacks before we stopped in a shallow bowl.

I was pleased to see that I was in the front of the pack, and had kept up well with the leaders. One of the women on the ride was one of the restaurant servers from the hotel, so I took up position behind her as I rode. Her skill level appeared just enough higher than mine as to present me with a challenge without exhausting or risking me.

We had a wide variety in our group: a few very young children, one very old couple, a very large man who suprised me with keeping up, some experienced taking advantage of the free lift ticket, some novices who were reconciling having bitten off more than they could chew. The young children – one in particular who couldn’t grasp using both hand brakes to stop – were often a liablity. They tended to skid their tires for fun, and drive more recklessly. The boy with a stopping problem actually ran into a tree at one point.

Its hard to describe the ride. It was beautiful. It was awesome. I missed my father, knowing that he would enjoy this experience, and I felt his spirit with me. I was once again timber-bashing with him on the slopes of Winter Park.

There were moments of isolation, while turning long switchbacks in the middle of the aspen woods, where I was completely by myself surrounded by the protection and warmth of the trees. There were other moments when my mind was a constant communion with the dirt and rocks in front of me, asking them to tell me exactly when and where to ride, to turn, to slow.

In riding with a group, I learned much about sharing the trail with other riders. In riding with an instructor, I learned many lessons about HOW to ride, and how to share the trail with other users. It was both amazing and simplistic, threatening and edgy, but yet reassuring and tranquil. It was like nothing and everything I’ve done before, and it was wonderful, and I’ll go back.

At the end of the ride, I computed how little time it actually took, then accepted my ride leader’s offer for another free ride pass. Then, as we finished our descent, I had gear problems. During a sudden stop, my backend swung around and I knocked the derailure out of alignment.

I hobbled back to the bikeroom at our resort, and told our ride leader, who was also the hotel manager. He put my bike on a stand and whipped out some tools. Within minutes he had my hangar straightened, and I was back in business.

The large man also took one of the extra ride passes, saying his wife would enjoy the ride while he packed the van. So together, she, I and her son rode back up, and took a different, shorter route down, as there was a threat of rain again.

It was nice to have company, but she was one of those kinds of riders who talk or complain the whole time. Her son was getting comfortable with the experience, and I actually had to stop him when he started to cross-cut the switchbacks. In the end, it was good to be done with the ride. Next time, I’ll take Gretta…*g*

I was disappointed that this shorter route went so quickly, but was pleased to be able to head back towards Denver that much sooner. I took a shower at the lodge, loaded up the last of my gear and bike, opened the sunroof, turned off Overdrive, and cruised out of the mountains.

The drive out went well – no mechanical problems – and I made great time down to I-70. Then I joined the snarl. It took me nearly an hour to make the short trip to the US6 exit. Then I cruised into the backside of Golden, and met back up with Tyler. I told him I’d take him out for a treat, so we loaded up and headed to Casa Bonita.

Casa Bonita is billed as the worlds largest Mexican restaurant. Its part Vaudville show, part Theme Park, and part eatery. Its a family tradition to eat at Casa Bonita once during any visit in the Denver area. It is also one of the last places on earth Tyler would ever choose to go on his own. Thats why I took him there!

We got lost on the way there, and the transmission overheated in city driving. But we spent the evening, and shut the place down with videogames and just exploring the incredible archetecture. We came back to his home and I spent the evening learning WarCraft 3.

Tyler is such a good host. Imagine letting a guest sit in your favorite chair all night, or read your only book all night, or sleep on your favorite pillow all night. Ty let me play on his computer ALL NIGHT.

Around 6am, I went and crashed on the sofa. At around 9:45, I got up and left, to meet my folks at a thrift store some distance into town. They stayed the night with some old family friends, who brought them out to see this store.

Imagine my suprise – I saw my folks friend, Chery, pushing a cart and stopped to look at some finery behind her. I snuck up to her, then snatched a shiny item off the top of her cart, saying “No, I wanted that” to catch her off guard. A woman I never met turned around and we both tried to decide if we should scream.

Instead, I continued to smile, and played off that I was simply admiring the find she had in her cart. She told me about it, its rarity, and I complimented her on her resoursefulness. She smiled and we parted. Most royal embarrased, but I think I played it off well.

The folks and I left from there, stopping at the last truck stop before leaving Denver metro to re-ice and supply our vehicles. The drive back was less jovial, but just as congenial. We were exhausted from the experiences of the weekend and looked forward to coming home.

I vowed to make it back to Winter Park next year for the next 24-hours of Adrenalin race, and for the mountains.