" The woods are lovely, dark and deep, and I have miles to go before I get out of this fucking swamp of mud and horse poop ".
Thats how that stanza should read.
After powering down about 6 pounds of sausage and several unborn chickens, I headed out to one of my favorite rides this morning.
Molalla River.
Its been a long time since I hit this place up, so I wasn't really sure what I was going to be in for in terms of conditions, changes ect.
So fuck it, long as I got a map and firepower, how bad can it be?
MR is a nice little bundle of trails and roads that make up a nice section of BLM land and has always been good to me.
After all, its summer and things should be nice and dry.
Well, not this summer ( again ), but thats what I tell myself by looking at other states weather forcasts.
I figure I can bullshit myself into thinking its going to be a dry sunny day of trail riding if I look at someone elses weather.
At least the trail head is dry but little do I know that Im about to enter a place that resembles Vietnam.
I get less that half a mile into the ride and I realize that things are going to be a little different than what I intended.
First off, its hot.
Its wet.
Lots of bugs.
And lots of horse poop.
Ok fine, you need a place to ride your horse.
They are a bit like kids.
I like them, but its usually their owners that are fucking annoying.
No matter, I press on to the furthest section of road before I start the steep acents.
By the time I get to the section of singletrack that I love, Im soaked.
Everything is overgrown and at some points I just have to bomb through the weeds to find the out where the trail picks up.
Don't get me wrong, I don't mind difficult conditions, but its ALMOST AUGUST.....
Good grief.
I seriously expect a V.C. tunnel rat to pop out and cap me and every turn.
Never the less, I press on and make it fun.
MR has a great mix of really technical stuff as well as nice fast sections that are mixed in terrain.
Thats always cool and I just keep pressing on, mile after mile.
Somewhere along the trail, I see a lady on her horse.
Cool, I pull to the side as to not spook it and be the nice guy here.
Theres not alot of space, but I make it work.
As soon as the lady comes by, she tells me to move further away because her horse may kick me.
Are you fucking kidding bitch?
Not only is there nowhere for me to move over to, but Im being cool to let her by and not fuck with the horse.
As she passes, she tells me to " watch out ".
Well, how would you like me to send your horse to the fucking glue factory you arrogant cunt?
My 40 has a kick all its own so fuck you.
I just sit there and let them go by, no need to create a problem although its sounds like the right thing to do.
Any way did I mention it was hot?
And I seriously can't believe its so muddy out here.
No matter, I just get to pedaling and put the crabby woman and here furry poop factory out of my mind.
To my surprise, some things out in the jungle never change.
The worlds ( unofficially ), largest ant farm is still here!
Damn, I bet Bear Grylls would see that as a fucking cafeteria.
After some nice, gnarly singletrack action, I reach the turn off and head back down the hill to the car.
Nice fast decent.
Theres a whole gaggle of outdoor tourists, so I just aim for the middle of the pack further enhancing my enemy V.C. vibe I have going on.
Take out the enemy, or Im gonna get it.
Sadly, they all part as I come charging down the hill, putting my V.C. thing into a realistic perspective.
They are just there to eat bugs and catch snakes or something, which, is actually pretty cool and I'd rather see them than the horse lady again anyways.
Arriving at the car, I break down my gear and head straight to the river for a nice swim.
All in all, a great day of biking and its a good gauge of where my fitness is at.
Pop in some Maiden into the box, and Im down the road....
