Kootenay Triple Part II
Running on Fumes
Words by Riley McIntosh.
Date: 2009-02-05
If you missed Part 1 click here.
All three of us were looking noticeably tired as we started into Upper Hitman. I felt like crap. Not long before I'd been buzzed in the truck and singing 'Oh Susanna' at the top of my notch but now I felt like I had a frog wedged in my throat.
Getting ready for the third climb and descent of the day. Photo ~ Alex Woikon
The first little bit of the trail is very pedally. Evan was turbo charging. I was caught off guard, like 'I thought we were tired what is going on?' It was crazy. I remember trying to keep up, legs like noodles, and Evan was pedaling like he was racing a world cup. Maybe in his head that is what he was doing. It is always super inspiring to see someone able to perform like that after such a long day. His energy lifted my spirits and I in turn reached deep into myself and pulled out a little golden chunk of 'One last kick.' Screw Red Bull. Just dig into your fat reserves. Way more stylish.
It's all about fashion people. Photo ~ Alex Woikon
I started giving it the gas and it hurt like hell but if I didn't catch up to Evan in the next ten seconds he was going to drop me for good. All I focused on was his fancy team blue Kona diving through the trees ahead of me. I felt like Daniel-Day Lewis in "Last of the Mohicans."
I caught up to Evan. The trail was smooth, covered in needles. Time slowed down. I could see the roost of needles catapulted 4 inches into the air by Evan's rear tire. Alex was left behind for the moment. My breath became non-existent. I was in a bubble, drafted by Evan's back tire. It was all I could do to hang on.
Nice socks Rilor. Who needs armour anyways? Photo ~ Alex Woikon
But then it got better. The experience became so fun that I shrugged off all my tiredness like a heavy coat, and we rode like hell. Tire to tire, charging corners and hanging on for dear life. We screamed like chased animals, cutting sections through dead logs and breaking branches off on the front of our helmets and upper arms. Pain became a ghost dog.
I often recall that ten minutes of chasing Evan down Upper Hitman as a 'quintessential moment.' We were truly in the zone. It serves as an example that we live our lives trapped inside our mind, but we also have the power to expand our mind and break free and rise to another level. That 10 minutes felt like that, I was so rinsed out and broke down but the pull of gravity and speed and riding camaraderie turned us into trail demons. It was radical.
There must be at least 20 switch backs on the way to Upper Hitman, they're steep as hell and all the trees are covered in thick old man’s beard. Photo ~ Alex Woikon
We waited down in the clear cut for Alex. We had a great vantage point of the mountains soaring up around us. The last light of the day settled on rocks and logs and leaves like a golden hand.
Then we realized that it was getting dark and we would be riding all of Hitman in pitch black. Alex showed up and we got a move on, not having any lights or matches or candles.
Hitman was gooooooood. The first half was semi blackness but we could still ride at a good clip. We rode all the slabs and jumps and didn't have any sketchy landings or run-outs. A general vibe prevailed in all of us, of feeling so tired in the mind, but the body pulling from somewhere deep and continuing to rage down the trail, pumping the bike, leaning into corners, absorbing bumps and drops.
Evan and Riley share a moment when they realize that the last trail head is near. Photo ~ Alex Woikon
Our minds were catching up to where our bodies were. Tiredness was a leftover thing now. Perhaps we'd reached that inner place all the yoga people in Nelson talk about. The lack of lighting created a surreal setting, and when we paused we were like dark outlines, trail ninjas.
Before that last section of trail, blackness settling on us, we paused in the stillness of the forest. We talked and laughed about the day, the dead mouse that was now slung between Evan's brake and shifter cables and had somehow remained there for 3,500 feet of downhill.
Riley slaying Lower Stikum. Photo ~ John Gibson
We had no more water, no food. Night was coming but the forest felt warm. A breeze ruffled the branches. Down through the trees below a glint proved that civilization existed. We felt proud, tired, happy.
A crash-less 'Dozen Slabs' brought us to the bottom. We all rode the largest slab into a medium sized gap jump, so familiar with the section we didn't need light to conquer it. Pedaling back to the 4Runner the lights of the waterfront homes glinted on the lake. The huge soft outlines of the mountains rose above.
We drove over to the Duhamel store, and bought chips, chocolate bars, beer. We felt like we had earned it. The drive back up Sitkum to grab the Mazda felt like an award ceremony, and we resolved to recreate this experience on an annual basis.
Time to enjoy what's been earned. Photo ~ Mattias Fredriksson
4 years have passed since that day and we still haven't done it again. Why not? Are we scared? Are days like that too special to try and replicate?
Perhaps we should try a new one next September. Maybe we should pedal up this time. Bring more food. What if the only dead animal we find is a moose? Does that mean Evan has to drag 800 pounds of dead moose along for the ride? What if it rains really hard again? Maybe this time I will bring brie cheese instead of cheddar. We should take more pictures. Maybe some landjaegar instead of smoked oysters.
Let's just keep doing stuff like this, forget the rest. How about that? Evan, Alex, you guys ready?
Questions, comments or smartass remarks? Bring 'em on...
Interested in doing your own Nelson epic? Or just want to ride of the sweetest trails in the world? Check out dirtours.com
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