It began as an afternoon of dirt jumping. As of 3:30 in the afternoon, we
were supposed to meet up at six for an evening session. By five the plan had
changed drastically. So, rather than heading out riding, I saddled up my ball
glove and headed for a slo-pitch/ass-kiss session to talk my boss into giving
me the next day off. He did, so I was off.
I guess it wasn’t that simple. Doing anything with Cory and Ambrose
is a sketchy proposition. Throw Margus into the mix and you may as well be
planning a trip to the zoo with a Kindergarten class after slipping half of
them sleeping pills and the other half speed. Plans change. People yell. It
gets ugly sometimes.
The plan was to film a six-hour night-ride epic that flowed into the following
morning. The footage was to be used in Pist-N-Broke’s next video, Back
in the Saddle Again. This was rather ambitious, especially considering the
dysfunctional nature of our group. Still, something about it was intriguing.
I knew that it would beat the piss out of me and I’d be miserable for
much of the time. I knew that Cory would yell a lot and Margus would probably
get us lost. But I also knew it would be a hell of a lot more exciting than
another Thursday at work.
So off we headed. Two cars. Four people. One in the morning.
We were on the bikes at three. I was dead by six. The novelty of the star-soaked
night and a larger than life Mars quickly wore off. I guess that any time
you start out for what you know will be at least a four hour climb, you can
kind of figure that you won’t be feeling all that great within a short
period of time.
If you think they look tired now, you should smell
them later. Actually, even now they smell pretty bad. - Cory Leclerc
and Margus Riga (photo – Dave Tolnai)
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| Still, I wasn’t prepared for this. What started
as a ‘ride’ quickly developed into a hike-a-bike. Well,
for me anyhow. My legs felt like shit by four. I was hungry by five.
I felt like crawling into a ditch by six. Between six and 6:30 I
probably made about 200 feet of progress (seriously). I stopped
every few feet and snapped pictures as the Sun started to rise.
I’d like to say it was the scenery that kept me riveted in
place but I was seriously doubting my ability to complete this ride
and remembering why I didn’t really do much in the way of
cross-country anymore.But I’d driven a few hours, climbed
for three and taken the day off work so quitting and sitting in
the car wasn’t something I was about to do. |
|
At about the time that my spirit was cracking the sun
was rising and I caught my first glimpse of the peak. With the sun shining
and my objective in sight, I was a new man. My baby steps turned into those
of a half-grown chimp. I focused my mind on chicks and booze and amazingly
dragged my beer-fattened ass to the top. I arrived to one of the most beautiful
sights I have ever witnessed. Four-and-a-half hours of climbing and I can
honestly say it was worth it and I’d barely had the opportunity to plop
my dumper on my bike seat. I was happy and we hadn’t even started going
down.
An Ass-Riveting View. (photo – Dave Tolnai)
| There’s no way to describe the
feeling of being surrounded by snow-capped peaks bathed in early
morning light on an amazingly warm August morning, all the while
scarfing down the most fantastic tasting burrito you’ve ever
wrapped your mouth around. As I was the last to hobble my carcass
to the top, the rest was short-lived. The filmer/photographer types
were eager to make use of the lighting, so off we trekked across
the alpine. |
Spirits are crushed easier with
snow on the ground. – Dave Tolnai (Photo – Margus
Riga)
|
| It was probably another hour or two until we reached ‘down’.
The first few hundred meters of trail were incredibly sketchy. I
used muscles that I never knew existed just trying to keep my bike
pointed in a straight line. It was a little worrisome thinking that
all of that climbing would be a gigantic waste as I would be unable
to ride faster than a walking pace once we hit the trails. After
a short period of time it became easier as I could finally stop
thinking about things and just ride. I guess it helped that we soon
stumbled upon some of the flowiest, fun to ride trails I’ve
ever had the pleasure of experiencing. It was also becoming painfully
obvious that the estimated two hours down was a little far-fetched.
|
|
Filming Excitement! – Ambrose Weingart
and Margus Riga (Photo – Dave Tolnai)
As we rolled on we left the alpine and entered some beautiful
forest/meadows. We soon figured out that stopping and resting wasn’t
a good idea as any conversation quickly turned into an argument. Take away
somebody’s food and sleep and force them to ride their bike a long ways
and things can turn nasty. If you ever do something like this make sure it’s
with people who don’t hold grudges. So, we stopped stopping, we stopped
arguing and we continued riding. We had about an hour more of meadowy forests
with fast, gentle singletrack. From there it popped into the woods, got a
little more technical and a lot more turny. That lasted for a while, and with
an hour of trail left everybody agreed that they’d seen enough singletrack
for one day. We put the cameras away and focused on getting our asses back
to the cars. We popped out at the bottom and “Five-Minute” Margus
assured us it was a quick climb to the road and then 5-10 minutes to the bottom.
If the next hour of riding had required up rather than down I would have killed
him. Seriously. Actually, we were all too exhausted to do any damage to Margus
who was easily in the best shape of us all. So it probably would have just
resulted in a stern glare and maybe a bit of a lecture. We finally rolled
up to the cars and there it was. 1:30pm. Ten-and-a-half hours on a bike. Stupid.
Just absolutely stupid.
The Payoff? – Cory Leclerc (Photo –
Margus Riga)
More Payoff. - Cory Leclerc and Dave
Tolnai (photo – Margus Riga) |
But that wasn’t the end of it. Imagine driving
2 hours in the heat and traffic and then getting to Vancouver for rush
hour after staying up all night and being on your bike far longer than
you ever have in your life. My actions bordered on delirious and at
one point I was yelling at a vanload of construction workers who tried
to force their way in front of me. I survived and rolled into bed at
about the time I would normally be getting home from work.
Honestly – huck this, huck that, stunt here, skinny there is
fine, but nothing can beat a nice stretch of downhill singletrack. Sometimes
I fear we’ve lost the meaning of what took us out riding in the
first place and we’ve misplaced the concept of a trail. Six hours
of downhill through peaks and beside glacial lakes was enough to remind
me that there is way more to riding than is shown in the average video.
Fair enough - I was riding a 9-inch travel bike with an 8-inch fork
with only a middle ring, so I can’t really claim to be too much
of a purist. But I could easily have been enjoying myself just as much
on ... well... maybe on something with five and five. |
My whole point is that people are too wrapped up in their day-to-day
lives. Too focused on tomorrow. Hell, I’m 26 and I’m trapped
in the life of an old person. I’m more bitter than Michael Jackson
trapped in an old-folks home for the weekend. I’m focused on rent
and car payments and being sober for work in the morning. Even in our
tiny little cycling world everybody is focused on the right bikes, the
right clothes and the biggest gap on the newest trail. It’s all
bullshit. Sometimes it feels good to take a step back, fuck the consequences
and live for the moment. Do something you wouldn’t normally do.
I did and I experienced one of the coolest, stupidest days I will ever
remember.
Dave Tolnai
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