Words by Michelle Dumaresq

I am not a racer, I'm a rider who happens to race. That has been my borrowed mantra and when the opportunity to go to my first big race of the year in Big Bear, California came up I decided to drive down instead of fly. The idea of a 24-hour drive didn't sound too inviting compared to a three-hour flight, but I have always heard and read about the fabulous riding on the West Coast of the big ol' US of A and this was my chance to take in some classic singletrack.

The trip down was interesting, and so was the race. I loaded up my truck with enough camping gear and spare parts for two weeks on the road - tires, tools, tents, and tarps. I picked up my co-pilot at the Seattle airport, a writer from Outside magazine who is doing a story about me racing the pro circuit and let me tell you, there's nothing like traveling with someone who's writing down everything you're saying. We spent the next three days driving down the coast and taking in the stunning scenery.

Jump ahead to race day. I qualified 8th right behind Fionn [Griffith] and Missy [Giove], but just after that found out that a girl I saw get badly hurt on the course the day before had actually died. I tried to put that out of my head and get on with the job that I had to do. My race went pretty well and I ended up 11th, and for my first big race of the year I was happy.

And then came the best part of the trip , the drive home. After some craziness in L.A. that involved surfing in the morning, carve boarding (a really big skateboard) in the afternoon, and mechanical bull riding at night (Hollywood, oh Hollywood), we headed up the coast and ended up in San Luis Obispo.

We made straight for the LBS [local bike shop] and asked for their hardest trail. The shocked boys in the store said they don't get a whole lot of women coming in and asking for the hardest trail, but he sent us to Montana d' Oro state park for some singletrack ridge riding. A hour climb led us to a vista over the Pacific with not a tree in site, and the long descent laid out in front of us ended up on the beach.

The next morning found us in Santa Cruz and after a visit to the Family Bike Center, the stunned local guys pointed us in the direction of the coolest trails in town. After a long drive up to the trail head in Nassene Woods State Park, we started climbing among the eucalyptus trees to reach the top of the ridge. The riding there is something quite different from the North Shore - armour is actually an option and not a nessesity, and Lycra does somehow make sense.

Our next destination was set, Marin County, the birthplace of the sport that I love so much. A little research on the Net and we decided to hit Tamarancho Scout Camp, eight miles of singletrack that take you through redwoods right up to rolling grasslands and a view of the original Repack downhill.

On the trail we met Jim, one of the godfathers of the sport and a participant of the Repack days [For those not in the know, Repack was the epic fire road downhill that the sport's pioneers - people like Tom Ritchey of Ritchey Bikes, Specialized founder Mike Sinyard, and Gary Fisher - rode and raced down on modified cruisers in the '70s. - Ed.]

Jim pulled a purple crystal out of his pack that he said he got in 1957 in Tibet. Apparently, it was was touched by the Dali Lama himself. He then pulled out another, smaller, white crystal, rubbed it against the larger one and gave it to me. He told me to bring it back to the Shore and place it somewhere that was special to me, and it would bring good karma.

After that experience, we got back in the truck again and ended up in Ashland, Oregon, a cute little town known more for its Shakespere festival than its riding. After a visit to the LBS, we were guided to Bear Creek Bikes for their shuttle bus that runs up Mt. Ashland three times a day. It's free, but donations are appreciated. There were eight guys from Redding, Cali on big DH bikes standing around the parking lot, and they didn't look impressed when two girls on 4x bikes showed up to invade their macho vacation.

We boarded the bus and John from Bear Creek took us up a winding canyon to the drop-off point. We all suited up and decided to ride together. A few minutes into the ride and the boys from Redding will never prejudge girls coming on their rides again. Four miles of fast singletrack led us to a rock quarry with two dozen cliff drops of all sizes, with lots of gap jumps at the bottom, and we sessioned them for a whille. What a blast.

Another day of driving found us in Hood River, Oregon. Yeah, it's known for windsurfing but it's also known for some long decents. We chose a different route up Post Canyon, a long twisty singletrack climb with lots of skinnies beside a trail that ended up on top of the ridge. The first trail called Family Man is full of little ladders to practice on before the fast ride back to the car and the end of our riding adventure.

This trip is one that I've wanted to do for years and it was everything I wanted and more - singletrack for miles, sunny weather, and some VERY interesting people. The world is full of people who love riding just as much as we do here on the North Shore, and if you go there smiling they will gladly point you in the right direction.