The drive was great. Traffic was decent and the ever present sound of rushing water made all the distractions disappear as I snaked along next to Clear Creek. Saw tons of great fly fishing spots but the water was running a tad high and fast for my likes. But the numerous rafters and kayackers looked like they were having a blast. Eventully made it to the first of 3 trail heads but after a quick 30 second ride from the car, I was forced to turn around and pack everything up again due to trail maintenance and drive another 15 minutes to the next trail head.
Finally got there and ready to ride. The conditions were perfect. Right around 60-65 degrees at 7000 feet and the sun shining bright. You could definitely tell it was spring in the Mountains. Everywhere you looked, the trails were painted in bright greens, blues, yellows, and whites. I kick myself for not lugging our camera in my hydration pack. But who needed the extra weight, I was about to get my a$$ kicked something hard.
The trail was Centennial Cone in Jefferson County which I heard was on the easier side.
So much for easy.
Over 900 feet of constant elevation change in about 14 miles. Thankfully the trails were glassy smooth and nary a technical section other than one or two rocky stair step sections.
The trail off the upper parking lot was a super fast downhill section for almost 3 miles. It was great rippin through dusty single track while a rainbow of colors blurred past me. But what goes down must come back up.?.?
Up and down up and down as the hours ticked by. I was having a blast. Then, BAMMMMMM......BAMMMMM! A very distant rumble of thunder was making its echoed way up the valleys to where I was biking. Great, just my luck and the weather guy said very slight chance of a spotty shower or two. I guess I was lucky enough to hit that one spot. I kept rippin it through the pines and rocks while keeping an eye out for those dreaded black clouds.
About halfway through the loop, I started to run low on gas and my hams were starting to burn but the trails were too much fun and the scenery kept getting better. Eventually I hit another closure sign about 9 miles in. This time for Elk. Apparently it was prime breeding time for elk and they stake claim to the upper meadow areas of the park. Out of respect for the horny elk, I decided to turn around and go back the way I came. This is where everything started to go very wrong.
Legs burning, running low on water, and no Clif Bars in my pack, I made my way back up and down up and down the mountains back toward the parking lot. About 2 miles into retracing my tracks those dredded black cloads surprised me as I turned a corner and the sky opened up. For the most part it remained just an annoying humidity raising sprinkle. Just enough to add spots to the glasses and make my jersey stick to my already sweaty body. At about 7 miles back from where I left the elk, I had my first crash on my new bike. I guess I have been riding on borrowed time for this long without a flesh wound or worse, a beauty mark on my new ride. Luckily it was my body that took the brunt of my careless momentum into a very tight switch back and not my pretty new bike. Not bad until I got back to the car to pick out the small rocks and dirt.
Post dirt and rock removal from side of knee.
Hams burning, knee getting sore, glasses blurry, shirt sticking I wind my way back up and down up and down thinking the whole way "why did I choose to ride a new trail today"? It was about 2 miles away from the parking lot, exhausted, that I lost the last bit of positive mental attitude I started with. Everything hurt, everything sucked. I stopped a few times to rest and suck my hydration pack dry but eventually made it back to the car.
Once packed up and sitting on the back end of my dirty Ford Explorer, I reflected on the ride and took in the high elevation scenery one more time. I thought, "Man what a ride............., I think I'll do it again next week". And that's why I love mountain biking and living in Colorado. Next time I'll bring the camera.
