'17 Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest: Part Three

I woke up the next morning when I felt like it, and apparently much to the disappoint to most people, I did not look as bad as I shoulda given what I'd done to myself over the last 24 hours.   There's some bumble farting about, Jon and Dan hop on the Stroopwaffle & coffee ride that went right through our camp, and I head over to the Maxxis group ride... and immediately bail as soon as ride leader Scott says something about "all the trails" and "50 miles."

I head out with a much less ambitious agenda with Leaf Life, Jim, and Andy... and one or two or three or more others... dunno.   Our group split and more confusion and we finally got to ride Gene's Trail and over to Crack.

photo cred: Andy

That's where Jim got a nasty boo boo.  Exposed the meat in his arms.  Kinda gross.  We use the Gorilla Tape I keep in my Tülbag combined with his HandUp Glove to keep the blood and meat inside his arm where it belongs.

photo cred: Andy

So, we ride/walk Jim back out of the woods and over to the medical tent where they douse him in all kinds of stinging liquids.

Should we go back out?

Sure.

Abby joined us on this go around.  We got around to hitting Mother of Crack and a bunch of other stuff including the rather freshly cut Devil's Teacup... which was kinda nutty.

Get back to camp... and mebbe think about what's next.  After the day I'd had previously, I'm down with not swapping to liquid recreation so soon in the day.  Scott (whose 50 mile Maxxis ride wasn't quite) from Dirt Rag tells me that some folks are heading out to the vista on the Pine Loop with beers.  That sounds nice.  Couple beers and a view.

Ends up being Scott, myself, Damien... and Chainsaw Don with a cooler full of beer strapped to his back.

photo cred: Damien

Also ends up being more than a couple beers each and there's no easy way back.  We add on Pine Spur and when the others want to go down Mother of Crack (seen it), I bail down the gravel.  I get back and take what is pretty much the most awkward and poorly planned shower ever in my shoes and socks with nothing more than my dirty baggies to put on my soaking wet carcass when I'm done.

The previous night had taught me to at least throttle back a bit, and I spent the evening not embarrassing myself while others carried the torch with much pride.

A last day at Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest well spent.

Buenos.

'17 Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest: Part Two

The following images would prove to be the closest thing I have to a "memory" of what happened Friday night.

Although, I do remember taking a leak at the edge of the woods in full sight of everyone watching Blood Road and then falling down the hillside for no other reason than that I felt the pull of gravity and then just went with it.

And I mighta been rescued by Abby and Andy when they found me staring at a stage watching a band that had stopped playing quite awhile ago.

Only to find a second wind and end up shotgunning beers, trying to break my hand "thumb-gunning" beers, complaining about pour over coffee (apparently Christians shouldn't drink it and I was a Christian that night)... and other things.

Mebbe someone stole my gloves and put a bomb in my beer sack too.  Dunno.

Coulda been rocks and I found my gloves when I woke up the next morning, so really all a mystery at this point.

Andy making friends.

Jim making friends.

People that I know and more that I don't.

Chainsaw Don trying to drink through osmotic process.

I guess I asked everyone to join me in the photo booth.  Evidence.

My camera in the hands of another.

Me capturing someone capturing the Mo-ment.

This is acceptable behavior at Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest.

At some point, I rode a clunker on the airstrip and changed the settings on my camera to do this:

The Mo-man.

Andy, wondering how I'm still awake and/or alive.

Elizabeth made something like a thousand wood-fired pizzas.  I ate half of them.

Wheelie Jesus from TSE.

Devon (who encouraged most of the thumb-gun attempts).

Pizza...

Feet...

and crotch.

At some point, I went to bed or was forced there.  Either way, I'm glad that's where I ended up.

'17 Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest: Part One

So everyone's standing under EZ-Ups looking at their phones and checking the radar every five minutes looking for a window to get a ride in at some point.  Hours pass by...

Eventually, at a time I can't recall, the rain stopped and we kitted up.  Danimal, Jon, Jim, Leaf Life, Andy, and myself.  Andy's the one familiar with the area, so we follow his lead.

We roll some sweet ass trails.  I don't remember all the names.

I do recall a giant quicksand pit on Chunder Mountain(?) that had Andy pull a scorpion and myself landing pretty much on top of him.  That was delightful (to nearby observers).

photo cred: Andy

We go down Jump Trail, which has three jumps mebbe but a lot of climbing and rocks you can "jump," I guess.  Voo Doo Rocks and Crack are out that way, about as far out from the venue as you can get.  We decide to head over there...

And then on Voo Doo Rocks, the skies opened up.  It was a challenging trail, to say the least.  More so, what with the blinding rain and slight excite with the nearby crack of lightning.  We get to the intersection of Crack and Voo Doo and pull the plug.

I don't know how many miles it was back to camp, but we were already at the saturation point, so whatever.  The gravel roads were running deep with water.  Bearings were being toasted.  Once we got to the main road, we all cleaned up in the fast running ditch water that was right there before riding back into camp.

I guess I lied when I said I probably wouldn't bathe the whole weekend.

Back at the venue, the rain would let up for short periods, but I was never smart enough to get dry and change.  I did what any reasonable person would do.  I started drinking beer.

At some point in there, the rain just quit, and I got dry, and then I kept drinking... but at least I remembered to eat something before continuing to fall into the darkness that was Friday night.

Scott Williams on a geared bike (blech)...

and this...

These were a few of the last things I remember clearly, and they were also the beginnings of the things I'd like to never remember but will probably be reminded about until I'm ded.

'17 Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest: Preamble

I get off at 1:00PM as planned and meet Jim and Leaf Life in a parking lot as planned and swap my rack over to Jim's truck as planned and toss my shit in the back as planned and we took off for Fayetteville as planned and then everything from then on went as planned... so much to say that I planned for everything to go off the rails from there.

We get to New River Bikes and two of three people that we are supposed to travel with aren't inside, but the vehicle we're supposed to hop in isn't there either, so we walk around the shop and poke our noses in things.

Jon was busy getting his clunker ready for the weekend.

Clunkers are the ironic mustache and Hawaiian shirt of a mountain bike festival. 

They take security against bad hombres as serious as they take the local vampires. 

One thing about living in Fayetteville Jon never could stomach; all the damn vampires.

They had plenty of shiny new bikes but loads more bikes with what the French speaking people of Fayetteville called "l'histoire."

Silipints.  Why promoters aren't handing us non-breakable pint glasses at races that can be dropped by people who can't handle post-race free beer, I don't know.

Andy has a good supply of Backcountry Research products.  I was sure to fix his Tülbag display so all the Dicks were facing out.

I spend some time digging in the garbage, as I'm ought to do.

SRAM/Avoid product for days.  At least they're good for something, likekeeping this box from blowing away in a strong storm.

Eventually Andy and Abby (and the Wonder Bread Van) shows up but then Jon disappears and then Shanna from Endless Bikes rolls in with her sister in a magically timed manner as they were actually on their way to a wedding.

Somehow she talks us into some food products at a nearby brewery/pizza place thing and soon after it was realized that we were supposed to be on the road mebbe a couple hours ago so we leave out for the Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest.

We got there well after dark and set up our shelters and then made our way to what some might consider the Dirt Rag special victims area.  Beers were plentiful and tasty and everywhere and then at some point Evan Gross decided to shove me into a cooler.

photo cred: Jon

I believe this was less out of anger or mischief and more of a scientific experiment.  I think he wanted to see if I could drink myself out of drowning in beer like Bob McKenzie.

Anyways, I'm sure the evening went late, but I turned off my phone when I got there, so I dunno.  I woke up the next day feeling like I went little hard in the paint, but not too hard.  I at least felt good enough to go for a ride...

if only the thunder and lightning and monsoon rains would let up.