Wednesday, December 26

Four days gone

The four day weekend of unscheduled living has left me feeling like nine day old gravy found in the back of the fridge about to be poured all over the remaining thee days of work this week.  The Faster Mustache Team Building Exercise 2012 went well enough, all things considered.  Things like only four of ten teammates made the first ride and only three of ten stayed the night in Pisgah.

Team riders Colin, Kurt, Zac and myself were joined by the enigmatic Dude for Saturday's ride.

It was not a ride for the faint of heart.  It would have been best started earlier in the day, given that it was the sunlight shorted day after the solstice.  A late departure, some Bojangles biscuits eaten in-house, and clearing wind damage related debris out out of our parking spaces before hitting the trails littered with limbs, branches, and entire trees.

Early'ish in the day, after only clearing the trail ten or so times, spirits were high.

Terrible team portrait.

Booters were lofted by some and most definitely not me.

Kurt, Zac, and Dude all had their way with the beast.

Sometimes the beast had its way with them.

By the end of the day, all the airborne members of our crew took their turns in the dirt.  Zac managed to bust a tire, tweak a rim, and kink a hydro line.  Kurt bwonged his head as he threaded the needle between two trees after a lander boosted him back in the air for a second moment of glory.  The Dude also touched the floor, but it was the earth that took most of the damage that time.

The ride was not all daisies and buttercups.

As is pretty standard for a proper Pisgah ride, there was some hike-a-bike.  A bit late in the day for some, but when you want to get to the top, that's the price you pay.  All complaints were rescinded once we made the final descent of the day.

The camp aspect was interesting.  Getting off the trail just before dark, we scoped the woods for a place in the twilight.  Finding an open spot was easy, as there were no other idiots camping in Pisgah that night, but we were being picky and insisting upon a perfect site.  Camp was made in the darkness, firewood collected and burnt, camp-a-dillas made and consumed, and beer drank.

We woke up to frost.

And frozen socks.

And breakfast for champions...

For the first and last time I had a chocolate fudge Pop Tart/bacon sandwich.  It was good, but not good enough to repeat on purpose.

The second day's ride was much less ambitious, given the drinking and whole sleeping at sub 20° the night before.  It was noon before we set off on a Sycamore area loop complete with a stop at The Pisgah Tavern on the way home.  I'm starting to think certain people live there... no, not you Clay, K***tz, or Baucom.  I mean all the other guys there.

Then two days of Christmas celebrating with the family, picking up my gift to me/from me, eating, cleaning the last seven rides worth of muck off the Dick:Stickle, and generally skewing my sense of reality just enough that the idea of heading to work in this rain storm seems like a fitting end.

It's not the heat, it's the humidity.

1 comment:

Kurt said...

Reading this makes me want to do this all over again. In the summer.