Monday, August 25

2014 Westward Ho Before Bros Mancation: Days One and Two

Let's skip past the part where I'm sitting in the Denver airport wondering where everybody is because of a few confusing emails...

Wirun scooped me, back to Chad's house to get Ryan and we're on our way towards Breckenridge maybe two hours or so later than planned.

Where I spent a fair amount of my vacation time... navigating, eating Peanut M&M's, drinking, logistificating and drooling on myself.

We stopped in Frisco to hit the Peaks Trail to Breck and back.  Not much of an epic, but fresh off a plane (and for them, a 24 hour car ride) and headed to 10,000+ feet, not a bad way to wet the finger... which I was informed is not actually the correct phrase.

Prep time for the Shirtless Club for Men at some random parking lot in Frisco.

Peaks Trail is pretty mellow (for Breck), but given our late start and gray skies, it was the best bet.

Bill Nye aboard his new Devinci something or other...

And Wirun on (and sometimes off) his Spot Honey Badger SS.

Great to see that in the high country, they must offer free poop bag removal... as long as it's in a green bag.  KEEP BRECK GREEN!!!

Waiting for Bill Nye and Wirun, I decided to start my series of "My Bike Leaning Against Things" photos.

It's the new wildflower.

Set  up for a sweet shot on Bill Nye only to be thwarted by oncoming traffic... it would become a theme.

Wirun, like 1,000 times more better at timing than Bill Nye.

This Mancation brought to you by Faster Mustache, Swiftwick, Thomson, Enduro™, Industry Nine and Pro Gold...

unless you are Wirun and run a belt drive which means you look down on people who use lubricants on a daily basis.

After making a fast break for the parking lot once we heard thunder in the distance...

it was time to get cleaned up river style for the Breck Epic Stage 7 after party in Breckenridge.

Mike McCormack (BE promoter) had given us what some would call "loose permission" to stay out near the hockey rink for the night with the other tent campers... except that when we got there, everyone had buggered off to the awards, and apparently nobody tent camps the Breck Epic anymore.  We bought a twelve pack so as to not fall too far behind the rest of the pack and set up our hobo camp in the woods behind the arena.

Bill Nye kept us entertained whilst we played catch up, bending discarded tent stakes with the power of his mind.

A half hour later, we caught up with the party goers... at the Gold Pan... I think.  What followed was the typical night of drinking, dancing, tolerating some obnoxious gas, meeting some of this year's noobies, hanging out with old friends, more drinking and dancing, and then the long walk back to our hobo camp.
I was up at 6:00AM, but I was also alone watching the sun smash the east side of the mountains behind our camp in light.

I paced around for an hour before giving up on an early start to day two.  I was back in my sleeping bag by 7:00AM, not to rise again until 9:00PM.  By the time Bill Nye, Wirun and The Chad assembled for breakfast, it was probably lunch time back in North Carolina.  More than 24 hours fueled by airport Chinese and beer.  After I choked back my sad breakfast decision of twelve uncondimented eggs wrapped in a tortilla, we headed towards Canyon Creek, about 45 minutes west of Salida...

only to get there, realize that we were not only too late to get in a dry ride, but that we would also be too late getting into Salida before the hostel closed.  So we got right back in the vehicles, backtracked to Salida, and rode on the Salida Mountain Trails right in town... or as I like to call them, the Pea Gravel Mountain Trails.

My bike, leaning against another thing.

Bill Nye, trying to get some mad air, once again thwarted from glory by oncoming traffic, this time an unaware photo bomb by The Chad.

No one thwarts The Chad.

Bill Nye... unthwarted.

The view from somewhere high up on Pea Gravel Mountain looking at Ice Cream Sundae Hill.

Coming down Uncle Nazty was way molar fun than anything else we did that day.

At the very bottom of Uncle Nazty, on the easiest move of the trail...

I didn't want to come home looking like I just worked on my tan.

The trail vanquished, it was time for beer and House Recipe ketchup chasers at some random restaurant with riverside seating...

Followed by a quiet night at the hostel, where I challenged Bill Nye to swap from the third tier bunk to the second level without using the ladder.

He could not.

1 comment:

BUCK said...

Yeah! Dicky is home. See you at the 100 little man.

Keep posting until then, I want to feel like I was on the Mancation.