SSWC '18 Bend: Part One of Part Three

Bill Nye and I did a way better job "keeping it real" Wednesday night.  Our alarm at 7:00 AM (or so) was not the worst thing in the world.  A fridge full of grocery store burritos and refreshing hydration (and Coors) creating a safe hearth and home feeling.

We suit up for the 10:00 AM ride... hit the google for directions.  16384 Skyliners Rd. Only 3.6 miles away.

Or is it 11 miles away?

I send a pointless request for further details out into the ether.

Crickets.

So our plan is to ride out 3.6 miles, and if there's no one there?  Ride more Phil's trails?  Dunno.

Of course when we get to the closer of the two 16384 Skyliners Roads, we are alone.

I expect nothing more than the unexpected at these kinda events.

We stand there and contemplate for a bit, and then an SUV driving man from across the road asks, "You guys looking for the 10 o'clock ride?"

"Yeth."

So Larry and his not-having-his-helmet-with-him-but-hoping-to-find-one ass let us stack our bikes on top of his in the back of his rental, and together we head out (in comfort) the rest of the way to the more correcter of the two 16384 Skyliners Roads.

Henry from Bike Mag Germany was ubiquitous all week long.

We arrive and on time which means we probably only have to wait a half hour for the ride to start.  We're encouraged to load up on free beer, and soon after, we are rolling down the road towards... dunno.

Some punchy trail climbing later, and we're at Tumalo Falls.

Hey look, kids, There's Big Ben, Parliament, Tumalo Falls...

Plenty of interesting people on this ride, which I did a trbl job documenting.

Derek had a bouncy post on his rigid Vassago, the ironic mustache of seat posts.

West Coast Zac...

Who said his name was Trevor... but it was West Coast Zac.  Bike logos taped over, neon '80s fanny pack, stainless steel bottle, jorts on their last leg, rusty steel handlebar with a back story, four year old brakes that have never been serviced, and flat pedals with the pins removed for proper bare foot mountain biking.

After the long climb out, there was a rewarding descent... which gave us a true taste of what dry Bend riding could be like.  If you weren't first down the mountain, you needed to leave a really big gap if you wanted to see what was in front of you.  Silty dust clouded your vision and soiled your lungs.  Nobody seemed to care all that much, and we all held onto each other's wheels like our lives depended on it (which was the exact opposite of what was really happening).

Back at Dave's house and we are treated to a bag of tortillas, salsa, and more beer.

Always more beer.

Because Day Three was a l-o-n-g day, it's gonna get broken into two.

Thorry not thorry.