Van of Constant Sorrow '19: Day Two

Wake up wrapped in the cool, white sheets in Scott's guest room, my legs stiff with exhausted effort, my head thick with good beer, my eyes blurry with dust particles.  Coffee and planning commences.

Watts is looking at the possible weather, practicable driving routes, potential trail systems, plausible sites where we can park a van and sleep... all while maintaining reasonable drive time and keeping within our goal of being in Bentonville by midday Friday.  A plan unfolds, the van is packed, high fives are given... and a few minutes after the van rumbles back to life, we depart Knoxville.

The trail system that Watts had found along our route is fine, or in his exact words, "shit trails in garbage woods."

It's not that they were terrible trails.  They just weren't destination, drive one seventh of the way across the country worthy. 

We rode mebbe twelve miles (the entire system) before getting back to the van.  Crack a beer.  Scratch our heads...

I told Watts that I'd be willing to ride all those trails again but backwards.  He's not willing by any means.  While he looks at what else we could possible fit in, I pick up the assorted litter that's been tossed from people's cars into the grass and walk it all of twenty yards to the nearest trash can and throw it on top of a pile of all-too-hastily wadded up dirty diapers.  I guess I wouldn't mind going somewhere else.

We load up (without de-chamoising) and drive to another trail.

Watts and I have different theories about how to ride a new trail system.  He likes to save the best trails for last in order to save himself from ending the ride on a ho-hum note.  Personally, I like to hit the best stuff first while I'm still fresh and then ride ho-hum trails in a ho-hum manner.  Since he's doing the lion's share of the logistics, I defer to his preferences.  I've told him that I had zero expectations at the very start of planning this trip, so I feel it's best to stick to that theme.

We get to the new trail head and quickly get to the business of riding bikes, starting with the greenest of the green trails first.  After some navigational challenges on just-okay trails, we finally get to one called "Downhill."  It says it's one way, but the first mile or so felt anything but "downhill."  We turn around and try to figure something/anything better.

Finally over to the spiderweb of black'ish trails and more navigating and riding what feels like a route going the wrong direction until we get to the end and figure out that it indeed was absolutely wrong.  We ride it the other way, and it's much buenos, but then I realize that we're in a new time zone and the sun is going to set... when?

Google says, "soon."

Doh.

We make haste back to the van because neither one of us wants to ride single track with an iPhone flashlight guiding the way.

I'm le tired.

Crack a beer and more head scratching and we're on our way to Natchez Trace to make camp.  We get there too late to check in, pull into a site, stand in hot showers hoping erosion will take the place of proper soaps, share the only towel we brought to dry off (my MAXXIS towel, me using the MAX end, Watts the XIS), drop the bed into place and fall asleep to the sounds of all the horses in camp making all their typical horse noises.

*chomp, chomp, neigh, fart, neigh, shit, chomp*