Burn all the witches and reroute all the ditches

Dragula etc.

Can't believe I got to ride not one but two former trail cum ditches (member when Watts's shop Revolution Cycles was referred to as a "bike shop cum bar?") in the past week.  New Upper Lower Black and then, as part of a much bigger loop, a new and improved and almost finished Yancey Ridge.

To be honest, I didn't know what I was getting myself into on Saturday.  I only knew that The Pie was outta town, Boppit had boarding booked so I could be irresponsible, and three ding dongs already had a "plan," so why not go along with whatever it is.

Up at 6:00, drop my dahg at the boarders at 7:00, roll in to Big 'n Buttery's strange mountain farm at 9:00... and watch them eat breakfast and futz about till 10:00... as I shoulda expected.

So as we rolled outta Big 'n Buttery's driveway and immediately banged a hard right, cut through a ditch, and started riding up a dilapidated, overgrown road bed, I asked "How long is this ride?  Like twenty or forty miles?"

"Yeth."

I have two slices of pizza and we started the ride at the top of a mountain so we'll have to get back up there eventually...

Headquarters...

to Harper's Creek to snack time.

Down Raider's Camp to second snack time at Betsy's...

where I only had a Coke and a small bag of Doritos because mebbe someone said we might come back here later which means hot dogs for supper.

Then the long haul over to Yancey Ridge.

I "love" the climb to get here.  Nothing like passing Jeeps and whatnot struggling with the gnar gnar.

That's Mount Dick out there in the distance.

There's been a ton of work done on Yancey.  Loads of drainage added, the trail has been shifted to get it outta some ugly places, and I was able to clean all the climby bits on a single speed... which was pretty nifty.

Eventually we made our way down to where the work is "to be continued," pretty much a reroute that will eliminate the lower ditch sections that have made Yancey infamous.

So we were treated to mebbe our last shot at said ditches.

I took these pictures at the outside edge of the turn from one ditch into the next with a huge wash to my left that drained right into ditch #2.  It's a pretty dire situation.  Of course, some would like to see the ditches remain.  Personally, I can foresee a day when all of us who fondly reminisce about the times we used to ride down ditches will be dead, and a new generations of riders will sit around campfires and talk about the ditch heroes of yesteryear. 

Out of the ditches for what will be my final time (mebbe?) and on towards home... with no second stop at Betsy's and me running on close to empty and thirty miles in my legs and more than ten to go and mostly up.  I stopped about 2/3 of the way up to sit in a ditch, contemplate life, and wait for the others... when look who rolls up?

Watts was out here graveling with his little frands for the weekend.  That's some kinda Pisgah magic that put us in the same place at the same time (although on different kinds of bikes and rides).  Come to find out, they were all staying at Barnyard's cabin which happened to be a hop, skip, and a jump from Big 'n Buttery's place.

So I asked if I could come crash their party... you know, once we finished our ride.

Most Wilson Creek rides look the ass opposite of this, ending in smiles of joy not taxed smirks of relief.

High five and fistings and head over to join Watts and Barnyard and Silas and Eric... and a whole bunch of other frands of frands and then out for Mexican food.

Felt good to be back in the Van of Constant Sorrow.

Good.  Just good.  They also have "Margaritas" too.

And then a beer run before heading back to the woods to sleep.

Honestly one of the best days I've had in a long time.  A dick beater of a ride with frands on some favorite trails followed by Mexican food and campfire beers with some other frands.  What an incredible way to end this era of bizarro world before going back to full time work again.