Obviously, there was no snow, so we weren't going skiing. We were getting a taste of lift-served mountain biking, an activity that I can imagine could be quite addictive. My first thought was that taking the lift up the mountain rather than pedaling should be considered lazy -- or even cheating. Maybe it should, but it was really fun and I'm very glad we gave it a try.
On Mt. Crested Butte, there is a nice selection of bicycling trails to choose from. Some are long smooth "cross country" trails that wind around the mountain, flat and even slightly uphill in places. Others fall into the category of "downhill" and take a more direct route down the mountain.
At first the kids were a little anxious about the ski lift, since there were no seatbelts, and sitting loosely on a little seat with feet hanging in the air a hundred feet above the rocky ground felt precarious. They enjoyed the thrill of it, I think. We could sit four to a chair but our bikes had to come up after us, each bike hanging on the back of an empty chair. At the top, the lift attendant unloaded each bike and handed it gently to it's owner, who had to haul it down some wood stairs to the open gravel area that was the trailhead.
For the first ride, Heather stayed down with Cailan while the rest of us went to the top. Chris tested out some of the longer cross country trails on his own while we scaq started out with the trail rated the easiest. It was called "Luge" and was described as "a wider gravity assisted singletrack trail that flows through moderate terrain featuring man made berms and rollers."
The Luge trail started out slightly rocky with a few steep downhill sections that exceeded Quinn's fear tolerance. I tried yelling at him, but that just made it worse. Cindy couldn't yell at him because her sore throat was preventing her from talking, let alone yelling. Eventually, he realized the hills were well within his ability, and just looked scary from the top.
After its bumpy start, the Luge left the rocks and became a very gentle trail, smooth and winding, wide and fast, as its name would suggest. We flowed down the mountain like rushing water. The kids loved it. I loved it. With all the rain, the surface was soft and grippy, muddy in places. I followed Quinn at nearly 20 miles an hour, thrilled to watch him catching controlled (usually) chunks of air as he bunny-hopped the frequent rollers. Fear and inexperience, maybe a rational sense of self-preservation, kept the kids from letting loose of the brakes and making full use of the berms around the corners.
Heather and Abbey on the lift:
The view from the top was nice, despite the cloudy wet weather.
Cindy following Quinn along one of the cross country trails.
Heather, Chris, and I took one ride on a newer more challenging cross country route called "Westside." The description stated:
Westside is an epic new piece of single track that will keep you smiling. Flowing trail sections through forests of aspen and pine are the highlight of this ride.
It was indeed brand new; some sections looked like perhaps the grass had been cleared from the path only a few days before. We wondered if more than a handful of riders had yet ridden the trail. It was fun and challenging, and took us a little further away from the civilization of the resort. Here's Heather coming out of a uniform stand of aspens. Can you see her broken finger?
Q&A each climbed the artificial rock. I told Abbey that if she failed to make it to the top, she would not eat for the rest of the day. She's a growing girl, usually hungry, and made a strong and steady climb to the bell at the top.
All three kids got in two rounds each of bungee jumping - the first round in the rain. This looked fun, too. After being clipped in while standing on the trampoline, the bungee cords were wound tight with an electric motor, and the victim was lifted into the air. The attendant then pulled the victim down to the trampoline, just like a slingshot, and the poor child was launched into the air.
Here's Cailan getting ready to fly:
Quinn, after the launch:
Back on the bikes, Heather and Abbey went racing down the Luge again, hair blowing in the wind. Are their smiles expressions of joy, or is the wind in their faces pushing their cheeks back as they surpass the speed of sanity?
Speaking of sanity, or lack thereof, Chris and I did a couple of trips down a trail called "Avery."
Avery is the Downhill race course for the annual Wildflower Rush. Avery throws a little of everything your way as you descend through pine forest, rock gardens, fast open terrain, and man made jumps.
Avery simply zig-zagged under the ski lift. The trail probably represented an upper limit of downhill difficulty for me and my RZ. Although I must admit to bypassing the biggest drop, which I would estimate was more than 6 feet if not 10, we did quite well together. Its 140mm suspension fork got me through some very challenging rock gardens at high speed unscathed, much to my surprise. Much more of that sort of trail though, and I'd be looking for a purpose-built downhill bike with 8 to 10 inches of fork travel -- and perhaps a full face helmet and some body armor.
On our second trip down Avery, Cindy and Abbey rode the lift down while Chris and I rode the trail. They were able to get some nice pictures of us speeding down, but the jumps and rock gardens were mostly in the trees hidden from view. It seemed that every time Chris and I shot out of the trees, we'd see the them on the lift. Even with a couple of minor crashes (Chris's was quite impressive and acrobatic), Chris and I still got down the mountain before Cindy and Abbey.
When the ski lift closed at the end of the day, we drove to Grand Junction.
I've never been on a ski lift without skis. Or snow.
ReplyDeleteI've never been on a ski lift with skis. Or snow.
ReplyDeleteGood. Between the two of us, we've covered all the bases.
ReplyDelete