Cobwebs

My trail choice was poor. I rode past a bunch of entrances and eventually settled on Seventh Secret. The only good news was that I talked myself down from riding Bookwus, an even jankier trail, rated double black on Trailforks. I crashed on it in the spring, when I was feeling pretty good about my riding. I rode off the back side of an a-frame, landing unhurt on my back, deep in the rhubarb about 8 feet below the point where I'd left my bike. It was wet though and there may have been some vitamins in the water. My two buddies had no better luck on the day, and they gave me a little shit for my trail choice. So Seventh it was. It's a trail that most of my buddies hate because it's so awkward. The term janky was coined by someone riding Seventh for the first time. Or at least the mature Seventh Secret. I should clarify that once Seventh was loamy, like every trail on the North Shore, but it is now down to bedrock or worse, bedrock paved with interlocking granite stones. For many years I shared their distaste but in the last couple I'd figured out a lot of the trail and for the first time felt like I could ride it with a reasonable amount of flow, and carry a little bit of speed.* Sensing confidence was a poor strategy, I had a little meeting with myself before dropping in. The verdict we came to was to sacrifice speed* for smoothness .

*only a relative term when it comes to Seventh Secret. Only Jesse Melamed can make it truly speedy.

Most riders get the majority of their saddle time in the fairer months. I rode quite a bit in July, including the most riding I've ever done during Crankworx, but in August I spent most of my time with my family at Shuswap Lake, where the only trail I know of nearby got torched last year, and then bulldozed this year. I managed a couple of rides on the Shore early in the month and I spent a day at Sun Peaks (which was very fine). Otherwise it was a lot of beer drinking and boating. I've heard it's good to take a bit of a break from the bike once a year, and since I ride quite a bit during the other 11 months, this sounds truthy. Coming back however, can be tricky. My body felt okay thanks to some moderately healthy activity, but on the morning of my first return ride, I felt something shift in my back while doing some old man yoga. It wasn't bad enough to keep me off the bike but things felt unstable in my lower lumbar. This, added to my hiatus, left me with a bad case of nerves. I knew it would only take one miscalculation to leave me bleeding and whimpering in a trail puddle. I also knew that this nervousness made a crash significantly more probable. I've heard it said one should commit, or eat shit? I was noncommittal.

The descent was like a five act play. I felt okay on the first stretch and then I bobbled, coming to a complete standstill, my front tire touching a tree. I regrouped and started to get a feel for the tires, only to ride right off the side of the one true skinny on the trail, a move I hadn't missed in years. I started off the first long bench cut section relatively well, for someone riding slowly, but I pretended the optional log ride didn't exist. I also skipped the one rock roll on the trail and, immediately after, a tricky plank up to a huge fallen log with a steep ramp off the other side. These aren't hard moves but each can end badly. Normally I would have felt ashamed of riding by but it didn't even bug me. It didn't even bug me that it didn't bug me. That disturbed me a little. I began to wonder if I had started my inevitable decline and if I would ever ride well enough to smile again.

I needed Expresso*. It's one of the few flow trails on Fromme and it seems to get better every year, thanks to the effort of volunteers, trails sponsors, and paid builders, all coordinated by the excellent work of the nsmbA, our local trail association. It's also one of the most popular trails in the world, according to Trail Forks.

*Espresso? There is some debate about which name was first, but we always called it Expresso, like the Brodie frame of the same name. I realize that the Italian shot of coffee is spelled with an s where the x is.

It used to be that Ladies Only was my comfort trail, but the speed of Expresso is seductive. I occasionally felt like I could ride on the way down but I went right past the trail's signature move, a plank that leads to a ride down a steep and smooth rock; Expresso Smooth. It had been so long since I'd skipped it that I wasn't sure how to navigate the ride around. Later on there is a move that's like a very small road gap, (a trail gap?), and it had been worked on. The transition had been indistinct the last time I'd ridden it but someone had built it up and placed a log to preserve and extend the top of the landing. That change, combined with a timid approach, left me hurtling toward a tree after a hard case. Just when I was certainthe end was near, I found a little grip and squeaked by.

The bottom section of Expresso is a well-bermed flow ribbon with many turns that are just a little too tight (for me) to take at full speed. I started to feel like I might one day be able to ride a bike on this section and the glow intensified on the lower section, which includes a couple of bridges that can be gapped. As usual I cased the first one and cleared the second one. I was starting to have a little fun.

The happy ending of this ride is a short climb up to Lower Digger, another trail that's been made to flow but more toward the technical end of the spectrum, with some drops, ramps, and lots of things to double up. This was the first time of the ride that I almost felt like my best self. I wasn't quite charging (for me) but I was almost, almost charging.

I ended the ride with a smile on my face, feeling like the path back to pace, composure and confidence had been illuminated, showing the way but also how painful and shitty it might be. My smile widened a little more.