Moon Point

Short Version:
We ride upriver and uphill, then downhill and downriver. I fall off.

Long Version:
The Middle Fork Trail meanders its way between river and road for someting like 34 miles in total. We rode the first 10 or so, and thoroughly enjoyed it. The temperature in near the river was spot on for riding, and the trail itself served up a good balance of packed dirt and rounded river stones, and a mix of open and twisting sections. Predominantly flat, although trending uphill alongside the river, there was just the right amount of pedalling required, without being overly-demanding. Which is good, because all-too-soon we cut across the highway and started to climb towards Young's Rock and Moon Point.

We climbed a gravel road for a long time. It could have become monotonous, as well as painful, but the random intervals between the flocks of ravenous mosquitoes, and their ability and willingness to bite not only moving targets, but to do so through clothing including shirts, shorts, gloves and socks kept things interesting. It was quite hot, so both of us were trying to find the optimum balance between shade (more mosquitoes) and no-shade (more heat).

Both Moon Point and Young's Rock are massive rock outcrops, and both looked mighty impressive from the roadway. We had plenty of time to stare at both during the 2+ hours we spent hauling ourselves up that hill. As always, Janine would have been at the top 15-50% faster had she not been waiting for me and, as always, a climb that long left me not only buggered, but bloody grumpy as well.

Luckily, the view from the top of Moon Point was spectacular, and the descent from there past Young's Rock and on to the bottom of the hill was pretty amazing. Steep sections with tight switchbacks gave way to free and open runs down through alpine meadows full of wildflowers, which led to cliff-face traverses, more meadows, more switchbacks, and yet more traverses. Halfway down we met some plant enthusiast hikers, who were very nice about almost being run over, and then we hit the fast part of the trail; more open + smoother surface = massive velocity possibilities. It's scary to think how fast locals must ride some of this stuff. Hell, it's scary riding it the speeds we were doing!

At the bottom we headed upriver to the next trailhead, then chopped in and back onto the Middle Fork Trail, seven miles or so upriver of where we'd left it. This upper section had some more hilly sections than the lower end, including some pretty grim switchbacks, one of which inflicted a series of wounds upon me, and upon my fancypants Black Butte Porter riding shirt. Boo! Hiss!

By the time we reached the van, nearly seven hours after we left it, we'd ridden just over thirty-two miles, and eaten something like 4000 vertical feet. We had blood, and we had sweat, but we had no tears - by the time I crashed I'd sweated out all my fluids, and Janine's too hardcore to cry.

We drove up a spot we'd seen in the woods on our way downriver and set up camp. The beer we'd earned with that massive uphill slog was delicious (after it'd been chilled in the river for a while), and we knew when we awoke next morning we'd be straight onto the trail for our rest-day ride: as many hours upriver as we felt like doing, and back down again. Sorted.