Mrazek

Short Version:
A long ride, dust, Happy Birthday, Ma!

Long Version:
As I hauled myself out of bed and into the cold early* morning air, I received some messages from my legs hinting that I may, at some point during the day's ride, find myself wishing I'd not ridden quite so far, or quite so hard, or both, the previous evening. Few options for altering the past presented themselves, so it was into the van, and around the town to the north-east corner, where Shevlin Park presented us the perfect pre-ride picnic breakfast spot.

All caffeined up, we hit the trail: first the Shevlin Loop, then onto the Mrazek Trail, which we rode up for a long, long time. The gradient was fairly shallow, and with the trail surface at mid-summer dust over solid dirt, we were generating dust rooster-tails** even at uphill speeds, so in the interests of minimizing lung/eye/nostril issues we were well-spaced to the point where I was lamenting the absence of a music device. There were more and more wildflowers in evidence the higher we rode, and we had some pretty spectacular views, both from the trail and from scrambly climbs up rock-piles we spied along the way.

One of the mountains we'd been admiring was Mount Tumalo***, and at the top of the Mrazek we hooked left and down the face of the ridge, into the valley at its base. Janine managed some serious carnage on the way down, layering bruise upon bruise, with some showing clearly both point of impact and subsequent drag-path across her skin. Poor wee poppet. Luckily, the rather pretty Tumalo*** Falls awaited us at the bottom, so there was a break in proceedings before we started to climb the North Fork Trail back to the ridgeline.

This was, we later agreed, a really lovely climb, with many small waterfalls and scenic viewpoints to appreciate throughout its firm-surfaced shallow-gradient four miles of up.

At the time, though, we were a-hating. Someone had a cold and was tetchy after falling off, and someone else is crap at riding up hills. Can you guess which one is whom?

We reached the Happy Valley alpine meadows eventually, and found sunbathers, patches of snow, and a posse of seniors indulging in some sort of orienteering exercise, all within a fairly small radius. The senior folks weren't as much fun as the little old lady who'd lunged towards me on the trail up, saying something about pushing me. I wasn't sure if she meant "...up the trail" or "off my bike." She didn't press the issue, so I [escaped unmolested / passed by unassisted] - delete as appropriate.

From Happy Valley it was an easy run through the predominantly flat, occasionally technical Farewell and Farewell Springs trails, then a blast back down the hill on Mrazek.

All 13+ miles of it.

The dust clouds we were kicking up were pretty sizeable, and hung in the air for ages in places where the air was still, so we stayed even further apart than we had been. Obstacles we'd rolled over on the way up were now launching us into the air, and the reasons behind the numerous skidmarks leading off the trail's edge was becoming plain; Mrazek is FAST when you're riding down. The open sections were full of suicidal chipmunks and squirrels, and there were a number of points where the trail slipped between two trees with barely enough room for handlebars to fit through****. Infrequent rocky sections offered no respite for aching hands and forearms, and the trail seemed to go on forever, which was both a good thing (we were going downhill, and it was fun) and a bad (we were running late to call my Ma to say Happy Birthday).

Eventually, we made it back to the park, and the van, and we set off into town, to the Silver Moon Brewery, where we sat and had a pint and spoke to Ma on Waiheke using the wi-fi connection belonging to the tattoo place across the street which went bust several months ago.

Happy Birthday Ma!







* = But not as early as we'd planned - getting actual sleep after the previous night's shenanigans was very nice.

** = I'd noticed this effect the day before, coming down Funner, which was both dustier and quicker than going uphill on the Mrazek. I fancied I must've looked, were anyone shadowing me from above - in a stealth-mode helicopter, for instance - that I must've looked like the footage of assorted two- and four- and more-wheeled vehicles blasting across the desert in the Paris-Dakar race. Only much, much slower. And less impressive.

*** = (TUM-a-low). Which is a cool word to say aloud. Try it, you'll like it.

**** = Based on me the descent, the appropriate technique for dealing with an obstacle of that nature is as follows:
1. Get your trajectory lined up as best you can with the gap between the trees
2. Turn your hands in towards the center of the bar - this pulls your outside fingers away from the danger zone at the ends of the bar but leaves you still - nominally - in control
3. Close your eyes until you're [safely through the gap / motionless on the ground] - delete as appropriate