Short Version:
A lazy day, neighbors, a fantastic re-ride, leaving the Lost Coast
Long Version:
After 2.5 hours on the trai
l, the egg-burger dinner was more than welcome, as was the open-fire-grilled corn. The fire had the additional positive effect of driving off some of the hordes of mosquitoes which were circling Janine*. We were knackered, so hit the sack early, and slept la
te, which was very nice. We followed that up with a day of relative laziness, with only a 45-minute run and an hour-long hike gettiWe spied a young deer ng us off our rapidly-spreading backsides. (Bambi!) bounding across the road about quarter of the way into the run - and by 
"bounding" I mean exactl
y that - all four trotters hit the ground at once, propelling it several feet up and twice that forward each time. Cute critter.
We cooked on the open fire again** then prepped for an early ride in the morning then went to bed early. Alas, Operation "Good Night's Sleep" was thwarted by an influx of personages, starting with "Solo Bearded Man," who changed his mind about setting up camp on the other side of the track from us and moved to Loop B instead. He was followed by "Group of Young People," who took up residence in the spot that Solo Bearded Man had vacated, and talked and laughed and sung "Happy Birthday" worse than I've ever heard it sung before. Honestly, it sounded like five recordings of amateur groups singing the song badly being played at once, each slowed down a different amount without being pitch-shifted. Later, after someone in the same tent as me was snoring gently, there were two late arrivals, each of whom set up camp in the dark, with varying degrees of competence and soundlessness***.
A lazy day, neighbors, a fantastic re-ride, leaving the Lost Coast
Long Version:
After 2.5 hours on the trai
l, the egg-burger dinner was more than welcome, as was the open-fire-grilled corn. The fire had the additional positive effect of driving off some of the hordes of mosquitoes which were circling Janine*. We were knackered, so hit the sack early, and slept la
te, which was very nice. We followed that up with a day of relative laziness, with only a 45-minute run and an hour-long hike gettiWe spied a young deer ng us off our rapidly-spreading backsides. (Bambi!) bounding across the road about quarter of the way into the run - and by 
"bounding" I mean exactl
y that - all four trotters hit the ground at once, propelling it several feet up and twice that forward each time. Cute critter.We cooked on the open fire again** then prepped for an early ride in the morning then went to bed early. Alas, Operation "Good Night's Sleep" was thwarted by an influx of personages, starting with "Solo Bearded Man," who changed his mind about setting up camp on the other side of the track from us and moved to Loop B instead. He was followed by "Group of Young People," who took up residence in the spot that Solo Bearded Man had vacated, and talked and laughed and sung "Happy Birthday" worse than I've ever heard it sung before. Honestly, it sounded like five recordings of amateur groups singing the song badly being played at once, each slowed down a different amount without being pitch-shifted. Later, after someone in the same tent as me was snoring gently, there were two late arrivals, each of whom set up camp in the dark, with varying degrees of competence and soundlessness***.
When we arose at 0530****, we found both fog and a chill in the air, and it was still semi-dark when we set off to re-ride the Paradise Royale. Some of the birds we encountered along the first stretch seemed unimpressed at having a pair of mountain-bikers blast through their homes at high speed at that unseemly hour, but we were having a ball! A bit of local knowledge goes a long way when it comes to decisions on whether or not one can safely hit a jump at speed, or whether one needs to be braking in advance in order to avoid doom on an imminent subsequent corner. All too soon we were at the base of the climb*****, but then before we knew what was afoot we were at the top of the first chunk, and enjoying hugely the joys of the Fool's Paradise section, which I feel I've damned with faint praise thus far - it was wonderful! The flow of the trail, the sweep and the dive and the speed we were attaining; as I rode this section I wondered what had stopped me enthusing about its charms more when I first wrote about the trail.
After one minor (major embarrassing!) uphill slow-motion crash, we hit the main downhill section, and I remembered why I'd not raved more about Fool's Paradise the first time; because the Mad Queen's Tango is longer, faster, steeper, and just generally more than the Fool's Paradise. Nene was faster than I was, which I suspect was revenge for having taken uphill stage honors the previous ride, and we both caught some good air off some of the jumps, threw our bikes round some of the corners, and generally had a whale of a time.
We skipped the evil finale-grovel in favor of a leisurely meander up the road for the last few hundred feet, finishing the ride in a new Nene/Puppet record for the Paradise Royale of 2h07m, then ate food, drank coffee, and broke camp, and set off to complete the dirt road loop back to Highway 101. Of course, when we said "complete the loop," we didn't actually mean "go all the way back to where we originally left the highway," but that's pretty much what we ended up doing. Still not entirely sure how, but we're not bemoaning the fact too much, as we saw some pretty wonderful groves of enormous trees and still made it to the Lost Coast Brewery and Cafe in Eureka in time to catch the start of the Espana v Deutschland semi-final.
Go Espana, crush those nasty Germans!
* = One of the main reasons I married Janine was the fact that almost all the blood-sucking insects we've encountered together have strongly preferred dining upon her tender flesh to trying to sink a fragile proboscis into my leathery, distasteful skin. Like a goat tethered to a stake, she's my mosquito distractant.
** = Our DoC-induced campfire-antipathy is fast being overpowered by the combination of the Amerikan belief that a campfire is an integral part of the camping experience, and the fact that campfires are actually really really nice.
*** = Somehow, the solo cycle-tourer managed to make an incredible amount of noise getting his tiny tent up, yet the folks in the 4WD had set up two separate tents so quietly that I'd assumed they were sleeping in their vehicle for the night. Not that I'm casting aspersions in the direction of the cycle-tourer though - we found his inbound tyre-tracks later in the day, and anyone who can ride that road at all, let alone in the dark and hauling all their gear with them, basically has a licence to make as much noise as they want as far as I'm concerned
**** = We'd set the alarm for 0500, but it was still dark. Or possibly we didn't actually open our eyes. At any rate, it was 0530 when we finally dragged our gritty-eyed sleep-deprived selves out of the tent.
***** = That was the last I saW of Janine until the top. Point proved? I think so.
After one minor (major embarrassing!) uphill slow-motion crash, we hit the main downhill section, and I remembered why I'd not raved more about Fool's Paradise the first time; because the Mad Queen's Tango is longer, faster, steeper, and just generally more than the Fool's Paradise. Nene was faster than I was, which I suspect was revenge for having taken uphill stage honors the previous ride, and we both caught some good air off some of the jumps, threw our bikes round some of the corners, and generally had a whale of a time.
We skipped the evil finale-grovel in favor of a leisurely meander up the road for the last few hundred feet, finishing the ride in a new Nene/Puppet record for the Paradise Royale of 2h07m, then ate food, drank coffee, and broke camp, and set off to complete the dirt road loop back to Highway 101. Of course, when we said "complete the loop," we didn't actually mean "go all the way back to where we originally left the highway," but that's pretty much what we ended up doing. Still not entirely sure how, but we're not bemoaning the fact too much, as we saw some pretty wonderful groves of enormous trees and still made it to the Lost Coast Brewery and Cafe in Eureka in time to catch the start of the Espana v Deutschland semi-final.
Go Espana, crush those nasty Germans!
* = One of the main reasons I married Janine was the fact that almost all the blood-sucking insects we've encountered together have strongly preferred dining upon her tender flesh to trying to sink a fragile proboscis into my leathery, distasteful skin. Like a goat tethered to a stake, she's my mosquito distractant.
** = Our DoC-induced campfire-antipathy is fast being overpowered by the combination of the Amerikan belief that a campfire is an integral part of the camping experience, and the fact that campfires are actually really really nice.
*** = Somehow, the solo cycle-tourer managed to make an incredible amount of noise getting his tiny tent up, yet the folks in the 4WD had set up two separate tents so quietly that I'd assumed they were sleeping in their vehicle for the night. Not that I'm casting aspersions in the direction of the cycle-tourer though - we found his inbound tyre-tracks later in the day, and anyone who can ride that road at all, let alone in the dark and hauling all their gear with them, basically has a licence to make as much noise as they want as far as I'm concerned
**** = We'd set the alarm for 0500, but it was still dark. Or possibly we didn't actually open our eyes. At any rate, it was 0530 when we finally dragged our gritty-eyed sleep-deprived selves out of the tent.
***** = That was the last I saW of Janine until the top. Point proved? I think so.
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