Thirty years ago, the La Ho Trail in Codorus State Park, PA was one of the first trails I rode on a mountain bike. A rigid bike ride of only 1.7 miles, it opened up an entirely new world of adventure to me.
I was hooked from the get-go.
The trail winds around a cove of the human-made Lake Marburg, which serves as a recreational playground for hikers, horseback riders, fishers, boaters, kayakers, SUPers, ice-skaters … and mountain bikers, though today we are restricted to another area of the park for riding dirt. It’s also a local water resource reservoir for local communities.
La Ho Trail is closed to mountain biking these days. So, I went for a hike.
The trail starts in the trees above, thick canopy shielding you from direct sunlight, though the other morning, it was overcast.
Singletrack is tight, and the conditions are buggy and muggy. While walking, I was mind-riding my bike, something we all do, as mountain bikers.
Walking La Ho, I thought of those early days of riding. How far we’ve come as mountain bikers; access is much improved, as well as the technology.
Not going down nostalgia road, I did have a thought of how fun it was to simply mash away back in the day and try to ride as fast as possible, not thinking about breathing, obstacles, pedal strikes, cadence, proper changing of gears.
The peak-a-boo views are still there. They never get old or mundane.
Then I came up to the quick, steep uphill and its mangled madness of root and rock. I smiled and took it all in. That section of trail was my nemesis. I remember the one and only time I cleaned it: it was a warm summer evening and I could not believe I did it. My lungs were bursting and my happiness factor went Richter.
The memory bank ride on La Ho was well worth it. Being mindful of where we’ve come from provides a measuring stick through time, possibly assisting us in mapping out where we still want/need to go.
No Dabs is a monthly column by James Murren that celebrates our mountain biking community and lifestyle.
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