Do you remember the trail(s) that you used to love to ride? What was it that made you feel that way? Was it the way it turned or descended? The scenery? Did it have to do something with your skills progression, it being the right trail at the right time for you? What about the bike you were riding then? Was it an after work trail or one you would travel to on the weekend?
Recently, I rode Anderson Truck Trail in east county San Diego for the first time in years. I can’t really pinpoint why I had stopped riding it, other than local residents cracking down on parking at the trailhead and then having to park down at the I-8 overpass. Not wanting to have to spin on the road a few minutes is a lame reason to not ride the trail, I know. Nevertheless, Anderson fell by the wayside on my list of local trails and then into the status of being one of the forgotten ones.
(No somos olvidados/We are not forgotten.)
I parked under the overpass and pedaled past the rocket ship yard and on up to the turn in for the trail. In less than a minute, I felt the trail come back to me, or maybe I was returning to it. On past the rusted metal wall and the trail rose up to me, or I let myself fall into its rhythms. I had forgotten how long it slowly descended, with great views of the reservoir along the way. I was on the fatty, a bike that is a hoot and holler to ride. It is a fun bike, plain and simple.
After bottoming out, the slow grind of a climb began, rocks trying to knock me off kilter. They did not have success. Breathing labored, sweat rolled, calves tightened, and I remembered, with a smile: Anderson was always a kick in the ass to get up top.
At the beautiful and peaceful oak grove, I felt a strong sense to stop. I did. The north shore wood feature made my eyes widen and face smile. That is steep, I thought. Looking out at the water and listening to the soft breeze through the trees, I remembered the micro zones/eco zones that exist in these parts, how the land can change in an instant. There is a desert over there and the oaks provide a deep dark forest feel here.
Up and up and up until I found an old trail to bring me back down. Burly. Being on the fatty made it burlier. I might have walked a little bit. Okay, I did!
Back down from up top, Anderson was a blast as I rolled thunder down it, heading back to where I started. Again, I had forgotten how great of a trail it was/is. Put this back on the regular list, echoed in my head. When the descent ended and the gradual climb back out to the road continued on, I reveled in it. Gear down and pedal, was the mode.
At the car, I remembered a couple other trails that I had not ridden in a while, telling myself to put them on the ride calendar over the next month. The forgotten line through the rock garden, the swoopy left turn, the hump up over the tree root that sticks out, brings us back to moments in time, moments in our lives, the memories carrying forward. The trail extends. The ride goes on.
(!Vivan los olvidados/Long live the forgotten!)
No Dabs is a monthly column by James Murren that celebrates our mountain biking community and lifestyle.
I have a few trails like that, forget them for a while, finally go ride and remember just how fun they were. *Back on the list*