I was recently trying to think about something fun to write about. Yes, I had recently moved across the country from San Diego to Boulder, Colorado, but there wasn’t much to say about that. I had rented a minivan, put everything I owned into it, and then sat behind the wheel for 18 hours by myself. I started my new job the next morning and since I was living 20 miles outside of Boulder I had long commutes and spent a lot of time looking for a place in town.
But last weekend things started to pick up. Since I was living in Nederland I decided it would be a good idea to go for a Ned Ride. For the uninitiated, Nederland has such a vast network of trails that one could literally ride for days without touching pavement. Half way down to Boulder to the east and across the continental divide towards Winter Park ski area west, the trails just go on forever. Area names like “Ewok Village” and the “Hobbit Trails” are indicative of just how remote and confusing some of the twists and turns can be.
I decided to see how well I had been acclimating and set off Saturday morning by myself. I knew I wasn’t going to stray too far since I hadn’t found my mountain bike pedals or my hand pump since moving, and a flat tire would have meant walking several miles through the woods in road bike shoes, and road shoes aren’t even comfortable for the walk to the podium.
The first few climbs went well and soon I was back in the rhythm of things. I met a group of middle aged cyclists on the trail asking for directions. I gave directions to a lost group of cyclists on the trail and felt good that I still knew where things were after having been gone for a year and a half. Then I realized I had forgotten about one key intersection. Oops. I pedaled around trying to find old trails and remember how to ride a bike since my year and a half hiatus had rendered some skills rusty.
I found my way to the Magic School Bus - a rusted out, half buried in vegetation bus that somehow found its way deep into the woods miles from any road – and turned around. Crossing West Mag road I dove into a fun and swoopy trail and had the crowning moment of the whole morning as I drifted both wheels loosely around a left hand corner. With that checked off I headed for home.
Around 6:00 it was time to get to Boulder. I had been sequestered in the mountains of Crest (California) and Nederland (Colorado) for too long, I needed some social interaction. One of my temporary roommates Julie decided to come down with me and we headed straight to a beer pong tournament at K’s China, a local bar. I didn’t intend to play, just heckle, but there weren’t even enough people to heckle when we walked in. We eventually got roped into a couple games between helpings of cream cheese wontons, crushed a couple team’s dreams, and then lost to some guy who was taking the event way too seriously.
We headed out on our way to the West End Tavern but had to stop first so Julie could get some ice cream at Alfalfa’s. I can’t remember how it started, and I really wish I could, but somehow the ice cream turned into the main weapon in a food fight as we walked through the park by Boulder Creek. As I wrestled it from her hands and tore off running she found a security guard in a golf cart sympathetic to her cause.
Easily out sprinting the cart I stopped to wait few blocks later. The ice cream met its unfortunate end as she tried to forcibly reclaim possession and I destroyed it rather then have it fall into enemy hands.
At the West End we met up with my old roommate and his fiancée and tested out whether my water-proof camera was also stout- and porter-proof (it is), took some under-porter pictures, and continued to our ridiculousness. After a walk back to their house and some doughnuts and Emergen-C we all decided to call it a night.
Bike ride in Nederland
"Hey, I wonder if it's a porter-proof camera too"
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