After yesterday’s leg-deadening road ride I went up to RC to ride with the local MTB club. Linked to Acme Bicycles, or vice versa, the Black Hills MTB Assn is what alerted me to RC’s organized trails. I missed Tuesday’s ride that was nearer to our camp so I wanted to ride last night at the more local trail of St Martin’s. It’s on the northwest side of RC at the end of 44th Street. I got there a bit late but there was no sign of any parked riders, so I headed back to a parking lot nearer some houses to wait for more riders. Just as I parked a car went by with a Trek Fuel so I followed him back to the dead end of 44th. His name is Craig and he’s been riding the trails for most of the 10 years he’s lived in RC… having moved here from West Bend, Wisco. (picture me smacking my head against my palm)
We got geared up and despite the recent rain I easily convinced him trail time was in order. The St Martin’s trail holds up to rain quite well, since most of it is rock. Big flat slippery rocks, little sharp roll-y rocks, bigger loose not so roll-y rocks and fine sandy gravel makes up the bulk of the trail. There’s also mud, not much because if there’s dirt the weeds have claimed it and have grown higher than my grips. Better still, picture Cupcake standing on the trail and you’re only able to see his eyes, so that’s how tall the grass is. The last 8-10 years have been drought years but like Wisco, RC and most of SD has had record rainfalls this year.
He led me up the trail and it was obvious why I’d been seeing so many full-sus multispeeds in shops and on cars. They haven’t fully discovered 29ers. Well, but really, it’s pretty rocky. It was kind of like Blue Mounds and Rhinelander trails mixed. Not quite the steep climbs of BM and the rocks aren’t as smooth as BM’s but with the roughness of Rhinelander’s open trail. I’d fixed the broken aluminum nipple on my front wheel earlier in the day and messed with the Stan’s again.
Oh, a quick tangent… After getting a brass nipple from 2 Wheeler Dealer, I replaced the broken aluminum nipple on the front wheel. Lacking access to a compressor I had to drive the 4 miles back to Custer. The first opportunity I had was the local Chevy dealer’s service department. When I asked the tech if I could use the compressor to air up the wheel he said “If you do it without blowing your tire off the bead, you won’t have to pay me $5.” So I drooled Stan’s all over his floor in front of his workbench and walked out without having to pay $5. Fools best recognize.
I’d set the Nanoraptors to 30 psi earlier so traction was good and the Bonti Race fork did a good job of absorbing the bumps. The trail was a nice blend of not too technical and elevation changes. In the wet the pace was perfect to get to know it and not have the “pucker meter” register. I imagine in the dry it is a perfect SS trail if you’re geared with something around a 32x20 or 34x 22. Spinning out a 22x28 on his Fuel, Craig was able to keep going up the climbs. The Flyte is running 36x25 at the lowest so I had to stand to climb easily. We got to the top of the loop and I miss-heard him as I crested the trail at a steep down hill. I looked down it and took off. It was steeper than the hill at Sheboygan and slightly longer. I got to the bottom and he asked me why I did that. So I had to try to walk up the hill. I got halfway up and started picking up bike parts. A rotor from a freestyle bike, cables, a shifter from a motorcycle, and a pedal made for a curious collection. I have to ask, how does a rotor come off of a bike midway down a hill? Where are the handlebars? Hmmm.
From there it was back down the way we came. We finished it in short order as most of it was gravity assisted. When we parked the bikes I opened the trunk for the cooler of barley pops. I gave Craig my last Madtown Nutbrown of the trip and drank a Breckenridge Ale of some sort. Craig showed me on the map of RC where all the good trails are hidden. Next year I’ll be set. We said our good-byes and I headed back to the camper.
Harney Peak and Little Devils Tower to the right
Friday… Super Domestique for the day.
Karen had the plan to go up to Hill City today to ride part of the Mickelson trail up to Mystic. On paper it seemed like a good idea knowing Sephie could handle the improved railroad bed trail similar to the Elroy-Sparta trail. We picked up passes at Rabbit Bike Shop from Ed and headed north. It was okay for a few miles and then the grade sloped upward, for several miles. I wasn’t coping with Sephie’s whining but then it occurred to me I could push her at my pace and her spirits would pick up. We crested the high point before two tunnels on that leg and coasted nearly 5 miles down to the parking lot at Mystic, which had once been named Sitting Bull. After a brief snack we hopped back on the bikes and I began pushing her back up the trail. I’d noticed a couple on a C-dale and a Bianchi roll by and I’d set my goal to catch them before Hill City. We stopped a couple of times to sort out why her Camelback was leaking on her leg (my hand pressure from pushing) and to look at stuff and take pictures. By the time we got to the pump station at the summit we’d passed the couple on the road bikes and would be coasting down to HC in short order. We got rolling again and we caught them a short time later mostly because Greg had a hole in his rear tire you could poke your thumb through and his tube was toast. I sent the girls onward and stopped to render aid. He’d tried the dollar trick, paper not coin, and it didn’t last. I had a couple Cliff Shots in my pack so I gave him one to eat while I took his tire and tube off. I smeared the last of the Shot inside the tire and folded the Shot wrapper in half before inserting the tube. I added some air and Voila! He had a trail worthy bike once again. I hopped back on the Flyte and powered off in a cloud of dust to the sound of “who was that masked man?”
I pinned it to catch the girls and it was nearly HC before I saw them again. They’d been making good time in the big ring down hill and were ready for some (root)beer. I loaded up the bikes and before too long Greg and Melissa were rolling up. The repair had held (was there ever a doubt?) and they were thirsty too. We headed over to the Bumpin Buffalo for drinks and food. They were very grateful for a simple effort on my part but I’m glad we met them and spent time getting to know them. They’re from… not Wisco, but Indiana north of Indy. Still, folks from the Midwest are stellar. After a brew and food we said our good-byes as they are headed to Minnesota as I write this.
We ambled down the main drag of HC and encountered a few gunslingers along with a pair of lawmen. Sure enough, at 7 pm sharp there was a ruckus and a shootin’ before peace was restored to sleepy Hill City.
We headed back to camp before going into Custer for the street dance, but it rained pretty hard when we got to town, so we went to the Purple Pie House for pie and ice cream instead. Mmmm, warm peach pie.
The pillow is calling and I have to dream of the Terry Peak Race on Saturday (um, today). It’s a Short Track Cross Country race at 1pm MST. Since I have a bike, my BKB kit and the time to kill a dream or two… I should hit the pillow and dream myself.
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