Headed up to Vermont for Wilco’s Solid Sound festival. In a lot of ways, three days of rock and/or roll is probably all that a 50-something dude should be able to pull off, and I was close.
But Sunday dawned absolutely beautiful. We were staying in a singlewide up in the Vermont hills north of North Adams; probably paid way, way too much, but why else have we been working for 30 years?
Regardless, I’d dragged the mountain bike up to Vermont, so, damnit, I was going to ride the mountain bike.
A quick search showed there were “trails” about a mile east, so I set out.
Absolutely the wrong way, but I figured it out.
Got back to the start, and then spent like a gazillion minutes (ed: 30 minutes) riding/pushing the bike up hill on pretty mild gravel. I’m kinda skeptical that I need lower gearing – I just don’t spin. More, I need to drop 30 lbs.
Eventually got to the top of what was supposed to be a “blue” trail. But, having not ridden it before, and having not ridden my hardtail in probably a year or so. the downhill was also a walk – slick, wet, full of babies heads.
The downhills on two track were blissful.