Guest post by Karl
Definition of an Epic experience, Karl version: “an outdoor adventure turned awry, wherein halfway through it you find yourself beyond your limits, accompanied by extreme hunger and fatigue. The route to safety and comfort involves even more hunger and fatigue. Often involves getting lost and getting back in the dark.”
Most people who have had epic experiences are over the hill. Meaning 11 years old (scouts). Noah's first epic experience came at the age of 5. Barely 5. Sure, it's my fault. But he asked for it. Really!
We'd been talking about going backpacking for weeks, but then when the day came around, we ended up bringing bikes as well, just in case we needed a ride before we started backpacking.
We drove up Shultz Pass Road to the trailhead I had in mind. I knew that there were several options for trails that aren't too difficult that Noah might not mind hiking on. I had been on those trails before and knew they would be pretty good for mountain biking as well, and since Noah loves dirt, dust, and going fast, we headed out on a little ride before donning the backpacks. And I do mean little. 15 minutes max. Done. Nice little non-epic ride.
We got back to the car, and although Noah had said that he kind of wanted to start hiking, I suggested we head down a bit of the Shultz Creek trail, intending to go for 5 minutes and return. For the record, I really did mean for it to be short. It's a great little singletrack with a slight downhill, so I wasn't surprised when Noah said he didn't want to turn around after 5 minutes. Another 5 minutes passed, and we had to walk the bikes over a steep rocky section. I told Noah about the dirt road parallel to the trail, and that we could always take the road back to the car. We had no warm clothes, no water, no food, but I wasn't about to tell Noah to stop if he was having so much fun. The weather was great, we had eaten recently, and we had plenty of gear and food in the car. I told him we'd hop over to the road the second he got too tired, and I'd push him while we rode back.
Onward. Other mountain bikers came by with incredulous looks, asking “How old is he?” Many stopped to let us by although we were headed downhill, just so they could see how the little kid with a tiny bike made it over the trails. It's not easy to navigate over rocks when you have 14” wheels, pedal brakes, and no traction on the back wheel. But Noah kept on telling the rocks, “You can't stop me!” He'd aim right for them and either go right over or get bounced back. He was pretty much ok with either result, so we kept on going.
Four miles later, we were not quite at the bottom of the trail, but we were running out of light, so I (not Noah!) directed us back to the dirt road for the ride home. There was washboard, passing dirt bikes, hills, a few breaks, more hills, more washboard, and the realization that we had already gone more than twice as far as Noah ever had before on a bike. True, I was pushing his back as we rode uphill, but he never stopped pedaling.
Over 2 hours and 8 miles after leaving the car, we had arrived in the dark. Noah was cold, hungry, thirsty, and ready to sleep. Two hot dogs, a PB&J, and a hot chocolate (actually a soymilk-chocolate hammer gel mix) later, he was in much better shape. One adventure gluttony experience is enough for one day, though, so we headed home. It was the perfect end to a first epic ride.
Note from Sarah: I was seconds away from putting Max to bed and enjoying an evening all to myself. Making pumpkin bread, stretching, reading, doing whatever I felt like. That was the plan. Then two dirty boys stormed in the door and that was the end of that plan. I could not be too upset though because they were really excited about their adventure and ready for a warm, cozy bed.
