Hey dudes--
here's my version of the Fri. moonride--Auriah, perhaps you could provide
some pix?  Feel free to forward this story to those interested.

North Coast Squadron-February moonride

Eight rookie riders were deflowered Friday evening, joining the few and
proud veterans in moonlight mountain-biking navigation.  It was a night of
hilarity, luminosity and life-affirming antics as the call of the wild was
responded to in full force.

Jeremiah gave up a ticket to see the Wailers, Winston arrived on a tip
concerning some foolishness, bikes, and the moon, Brian fetched his rock n
roll bride, Courtney, Danny rolled up with his Huffy stuffed in his car,
Jason and Drew pulled up in an ailing pickup, Mr. Michael Moore was in
attendance as ambassador to la Luna, Julie sported leopard-print earmuffs,
Lucy cleaned out the back of her truck to accommodate the shuffling
bodies, and Auriah manned the grill and helped tinker on bikes.

Having previously scouted out the route on his dirtbike and GoogleEarthed
the region, Auriah was privy to info that revealed a series of logging
roads that led from "the edge of the world" to Blue Lake, a mostly
downhill frolic that was easy enough for the uninitiated and interesting
enough for the old hands.  Dinner and beers were consumed, and a couple
vehicles made the shuffle to Blue Lake and parked in the brewpub parking
lot in true fools fashion.  Another beer run was made, resulting in a case
of Red Tail for the refined palate, a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon cause it's
cheap, and a fifth of Crown Royal for those who wanted to get tore up.

Eleven bikes were stashed in Auriah's truck and cinched down for the
shuttle up Fickle Hill, navigated sans headlights in deference to the
moon, which brightly beamed out of the mist as the truck left the foggy
bottom of Arcata.  The weather was balmy and kind at the top, and the
energy level began to rise as the riders began to soak up the lunar rays
and mount their rides.  They began with a visit to the lookout, which
provided views of Blue Lake's lights in the distance below, and silvery
fog wound around the hills, viewed from the precipice at the edge of the
world.  Toasts were made and laughs were had, and the group rallied to the
starting lineup, narrowly avoiding a gate that blended in to the gravel

And what a road it was---steep, loose gravel, wide enough for banking
turns and lit up in true moonlight fashion, at times incandescent and
shadowy, crisp and foggy.  A yank on the rear brake provided for
impressive skidding, as Mr. Moore demonstrated in true "L-factor" fashion,
and Brian opted for the Flintstones version of reducing speed.  Riders
alternated point, charging ahead and rejoining the pack, grinning,
hooting, hollering, howling.  It was becoming obvious that too much fun
was being had by all, if there is such as thing as too much fun.

Another lookout, where a slash and burn pile provided large logs to be
chucked over the cliff, and the sound of PBR cans popping open was heard
far and wide.  There was great rejoicing and exclamations of wonder and
pride as the riders felt the love and light shining down and around them.
The phenomena known as moonriding was imprinting itself on everyone's
psyche.  The "stack factor" was only apparent a few times--Drew pulled off
a crash that sounded and looked bad, but, as Jason pointed out, "He's
OK--He does that all the time." The descent continued, and enough wood was
spotted to implement the "fire road". A small inferno bravely shone until
the encroaching fog began to lower in earnest, and the riders scattered
the embers and gave thanks.

Soon, the lights of Blue Lake surrounded the bikers, who made it to the
brewpub parking lot far too late for last call, but time ceased to matter
to those who had converged in the great conjunction of bikes, moon, and
happily tired riders.  The search is on for fresh virgins.