Where the Fuzzy Duds Roam

 

Or just another boring day at the KVR

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Jim and Miss Swift traverse a slice of paradise

 

The drenching rains and gray, saturated skies finally opened up to some very nice weather. Days ideal for being outside on a mt. bike. Jim and Eric had plans for an epic ride. As the early start became a late start, the ride deteriorated into a routine outing. The Oat was seriously torn up from the foot of rain that pounded the area a week ago. The decision was to take to the KVR.

The ride started with a major water crossing. The choice to get across was to either ride with wet shoes and socks or to strip the foot gear and go barefoot. The latter choice proved to be the best. The stream was knee deep and moving swiftly. Jim was able to cross without incident. Miss Swift looked long and hard at the stream. It was as deep as she is tall. With Jim on the other side she made her daring move. With one bound into the water she ripped the crossing. Her rookie status in the world is starting to show some confidence and deft.

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Jim and Swift make the crossing

With all safely on the further shore, the ride began in earnest. The terrain requires a major league grunt up at least a thousand feet of vertical altitude. Each stroke of the cranks are worth it. The ride showers benediction on the riders from the beginning. The lovely oak woods setting provides a natural forum that soothes the spirit and offers a profusion of interesting flora and fauna.

The view of surrounding territory expanded with the altitude. As the ride entered the open spaces, views of Sonoma County expanded all the way to Geyserville. The base of Mt. St. Helena stood majestically to the north. Most of her stature was cloaked in a thick, fluffy gown of white magic. The air was dry and the temperature was pleasant. Big puffy clouds drifted slowly past the sun.

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Joe Montana's pad on the High Ridge Ranch

At the top of the terrain the bikers decided to take a break. However the wind was a mild factor. The two descended to an oak grove and kicked back. It was a handsome grove of old oaks, the sort that create a sense of wisdom and longevity. These remote creatures have been the sentinels to history for several hundred years.

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Group meeting under the oaks

Once stirred back to life, the trio decided to follow a side-hill cow path. It was amazingly easy and fun to ride despite being on a very, very sheer hillside. Once back on the ranch roads the two descended briefly before Eric noticed his front fender missing. The decision to return to the rest spot was made. It took a short time to re-climb the lost altitude, find the side hill path and return to the oak grove. The fender was not there. The return was worth the extra passes across the side hill path.

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Side-hill theme feature

From that point the rest of the ride was merely a swift ride to the bottom. Both riders resisted the temptation to shred the smooth dirt/grass roads at warp speed. The day and the scenery were so outrageous it begged for one to linger, to soak up the splendor of the moment. The streams chortled in the folds of the land. The moss was so bright in places it seemed illuminated. Ferns glowed as if they were made of neon. Hawks and ravens plied the sky, while frogs croaked with glee in the watery spots that dotted the landscape.

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Happy bikers on the trail

All too soon the ride was over. It was by no means a big ride, yet it underscored the beauty of mt. bikin’. The combination of a self-powered adventure in beautiful surroundings always bumps life’s funnometer towards the upper end of the scale.