Chocolate and cheddar.
Separate, but equally awesome.
Much like a two part, mid-October bike trip.
The main course, four days of mountain bike trails in North Carolina, sharp and biting and steep.
Then on the way home, the hills of Georgia, smooth and easy. The perfect dessert.
When the Critter Sitter hears we are going to North Carolina,
she sends her own photo of the Blue Ridge from the week before.
Wow.
Wow.
On Friday we load up and get out of Dodge.
Destination #1: DuPont, North Carolina, and the cabin that Northstar and Tom have rented for a long weekend.
DuPont State Forest is pure cheddar. Sharp and tangy, all autumn'y orange and yellow. With just enough serious bite to get our attention and keep us coming back for more each day.
The cabin is cozy. It's difficult to leave in the morning. Especially when the thermometer on the front porch tells us that it's 38 degrees as we eat our breakfast. But the sun is brilliant, the leaves drift down like orange snowfall from a very blue sky, and by mid morning it's perfect. Shorts and sleeves, and arm warmers put away, by afternoon.
The camera flattens the landscape no matter what I try. No way can you feel the burn along with us from these pictures. But believe me, it was all I could do to keep the pedals turning. And ignore the lung-fires burning. No stopping mid-climb to take photos. Sorry.
Without exception, every DuPont trail we ride has it's share of lung-burning bite. But the reward is usually a sight beautiful enough to take your breath away all over again. Once you had a moment to clear the purple spots from your vision and refocus, that is.
Cedar Rock Trail.
Popeye and I are new to DuPont.
Thankfully, we have Northstar,
expert guide to the good stuff.
No, I didn't beat Popeye up this climb in time to take his picture.
He rode most trails twice, waiting for the rest of us to make it.
Before picture.
They don't paint the rock to mark the way like they do in Moab.
They leave rock cairns instead and trust people not to trip over them...
Oops, sorry.
Water crossing on the way to see Bridal Veil Falls.
Do not be deceived.
The water is deeper/faster/colder/slippery'er than it looks.
A kid runs up to us when we get off our bikes at the water crossing. "My dad lost his shoe!"
"Wow," I say, checking out the current. (The shoe is likely half way to Savannah by now.) "Sorry to hear that." Someone is going to have a long rocky walk back to the trailhead.
Do we really want to do this? If you lose your footing in this current, you could lose more than a shoe down the slippery rocks and all the way to the next bend.
Bare feet for the crossing.
Not one of us gets dunked, drops a bike, or even a shoe. Sissy stuff right? Although I come close. There are a few teetery moments on one foot after the bike dips into the current and drags me, braced in a standing skid on numb feet, for a yard or so downstream before fetching up. Whew!
Later we chat with a helpful local rider. He says the trick is to take extra socks. If you wade across wearing socks, you won't slide on the mossy rock. You will stick instead. (Wouldn't make it any warmer, though. Just sayin'.)
The famous Bridal Veil Falls turns out to be worth the climbs and the crossings.
There's a trailhead for the last bit populated with hikers, but they look benign enough, so we trust leaving the bikes in the bike rack to walk out to the base of the falls. There' no telling how old this facility is, but for some reason Northstar and I both think it's funny when our 29r's won't fit.
One of the many trails we ride on Sunday
goes past a huge, unused lodge from the DuPont era...
...to a perfectly still Lake Julia.
End of a great day. Pack em up.
Down the 10mph squiggles of East Fork Road to the cabin...
and then back up again for the final highlight of the day - supper!
Uh oh. Look at the time. The vacation report is going to have to be a two parter.
It's nearly night.
Specifically, Tuesday night.
Time to stop sorting through photos of the blue sky days and golden leaves of two weeks ago, and come back into the twilight present of mid-November and early darkness.
Time for our first inaugural time-change-Tuesday night ride.
The time change means changing up the evening workouts. To replace the summer Tuesday road ride, we decide on a Tuesday fat tire night-ride for the winter months instead.
At 6pm, Popeye will begin his commute northward from work on his Fuel. I will ride my Superfly south from home, then over the bridge. The plan is to converge routes at the library on Pineapple, and head toward the spooky, dark, charred trails of Wickham Park from there.
Sounds fun, right?
(As long as I don't think too much about the last episode of the Walking Dead, it will be, anyway.)
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