Down East Cyclists

This ride took place three weeks ago but I was abducted by aliens on the way home so I am just now able to write about it. Neusiok that is, not my abduction.

What brought us to the Neusiok trail head was MM’s constant belly aching about us not riding there. We were always able to hold him off but then No Hills got on his side and some how they lured us in. Well, that’s the condensed version anyway.

At the trail head Joc, MM, No Hills Jason, Cousin Bruce, Pivot Dave and yours truly gathered up on a brisk March morning that had a promising weather forecast. No rain and a high of sixty five degrees, just what we were looking for. We had chosen the trail head off 306 for our start and were going to ride toward the picnic area on the river beach.

The trail was in great shape right from the start, switching back and forth thru fairly old growth trees. We cruised along over ten miles per hour with ease on the hard packed surface diving down towards the low areas followed by easy climbs back to the high ground. For the first few miles the trail had few surprises up her sleeve for us, just the occasional root stand or small log crossing.

Soon we came to first of many bridges that crossed the heavy marsh areas of the Neusiok. The transition onto the bridge was a little tricky just like all of it’s kindred out ahead of us and none would be straight. Trees rising up high above the thick marsh at each bend in the bridges seemed the likely reason for the turns. The trees were certainly the cause for moving off center on the planks below. They loomed eerily on the edge of the rail less bridge threatening to grab bar ends and send you with your bike off into four feet of green goop. To add to the slight anxiety created by glancing off the crossings they were always encountered far from the hard banks and although no one had to test the depth, it was on every ones mind. Saying that the transition on was a little tricky may need some clarification so I offer this. The way on and off the bridges varied from a step of a few inches to a few feet. Some even needing twelve inch timber steps for the hikers to get on the bridge. Luckily the boards on this day were dry and traction was not a problem but I’m sure you can imagine the increased difficulty recent rain would bring.

I don’t have a solid count on the number of bridges but there were a lot of them and each one unique in length, turns and transition at the ends. I don’t have a count on the thick mud areas that inhabited the low areas without bridges but there are a lot of them as well. Some of them provided a lot of challenge to navigate. They were not nearly as deep as their bridged friends but some were tough to spin thru and all were spattered with cypress knees waiting to smash a bikers knees or ribs if he failed to stay upright.

At the bog closest to copperhead point shelter I provided a fair amount of amusement for the rest of our group. I had cycled to the lead sometime earlier and had been doing a fine job of picking lines to charge thru the mud with. My confidence tank high I plunged into the next black mud monster. About the twenty foot mark my speed was still good and I knew the remaining twenty feet would be a snap. Yeah, a snapped collar bone is more like it. My front tire disappeared suddenly in a hole that needed a bridge and didn’t have one. Instantly it was up to the hub, while it came to a dead stop in the hole all the rest of the bike kept right on moving, pivoting over the front axle with the rear tire looking to take the lead and me desperately trying to get it back on the ground behind me. The rear tire won this time slamming me down into the blackness but spared me from the cypress knees lurking in the dark. After the laughing stopped I was extracted from the muck with my bike and we chose a different line to get to the other side.

I know that beast was the closest to copperhead point because that was our next stop. I would now like to humbly thank those responsible for the well point pump at the trail shack. Lets just say I had a lot of smelly mud on most of me when we arrived at the point and very little when we left. Fresh water well pumps are our friends.

Lots of great trail lay between the shack and the river beach so we buzzed through the forest on our way to the water. It was different to emerge from the heavy tree line and mirror the shore line with it’s white sand. Something we rarely do and after riding along looking at the water with it’s white shore line down below I don’t know why people haven’t cut more trails that mirror the coast lines here. I mean, we are on the Atlantic coast.

Now being up on the ridge line looking at the white sand was cool, rolling down on to the beach and slogging thru the sand was a horse of a different color. We tried to out do one another with distance ridden. It was slow sloppy and humorous. As long as you let her drift where she wanted and kept the crank turning there was some manageability to it, turn or stop and it was over. We hung at the picnic area for a few and then started back.

Play this in reverse and you’ll hear the return trip with one small change. This time my endo came on the landing off of a three to four foot exit from a bridge, a lot less mud with a lot more hurt this time.

No major mechanicals and about fourteen miles behind us we recounted the days events in the parking area over some New Belgium amber ale we all agreed that the Neusiok should be on the highly recommended local trails list. Just watch out for holes in the mud.

  A crowd of us met at Haywood Landing in the Croatan Sunday to enjoy the weather on our groupe mtb ride for a change. Due to folks coming from lots of different places we had two different start times. The first bunch out was the usual Sunday morning Haywood crowd plus a couple and the second bunch was made up of Joc, Chris, Monty, No Hills Jason, TracyP and my self. Since I rode with the second chop, that’s the ride I’ll recount here. There was actualy a third chop but that wasn’t known untill we returned to the parking lot.

  Well, onto our ride, we met at nine in the morning so the Beaufort crowd could get some beauty sleep and we met around two boxes of Dunkin donoughts compliments of TracyP. Thank You, Thank You, Thank You Tracy!! 

  We got off to a good start, probably the donoughts, but that didn’t last long as we hit a low area with a good forty feet of axle deep Croatan mud and a steep ten foot climb out. When MM hit granny to spin through the bottom his small chain ring came off the crank, it came off the crank, it fell off the crank and his chain proceeded to re-face the bottom bracket. Naturaly he would be just about the middle of the run and, well, I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. I did not witness this as I was in the lead and had already made the other side and was hammering off down the trail but on lookers reported he squeeled like a school girl when he fell over in the mud. I hate I missed that, well, I can’t do it. He didn’t actully fall over, or even squeel, but I bet he would have had he splattered out in that muck.

  A few miles into the short loop we discovered that Lee and his buddies had been hard at work on some new trail complete with bridges over the low areas so we took off to try out the new stuff. Six miles later we discovered that this can no longer be called the short loop, we also had discovered that the bridge crew hadn’t made it all the way out yet. A long the way were some fantastic log crossings, I mean monsters, three or more feet high. Several cool little water crossings and a mass graveyard of some type that has been marked out by who ever studies such things. The marking is still in the early stages right now and only consists of a cove filled with orange marking flags. I don’t know much about their study but there is a lot, a whole lot of flags there. I look forward to returning and following the progress.

  The big problem in the Croatan is sometimes the trails are hard to follow, at least we are told they are trails. Maybe they are just areas that look more like a trail than other areas and you just end up meandering around from what looks like a trail here to what looks like a trail over there. Don’t let me scare you away, for the most part the trails are clear to the eye and marked with stainless steel tabs on the trees about seven feet off the ground. We, I and my buds listed earlier, just have a habit of wandering out onto anything remotely trail like. In the Croatan the going gets a little tougher and a little  tougher building  into a tree choked tire sucking soft floor of pine straw and leg ripping short growth untill you grind to a hault, look around and say, “This ain’t no trail.” This is followed by a redirect and another grind off in search of “the trail”. This hunt is always succesful and we end up blasting down another section of trail looking for the next chance to wander off the beaten path.

  Somehow we put about twelve miles behind us and emerged back at the trail head without any flats or sucked derailures. As a matter of fact MM’s granny gear mishap was our only mechanical. We only had assorted cuts, scrapes, torn clothing, good pictures, great memories and a generous coating of mud to prove of our efforts.

  We linked back up with the first chop in the parking lot and shortly after the third chop came limping in with a torn off rear derailure. We all shared our stories of the morning ride over a refreshing drink and some more donoughts. That’s when we learned the purpose of the flags and found out that the first two groups had been traversing the same section as one another but never once saw a sign of the other. That speaks to how much riding there is out there. It realy is worth the effort but I will remind you that leaving the well traveled path can get tough. I think TracyP said it best this morning. “Man, yesterday I was tired, this morning I hurt, I have a Haywood hangover!”   

I suppose that Cupid and his minions kept most away today. Most but not all. Those that were not out of town or corralled by the significant other were on hand at nine o’clock just as was agreed. Now the temperature was quite a bit lower at the start than it would be at the end and as all of you know that makes it hard to dress properly. Still the five of us were in high spirits, even if our teeth were chattering. Setting out were Tracy P, Monty, Killer Cole, No Hills and my self. We blistered out one lap to get the body temp and allow the great heat tab to get up and do it’s job. All went well here and we were back at the start in no time. We decided to turn one now so we could take our time and play on all the jumps and obstacles and such. Killer performed his amazing log ride again and No Hills filled in as the camera crew for a bunch of our antics. No broken gear and more importantly no broken bones. A lot of jokes, laughter and laps followed our fun on the play toys. Mostly we ran a hard lap, played around, ran a lap, played around and so on. We ended our ride a little after twelve and the weather now was fantastic. We had an absolute blast on the trail today and would have enjoyed having more with us but we understood.