Tuck and roll

Hello Everyone,

The other day, I was riding in the North Shore, when I met a couple of Irish guys. They fit the positive stereotype (red hair, thick accent, jovial manner) to a T. (As opposed to the negative stereotype of drunken, fighting, large poor families). When they first passed by, and asked for directions, I figured they were pretty good riders. They had nice bikes and good gear, unlike my older stuff and well worn outfit.

But then I caught up with them a bit later and noticed that they were taking the easier routes around some of the features, while I was taking nearly every steep drop I could find. I stopped and chatted with them, gave some trail recommendations like I was a local, and then continued on. I was feeling pretty good about myself.

As mentioned, I am loath to talk about my skills and abilities, numerous as they are. Humility is what keeps me grounded. That, and gravity. And while I know there a lot of riders around here that would leave me in the dust, it was nice to think I might be better than average in a place that attracts a lot of very good mountain bikers.

The one thing about mountain sports, or really any sport that involves a reasonable risk of a bad crash or accident, is that is keeps you honest. I love squash, but you can talk yourself up all you like about how you're the king of the courts, and the worst that will happen is that you'll get your ass handed to you by some 12 year old Egyptian or Pakistani (it's a big sport in those countries). In mountain biking, as in most mountain sports, if you talk a big game, eventually you'll have to ride hardcore trails, where your body will not just be in metaphorical danger.

And so, as much as I like to joke about my ego, and as good as I was feeling about my skills the other day, I've always been very cognizant of the dangers I undertake, and have a pretty grounded sense of my own abilities. I also knew, at some point or other, I was going to crash.

I've been lucky so far, I haven't really bailed hard, but I knew it was coming. I try to be aware of all the times I've narrowly avoided calamity, as it's a good way to not push your limits too far. And so when I crashed yesterday, it wasn't because I was doing something especially dangerous, it was more in line with all the other stuff I was doing, it was just an inevitability of the sport.

I was in Pemberton, north of Whistler, riding a trail with a lot of steep rock faces. At the bottom of one, I hit a root at an awkward angle, my tire swung sideways and I was flipped over the handlebars. I did a quick tuck and roll as I hit the ground, and came away with just a few scrapes and some dirt on my outfit. As I say, count your blessings.

The issue for me was that I had taken this trail because there is a huge rock face at the end that I was looking forward to riding. It wasn't as steep as the one that caused me to crash, but it was fairly steep and very, very long. If I was too rattled from my fall, I would have wasted the effort to get to this trail at all. But if you know you will eventually fall, you can lessen the mental shock when it actually happens.

And so, not long after hitting the dirt, I lined myself up at the top of this crazy piece of rock, got set on my pedals, and rode it to the end.

wes