Mulberry Gap

Last week, I finally did something about my mountain bike. Billy had a spare 31.6mm post, with a very different way to mount the seat.

Yes.

It seemed at least 20% less likely to wreck my balls in a crash, so I borrowed it and got in a couple of test-rides.

I felt ok on the local trails. I couldn't tell on the road bike, but gerching around on the mountain bike, as one does, it felt like there were little invisible cactus spines jabbing me downtown. I chalked it up to internal stitches that hadn't yet dissolved and just kept riding. It wasn't constant, just every now and then, but it was definitely annoying.

After a couple of local rides, and a ride at Blanket's, I felt ok enough to get a litte more ambitious. At Blanket's I'd felt like I hadn't gotten enough sleep in a month, but I was still able to ride everything I cared to ride, so that night I got good sleep, grabbed a slice on the way out of town, and headed up to Mulberry Gap.

I intended to do an out-and-back on P3, then just see what kind of mood I was in for the rest of the day. I figured I'd try for 2.5 to 3 hours.

On the drive in, I ran into Andrew, taking a new puppy for a walk. Or, trying to, at least. Puppies can be difficult to walk.

When I got to MGap, it turned out they'd gotten in new jerseys! The last time I was up there I saw the design, but they had just ordered them. I was down to a single jersey, single bib, and a single tri-kit, so I was excited to get something new. I'm a mens' small in standard cut, mens' medium in race cut, or womens' medium in standard cut, and I typically have to try on all 3 to figure out which fits best. It turned out the womens' medium of the new jersey fit best, but they still had one mens' medium race cut of the older jersey. Yes! I'd accidentally left mine in the bathroom at Allatoona some time ago and figured I'd never see another one.

What luck!

I mentioned my injury to Tori and Jackie, and they were like: "Oooh, that's awful. At least you have a good story." Eddie had a similar reaction. So did most everyone in my family. It's funny... Pretty much anyone who doesn't ride, that I've told has had a really strong reaction. The guys even turn and protect their own balls as they realize what I'm describing. So far, my family, and all my mountain-bike-related friends have had fairly subdued reactions. I guess something like that is somewhere on their radar already, and whether or not they've thought about that specific thing, they've at least seen, if not been through, some difficult injuries themselves.

Ok, lets go...

The kick over Mulberry Gap proper felt kind-of ok. I was able to spin over it. That usually bodes well for the rest of the day. The first few switchbacks felt ok on P3. I didn't have a lot of power, but I didn't feel like I was having a heart attack either. I managed to sketch on one of the switchbacks though, and then encountered the downed tree that I'd been warned about.

It was high adventure getting over that thing. I kept having to climb more and more to find a safe spot to cross. I kind-of had to drop my bike down about a foot, too, then jump down without landing on it.

Tricky!

Somehow, that effort took all of my remaining energy.

Every inch of the trail ahead looked steep and daunting.

I could feel my heart for the rest of the climb. I assume that feeling is my heart itself not getting enough O2, but I don't really know. I was in the hospital months ago because I felt like that a lot, even when I was just sitting around. They couldn't find anything wrong with me. I made sure to breathe well and drink, drink and it eventually got a little better.

I'd kind-of thought about hitting P4 and taking Tatum Lead back to 52, but I gave up on that and just headed over to the overlook instead.

I sat on the burning hot rocks for 15 minutes or so, just enjoying the shadows of the clouds on the various ridges. It was definitely hot outside. Maybe that was contributing to how I felt.

Coming back down was a lot better. It's not down all the way, of course, and I felt weak on the climbs, but I didn't feel like I had earlier, so that was a plus.

I didn't thoroughly enjoy it though. In the past, I've ridden up there and had a great time, flying all over P3. The last time I was up there, I was gushing about perfect it was - loamy tread, and just a little overgrown, so you know that you're in the real woods. It was much like that this time, but the trail felt narrow and the slap of the overgrowth didn't comfort me like it might have in years past. I also kept feeling like I was in the wrong position on the bike. Normally if I'm rolling downhill, there's some steady pressure in some direction, either against the outside pedal, or pulling back or pushing on the bars... something. I kept feeling like I was centered above the bike and like it was getting knocked forwards and backwards under me by the trail. It's hard to describe. It didn't feel good though.

It was 4:30 when I got back to the road. Dinner was at 6. I figured I could probably get the Holly Creek Gap gravel loop in. If I made an effort, I'd probably even have time for a shower before dinner.

This turned out to be the case. I was uncomfortable climbing, but never got that heart attack feeling again. I did have to walk a bit, somewhere, not because I was tired though, just from that cactus-spine sensation I described earlier.

After you drop off the north side of Holly Creek Gap, there are a couple of turns, followed by a really fast descent. It was definitely the fastest part of the ride. I hit 53.4 MPH, according to Strava, though it doesn't feel that fast in real life. At or near the fastest bit of that, I struck a yellow jacket. It was just flying along, minding it's own business when I ran into it. I must have hit it from behind too, because it immediately stung me. Like maybe it's butt was facing me, and when I hit it, it forced it's stinger into me.

I could tell right away that I was stung. Good lord, it hurt.

But, I still had a few miles left to ride, so I tried not to think about it.

Later it turned into this awesome welt...

...which just got worse over the course of the evening.

I made it back with plenty of time to shower before dinner. It was apparently damned hot outside too, because I let that cool water flow over my head, and I could feel it get noticeably warmer as it poured down my back, for several minutes. I was a new man after that shower, and I enjoyed dinner just that much more as a result.

Dinner was italian meatball sandwiches, corn, and green beans. So good. So good!!! There was a pitcher of milkshake too. I had like 3 helpings of the beans. I really felt like beans for some reason.

I'd heard that the new chef, Alaina (I think, I know it's not Elena, but it's something like that) was from Louisiana, so I asked her, and it turned out that she was from Livonia. Ha! Right off of 190, near Krotz Springs, north of Maringouin. She was surprised that I'd ever heard of it, let alone knew where it was. I was surprised to meet someone from around there not named D'Amico or Lassaire. I love that Chad and Alaina are both from Louisiana.

I pigged out a bit more than I probably should have, but hey, what are you gonna do? I mean, there's food right there and I was beat up and wasted. Gonna eat that food.

I slept pretty well last night, but I'm not sure I got enough sleep. Like, I woke up spontaneously after about 6 hours, which is enough for work, but not enough to be really rested. I think I'm going to make an effort to get better sleep for a while, and see what that nets me.

Effort + Rest = Gain, as they say.

Marietta

It's a stretch to call this "Outdoor Adventure" but proper outdoor adventure has been in short supply lately, so I'm going with it.

I was off the bike for a while, letting all of my parts heal, and the whole time I kept looking over at my mountain bike, with absolutely no interest in fixing it, much less riding it. The road bike though, kept looking better and better. When I was finally healed up enough to even consider putting any weight on the saddle, I first did so on the road bike. While I wouldn't describe it as comfortable, it wasn't explicitly painful, so I went for a couple of rides to feel things out.

The first half hour of the first ride felt like when you cut your fingernails too short and drag them across fabric. Then, I guess, my nerve endings were like "eh..." and I felt a lot better. A couple of those later, and I was feeling like attempting some of my old-school road routes from 10 years ago, up through Marietta.

Saturday morning, I got up at a reasonable hour, spun down Cooper Lake, crawled the hills over to Atlanta Road, and headed north. I could tell that it was going to be a long, probably uncomfortable day, but I was taking it easy and trying to enjoy the moments. Somewhere over by Lockheed I remembered the museum!

There's a lot over there with a dozen or more restored, or partially restored airplanes. I'd ridden (and driven) past it hundreds of times, each time thinking: "I should go check that out..." and never did. I was always pressed for time, going somewhere else, or putting in work, and just never had a good opportunity. But, that day, everything was just right, so I stopped in.

I followed the signs and proceeded to Checkpoint Alpha, which turned out to be a pop-up tent with about 6 or 8 folks hanging out in folding chairs underneath it. I'm not sure they immediately understood that I wanted the tour. It's probably not everyday that a guy shows up on a bike, in lycra, drenched, asking about the planes. They were happy to take my $5 though, and instructed me to head over towards the C-141.

Lockheed produced and maintained C-141s from the '50s through the '90s. It wasn't the biggest plane out there, but it was big enough, and cheap enough to fly to hit the sweet spot for a lot of operations. It was only cancelled when the Boeing C-17 (and associated politics) hit the scene. I'd been inside of one once before at an air show in Texas, and I'd seen pieces get added to this one, little by little, over the years, but I'd never been up close to it.

When I first saw it, it was missing the engines and control surfaces, but they were added a few years back.

And more recently than that, it got a new paint job.

The tour guide met me at the back end of the plane. He was a Loadmaster on C-141s for like 30 years, and warned me ahead of time that he would probably give me way more information that I ever wanted, so let him know if he was rambling on. He clearly underestimated how ready I was to geek out over his plane.

The tour he gave me was about as top-notch as I could have imagined. He was a super nice guy, he had detailed answers to all of my questions, and usually a quick little story go to along with each. IDK how long we were in there, but I do know that another group of folks came and left while we were still talking. Seriously, if you're into planes, and in the ATL, you should get the tour. I kind-of don't want to spoil it by giving away too much info, so here's the abbreviated version...

The C-141 revolutionized air transport in much the same way container ships/trains/trucks did. This pallet...

...could be loaded 9 feet high and a bunch of them could be staged.

Then some strong guys could push them up into the back of the plan on these wheeled floor tracks:

You could load an entire plane in just under an hour. They shipped everything, worldwide: "Beans, bullets, and bandages." That same pallet was used on the C-5 and later C-17, and is still in use. By comparison, the C-130 and other previous cargo planes had to be loaded more ad-hoc.

You couldn't fit a tank in a C-141 (that required a C-5, which could fit 2 or 3) but you could fit 3 hueys in one, as well as pretty much any non-tank vehicle.

They also transported troops. These were the standard seats:

There was a row of them down each side of the plane, and they could fold up out of the way when carrying cargo. Commercial-airline style seats could also be fitted, but they were only used when transporting lots of troops or VIPs, or whatever.

Apparently some planes were pressurized and could fly above 30,000 feet at around 300 mph, but others weren't, had to fly under 10,000 feet, got kicked around by turbulence, and had to keep their speed down to about 170 mph. Those were long, long flights.

The C-141 was also the first military cargo plane with a bathroom:

Prior to the bathroom, they used a bucket, and it was tradition for whoever first used it to empty it, so guys would try to hold it as long as possible as a bit of a game.

The cockpit was amazing!

I got to sit in the pilot's seat. It's tricky to get into. They specifically tell you how to do it - what to grab onto, and how to not bump your head.

I still bumped my head.

There are various extra seats in the cockpit. If they're only transporting cargo, the Loadmaster can sit in one of them throughout the flight. If there's even one person in the cargo area though, the Loadmaster has to spend the flight back there with them. It's super loud back there, and it gets cold, so it always sucked if there was that one random specialist that had to fly with the equipment.

There's one cot in the cockpit, and two more in the cargo area, kind-of above the ladder to the cockpit. They looked tricky to get into, and I'm not sure how much rest you'd get back there, but I guess it's better than nothing.

That particular plane was extended via fore and aft "plugs". I want to say the fore plug adds 13 feet and the aft adds 10 feet. That specific plane was the first one ever to be extended.

My guide also explained how they distributed weight, and the calculations involved, and how the math was black-magic to most of his superiors, so they just took his word for it and signed off. I watched a video of the restoration, which was amazing. The volunteers put in an absolutely staggering amount of work.

Seriously, if you're into planes, check out that one. It's amazing.

The rest of the planes were less amazing, but still pretty damn amazing.

This is allegedly the first AC-130 gunship ever:

I'd been inside of a KC-130 before at that same air show in Texas, but I'd never seen an AC-130 up close. I did build a model of one when I was like 13 though.

There was also this drone:

Which I thought was funny because there was a sign on the outer fence prohibiting drones:

Huh huh.

There were a bunch of Navy planes too, which I didn't immediately understand. They weren't Lockheed planes, and Dobbins is an Air Reserve Base???

It turns out that there was a Naval Air Station on the same property for years:

Ha!

Now it made sense.

They had an S-3:

Look at the absurdity of this folding wing joint.

I don't understand how so many moving parts don't just break constantly.

They had an A-7:

And an A-6:

I built a model EA-6B when I was a kid.

And an A-4:

I probably build 3 or 4 of these. They were fairly quick to put together and there were Navy and Marine variants (I think?) so you could paint them differently.

The F-14 was the most exciting to me though.

I loved this plane as a kid. I'd only ever seen one in person before (again at that Texas air show) and I couldn't believe that I was standing close enough to touch one. It didn't hurt that Top Gun was my favorite move when I was 12, and I'd just seen Top Gun: Maverick the night before. It's also not impossible that watching it influenced the back of my mind to go on this particular ride.

There was also the cockpit from an F-4 which had once been part of a simulator. It's amazing how many switches and buttons and gauges are in a cockpit. At first it seems like information overload, but if you look at it for a bit, it starts to make sense, and then if you look the manual, it makes even more sense. I guess a lot of stuff is like that though.

Man!

It was so satisfting. I'm so glad I finally made it over there.

So, there I was, back on the bike, Highway to the Danger Zone still playing in my head. I rode up through Marietta Square, took some random lefts until I was over by Cheatham Hill, then took some even randomer roads back home.

I didn't feel great, but I felt good enough. It's always a long road back if you've been off for more than a week or two, especially if you're damaged, but I've done it before. Too many times, really. I don't want to jinx it, but I'd really like to go a couple of years without another serious illness or injury.

Cochran Mill

I've been doing a lot of my local rides at Blankets Creek, lately. This past Wednesday, I figured I'd change it up a bit and ride Cochran Mill. It had been a while since I'd been there and I love that place, so it seemed like a great idea, at the time.

What I neglected to consider, though, is that Cochran Mill is cursed. I'd crashed, pretty hard, 2 out of the last 3 times that I'd ridden there. All super random, too. The first time, I have no idea at all, what I hit, I was just suddenly OTB and ended up busting a rib. The next time, I was following my brother and caught a rock with my pedal that I didn't see because I was too close to him. OTB again and ripped my elbow up really bad.

But, then I had one good ride there, and I figured the curse was lifted.

Oh, far from it!

On the green loop, as you're headed back toward the road, there are various little bumps that I think were constructed. I always try to keep in mind that there is a set of 3 that looks like a set of 2 until you're in the middle of them, but I rememebered them being further down the trail than they were. I also didn't remember coming out of a curve into them.

At any rate, I rode into them, thinking it was just 2, and manualed them, as one does. Then I realized that there were three, got way back as the front came down, and nose-bumped the third one. Since it's kind of in a curve, and I was in the air for a bit, when I landed, I was just off-trail. I was also coming down pretty front-heavy, and way behind the seat. During the split second I was off trail, I hit something. No idea what, but it basically stopped the bike under me and my pelvis slammed into the seat from behind.

So, the seat is normally like this:

When I hit it, it broke the rear bolt, tipping it up like this.

And then as my body continued forward, it broke the seat completely off and this jagged, broken bolt...

Ripped right through my shorts, and right through my scrotum.

It was all super fast though. During all of that I was also jumping over the bars and throwing the bike out from under me. While in the air, I had to use my right forearm to glance off of a tree too. The whole maneuver was pretty complex, and since I actually landed on my feet at the end of it, for a second or two, I felt pretty good about how seemingly successfully I had bailed. Then I felt the breeze down below, and realized that my shorts were ripped open. Then it started to hurt, and I figured I'd given my nuts an atomic racking. A minute or so later, I could tell that it was worse than that, and after taking a quick look, it appeared that I would need stitches for sure.

My shorts were ripped open, but I keep a shirt in my top tube bag just to fill space, so I made a skirt out of that. I then picked up all of the broken parts that I could find and walked back to the truck.

I immediately thought of Mark B. who had a similar incident when a lady pulled out in front of him on the road and he went flying over the roof of her car. Couple of stitches, and he was fine. That seemed likely in this case too. It hurt like the dickens to walk around, but if I sat or stood still, it wasn't all that bad. Way less than I'd expect, at least.

I was thirsty and hungry, but really I just wanted something sweet to comfort myself with, so I put on my boxers and stopped at Charlie's on the way out, not realizing that I was bleeding all down the back of them. I can only imagine what the guy behind me in line must have thought.

The closest ER was actually the Cobb WellStar, which is also the nearest ER to my house. So, I went there, and checked in. They were super busy though, I wasn't dying, and I wasn't bleeding too terribly at the time, so it took some time.

After a while though...

Drip.

Drip drip.

All the walking around, changing positions, and skin contracting made it bleed more and more. Also, as a result of said walking around, changing positions, and skin contracting, one of my dudes had become completely exposed, which I discovered, to my horror, later, in the bathroom. It was definitely going to require more than a couple of stitches.

An AP checked it out: "Yeah, I can't do anything for this" and referred me for surgery. The poor urologist on call had to rush over from Kennestone. They only had one room available for me to wait in, in the psych ward. "You might hear some screaming." There was a lot of screaming.

A little while later, I was off to the OR. The consult with the anesthesiologist went like: "Any number of terrible things could happen, I'll enumerate them for you... [long list of horrible things] ...so, just sign here if you're cool with all of that." And you do, because you want all of your parts back together. Then nothing terrible happens and you feel bad that they're legally obligated to go through all of that with every patient. I'll bet some patients get really scared and the doctors have to handle that somehow.

When I woke up, I remember having the urge to talk to the nurse in Portuguese and having to make an effort not to. I have no idea why, and we joked about it a little later. People have weird urges and they say weird things as they're waking up.

It turns out that, as gruesome as the injury sounds, it's pretty easy to fix, and is surprisingly not painful after. Basically, if I wasn't actively fumbling with the wound site, then it didn't hurt at all.

It sure does bleed though. My goodness. I met with an AP the next day who said that they like for wounds like this to bleed a bit, so they don't stitch them up with too many sutures. The bleeding helps flush out infection and prevents swelling, which prevents pain. We both got a good chuckle out of talking about it too. It's funny when someone takes a shot to the nuts, as long as they're ok. At that point I was ok, so at that point, it was funny.

I went home Thursday afternoon in mesh granny panties with a bunch of what turned out to be very inadequate dressings stuffed into them. I ran by the Walgreens to pick up the antibiotics that they prescribed me and had the most awkward consult of my life with the pharmacist. Actually, it wasn't that awkward for her. Like all the other health care professionals that I'd interacted with over the past few days, she was super, supr pro. It was really awkward for the guy standing nearby waiting for his prescription though, or at least I gathered that it was from his animated body language as it occurred to him what we were talking about.

Me: "...something, something, gruesome injury... ...like a pad for the heaviest flow imaginable. Something like that."

Her (as if she gets this kind of question all the time): "Ah yes, on aisle such-and-such we have [rattles off various brands and specs] but I think you should try the Depends undergarments on the endcap of this other aisle [rattles off additional specs and rationales]..."

She was right, and I ended up doubling up on two different Depends products:

And man, I'm glad I did. I'd bleed through the stuff they sent me home with from the hospital in under an hour, but the doubled-up Depends would last about 3 or 4, and longer if I was sleeping.

Still, it seemed like a lot of blood.

When I'd stand in the tub, about to take a shower, it would drip once every two seconds or so. An AP called me back Friday and after talking to her about it, she was like: "Yeah, that's way too much blood."

From there it was a bit of a goose chase, as they had never taken my ID or insurance info at the hospital, only had some old info for me from like 2016 when I'd come in once for a broken rib, thought I was still on Humana, and sent me to a urologist that was out of network for my actual insurance. The appointment also got set up incorrectly in the various systems. One had me for that day, another for the following Monday. I had to go back and forth from the 4th to the 2nd floor a couple of times to figure out what office to be at too. The bathroom was also all the way at the very other end of the hall from the office... So much walking. It was the absolute last thing in the world that I wanted to do. Everything got straightened out eventually though, they took a good look, and sent me back at the ER for a few additional sutures.

According to one of the PAs in the ER, word had gotten around about my injury. This seemed like the case, as I kept getting some variant of "So you're that guy?" whenever someone new would see me. They took a photo of the injury when I'd first come in, to send to urology. I bet that made the rounds too.

Modern emergency healthcare is a hell of a system. It's definitely a little clumsy; you wait a lot, you're pretty uncomfortable most of the time, and you pay for it. But when you rip your groin open. I'll be damned... An army of people coalesce, put you back together, and prevent you from bleeding to death over the next few days.

That's a win!

Everything seems pretty good now. I'm barely bleeding at all any more. I hope this positive trend continues. If it does, I should be hiking in a few weeks and back on the bike in 6 or so. We'll see though, I've got a long way to go and a broken seat to think pretty hard about.

Cooper Gap Area

I made a resolution, last year, to hike more. The bike is great and all, but the medium impact of hiking seems to be good for my joints. I feel more like an old man getting up off the couch when I haven't been hiking a lot, and I've really started to notice it over the past few years.

As resolutions typically go though, it was difficult to stick to. Illness and travel didn't help. But this past Sunday, I did make it up to the Cooper Gap Area to check out some trails that I'd been meaning to explore for a while.

I'd explored the same area on my last 2 hikes, but while crunching the GPS data, I noticed a road that I'd missed in the lidar data. Can't let that go unexplored...

I parked at Cooper Gap, said hi to an AT thru-hiker that was setting up camp, headed east a bit, then dropped down over the edge into the cove below. I found the road I was looking for almost immediately.

It's right there, can't you see it?

Jokes aside, it was super, super overgrown, and semi-difficult to follow. I did follow it though, and uphill it ended after maybe 100 yards. It looked like it legitimately ended there too. Like it always had, and not like it ever made it all the way up to present-day FS42.

Logging road?

Probably. I'd sure love to meet someone with definitive knowledge though

I followed it down, and discovered two interesting things along the way.

Some tornado-flung roofing was lying a bit west of the trail.

There were several piles of "organized rocks" a ways down too.

The trail eventually just became another trail that I'd already explored. When I'd last been out there, I hadn't noticed that it continued because of how flat it was at that spot, and because of a tangle of downed trees.

I kept going down and down and down, and eventually picked up another old roadbed that I hadn't explored yet. It was much like Old Cooper Gap Road - worn in very deeply below grade in a lot of places. Like Old Cooper Gap Road, it struck me less as having been built for logging, and more as having just been the way people went up the mountain, which had clearly been rerouted many, many times over the years.

Eventually that old roadbed bent around and teed in to Old Cooper Gap Road, which just made that theory more credible. But really, if you follow it up the mountain, it doesn't go anywhere. I just ends, abruptly, short of the gap, in very steep terrain. So, IDK. Maybe there was an original route, followed by some reroutes, followed eventually by the modern road, and then the original routes were used for logging, spurs were cut off of them and eventually abandoned, but continued to get recreational use for some time, causing them to get worn in below grade, until they eventually became inaccessible or impassible and finally overgrown. I don't love explanations like that though, as they require a lot of assumptions, but that does fit with the evidence.

Again, maybe someday I'll run into someone who knows for sure.

Down near the bottom end, the road sat on a ridge that dropped down pretty steeply to some feeder of Ward Creek.

It was actually pretty spectacular in real life, but was difficult to get a representative photo of.

I managed to find a bearing tree...

...and an NF boundary marker down at the bottom end too.

Pure luck that I saw them too, as they were both pretty well obscured behind some deadfall.

Speaking of which, "obscured behind some deadfall" would be a good description of everything down there. This was pretty typical:

I climbed over, under, and around that kind of thing, most of the day.

I actually recognized where I was when the trail teed into Old Cooper Gap Road, and since I didn't have the motivation to backtrack and explore every little spur that I'd marked on the way down, I just took it back up to the gap.

About halfway up I got a call from Sophie's friend Madi, but the call quality was so bad that neither of us could understand each other. It worried me a bit though. Why was Madi calling me? The last time that happened, Sophie was super sick. Then I got a call from Sophie. Again, we couldn't understand each other. I climbed and climbed, hoping to get better reception. Eventually I did, got a call from Madi again, and this time we could understand each other. Sophie was at the Renaissance Fair with Madi and others, but had no 5G service, and she wanted to know if I could check her bank account to see if she had enough money to but some stuff. Madi's phone just worked better than hers.

Ha!

By then I had decent service. Yes, she had plenty of money.

Man, this connected world we live in. I can be deep in the woods and check my kid's bank account.

On the way up to the gap, I found this lonely Wild Azalea.

I'd seen a few on the way down, but they were all pretty far away. It was great to see one up close.

At the gap, there was a different AT thru-hiker in the campsite. The first guy looked like he was stopping for a while, but I guess it had been a while, and he had gotten moving again. This guy also looked like he was stopping for a while, but I couldn't be sure.

From there, I followed a trail north. This was another trail that I'd seen on lidar data, and had marked on my map, years ago, but never actually checked out. Just finally getting around to it. I suspected that it had been the original route of FS15, as it appeared to just bomb down from the gap and tee into FS15. What would I find though?

Well, the upper half of it was very well worn. Various fire rings indicated that AT hikers camp down there at times. Past the last fire ring, it got overgrown though, and there was deadfall here and there. It was a proper old roadbed though, probably 20 feet wide at points. It was a good bench cut too, and didn't show any immediate signs of unstainable wear. If it was a former route, why had it been abandoned?

I eventually found the answer. Further down it intersected a creek, and hung a left. The creek appeared to have once flowed to the north of the road, but over time had moved such that it flowed directly down the road for several hundred yards. Below that, the road was very wide, and very below grade. So, yeah, it had become a mess, right there, and rerouting it was the best option. I have a map from 1889 (I think) though, that shows it in its current configuration. So, it made me wonder just how long ago it had been since anyone really used that section that I was on.

Climbing back up FS15, I immediately noticed a new house, right there on the road. The owners were hanging out, and I talked to them as I went by. It had apparently been a while since I'd been to that exact spot, because they'd built it about 2.5 years ago! Nice place though.

The switchback at the top of FS80 felt steep, even on foot. Many years ago, my Dad and I had rode the Canada Creek loop, and he stopped like 200 yards from the gap, then kicked himself later for not riding the final 200 yards. I did the same on a ride with Eddie and Shey a few years back. If it feels steep hiking though, it's officially steep, so I called my Dad later to tell him that.

Back at the truck, I got changed and headed back down the mountain. There was a really nice repair on FS80 near Sky Orchard.

It looked really sketchy the last time I was up there. It was good to see it repaired.

I forget exactly what I did for dinner, so I guess it wasn't too important.

Good day overall though. I didn't hit it too hard and blow myself up, but it was still pretty satisfying. It did take a minute to get used to something always touching me, but that's just how it is off-trail, this time of year.

Now, I crave more of it.