It was just a few days ago that the LMBC kicked off the New Year with the NYD ride. As usual, the weather was anything but predictable. It was a balmy 21 degrees as we gathered our mountain bikes at the trailhead. This tradition from long ago dictated we ride the trail; snow, ice, rain, or hangover. There's no way to ignore tradition after all.
It had snowed a bit, and had definitely been cold. I figured I would see some leftover snow and probably a lot of frozen dirt and sand. I hadn't counted on it being just warm enough to pull oceans of water out of the dirt, before it froze again. This ice was everywhere, the fast lines, the slow lines, even the trees seemed to be oozing it. It didn't matter though, we had to ride nevertheless. It's said that we fell at least 12 times that day, out of 50 or so people I wouldn't trust someone who didn't fall. I pedaled my bike out from under me. I saw a friend fall while standing dismounted. I heard thuds and whacks, followed by laughter. It wasn't a fast lap of the trail. It was the kind of ride that defines how much you love your bike. The kind of ride where cyclists laugh and play, where they concentrate on being loose.
It was the perfect start to the year.