Run Ragged

A couple of weeks ago the temperature dipped and the Roaring Fork valley was hammered by rain which, up above 10,000' or so, translated to the first snowfall of the season. The autumnal explosion of color - the gold and orange of the aspen, the deep red of scrub oak - is peaking upon the hillsides.

Friday departs for Japan today, a two-week school trip, and last week I suggested that Saturday we ride the Ragged Mountain Trail, an epic Colorado mountain bike trip. She and I have discussed this adventure for several years now but we've never gotten around to it. Getting to the trailhead is a 70-80 minute trip by car, then a shuttle to the trail terminus (about 25 miles down the road) and back is another 70-80 minutes. The ride itself is a five hour journey through remote, high altitude terrain and so the weather needs to be perfect. And then, of course, one must be up to the task of a 20-mile slog through infrequently traveled wilderness. We've always found it easy to put off for another time, another time, another time... and then we find winter suddenly upon us and the idea is shelved for yet another year.


To our advantage this time, Gary Pfaffmann, author of a local mountain biking guide, caught wind of our plan and offered to go with us. It's a quintessential fall ride, he said.

The plan: 1) camp out near the trailhead Friday night, 2) begin riding at dawn in order to avoid the likely afternoon thunderstorms, and to leave plenty of cushion for any setbacks that might occur, 3) deal with the vehicle shuttle afterward. A party at a friend's house, near the trail, was also on the slate for that afternoon, and then Friday had to be at the Aspen airport at 5:30 the following morning.

What actually happened: 1) after working all day Friday, exercising at the town Rec Center, making dinner, and packing for the Japan trip, we ran out of both time and energy - camping was out, 2) our cat, Sophie, inconveniently went blind (walking into walls, her eyes dilated), 3) Gary begged out of the ride, feeling a relapse of the cold he had been suffering through.











So Saturday morning found us sleeping in, a bit deflated, I guess, but after a couple of coffees, we soon took up the reins of the day. A trip to Valley Emergency Pet Care revealed that Sophie's retinas were detached and bleeding. We left her there for further tests. We carried on to the trailhead, where I dropped off Friday and our bikes. I drove Amber (our Xterra) to the Erickson Springs Campground, near where I believed we would emerge from the wilderness, and began to hitch-hike. Two rides later, I arrived back at the trailhead (11:30), and off we went.

The trail was a mixed bag. Lengthy sections of steep and loose rock and silty earth were unridable, and so the bikes had to be pushed or carried. Numerous trees fallen across the trail, and myriad creek crossings, also had to be portaged. The trail, barely there at times, was often crowded by thick brush, likewise making for a difficult traverse. I really seemed to be feeling my age, or perhaps it was just lack of time spent in the saddle this summer, but my reactions seemed leaden, my tenacity blunted. I took several hellacious falls: I spun out while climbing a steep, silty hill and, unable to unclip from my pedal in time, came down onto rock with my kneecap, bloodying it; sliding down a similar section, unable to slow or steer, I drifted into a large fallen tree paralleling the trail, and it launched me into a front flip onto my back, tearing a hole in my shirt. Storm clouds rolled in, and with them came a ferocious wind. The scenery, however, was outstanding!














We arrived to the campground right at the five-hour mark, battered and exhausted, and quickly loaded our gear into Amber. Only then did rain begin to fall. We made it to the party for a short stay, and then picked up our blind and - it turns out - hypertensive cat, who I will now have to somehow care for these next two weeks while also driving the school bus and substitute teaching for Friday (who did make it to the airport this morning, BTW).