Just when I start to think that we're getting old and soft, we go out and ride a trail like Roller Coaster.
It was a dark and stormy morning...well, not so much stormy but it was cloudy and cold and threatening to rain. We climbed up Kings Canyon where Mike, feeling his oats, made an assault on He-man's hill. Meanwhile Guy and I saved our legs and lungs for the six mile ascent to come, by taking the girlie route up the ridge. We climbed through Crafton Hills College and up the road through the former golf course. The scene of devastation was slightly sobering as we picked our way through the pine boughs that lay in the road. The trees that had shaded the green for so many decades had been toppled and the once lush grass was a desiccated, balding carpet, another concession to the ongoing water shortage in the West.
The fire road (a two-track, dirt road maintained for use in wild fire suppression efforts) climbs steadily towards Zanja Peak with only a couple of stretches of relief, one of which is a trail we call Shortcut. Shortcut circumvents a section of road by dropping steeply off the side of the hill and zipping right back up the side of the next hill (providing one has the requisite balls to achieve maximum velocity). Just beyond the Shortcut, we stopped to take off our wind breakers and noticed a rider at the top of the ridge behind us. He didn't come down the Shortcut trail so we didn't wait to see who it was. The wind grew increasingly chilly as we climbed but as long as we maintained our pace we could generate enough body heat to tolerate it. We caught another glimpse of the trailing rider a couple of miles later and realized that it was probably our friend, Geoff, but being the self-centered bastards that we are, we didn't wait for him.
Mike and Guy stopped at the summit to don their protective downhill gear while I rode down to the Roller Coaster trail head. They wanted to take a scary little trail which is actually the upper section of Roller coaster but can be avoided by staying on the road. I was instructed to stand at the bottom of the dropoff where this trail intersects the road and yell if there was any obstacle to their successful descent, since it's so steep that one can't see the bottom before committing to the plunge. Mike came first, picking his line through the rocks and ruts, and as he approached the drop asked if he was on the right line. From where I stood it looked okay. Guy followed a few seconds behind. As he rolled up to the edge of the precipice he came to a halt with the exclamation, "Oh, SHIT!" Then, without further ado, pointed his front wheel over the edge and plummeted easily down to the road. We three stood and laughed out loud, reveling in the pleasure of having cheated death once again.
Initially, I thought I would ride down an easier trail and meet the boys at the bottom of Roller Coaster, but with Mike's encouragement, was persuaded to follow them down RC. Guy hesitated a second after Mike disappeared around a turn in the steeply descending trail and I encouraged him saying, "Go ahead; this isn't the steep part". I like to build the tension
. So we make our way down the first hill, which is actually in pretty good shape. It had a nice wide, loose rut that we could drop into and just slide down at a controlled speed that allowed for navigating the twists and turns. At the bottom of that section of the trail, the easier trail I had considered taking zigged and zagged back and forth, switch backing across our straight-down path. None of us even thought about bailing out of this white knuckle, E ticket ride at this point.
A couple of relaxed down and up hills (hence the name Roller Coaster) brought us to the first really steep pitch. Having ridden this trail several times in my youth, my bowels loosened as I approached the point of no return. The boys disappeared over the edge as I tentatively approached to see how bad the normally ginormous rut was. Not bad at all but terrifyingly steep, nonetheless, was my determination. As is normal for this testosterone challenged rutslut, I made one false start and had to climb back up to start over. Once committed, it was merely a matter of getting the center of gravity balanced between the front wheel and the rear for maximum braking power. I had my front shock dialed to its fullest length so there was no fear of going over the bars but my rear wheel did try to pass my front once before I got it dialed in. Near the bottom, I confidently let off the brakes and sailed up the next hill to where the guys were waiting, grinning ear to ear at my success.
The transition to the next scary part is probably the most dangerous because, though not steep, it's steep enough to go really fast. It has a treacherous rut down the middle and there's hardly any traction so the slightest touch of the brakes sends you sliding into the rut. Then just when your arms are all shaky from the tension, the trail drops down a short, steep, rutty, rocky chute that requires every ounce of concentration you have. It's really fun!!! Then there's a nice flat section to get you relaxed for the last lock-'em-up, slider decent to the highway. It's steep enough to be fun, but after what you've just come down, it seems just ho hum fun.
At the bottom there's one last plunge to the stream bed which Mike made look hard enough that Guy and I decided to walk and live to ride another day. Freezing, shivering, numb fingered and toed, we scampered home down our familiar single track trails, made rail-fast by the recent rains. Oh, I pity anyone who has never enjoyed the camaraderie of a solo sport with kindred spirits. I love you, Mike and Guy!!!
At least the photos were saved so it won't take as long when I start over. 
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