We went out for a snow ride today. None of us were on fat bikes which are suppose to be good for snow. Luke, who has owned a fat bike, said that it wouldn’t matter, unless someone has flattened the snow out they don’t really do much better then a regular bike. When we arrived at the trail head, which is about halfway between High Knob and Pounds Hollow, we saw that no one had been on the trails, no hikers, bikers, equestrians, though some deer had used the trails a bit.
I’ve heard Eskimos have like 20 words for snow, and I can totally understand that because even though snow all looks the same, it can feel and act very different. I’ve given up riding in less snow then this when I just couldn’t make the bike pedal through it, but this snow, though deep, was very dry and rideable. Riding through it at about 4 mph took almost 100% effort. It took full concentration on the trail, and most of my riding skills to keep the bike upright, it was really hard and slow.
So we rode up over Pounds Hollow and checked out an incredible view of the icy lake and the other guys had to wait for me to crawl uphill alot. It was drudgery, but also beautiful and gratifying to know that no one else is doing what you’re doing, though when you consider they are at home watching TV with dry feet it’s hard to feel to gratified. We encountered a couple out hiking and looking to do some rock climbing around Pounds Hollow. They were camping in the area, which really blows my mind. I can’t imagine camping in the snow.
There was one really sad part to the ride. I heard Luke scream for me to turn around. When I got back to him he was standing over what looked like a baby groundhog in my tire track, it was dying having just been run over by my tires. I never even saw it. I gave it a burial in the snow and said a few words.