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Subject: Friday, Friday - A Freewheeler Group Ride Report Date: Fri, 11 Jun 1999 19:57:16 -0700 From: Eric Muhler ,

As I write this my shoulder is still killing me! Did I biff? Not exactly, but more on that later... Leaving the East Bay fog at 8:17 am I saw the sun over Tam in the distance, a beacon for good times luring me West. The regular East Bay contingent, no longer willing to ride the day before their BADD ride was staying home to meditate on which of El Mule-o's acronyms were the appropriate ones to describe themselves. My two favorites were Busted, Aenerobic, Disgusted, Dead and Bright Athletes Don't Do (it). Anyhow, it was up to me to represent East Bay biking on the Friday ride.

Arriving at Deer Park I met Sutat for the first time. He said that he recognized me from pictures. We can credit Mr. Shred for that. Another Freewheeler benefit. At bike events away from home I can be released on my own recognizance! Soon after, Shred and Randy (Juan) rode in. At the last moment, calling "miracles never cease" from his open window, in drove the Vernonator. Greetings were exchanged and a very simple aggrement was reached to ride the Freak handywork starting with Alchemist and proceeding with the logical circumnavigation.

Vernon, Randy and Sutat did Tamarancho with extreme prejudice. Little (nothing) was seen of them until we regrouped at Pipecleaner Meadow. But before we could happily arrive there... Shred and I were lazily enjoying the climb up Serpentine when we spotted a couple of ladies hiking up the trail. I announced in a friendly voice as I approached from behind, "I'm coming up behind you!" The woman in front whirled around and snarl-screamed at me "So you're the fucking police, now, huh!? You want to police me?! Let's see your pass!!" She was pissed. (Could you tell?) She launched into a diatribe too long to relate, here, but evidently three bikers in green and brown jerseys had passed her and one of them had asked her if she possessed a trail pass. This had angered her in the extreme. I offered in a quiet and extremely reasonable voice that I had a pass, and last years as well, and that if she had a pass and had been displaying it as all pass holders are asked to do, nobody would have asked her for one. This really pissed her off, worse! "I have a pass and my friend Phil, who I see every day, says I don't have to display MY pass! You goddamed bikers are parking on our side streets, and now you think you're the police, and bikers from all over the world come here, and you probably advertise on the internet, and you want to police ME!? 55 bikers say hello to me on a hike, and I don't want to say hello to 55 bikers back, and if I don't, they think I'm a fucking bitch, (Ed note...wonder how they could possibly have thought that?) and, and, and....." At this point I explained that I was sorry that she was so upset and hoped she would have a better time on the rest of her hike and I rode on.

Just about then, up rode Shred! She started right in on him! I watched from the trail above them so that just in case she had a gun and killed Shred there would be a witness who could get this threat to society locked up! Shred should be appointed Grand Ambassador! After ten minutes of letting this hag-a-bitch rale and vent upon him, Shred had her laughing and shaking hands! As it turned out Juan, in his Imperial Wisdom had asked ***** for her Tamarancho Pass!!

Once we were regrouped at Pipecleaner Meadow, Randy told all. Vernon, on the other hand, while leading up Serpentine had said nothing to ****, and right after passing her had seen a beautiful, large Bobcat through the trees! Vernon took this to be a symbol of leadership, and believed it to be a shamanic omen that was directing him to exhibit leadership qualitities and ignore the hikers who were now screaming at Randy behind him. He rose above the fray and rode like the bobcat leader he is!

After a photo session on Wagon Wheel we all waited for ****** who by now had passed us again, to have arrived at White's Hill and not be blocking the trail. Nobody wanted to tangle with this psycho twice! We regrouped at some rocks on White's Hill fireroad and it was bail time. Vernon and Sutat decided to ride their tread tracks right back to Deer Park, Shred ,Randy and I went up to the ridge. There, we were treated to the finest display of hummingbird flying tricks I have ever seen. The first bird was climbing to 100 feet and dive bombing pulling out at bush top level with an audible "whack" of thwarted 'G' forces as he went into holding patterns over the bushes. He did this at least 20 times. Then a second bird appeared and they chased each other around, landed in trees, did the climb and dive thing, and put on an incredible display. Just what the nature of the display was, was, of course, disputed in the fine Freewheeler tradition. Juan and I, ever the romantics, thought the second bird was a female who had been won over by the dazzling flying tricks of her new-found mate, and was now flying in synchronized unison with her beau. Shred, who probably plays violent video games when he isn't building web sites, thought the second bird was another male who was vying for female attention, trying to establish dominance, and that at any moment hummingbird blood would be splashed down upon us as the death match was finished for good. I'll leave this to the Professor! No bird blood having been spilled, Randy and Greg headed for the valley and their responsibilities. I headed for Tam and my irresponsibilities.

At this point it was about 80 degrees out, and just beautiful, with a light breeze keeping me in the groove. I had a solo lunch on Pine Mountain Road at the top of Shit Hill, and then rode down to Bull Frog and over toward the mountain. On the road past the marshy tip of Alpine Lake I spotted a huge heron swallowing a fish or a frog. I took several pictures and then watched a happy family of ducks, Ma, Pa, and the three little ducks, bobbing for pond slime, bugs, frogs, fish, or whatever it is that ducks eat. Lots of pictures later, I rode over to Bon Tempe dam and headed up Rocky Ridge.

Now it was getting hot, but worse were the goddamned horse flies, which Shred had identified as "Satan incarnate." After climbing up Rocky Ridge in swarms of those devils, I';m inclined to agree with him. right before Rock Springs, I felt something like a 22 bullet strike me in my left shoulder blade. Man that sucker hurt! Sharp intense burning pain made my shoulder feel like it was swelling to twice its size. I screeched to a halt, threw my pack off, and scratched at my shoulder like a psychotic fighting off a hallucinated swarm of bees. All the while, it hurt more and more. Which brings us to the beginning of this tale. My shoulder still hurts! Whatever stung or bit me raised a silver dollar sized 1/8 inch high welt that is still there 5 hours later! Deciding that these fucking flies weren't worth the pain, I turned left on Rock Springs and headed for home. Even on the rapid downhills, either flies or venom-induced hallucinatins of huge bugs were buzzing my head! It was surreal in a horror movie sort of way. Could Satan be about to burst out of Mt. Tam? Could Shred be right? I don't know, but after riding back to Deer Park and completing my short ride the first thing I did was get that jersey off and look at my wound in the mirror. Serious welt! Except for the flies and angry hikers it was a stunning day of fun and relaxation. Worth it, and I'd do it over with another fly bite, even. I am beginning to wonder, however. After 5 years of biking without a nasty incident between myself and another trail denizen, I've had three extremely nasty trail incidents in eight days. Maybe I was overdue, but between pissed off hikers, and Deer Flies I think something's brewing and it ain't black coffee. More like Black Magic!

STATS: 24.5 miles 8.7 mph average speed 34.6 mph maximum 3110 feet of elevation gain Black flies of Satan Black hearted hikers of meanness No flats or mechanicals Creaking cranks on Eric's bike Still better than a day spent making money! Eric Muhler The Grand Vizier ericmuhler@btceastbay.org http://www.btceastbay.org