D2R2: The Mystery Ride and the Implosion of Shad: Part II

I'd imagined our entry into Catamount Forest the equivalent of the fellowship of the ring entering the mines of Moria, though perhaps not as clouded with dread and portents of doom. Though maybe I didn't pay close enough attention. This is what the cue sheet said about this option:

The 200-year history of this road is incredible, from start to finish, but you need fat tires or else will have a lot of dismounts.
First mile is a severe climb; last mile is a wicked descent with a bad S bend.
Across the top are many historical features and three brief sections of hiking trail around beaver dams.

"brief sections of hiking trail around beaver dams." 

That tacked-on phrase didn't register. Until it did. What it meant was that you'd be cruising along through The Woods and come upon swamp and marsh and come to a halt. 

Swampy Impasse

Generally, we sought the walk-around - some beaten down path off to the side that other riders and various outdoor enthusiasts had, by exploratory use, turned into the detour. Many other riders did the same.

When Nut and I happened upon these circumstances, we wisely evaluated our options and generally chose the path of least resistance. Except once, the first one actually, when a low-lying, sloppy, gooped-up trail passage had a decrepit old pallet laid across the nastiest part, a sort of loading dock bridge across the mud suck. With nails.

A group of four or five riders ahead of us crossed over it, and Nut and I did too and almost immediately I heard the unmistakable hiss of air escaping from tube. Flatted! One dude in the group ahead of us flatted too - so while I changed the tire, Nut went back and heaved the pallet off the track. Better a muddy slog than a flat tire.

The forest was relentless. Much pushing or hefting of bikes. The fat bikes ate it up, no problem. We'd scamper out of the way to let them pass. But most of us hoofed it. Which I came to realize was a good thing. It was like forced rest. Not that pushing a bike up a crazy rocky water-sluiced gullet of a road is easy, but it does give the cycling muscles rest of a kind. 

This is not Dominica

Yet a huge motivating force for getting through the forest was the promise of imminent lunch. Just a few miles beyond. Lunch! A ham sandwich! Potato chips. A cola! Sitting in a grassy shady spot with boots off, stretching!

The lunch stop was more or less around the 36 mile point ('more or less' being dependent on which option you took earlier, the Catamount Forest mountain bike option or the road bike work-around), and that was pretty close.

So onward! 

Wing Nut drove the Shad train toward Gustatory Oasis; Dubstoevsky, encouraged by the very idea of food-come-soon, stayed on Nut's wheel. A dry gravel road, rock-pocked; occasional waves of washboard ripple; loose sand of varying depth; the very definition of a BAD road surface for cycling. 

Nut suddenly slowed down, came to a stop and said, verbosely, "uh oh."

Uh oh? "I think we missed a turn." 

A pick-up truck passed us, then stopped and backed up. A whole family. They wondered if we knew where we were, which was Vermont. Macmillan Rd. 

Wing Nut asks "Cook Forest Rd"?

Back a ways. Back up the hill. About a mile. Maybe two. 

Definitely two. That's two miles AWAY from lunch. And two miles more just to get back on track. So back we go. Team Shad, ever righting the ship. 

Cook Forest Rd is the entrance to Ho Cook State Forest and just like that, we plunged back into the Deep Rough, and seemingly a long way from lunch.

Ripping it up in Ho Cook

Walking it up in Ho Cook

Part III
Part I