This morning three mountainbiker friends and a dog set out from the Italia Road entrance and headed into Wallaroo. "Take it easy on me.." said the Captain, "I haven't ridden for a while." Well what started out as a gentle ride to take it easy on the Captain ended up a glorious 4 hour epic to Wallaroo's boundaries that had the best of Wallaroo: technical up hills, rocky downhills, awesome views, hike-a-bikes, wherethefuckarewe moments and fun all the way.
Mountain biking isn't about shiny objects. It's about where those shiny objects take you, the adventures they facilitate, and the stories that result. There's a raw simplicity to it all – even the most elegant and meticulously crafted bikes are still designed to be ridden away from the concrete, to be pummeled and thrashed like pugilists, enduring round after round of use and abuse.
Well Toolman and I are having a crap time over here in Rotovegas (not): almost straight off the plane to the shuttle (after a ride with Ian to the shops - the dog has died and he's in the market for a Korean lady), it felt like Christmas riding up to the shuttle point.