Up to Rim Nordic for the Day: Down She Goes

 I mean, sure it was a little soft in the turn and, I suppose, Westside was, technically, the most technical trail we rode, but still...

was the overly dramatic fake crying really necessary? Maybe if she spent more time on the mtb, and less on the road bike things like this wouldn't ...

Oh, who am I trying to fool, I know, they'd still happen. The nature of the game, and all that. And anyway, as the saying goes, any day on the bike is better than any day not riding. The same can be said for a day in the mountains, which would have made the past Sunday, up at the Rim Nordic Ski Area and Bike Park, a day that was doubly good.

It may not have been especially hot down in the valley, but it was even less so up above. The sky could not have been more blue, nor the pines and oaks more green. There were still a lot of wild flowers - the ceanothus was blooming free and easy, patches of Indian Paintbrush littered the trailsides, along with some low-growing white flower I am unfamiliar with. Iris and lupine clustered in little groupings, golden wallflower punctuated the landscape here and there, and a couple snow plants pushed up through the dirt. What there were not a lot of were people. It seemed like (on this day at least) no one wanted to pay to play, put in the effort to get the reward, go up before you can come down; Snow Valley Mountain Park straight across the road seemed to be attracting quite a few of the downhill sort, but the only people we shared the Rim Nordic trail network with were a couple trail runners.

I'm serious about that more time thing, once a year just won't help improve your game, so to help the mrs. get things dialed in we kept to a mostly simple loop - Country Road and Lower Country Road, swung back to and then up Vista, Bobcat, West Side back to LCR, with a final sprint across the line to finish up. In the little lodge / office / shop she wanted to buy one of everything and talk, talk, talk. But okay, I got a pair of socks out of her spree. Obvious to those of you who have ridden there, many more trails await, but it was still a heck of a good way to spend a Sunday morning, and the post-ride grub at Victoria's four miles back down the road to home was a fine way to end the short visit. Not only did a few biting flies have me itching, so too did the thought of coming back soon for more.