Whoa!  Last day already?  Seems like just ten years ago this trip started…

Well, Reg is pretty stoked that this is the top of the hardest climb.  Little did he know about Old Glory just around the corner.

Sometimes, after riding for so long in BC, and especially in the Kootenays, this lifestyle is like a game of ghosts. One of the defining themes in the past ten years has been the high casualty rate among the rippers up this way. Today we were heading up 7 Summits, and I rode up on these ridge lines twice a long time back. The first time with the late, great Dave Swetland, and the second time with the late, great Lumpy Leidal. I find that having those experiences seems to lend a heightened sense of the spectacular to these rides. It’s as if these old pals are still hanging around, basically telling me to get my ass in gear because I’m going too slow.

It was back in 1993 that I first rode in Rossland. I have family there, and I’ve been skiing there forever, but it took a little while for me to get around to riding it. Another Cove guy, Bones, had the bike shop in town and hooked me up for a rip with Swetty, who at that time had only local notoriety and was relatively unknown in the bike world. I thought, being a bit of a North Shore hardcore, that it would be a cakewalk. Ha…good luck. Dave trashed me up and down and all around the local network and basically gave me a large serving of humble pie. Little did I know that I actually impressed him, as he was used to making the locals give up a lot sooner. This performance led to the invite to ride Plewman Ridge via Hanna Creek the next day (this is now part of the 7 Summits). I still have pics from that experience, and it remained the longest continuous descent I had done for several years.

Ahhh Dre, you’re such a fruit sometimes.

Lucky Joe made the mistake of joining us today for the rip. I think he was unimpressed by the speed, but lets face it…we were pretty trashed.

OK, time for some more nostalgia…

The next year I returned to Rossland to try my hand at racing. The race…meh, just another event. But I hooked up with some other Cove types for another rip up Plewman after the races were over. That was an awesome day too. Ham, Billy Stiles, Lumpy, Greg Stone, Muffet, and myself. Lump was a guy that I really looked up to and respected from my childhood in the Cove, so it was sort of like playing hockey with Gretzky, if you catch my meaning. Seeing as we had partied pretty hard, it was gratifying in a sense to see the guy suffering at 7000′ with a hangover. We’re all human at some point…

Swetty – ca. 1993

Well, fast forward to this incredible road trip and here we were, suffering up at 7000′ on a beautiful bluebird day. The incredible part to me wasn’t a feeling of deja vu. I mean, I KNOW I had been there before. It was the crystal clarity of the memories of shredding with my friends that have passed away. I was off the back, as usual, riding by myself, and apart from some differences in gear it was hard to tell what year it was. The trail looked the same. Little details in the terrain were just as I remembered. I knew what was around each corner.

Well…and the trail is a bit more used.  Still kind of timeless.

We made the extra effort to hit up Old Glory, which at just under 7800’ is the highest point in the neighborhood.  It’s been a while since I’ve been up this high, and I kind of forgot how much it can hurt.  At least I know from past experience that it’s worth it, and that the pain will pass shortly.

Ahhhhh….top o’ the world to ya.

I don’t know, but something was making me ride a lot by myself. Being off the back on the climb, I sort of felt like I should charge the descents and set the pace to make up for the delays on the up. Dropping into Plewman, the feeling of being with my old buddies only intensified. The downhill portion of the trail has changed a bit more than the alpine, but it was still absolutely surreal, that feeling of knowing the trail. It was like I had an invisible hand on the small of my back, guiding me into each turn and roll. I was setting up blind into every corner, and with total confidence that the trail was going that way. And what a trail…wide, mainly smooth, and with lots of rolls and little steps formed from roots across the line. Sections were like an old dual slalom course with perfect rhythm and drops into the corners. It was like a natural corkscrew motion, but at blurring high speed. This trip was ending on the highest note possible.

I got down into the woods well ahead of the group (another flat? Cripes…), and took the time to just lie down in the forest and reflect. I miss my old friends for sure, but so long as I can come out with new friends and make new experiences, then it’s all good. This trip was absolutely amazing. I feel like mountain biking as a sport has finally reached maturity. That ugly, fat, teenage freerider has grown up into a lean, light, and efficient singletrack shredder, and wow is she a looker."

I love ending the ride at sunset.  Margus had to get a few character shots in at dusk, which in retrospect was awesome.

Last thing we had to do was determine who was the “champ” of the ride, the standout, the most stoked.  It was a pretty close run thing, with Manfred, Dingo, and Mullet all pretty much killing it.  I thought Dingo was the man for charging everything at 110% on a Stumpjumper, but Rochambeau doesn’t lie.  Manfred got the draw.

Another panorama of the top for you…

..and some stats…

Totals for the week….

Distance: 75 miles or 121 km
Elevation climbed: 16362 ft or 4987 m
Elevation descended: 30100 ft or 9266 m

Enjoy another Interactive Map

There’s also a lot more pics, info, and some truly stunning comments on this adventure over at Pinkbike.

POD September 7, 2009
Hurtin’ For Vert – Meet The Riders
Hurtin’ for Vert – Part 1 of 4
Hurtin’ For Vert – Part 2 of 4
Hurtin’ For Vert – Part 3 of 4
Hurtin’ For Vert – Part 4 of 4