Tarbell Ride Report Features Talking Chicken

June 12, 2009 on 12:49 pm | In Mountain Biking | 5 Comments

PBR, Fried Chicken and Broken Derailleur

As I was loading the cooler for the ride on Sunday, I went through the list of riders……Me (lover of IPA’s and all things northwest beer), Jeff Muldoon (lover of PBR), and Thomas Mueller (the only German I have ever met who does not like strong beer).  After an extensive search of my cooler, I found two Ninkasi Tricerahops, and a single 16 oz PBR left over from last time we had the Muldoon’s over for dinner.  I loaded my Camel back with all of the necessary equipment and some extra crap that was sitting on the dresser. 

The scene was set for an epic ride for three guys with hall passes (or so I thought) from their wives to do an epic ride.  After loading my car to the hilt with 3 sweet bikes we headed to the trail.  Since the 5K, my diet has not been the best.  A week in Switzerland eating chocolate cheese, and sausage and a week at home eating chocolate I brought back from Switzerland, sausage, butter, and regrettably Spicy Churches Fried Chicken on Saturday night.  I tipped the scales 10 pounds heavier than the 5K and loaded with spicy chicken.

Before we began the ride, Thomas made a rookie move.  He told us that he was hoping to make it back in time for Sara’s baby shower.  As I looked at the mountain ahead of us, I knew there was no chance.  But, I knew we would have fun with his statement for the rest of the ride, and for weeks to come. 

As Thomas and Jeff were getting their bikes ready to go, I realized the chicken did not want to go for a ride……..   When I finally emerged from the Porta Potty, Thomas and Jeff left like they were shot out of a rifle.  We started the climb above the Rock Creek Campground through on the horse trail that leads to Tarbell.  Although it was not as bad as we heard it would be, it was pretty torn up (but rideable in almost all instances).  We climbed, and we climbed staying on the horse trail that must have been marked with washable Crayons.

We snaked our way to the Tarbell trailhead and were relieved when we saw the first trail markers.  The trail has been restored in all of the clear cuts leading up to the waterfall (more on this later) The ride to the waterfall from Tarbell trail head was a mixture of steady climbing, and unbelievably smooth descents.  Apparently Thomas had not been eating the fried chicken, sausage and chocolate diet, as he was a climbing machine, or he had a baby shower to attend.  The descent down to the waterfall was mixed with flowing downhill and bermed out switchbacks.  What a blast!

We could only enjoy the 90+ ft waterfall for thirty seconds as we were still trying to get Thomas back for his shower.  Once again Thomas started climbing like a goat late for a baby shower.  I promise I will only make one more baby shower reference.  About ¼ mile from the waterfall, we went into the clearcut from hell.  The sun was beating down as we came to a tangle of large trees that were dropped right on the trail.  After climbing over the trees, we started up the switchbacks that kept teasing us by getting close to the shade of the forest only to take us right back into the clear cut. 

The closer we got to the forest the more roots, tree parts and other trash appeared on the trail.  Two or three switchbacks from the edge of the forest and 12-14 miles from the car in each direction came the unthinkable….broken Effing derailleur.  I bought 3 derailleur hangers before the 5K for my Niner.  Too bad I was on my Iron Horse.  However, with the fantastic engineering mind of Thomas, we figured a way to use the Niner derailleur (that I grabbed off of my dresser with a bunch of other crap).  However, I lost 1^st and 2^nd gear which was a small price to pay to have the rest of the gears available. 

Halfway through and we still had to make it to the baby shower. (I lied)

We continued to climb with Thomas once again taking the lead…..still not melting.  Somewhere around here, Muldoon began using jet power to climb.  We reached the protection of the forest and the false top of the climb around 3000 ft.  After a snack, and handing water over to the snowman, we began a scorching descent down to the Kiosk at 2300 ft.  At the Kiosk, we met a group that climbed 5 miles of gravel to get to the same spot we were without any of the joy of single track or a badass waterfall.  The leader of the group told us that the trail was only about a half mile from the kiosk.

 We took off with fervor, errr, Thomas took off with fervor.  He climbed a rocky near vertical climb that nether me, or Jeff with his jet power could climb. We took a break at the top of the first climb and noticed a trail to the right that seemed as if it was the way to go.  However, we found a sign that said to go left………OUCH!

Don’t go left.  Whatever you do, don’t go left.  Hear the words coming out of my mouth……DON’T GO LEFT!!!!  You can bypass the hell I am about to explain by taking a right, then taking a left where that tees into the double track that takes you up to the Tarbell trail and avoids about 700 ft of climbing.

We went LEFT.  It started off really beautiful.  There were patches of snow and an ice cold creek that worked great to cool our heads.  We left the serene creek, and turned two corners to enter my personal Hell.  Your Hell may be in the center of the earth, but, mine is near the top of Larch Mountain.  The trail at that point turned into a trough filled with baby head sized rocks made up of white pumice.  This trail was not rideable unless you have a baby shower (awww you get the picture) Thomas took off and rode this crappy trail.  Jeff and I did not see him for 600 feet of climbing, umm, I mean pushing. 

When we finally saw Thomas, he had come to the conclusion that there was no top to Larch Mountain.  There have not been many rides where I was glad my wife was not there, but, this was one of them.  I think there would have been full scale mutiny.   And if you did not know, my wife is a tough mother…. We stopped and gave Thomas some more water and had a snack.  At this point, the Fried Chicken started clucking.  Jeff and I serenaded Thomas with a dual horn sonnet.  This lit a fire under me and Thomas.  We started climbing and no more than 50 yards up the trail was the sign for Tarbell.  We had reached the top.

Let the downhill begin.  I am sure you have heard about the very top part of Larch was rocky.  They were not exaggerating.  We started bouncing down the hill until we heard a cry from behind.  That’s right, Thomas was behind us.  Jeff and I used our superior jet power (and our 5 inch travel bikes) to almost run off and leave him.  This was the first major ride for Thomas’ 29″ Voodoo, and if this ride was any indication, the Voodoo kept him from melting.  I can’t wait until he gets his steel custom special super duper German full suspension ride back from the shop. 

The call from behind was also the first flat of the Voodoo, and of the ride.  Thomas quickly fixed the flat, and we took off for the Skree hillside they tried to make a trail through.  We all walked through the sharpened interlocked rocks until we got to the beginning of the downhill.  This upper part of the downhill was more fun than a roller coaster and damn near worth the Bataan Death March up the rock trough. 

We were now to the downhill most people do when they shuttle Larch Mt.  If you have not taken this ride, it is a must.  The switchbacks have Loney-like berms on them and the scenery is amazing.  They had trees marked and we are concerned the will be logging this in the future.  Two-thirds of the way down, my bike got extra squirrely and Thomas yelled from the back again.  This time to tell me I had a flat.  We fixed flat number two by filling the tube with some of the extra air Jeff and I were producing and continued the downhill. 

We did the grunt of the climb at the end of the downhill and coasted down the double track to the road.  One more trail and we would be back to the car and ready to enjoy the PBR.  Somewhere in this section, we all realized that Thomas’ chance to be at the shower was over.  He was stuck out in the woods with two stinky guys and no cake or party favors. 

Last section of trail and the Voodoo flatted again.  We came to the conclusion that it would be faster for Thomas to walk then to change another flat.  Jeff and I did one more downhill section and hit the road 100 yards from the car.  While waiting for the man and his Voodoo, Jeff and I looked down at our rear derailleur fix.  It was cooked.  Perfect timing!

Needless to say, Thomas and Jeff enjoyed their PBR, and I can truly say that was the finest Ninkasi’s I have had in a long damn time.  This will go down as one of the rides that will be talked about at 465 and around campfires and trail heads around the nation.  A great experience and quite possibly my last ride in the Northwest for a couple of months.  We loaded up the bikes, and hurried home.  I am not sure how Thomas and Jeff slept, but, that was some of the finest sleep I have had in a while. Good times!