There's no place like home

Yesterday I clicked my ruby red slippers together and, after nearly a year's absence, I arrived in my hometown. In classic fall/winter fashion it was gray and dreary but there wasn't a speck of snow. I came expecting to get in some riding but not on the mountain bike. With the lack of snow though I decided to take advantage and borrowed my Dad's old Stumpjumper. After 3 hours I was left wondering why I ever left this place. The trails were incredible. They were in that state where they were wet, but not muddy, just tacky and you could rip. In a word they were buttery. In places the larch had lost all their needles and they covered the trail making it look like a yellow snake slithering between the trees, or, in keeping with the theme of this post, like the yellow brick road. You just had to look out for those damn flying monkeys. I still haven't gotten my replacement camera but I'll see what I can do about some photos.

Tomorrow I'll be throwing on some orange and getting down Montucky style.

Andy