Bruce and Guano rippin' on lower Gold Creek.
Although delayed a week, Russ's planned excursion to the Upper Dungeness came off in
memorable fashion.
The four of us caught the Keystone ferry at 9:15 am, and we were on the trail by 11 am.
Our plan was to climb the Dungeness River Trail, pick up the Three O'clock Ridge Trail,
and finally -- after a brief section of logging road -- rip down the Gold Creek
Trail, which like almost all really good trails has been called the best mountain bike
trail in Washington.
The first part of the climb was extremely steep, with long pitches rising relentlessly
bend after bend. The only breaks came when we had to hike our bikes up a couple of slide
chutes. But after about the 40% point, where the trail turned down for a period, the
Dungeness River Trail became fine and rollicking.
The Three O'clock Ridge Trail proved a similar gambol, but the best came last: the Gold
Creek Trail. More than anything else, Gold Creek reminded us of another trail that has
been called the mountain biking's numero uno: Devil's Gulch near Leavenworth. Both have a
hot arid air with an open forest floor; long stretches where the trail is exposed along
cliffs that plunge to the tumultuous, plunging river below; and epic length providing 10
miles or more of continuous downhill rip.
I had my best moments on a couple tough climbs on the Dungeness Trail, and then at the
very end when I climbed through a very rough washout and sprinted all the way up the last
gravel road climb to where we'd parked our cars.
Mark, however, turned in the most amazing riding feat. At the very bottom of the Gold Creek Trail next to the parking lot, he climbed up on a an immense old growth fir that was laying horizontally along the ground, asked me to hand him his bike, climbed up on it, and proceeded to ride along it for about 75 feet, and then hop off at the far end.
Endo Bobbo, on the other hand, barely crawled to the car. He dropped his bike a few dozen feet away and staggered the rest of the way on foot. Seeing him approach like some sort of whacked-out Frankenbiker, I pulled a cold beer out of the ice chest, popped the cap, and handed it to him.
Happy hour on the Upper Dungeness for Endo Bobbo! He looked like he'd died and gone to heaven.
Approximately 4300 verts.
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