When I pulled into Springers parking lot on route 108 in Stowe, Vermont a little after 8:00 AM there were a couple of other vehicles in the parking lot, some with fat bikes leaning against them. It wasnt particularly evident where registration for the event would be. I got out to put the wheels on the Moonlander and discovered that it was cold, very cold. I would later be informed that very cold meant minus ten degrees F. I talked to a couple of people who seemed to be as ill-informed as I, leaned the bicycle against the car and retreated back into the car for some warmth. In the car, I dug out a second pair of socks and put them on.
More vehicles arrived, but it was still not evident where registration was. I became bored and crawled back outside, discovering no thermal improvement. Getting on the bike, I pedaled across the road to the Cady hill trailhead, discovering it to be where registration was set up. I signed in and discovered that a smoky fire in a portable fire pit offered little warmth. Guided rides were supposed to start at 9:00 AM, and registration was the usual scene of people milling around in the cold. I met up with a couple of friends, and eventually became frustrated with waiting, so I set out solo.
I think I may have ridden Cady Hill once before, in summertime, perhaps a decade ago. I had received and glanced at a map, which depicted a web of trails running roughly north and south along a ridge. What I encountered was a singletrack climb with switchbacks, with a single set of fat bike tracks where someone had apparently ridden an out and back route to mark the festival trails. The tracks being there, I followed them, eventually ascending to a view of Mount Mansfield to the west, a picnic table, and a green lift chair. Per the program, this was supposed to be the site of lunch, a fire, and beer, though none were evident as yet.
At this point things became confusing. The green chair is at the intersection of four trails, including the one I arrived on. All had tracks. I had been seeing signs marked Überscramble, marking a race associated with the festival, so far, so good, but there was no obvious sign at the trail, so I picked one at random and found myself following the course backwards, informed eventually by more signs. Singletrack started trending downhill, became doubletrack, then a gravel road, on which the tracks I was following became faint.
Eventually, almost down to base level, I wound up in a power company storage yard, and wound up casting about looking for any clue as to which way to go. Finally something caught my eye over a snow bank, in which I found a narrow slot made by fat tires. Now to climb, including some rather chancy snow on glare ice sections. Shortly, the advanced riders crew stormed by in the opposite direction, with some shouted greetings to friends and a query from the leader, did I know where I was? I lied and said yes.
Climbing continued, and at some point I became aware that I was somehow just ahead of the ride-easy group, so I backtracked and joined them, which turned into the standard ride for a while, wait for stragglers, then finally get bored and press ahead. This eventually led back to the green chair, still absent beer, fire, and lunch. By this time I was adequately warm, although the temperature did not encourage standing about for too long, so I headed back to the parking lot with a couple of friends (one offered me a drink from his flask, but that does not work particularly well when wearing a full-face helmet).
The parking lot was another exercise in milling around in the cold to no end, so I again headed up solo, arriving back at the green chair as a crew was starting a fire and untapped kegs of Long Trail IPA and lager stood by. I collected kindling and split some wood for the fire and when that was done people were pouring in, hot burritos arrived, the kegs were tapped, and eating, drinking, and lots of talk ensued.
Having eaten a satisfying lunch, met back up with a number of old friends, and with the cold again becoming noticeable, I headed back to the parking lot. The surface of the downhill trail had become rather polished and I wound up on my ass more than once, but I eventually made it to the parking lot, stowed the bike, and headed home.
Get lost? Check. Hang with friends? Check. Have fun? Check. Avoid frostbite? Check. A really nice day.
More vehicles arrived, but it was still not evident where registration was. I became bored and crawled back outside, discovering no thermal improvement. Getting on the bike, I pedaled across the road to the Cady hill trailhead, discovering it to be where registration was set up. I signed in and discovered that a smoky fire in a portable fire pit offered little warmth. Guided rides were supposed to start at 9:00 AM, and registration was the usual scene of people milling around in the cold. I met up with a couple of friends, and eventually became frustrated with waiting, so I set out solo.
I think I may have ridden Cady Hill once before, in summertime, perhaps a decade ago. I had received and glanced at a map, which depicted a web of trails running roughly north and south along a ridge. What I encountered was a singletrack climb with switchbacks, with a single set of fat bike tracks where someone had apparently ridden an out and back route to mark the festival trails. The tracks being there, I followed them, eventually ascending to a view of Mount Mansfield to the west, a picnic table, and a green lift chair. Per the program, this was supposed to be the site of lunch, a fire, and beer, though none were evident as yet.
At this point things became confusing. The green chair is at the intersection of four trails, including the one I arrived on. All had tracks. I had been seeing signs marked Überscramble, marking a race associated with the festival, so far, so good, but there was no obvious sign at the trail, so I picked one at random and found myself following the course backwards, informed eventually by more signs. Singletrack started trending downhill, became doubletrack, then a gravel road, on which the tracks I was following became faint.
Eventually, almost down to base level, I wound up in a power company storage yard, and wound up casting about looking for any clue as to which way to go. Finally something caught my eye over a snow bank, in which I found a narrow slot made by fat tires. Now to climb, including some rather chancy snow on glare ice sections. Shortly, the advanced riders crew stormed by in the opposite direction, with some shouted greetings to friends and a query from the leader, did I know where I was? I lied and said yes.
Climbing continued, and at some point I became aware that I was somehow just ahead of the ride-easy group, so I backtracked and joined them, which turned into the standard ride for a while, wait for stragglers, then finally get bored and press ahead. This eventually led back to the green chair, still absent beer, fire, and lunch. By this time I was adequately warm, although the temperature did not encourage standing about for too long, so I headed back to the parking lot with a couple of friends (one offered me a drink from his flask, but that does not work particularly well when wearing a full-face helmet).
The parking lot was another exercise in milling around in the cold to no end, so I again headed up solo, arriving back at the green chair as a crew was starting a fire and untapped kegs of Long Trail IPA and lager stood by. I collected kindling and split some wood for the fire and when that was done people were pouring in, hot burritos arrived, the kegs were tapped, and eating, drinking, and lots of talk ensued.
Having eaten a satisfying lunch, met back up with a number of old friends, and with the cold again becoming noticeable, I headed back to the parking lot. The surface of the downhill trail had become rather polished and I wound up on my ass more than once, but I eventually made it to the parking lot, stowed the bike, and headed home.
Get lost? Check. Hang with friends? Check. Have fun? Check. Avoid frostbite? Check. A really nice day.
