Story on Vietnam
Raring to take on rough and rougher
By Matthew Selby, Globe Correspondent | April 23, 2006
MILFORD -- On an unseasonably warm March morning a dozen mountain bikers met in a parking lot just off Interstate 495 here. Ranging in age from 21 to 61 and all members of the New England Mountain Bike Association, these men appeared to be dressed for battle. Some were decked out in full-face helmets with pads on their elbows, shins, knees, shoulders -- even chest and spine protectors. With all this body armor, it seemed fitting that our destination was an area of technical trails called Vietnam.
Meeting the group for my first ride of the season, I felt inadequately prepared for the challenge. Not only was I out of shape, I was ill-equipped. I was on an old hard-tail bike with only my helmet and a healthy fear of breaking bones. They were all riding full suspension bikes built for freeride mountain trails and dressed to take the hits along the ride. I felt like a young soldier heading to the front lines with no rifle and little training.
''Be prepared, this is hard core," Joe Bolandrina, 42, of Douglas, told me as we made our way to the trails.
We weren't long into the four-hour ride when I realized what Bolandrina meant. These freeriders commit acts of insanity on wheels. Like rolling down 20-foot cliff faces, jumping off story-high boulders and across vast gaps. They have created a playground of nature-inspired tricks and stunts here, and when one of their favorite places to ride was threatened with development a few years back, they banded together to buy it.
I first heard of Vietnam shortly after moving to the area several years ago, but despite being a mountain biker I had never ridden these ominous-sounding trails. According to Philip Keyes, 47, of Acton, executive director of the association, the area earned its name when the dirt bikers who cut the original trails in the '70s left the sharp ends of the saplings they lopped off along the path.
''It reminded the original riders of punji sticks from the Vietnam War, and unfortunately the name stuck," said Keyes. Punji sticks were wood or bamboo spikes used in booby traps by the Viet Cong.
The area offers more than just good stunts. An estimated 15 to 20 miles of technical cross-country biking trails thread through 1,500 acres of land managed by the association and the towns of Holliston, Hopkinton, and Milford. Although there is a good deal of technical single-track riding to be had here, most people come to Vietnam to give their adrenal glands a workout.
It is the obstacles that make the trails special. As members cut new single-track trails, they work with the natural landscape to maximize fun while disturbing a minimum amount of territory. The trails twist and turn wildly, and take glorious advantage of a big boulder drop here, a steep 20-foot chute there. Rather than try to work around boulder fields, the trails run right through them. I likened the experience to negotiating glacial crevasses on wheels, and found myself walking more than riding at times.
There's stuff here that might turn people off," Bolandrina conceded early on. ''But this is our own little place and these rides are like church for some of us."
Riding with this group, I witnessed a cross between mountain biking and BMX, or dirt track racing, with a ''train" of riders maneuvering through a section of trail with five consecutive jumps, hopping into the air in turn like a family of rabbits. Every few hundred yards there would be an impromptu stunt contest, as the freeriders rolled down boulders and tried to perfect their jumps on a collection of ''technical trail features" with names like Frame Twister, Half Pipe, and Blind Faith, all integrated into the spaghetti-like trail.
The group played for a long while at Half Pipe, a natural U-shaped feature with some enhancements to make it more trick-friendly. Riders fly off a 6-foot drop, cross a flat area, and ride up a 10-foot boulder, then go back and try again. Then there was the Chute of Death, a 60-degree, 20-foot roll down a rounded granite cliff, which they assured me was much easier than it sounded.
After we finished riding on the group's newest trail, Dirty Little Secret, we explored areas outside their own land and rode into neighboring conservation areas, all bike-friendly. There were fewer stunts to attempt but plenty of challenging single track. When I borrowed Bolandrina's full suspension bike, I found the rocky trails much easier to negotiate, and even got the confidence to roll down some smaller boulder drops. At the end of the day, back on my own bike, I tried the same maneuver and found myself over the handlebars with a mouth full of dirt, a bent front wheel, and an appreciation for all the armor these guys wear. The right bike and protection can make all the difference in this sport.
I'll go back to Vietnam, and I'll probably demo a bike built to take the abuse. I'll probably go on a group ride again, too, because I certainly would have gotten lost in the forest if I'd ventured there on my own (a trail map of the area is in the works). But getting an introduction is pretty easy as there are regular rides organized by association members and by Milford Bicycle, where riders congregate and fix their bikes after rides. At Bolandrina's suggestion, I might even try a night ride.
''While waiting at the bottom of a good-sized downhill, I watched the Chinese Dragon of Lights [seven riders with night lights] serpentining their way down the hillside, winding and finding their way to the base," Bolandrina said, describing a recent Vietnam ride. ''Night rides are magical."
Raring to take on rough and rougher
By Matthew Selby, Globe Correspondent | April 23, 2006
MILFORD -- On an unseasonably warm March morning a dozen mountain bikers met in a parking lot just off Interstate 495 here. Ranging in age from 21 to 61 and all members of the New England Mountain Bike Association, these men appeared to be dressed for battle. Some were decked out in full-face helmets with pads on their elbows, shins, knees, shoulders -- even chest and spine protectors. With all this body armor, it seemed fitting that our destination was an area of technical trails called Vietnam.
Meeting the group for my first ride of the season, I felt inadequately prepared for the challenge. Not only was I out of shape, I was ill-equipped. I was on an old hard-tail bike with only my helmet and a healthy fear of breaking bones. They were all riding full suspension bikes built for freeride mountain trails and dressed to take the hits along the ride. I felt like a young soldier heading to the front lines with no rifle and little training.
''Be prepared, this is hard core," Joe Bolandrina, 42, of Douglas, told me as we made our way to the trails.
We weren't long into the four-hour ride when I realized what Bolandrina meant. These freeriders commit acts of insanity on wheels. Like rolling down 20-foot cliff faces, jumping off story-high boulders and across vast gaps. They have created a playground of nature-inspired tricks and stunts here, and when one of their favorite places to ride was threatened with development a few years back, they banded together to buy it.
I first heard of Vietnam shortly after moving to the area several years ago, but despite being a mountain biker I had never ridden these ominous-sounding trails. According to Philip Keyes, 47, of Acton, executive director of the association, the area earned its name when the dirt bikers who cut the original trails in the '70s left the sharp ends of the saplings they lopped off along the path.
''It reminded the original riders of punji sticks from the Vietnam War, and unfortunately the name stuck," said Keyes. Punji sticks were wood or bamboo spikes used in booby traps by the Viet Cong.
The area offers more than just good stunts. An estimated 15 to 20 miles of technical cross-country biking trails thread through 1,500 acres of land managed by the association and the towns of Holliston, Hopkinton, and Milford. Although there is a good deal of technical single-track riding to be had here, most people come to Vietnam to give their adrenal glands a workout.
It is the obstacles that make the trails special. As members cut new single-track trails, they work with the natural landscape to maximize fun while disturbing a minimum amount of territory. The trails twist and turn wildly, and take glorious advantage of a big boulder drop here, a steep 20-foot chute there. Rather than try to work around boulder fields, the trails run right through them. I likened the experience to negotiating glacial crevasses on wheels, and found myself walking more than riding at times.
There's stuff here that might turn people off," Bolandrina conceded early on. ''But this is our own little place and these rides are like church for some of us."
Riding with this group, I witnessed a cross between mountain biking and BMX, or dirt track racing, with a ''train" of riders maneuvering through a section of trail with five consecutive jumps, hopping into the air in turn like a family of rabbits. Every few hundred yards there would be an impromptu stunt contest, as the freeriders rolled down boulders and tried to perfect their jumps on a collection of ''technical trail features" with names like Frame Twister, Half Pipe, and Blind Faith, all integrated into the spaghetti-like trail.
The group played for a long while at Half Pipe, a natural U-shaped feature with some enhancements to make it more trick-friendly. Riders fly off a 6-foot drop, cross a flat area, and ride up a 10-foot boulder, then go back and try again. Then there was the Chute of Death, a 60-degree, 20-foot roll down a rounded granite cliff, which they assured me was much easier than it sounded.
After we finished riding on the group's newest trail, Dirty Little Secret, we explored areas outside their own land and rode into neighboring conservation areas, all bike-friendly. There were fewer stunts to attempt but plenty of challenging single track. When I borrowed Bolandrina's full suspension bike, I found the rocky trails much easier to negotiate, and even got the confidence to roll down some smaller boulder drops. At the end of the day, back on my own bike, I tried the same maneuver and found myself over the handlebars with a mouth full of dirt, a bent front wheel, and an appreciation for all the armor these guys wear. The right bike and protection can make all the difference in this sport.
I'll go back to Vietnam, and I'll probably demo a bike built to take the abuse. I'll probably go on a group ride again, too, because I certainly would have gotten lost in the forest if I'd ventured there on my own (a trail map of the area is in the works). But getting an introduction is pretty easy as there are regular rides organized by association members and by Milford Bicycle, where riders congregate and fix their bikes after rides. At Bolandrina's suggestion, I might even try a night ride.
''While waiting at the bottom of a good-sized downhill, I watched the Chinese Dragon of Lights [seven riders with night lights] serpentining their way down the hillside, winding and finding their way to the base," Bolandrina said, describing a recent Vietnam ride. ''Night rides are magical."
