Crested Butte

We all made it home in one piece from the weekend in Crested Butte. A bouncer at one of the bars wasn’t so lucky though. He tried to ride a cruiser bike down a flight of stairs into the bar after we had done it several times. Half way down he flipped the bike and went face first into the brick wall at the bottom. I missed the actual crash but his face looked horrendous. The next day, on almost no sleep or food, we rode the 403 and the 401 trails. It took us 5 ½ hours and it was a hard way to get back on a mountain bike after two years. JHK was breathing through his nose while the rest of us gasped for oxygen. Once on top, it was all worth it to sit back and soak in the scenery with good friends. Which is what mountain biking is all about.