Listen along
Off the Top problem spot and view
Off the Top … sounds like the name of an exciting trail, right? It starts at the top and zigzags for five miles down the back side of Mammoth Mountain, offering views of the dramatic Minaret peaks and, if you know where to look, even a glimpse of Yosemite. It rounds Red’s Lake, where i spread my dog’s ashes and like to stop for a beer with him sometimes, and then links to trails called Mountain View and Beach Cruiser. These are fun, flowy, green trails. Flowy is a word typically used to describe trails that are fun, but not necessarily exciting. These trails, and Kamikaze—an extremely high-speed fire road that is exciting in a not-so-fun, death-defying way—are the trails starting at the top of the mountain that i thought i was relegated to, given the limitations of my bike. All the other trails that riders love i have been apprehensive to attempt without a support rider.
“Well, why haven’t you just ridden them with somebody?” you ask.
Red’s Lake beer with my boy. Cheers, Buddy! Miss you!
I travel alone and i ride alone most of the time. Riding with me is different, and a support rider needs to be dedicated to that role. They need to understand that they can’t just do their normal thing because things take longer and be happy to do so. Unless someone offers, i do not usually ask someone to give up their hard-earned day to ride with me. I don’t like putting someone in a position where they might feel bad saying no or feel obligated. People are generally bad at communicating boundaries. I know i am. That said, when someone does ride with me, i try to be extremely cognizant of this. When coming up on a section where i know i’m good, or jump lines, i like to send my support rider first so they are not slowed down by riding behind me and can go the speed they want.
“If i don’t show up, come back and get me!” i yell as they take off. Ha! Sometimes shit happens.
Over the past couple seasons, when other adaptive riders have contacted me to ask which trails they can ride solo at Mammoth, i’ve told them, “Kamikaze and Beach Cruiser. That’s it.” Off the Top produces five potential dilemmas and i don’t recommend it for an adaptive rider on their own. Even Mountain View has a developing problem spot. There is a family trail called Downtown, but exciting is the last word i would use to describe it, and unless someone is a beginner or actually with their family, i’ve offered it only as a consolation.
Exposure. See how my wheel is off the side?
It’s funny how it all works with my bike. I always say, “You’ll be surprised what this thing can get through, BUT you will also be surprised by what stops it.” When talking about adaptive trails, i’ve found that the general conception is that adaptive friendly means “flat and uninteresting.” Likewise, when recommending trails, well-intentioned locals almost always suggest trails of reduced technicality. Paradoxically, this can be bad advice, because the “easy” trails often create issues for me. They tend to traverse back and forth across the mountain, giving intermediate two-wheeled riders a more gradual descent, but when a traversing trail is not cut with enough bench, exposure is created, and that is what gets me. Exposure is where the trail has a drop off, exposed to the slope of the hill. Difficult trails, on the other hand, tend to be directed into the fall-line, making them steeper and faster for advanced riders, but since they don’t traverse, they have less exposure.
Are you with me? Easy trails bad. Hard trails good.
Crawling over rocks
Plus, i like technicality. I like crawling over rocks, performing drops and working up to getting air on jumps. Wood features like ramps and bridges are scary but fun! I like high-speed turns and whipping the tail of my bike around, sending a plume of dirt in the air for my friends to ride through. This is called dusting and it’s a rite of passage for the privilege of following me down a mountain (insert winky face emoji). All these things create texture and challenges to overcome, which make for a much more enjoyable trail experience than if things were just smooth and boring. Maybe a metaphor for life?
Then there’s dealing with the gondola. Let me just say that the gondola crew is awesome. They are always a huge help and go out of their way to make me feel comfortable with needing so much from them. Imagine having a long day, being tired, and then i show up. I’m always self-conscious about being a bummer because my bike is not easy to deal with. Its big, heavy and awkward, and they need to stop the gondola to load it. Every single one of them makes sure i know that they are happy to see me and completely willing to do whatever it takes to keep me on the mountain. Huge thanks to them!
That said, it’s still a bummer for me to deal with so many logistics. The gondola is upstairs, so i need to take the elevator. The elevator is inside the retail shop. The retail shop is cluttered with 4-ways, displays and tons of stuff, so it’s not easy to pick my way through there with my huge bike. Not to mention, that i need to bring both my chair and bike with me. I use the throttle on my bike to pull me along while sitting in my chair. This is awkward, and to top it off, tourists like to exclaim, “Oh that’s cool!” Kids tug on their parent’s pants, “Mommy look!” Not a good feeling for me.
Then there’s unloading at the top, which is another stoppage of the gondola, making not only everyone in line wait, but everyone who is currently riding it wait as well. The awesome crew unloads my bike and once i’m in it, they take my chair and send it down. When it arrives back at the bottom, the operators there put it outside so its waiting when i pull up. This is great if that’s where i’m going, but what if i’m riding to The Village and taking the shuttle back up? In that case, the gondola crew must walk my chair out to the shuttle stop and physically put it on the bus. They also must clearly communicate with the driver to take it off the bus and leave it at The Village so that its waiting for me when i get there. On several occasions, my chair has gone for a long ride, doing laps on the shuttle. I wonder if it’s stoked to get out for a while. Also, this is asking a lot of the gondola crew. They are busy. Sparing a member of their staff for a few minutes is a big deal and sometimes they have just been too busy to do it.
When either of these things happens, i need to get carried onto the shuttle. Normally, it’s not a big deal, but being carried is not the most “uplifting” feeling for a grown man. Also, when being carried, my atrophied paraplegic body is exposed to everyone in line waiting for the shuttle. Not something i would normally choose. Most of the time, i don’t give a shit, but depending on the day, this has the potential to affect my brain hole, which can be dark. Sometimes I’m just out there trying to not get sucked into that darkness and little things like that can send me there. Not only that, but when i’m lifted out of my chair, my bladder likes to take the opportunity to start emptying itself, which can make for a bad day.
Old bike on the shuttle rack
On the shuttle bike rack, my bike takes up five to six spots—valuable real estate on a busy day. The shuttle crew, again awesome, typically struggle with loading it and also with deploying the bus’s wheelchair lift, which only works 50% of the time. When people have traveled far and have paid for an expensive lift tickets, extended waits mean fewer laps and fewer laps means not getting as much of a value. People are accommodating and gracious, but i know deep down that thought would be there for me and most likely is for others. Now serving Humble Pie!
Phew! i think i need a drink just writing this, but it’s not even noon yet, so i should probably wait.
Obviously, all this is terribly inefficient, and in my life as a wheelchair user, i have learned to focus on eliminating steps. Efficiency makes life a lot better for me. I’m lucky that i have a mind that works that way. So, with everything it takes to load and unload the gondola, i’ve been thinking that there just has to be a better way.
This thinking got me climbing some of the service roads instead. I have an e-assist. Why not? It all started while visiting Mammoth in early spring, before the bike park opened for the summer. At first, i would park at The Village and climb Uptown—the uphill trail equivalent to Downtown. This took me partially up the mountain where i could access an exciting trail named Shotgun, which i have gotten to know extremely well over the years. Then i extended this to more trails, incorporating a jump line next to Shotgun named Smooth Operator and the bottom section of Bullet, one off the most exciting trails on the entire mountain! When the snow melted a bit more, i realized i could climb up a little further and catch another jump line named Pipeline and even more of Bullet. If you haven’t seen my recent video about Bullet, i highly recommend it. I ride it in its entirety, get stuck a few times and perform some big rock drops, all on my own.
Life was looking up! This was much easier and extended the bike park season for me! All i needed was for the snow to melt and i could climb and ride several trails without any need for the gondola or shuttle. Then a spot on Uptown started giving me trouble … and therefore, some anxiety. It became a dance with probability every time i rode it. Would i make it or not? One time i sat at this spot for several minutes, one wheel off the downhill side of the trail, debating whether i should push it or not. I could make it just fine or roll down the hill. I’m no mathematician, but probably a 50/50 chance. Not good odds when a roll could mean breaking something on my bike or myself, not only ruining my trip, but most likely creating hardship for several weeks.
I said, “Fuck it!” out loud and slammed the accelerator with my thumb. I leaned uphill to counterbalance. Dust spewed from underneath the wheel as it struggled to regain the trail and fought the forces pulling it into the fall-line (downhill). I felt the bike want to tip, but i pushed harder and eventually made it. I was fine, but the stress of that moment and many like it over the years have left their mark, some of those moments not working out as well. Anxiety is not a feeling i want when trying to have an enjoyable trail experience.
Then one day, my bestie in Mammoth—firefighter, ski patroller, climber, photographer, all-around bad ass and pound-for-pound the strongest dude i know—Jeff Fox suggested climbing the service road instead of the trail. When he mentioned it, it was one of those things where i thought, “Why have i not been doing this all along?” This is what i proclaim to like doing anyway: climb the wide stuff and downhill the fun stuff.
Foxy got an Ebike to climb heinous shit with me!
Now, there are three ways to steer my bike: (1) When going downhill, my hands are on the handlebar. Obviously how i steer when making use of gravity and do not need to propel myself. (2) When climbing, my hands are on the hand crank, off the handlebar, and i steer with my chest. There are cables that attach a pivoting chest pad to the base of the stem. The stem is what connects the handlebar to the steering column. As i lean the chest pad to one side, this pulls the cables and, in turn, the stem and steering column. (3) When climbing narrow trail, opposed to wide open fire roads or double track, i need more precision steering, so i usually steer the handlebar with one hand and crank with the other. Having an e-assist enables me to do this, otherwise cranking with one hand would be impossible.
When on wide open stuff, like fire roads, i can rely completely on the chest steering, so I can crank with two arms. This makes for a much better workout and is why i prefer “climbing the wide stuff.” This is a good time to mention that i set my assist at a level for a comparable pace with able-bodied riders. I don’t just put it on blast mode and moto up the hill. I also do my best to stay ahead of the motor and get a pretty intense workout. This makes me an anomaly in the mountain bike world though. Fire roads are typically steep and loose. Unless someone is a complete glutton for punishment, pedaling up them is considered heinous to the majority of riders. I can’t expect my friends to do this and all this to explain that i traded the drama of riding the gondola for the need to find exciting trail combinations that i can ride confidently on my own.
A very Big Boy Trail named Flow
In my last Weekly Ride video, i showcase exactly this. I found two very fun trail routes that i have absolutely no problems with. This has not come without significant practice though. Over the past two bike park seasons, i have ridden a couple of these trails over and over again, building the skill and confidence necessary for solo missions. This took lapping them with friends who spotted me through questionable stuff and whom i would like to mention: Jeff Fox (mentioned earlier), Chris Orr (The Trails Guru) and Ben Peck (the Young Knowledgeable Ripper). These spots, that i needed to practice, I would never ride alone the first time and do not advise it for adaptive riders. Probably not just the first time either. It took me several laps to nail the lines and this is not advisable without a spotter.
Also, extending one of these trails and bypassing a sketchy, exposed section on another (via unofficial local connector trails) has made all the difference. This took local knowledge from Ben, who pointed these trails out to me. All this is … how do i say it … completely life-changing for me. I can now ride big boy trails at Mammoth Mountain completely solo with absolutely no one touching me. This is important. The sense of adventure, exhilaration, independence and ACCOMPLISHMENT combine to build my confidence as a rider, as well as my sense of manhood. I’m not a hurt little boy, but a strong virile man, riding gnarly shit without help. I’m a big boy now!
After reading this, you can watch the video knowing what i went through and what this all means to me:
