Story of the Month: Thar She Blows

Have you ever spent time with Brian Mahon? Brian is an incredibly strong rider. He is also a non-stop talking machine who comes up with the strangest and most humorous off-the-wall comments of anyone I know.

Back in the mid-‘90s, I was attempting to transition from gravel roads and rudimentary trails to bigger things. Brian offered plenty of opportunities to experience new stuff that would challenge your technical skills and make you question whether you might just expire before you made it back from a ride.

He’d taken me on my first trip to St. Helens Lake. I’ve been able to clean that first climb from the 230A trailhead to the equipment many times in the past few years. But this was back when I did not have the legs or lungs to even come close. By the time we go to the back of the lake, I was toast. Little did I know that things were about to get worse. Much, much worse.

The sign says that it’s only 2.25 miles from the 230A-230 intersection to St. Helens Lake. Those are among the longest 2.25 miles I’ve “ridden” on a bike. Relentless, ridiculous climbing. Severe exposure. Tire-sucking pumice. When we got to the top, I was thinking, If this is what mountain biking is about, maybe I need to start playing lawn darts.

Things improved on the way down, of course. We were on the real snappy section after you pass the equipment on the way back. You know how it is on bikes. You’re moving fast and aren’t making a lot of noise. It can be difficult for people to hear you.

It was evidently particularly difficult in this case for the couple that was in the middle of the trail. She was giving him a Lewinsky with great enthusiasm. They finally saw us, and - much to his regret - had to cease their activities and step off the trail. 

Brian and I were laughing our asses off the rest of the way down. If you ever hear Brian talk about the Thar She Blows section of trail at Coldwater, you’ll know what he’s referring to.

The things you see in the wild.