A Death March of My Own Making

 I know how to read a map. I’m actually pretty good at reading maps. So how I got us on this never ending trail and seriously underestimated the total miles, I haven’t a clue. The ride started out good - I was a little tired from my run in the morning, checking out a new section of trail. It hadn’t been the longest of runs, but enough. We’d only planned on an easy out and back ride, hopefully reaching where we had turned around last year. It started out nice and mellow - the anticipated plunge down into Cushman Creek and climb back up, then coasting downhill. Every single ride on the plateau seems to start downhill and then we have to climb back up! We soft pedaled down the Cushman road, stopping for one gate until the signs took a detour. That was strange - according to the map, the route stayed on the Cushman road, not diverting off. But the signs quite plainly took the seemingly underused double track. Oh well. That’s the point of scouting, right? Learning the terrain on the ground, not on the map.

Okay, what's the real route here?

We took the right off Cushman Road and passed a moto trail. Nick paused, reading the sign. “I wonder where that goes?” I pulled up my map, added another layer and studied it. It looked like it could be a fun addition - maybe six miles, plus a little more climbing on Cushman to get back. We filed the information and continued our way east. One more steep little descent and the road kinda leveled out for a short stretch. I was honestly tired of descending and not looking forward to the climb back up the van. When the road tipped down again, I suggested heading back up and checking out where that Fingers trail went to. Nick was game. We turned around and climbed back up to the singletrack. The last moto trail that we had ridden in the Shavano Valley had been super fun, so we were both hoping for more of the same.

Nick walking away from the view point

Alas, it was not to be. There were moments of promise, but the trail started out super chunky and not well used. It never really improved from there. Some amazing views from the edge of the canyon, but rough and sandy overall. And we were also gradually descending still. We stopped a few times, but never really looked at the map. The trail was living up to its name though - tracing finger like lines along the edges of the canyon. Every long descent meant another climb up around the ravines. I figured we had to be getting close to the bailout point to Cushman Road and didn’t worry too much. I still had a whole water bottle and some food. I was getting tired, but riding decently on the bumpy trail. Then we turned back north and started descending again. Okay, just a ravine off. The next one would have the road! Nope. The next one dropped down into a creek bed with no sight of the road once we climbed out. I was starting to freak out a little. My six mile estimate had passed three miles ago. My Osprey was starting to feel a little light - I hadn’t filled the bladder full since we were only planning on rides about 90 minutes or so. Still no road at the next u-turn to head north and descend more. At this point even Nick was starting to get frustrated with me. How had I screwed up so bad?

Finally… Cushman Road! We would have a lot of climbing to get back to the van, but it would be a nice steady grade. I would be fine. Just pedal easy and ride smart. Easier said then done. I was starting to get hungry, so had one of my fruit squeeze pouches. I had some cookies as well, but was worried enough about the water situation that I wasn’t sure about having the cookies. My bladder was empty - not even any dregs left when I sucked on the bite valve. Down to the water bottle…. Which I had thought was full, but was only three quarters full. Double yikes. As the sun beat down on us, we slowly climbed up and and up and up. We hadn’t even reached the turn off yet and I was starting to measure my water. One small sip every five minutes. My mouth was dry before the five minutes up. I wanted to eat more, but didn’t want to risk the excess water use. My pace slowed from the steady pedaling. Finally, we rejoined Tab. Getting closer! But we were still miles away from the van and I was seriously starting to struggle. This was beyond pedaling squares. This was full on bonk in a way I’ve never bonked before. I was getting mad at myself for screwing up and for my lack of bike fitness. That kind of ride never hurt me like that before. And now, I was struggling with pedaling only 2:30 into the ride. I could run for that long without any issues, yet the pedaling was hurting. Maybe walking would be better? Nope. The fatigue was such that even changing method of propulsion didn’t help. I just wanted to stop, to lean on my bike, drink a gallon of water and eat all the food. Too bad I only had a quarter of a water bottle left, who know how many miles and feet left to climb. 

When we reached the gate, I was so happy. We were so close. But we still had the climb out of Cushman Creek left. I have never struggled so much pushing my bike. Walk 10 feet, stop and lean on my bike, start moving again, repeat. Once we got to the top though, it would be all downhill. The van was such a welcome sight. Before food and water, though, we had to get the bikes loaded. It’s a good thing Nick does that. Even if I could get the bikes up, I wouldn’t have been able to at that moment. I was a mess. I don’t think I’ve felt that bad even after some of my 100 mile runs! And I couldn’t even complain, it was my own darn fault. I didn’t use common sense when looking at the tools I had at hand. We did however learn a lot about the trail!