South Mountain Park

Ah, the great Lehigh Valley mountain biking mystery. The whereabouts of the Lehigh South Mountain mecca seems to be a closely held secret. Searches of the internet are rife with flames back and forth between people posting about it and others saying shhh. I don't think anyone will read this, so I think I am safe from the flogging that's sure to come my way. I'm actually not quite sure this is the place, but I did find some pretty gnarly stuff, so I assume I was on the right (single)track. In my defense if it was a renegade intrusion, there is no sign that says Lehigh students only or anything of the ilk.

This took little to no brainpower (thankfully). Do a zoomed out mapquest search of Bethlehem and look for green, that's what I did. I was looking for Constitution Rd actually and noticed the emerald green glow of South Mountain Park beckoning me from the south. If geese fly south in winter, why can't I in the opressive summer heat?

After a quick 3/4 " drop in my saddle from yesterday's fiasco (more in "Constitutional Fortitude") I was off and sweating. 45 seconds after the sweat started, it became profuse. Brainiac me started off on the right hand side of the parking lot and climbed the rockpile of a "path" that encompases the start of the disc golf course. For the third ride in a row, these rocks had their way with me. I am learning some things along the way however and that is what quests are all about.

I read in an article when I first started this obsession to stay out of the granny gear. I have no idea as to the context or author of the article, and have since lost it. I did learn this in practice when I found my first tryly enjoyable ride about a mile up river of sand island. This find was about the 3rd or 4th time I had mounted my then new and shiny black beauty. The location is right across a bridge of the canal. What lay ahead of me was technical track that seems to have been built for motorcycles. This place had everything and I have spent quite a few nights there since when the gas bikes were not about. Of particular consternation was a hill on the left hand side. I have had quite a few instances of my butt being forcefully evicted from my saddle in my short carreer, but this hill still holds the record in both frequency and severity of said event. The first few attempts found me starting too slow, or in a higher gear or it was wet or...well you get the point. I got only 10 feet or so and bailed on each attempt. Then I got the idea that my back tire was spinning and to put plant my butt squarely on the seat, put it in granny gear and pedal like hell. Yup it worked. With legs a spinnin I made it further than I had before, well, up until the front wheel came screaming past my face like a Randy Johnson fastball. I lay there like a fat turtle, sans steed, head pointed downhill, like a filty latenight inversion machine infomercial. What happened next was akin to the infamous "morning after" in college, with the famous last words of "I'll never do that again". Unlike college, I happened to make it more than a few hours before going back on my promise. I made it until yesterday as a matter of fact.

I'm not saying that the granny gear defeated the rock pile, but it did help, and I did a lot more on two wheels then 2 feet, which is a small victory. There is a saying "fish or cut bait". I was doing neither after a while and confidence was plummeting, so I got the hell off the trail and headed up to the water tower in hopes of finding new waters. Wow, good choice. Time to fish! The trails that lay ahead were outstanding. Singletrack, downhill, uphill, it had it all. Path choices for the first lap came up aces. Rode the brake too much again, but at least it was in the back of my head. This was really enjoyable. Path took me down the hill and the rest was along the road edge, which was hairy at times. Dead ended at the stop sign so backtracked a little and found a path up the hill to do it again. Saw a doe with two fawns so stopped for bonding time with my camelback and watched the deer feeding only 50 yards away, completely oblivious to me. The skinny fawns still had spots, though fading fast.

Back up the hill and begain what I THOUGHT was another of the same lap. Somehow I made a right and started heading downhill. I mean DOWNHILL! I kept going thinking "this has to level out soon". It didn't. "What goes down must go up" kept echoing in my head. Being tired and hot, I cut my losses and turned uphill to backtrack up the same trail. 100 yards up or so there was another trail off to the right. "What's down here?" he says. I'll tell you what was down there. Sickness, utter disregard for the body, stuff that causes Evil Knevil to wake up screaming. There is a wooden jump of some sorts there off the top of a rock. I wouldn't try it in a million years. I sat on the edge, had a drink and laughed in admiration of the madmen and women who built this contraption. I don't believe I would have ever tried it in my youth, and certainly not now. Not even with an ambulance standing by feet away and a stunt bag. I was hoping it was some of this "North Shore" stuff I had been reading about, but there seemed to be about 50 feet of it missing. I want to try a see-saw and some other things, but NEVER this launch into hell. Ah well, some day.

Back up the hill and did pretty well all things considerd. Granny gear was a life saver, this thing really comes in handy yet again! Found my trail, made some changes but essentially uneventful and a similar lap. Much more comfortable this time carrying more speed and less brake. I seem to tense up pretty good though on the downhills and quads and front of my thigh seem to burn a little as I stand on the pedals soaking up the bumps to prevent yesterdays malady.

Did about 5.5 miles in all with about an hour of actual riding according to the computer. Not sure how much time elapsed while I was out there, but like McArthur, I shall return.

P.S- Seat adjustment worked wonders. Keep it there. Rear tire pressure still too high. Do I keep lowering it until it blows?