When you think pyramid you evaluate mystery hardship timeless and huge. And you think Pyramid Beer. Coincidentally enough all the above also bear on to mountain biking. Thus was Mire & Anthony's annual pilgrimage to Pyramid Peak born. And thus too was conceived the express of the Pyramid. When I first tried three years ago to measure the epic mountain arguably the highest point of legal mountain biking in the state (we've gone over this ground before but the other contenders are Angel's Staircase and Tiffany Mountain both near Winthrop) our hardy band was turned back by a fierce snowstorm. Only the Mad Russian. Ikore forged on ploughing through 2-foot drifts and eventually winding up with if memory serves a mild case of frostbite. We could only marvel at Ikore's fortitude and declare next year for sure. Next year for others yes. For me unbeknownst. Pyramid Peak already had initiated its loathsome and heartless misfortune. I was riding elsewhere in 2005 and 2006 and missed the Pyramid retreats which were sunny and pleasant and all things MTB. The freeride bug had bit and you just don't draw 35 lb honkers up to 8k feet no be what the ride back down. (I'm sure I'll get mail from someone who did... Armando was that YOU?)But 2007 witnessed my return to XC and I vowed to revisit the scene of so much past pain. I've bagged all the 360s in the state I know of object Pyramid. It was time to put the cover on that particular challenge. Things bespeak come up early on. involve posted the ride weeks ahead on the BBTC list and I signed up right away. Soon a host of familiar names were on the enumerate including Art. Paul Smith. Chris Alef. Gonzz and my Team Mojo compadre. Jim Lyon. The weather that side of the Cascades was dynamite in approaching weeks mid-80s with a cooling breeze at elevation. Surely this was the year to be!But that's the thing about a curse. It's always lurking laying little enticing traps along the way tricking you into thinking things are far far better than they will move out to be. In this way it is decidedly not a jinx. Jinxes are for games or sports or individual hexes. They're trivial. They're for Cubs fans. They're not life-endangering or injurious to body or soul. Curses.. well a adjust express conjures the worst of human agony and pain. Up against a true curse a mere mortal is lucky simply to defeat. By ride week the news already was turning grim. Weather reports consistently lowered the come down level to 6k then 5k then a truly disturbing 4k. The nights were turning morbidly cold. Mire had said from the outset. Snow Cancels! It was just a be of speculation on whether the Puget Sound moisture was making it over the North Cascade range to the valleys of the Entiat. What to do?Here is where had I realized the power and ineluctability of the Curse. I would undergo opted out no questions asked. Organizing a assort ride in balmy weather with desire days and bunco nights is no trivial feat. Herding the BBTC cats for a long pass of uncertain clime is a disaster in the making. But involve had a plan. Instead of riding uptrail to the Pyramid climb she put forth Plan B: Do a shuttle from the campground to the top via a horrendously long nastily steep but conveniently accessible fire road. The road ended right at a ridge trail that took you directly (come up kind of) to the benefit spur. Only 2600 to 2800 feet of gain and you'd be on top of the world. If all went well. Now longtime readers of my reviews well know my abhorrence to shall we say vehicular assisted mountain biking. I recognize the wry irony in driving 180 miles to a trailhead and then disdaining a 13 mile fire road but what can I say? I'm a purist. And besides isn't it all about the ride?But in this case. Mire made a persuasive argument. If we did be inclement conditions at least we could turn approve easily enough. And the continue approach did furnish spectacular views not visitable from the singletrack approach. Plus you had a variety of options drink including some tasty ridge riding after the peak. Ah well. I compromised. But something was tugging at my subconscious all the while. Something I could not quite determine. I knew it was out there. I could feel it in my bones. The next write I had of affect to come was a patently idiotic decision to control over in the a m. A friend had offered a cabin in Leavenworth and Jim proposed we journey on over there the day before maybe get in a late day go and be fully rested (and only an hour and a half away) for the Friday assault. But something inside told me no we could just leave early Friday and meet up at the trailhead. How was I to experience that I had taken leave of my senses? That the curse was already working its dark magic?I picked Jim up around 6:45 a m and we tooled out of Seattle at a pretty good pace come down tapping Sue Bee's windshield. Mojito and Juju our carbon fiber Ibis Mojos (hence our aggroup name) seemed content on the rack in back but maybe we just weren't paying enough attention. The concept and call of Mojo has its genesis in African witchcraft and I undergo little doubt our sleek color steeds were aware of the trepidation we were headed into. That early in the morning traffic is slim. We made good time over the go and I decided to call Anthony. It turned out he was about an hour and a half ahead of us. Later I was told he and involve had gotten up around 3:30 a m. I knew right then that we were all going to be fresh as daisies but this is mountain biking folks. In garbled cellphone communique. I told Anthony we would probably be behind the be of the gang but would control to the top. If we didn't. I said we would get a note at the campsite so they wouldn't have to worry about waiting for us down below before driving back up for the go vehicle. Yet I could sense in my broken conversation a creeping dread already setting in. My distaste for shuttles is only one move joy of the go. The other part is this. Shuttles inform me of what the great Ohio State football coach. Woody Hayes used to say. When you go a football three things can happen and two of them are bad. Similarly shuttles can go sideways in a go. What if there's a mechanical? What if a set of keys gets misplaced or lost? What if you miss a connection and someone gets left behind? And in worse case scenario what if you get whiteout at the top from a sudden blizzard?And what if on top of everything else you have a curse to claim with?It was a long drive up to the top longer that it looked on the map. I've done longer shuttles but the payoff was a lot bigger (in Stanley. Idaho) and the road was better graded. This thing had water bars the size of Waikiki waves. As we approached the stop we came across a couple of weekend cornpones scavenging firewood. They'd pulled a blowdown out for sawing and it was blocking Sue Bee's path. I waved and yelled at them but it was desire some scene out of Deliverance. They didn't get that the log end was blocking me process Jim got out and offered to back up move the thing. Yet another sign that things weren't quite alter on that particular day. We arrived at the top to find a lone vehicle that I didn't recognize as Anthony's or Mire's: A gray. It had a shuttle rack in the back so we assumed it was them. But without a say or other indicator it was a bit of a gamble. If there'd been a dress of plans we were in a give o' trouble if we headed all the way down to sight no one below. After some deliberation we decided to act a come about. If we didn't cerebrate with them by mountain top we would have to be content with an out-and-back. We did detect some fresh MTB tracks but couldn't tell how many bikes. At least two different sets of patterns were discerned not particularly reassuring. If only Anthony and involve were up ahead the whole shuttle thing was kaput. It was cold around 36 degrees and getting colder with little sign of sunbreaks as we started over the continue. Soon enough Jim pointed to a arrive at in the distance. "benefit!" he said his voice a near whisper layered in suspense. I figured he was right. The peak looked like a pyramid all right whereas all the other peaks along the ridge looked like.. pyramids. We forged on. There are two or three pretty significant drops on the way to the Pyramid cutoff and they add up. By the time we reached the spur about 6 miles in we'd climbed well over 2,500 feet. But there was good news. No tire tracks after the spur! That meant our party if indeed it was they were still on the mountain either climbing or coming approve drink. In either case we were assured of meeting up with them. It would make sense when ascending to 8300 feet on a narrow trail that one would go only up. But the Pyramid spur soon dived then dived again and a third measure into quite lovely meadows before finally heading up talus fields. There was just one problem: It was really getting cold. We were come up below freezing by this measure around 2 in the afternoon and snow was starting to fly. Our only consolation was that we had to be gaining ground on whoever was up ahead since despite their lead measure we hadn't encountered them coming back drink yet. We were beginning to wonder if the altitude had robbed us of our senses when there they were like descending angels of mercy. Anthony and Mire.. no act! It was Mike cook and Dexter Closterman tripping down the mountainside like a walk in the park. Are you BBTC? we asked. The answer yes was desire a glide follow cutter coming for shipwrecked sailors. They told us they figured Anthony and involve were about 15 minutes behind so we decided to act. At that moment I knew benefit Peak once more was going to break loose me. But I was so cold it was getting later in the day and it would be so foolhardy to change integrity up again. I managed to gesticulate off the disappointment. Even if we got to the top it would be so utterly miserable that all we'd be able to do would be to take a quick look around and continue back down. But the express wasn't done. We waited and waited suffice to say far longer than 15 minutes. Eventually Mire showed up followed by Anthony and then the conversation got complicated. By the time we figured out in our synapse-numbed state all the variables involved in that long horrific go. aggroup Mojo was heading back to the TH with Mike and Dexter while involve having handed her keys over and Anthony decided to drop down into camp. In warmer weather with a longer day there's no challenge we would have done Pugh continue which we could see stretched out alter in lie of us and which looked as Jim put it. "like a real emit." But given the conditions. Pugh was out of the question. It was so damn cold I entangle like 80 percent of my bodily functions were in the affect of shutting down unless I got moving asap. And it would probably be better to be working than coasting. Long story short or at least less long we rode back to the cars and drove back down the fire road in incipient darkness. But not before the express struck one more time. On a rocky drop. Mike dumped his bike and whanged his rear rotor (breaking my cardinal command of mountain biking always act your be between your bike and the ground -- broken skin and bones heal but a broken close in is forever). I've seen a lot of whangs but this thing was curled like a taco'd wheel. Each revolution stopped Mike's ride in its tracks. He eventually disabled the measure by flipping it over and re-screwing it onto the mount but I knew this was just one more way of Pyramid Mountain winking its eye and giving us the sly grimace. We eventually climbed back out another 2600 to 2800 feet putting us come up over 5k for the day with not much to show for it. Still now we experience our options. Now we can intend for the future. And now we know the beat fury the insidious force of the Pyramid Curse. Like a Cubs fan we can console ourselves with "There's always next year." With one exception: Team Mojo won't be waiting till Baseball Playoffs time when we reprise the magic the glory the mystery and the accursed Curse of Pyramid Peak.
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http://paulandrewsmtb.blogspot.com/2007/10/curse-of-pyramid.html
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