Galbraith Mt. in the mist...
Rode Galbraith, starting at Birch St. in Bellingham and climbing the Ridge Trail, Family Fun Center, Intestine, and on up to the logging road immediately beyond Arsenio.
It was raining when I started out, but by the time I got to the upper Ridge Trail, I was above the rain in the clouds, and everything took on a ghostly, mist-shrouded appearance.
Had so much fun, in fact, that I decided to try to climb to the summit of Galbraith, where the broadcast towers are located. So when I got to Arsenio, I continued down off the ridge line, where I almost immediately hit an irregular sequence of logs across the trail.
Instead of being regularly stacked, these slimey, barkless logs were staggered. Yvonne Yarber told me in Hawaii that the first big wave that hits you isn't the one that gets you; it's the second or third, after you've been knocked off your feet, when the undertow gets you. Same thing here in the snowy log dump. The first one knocked me, but it was the third one that knocked me so hard I slammed my knee on the stem fighting to prevent an endo.
The moment it happened I yelled out loud to no one but myself, "that's going to
hurt," as I ran up the cedar duff red hillside. As soon as I could limp to the trail
head on the road, I sat down, elevated my knee and packed it with snow. I knew I'd make it
out, but I was mad at myself for trying this trail alone under these conditions. I need
verts right now, and I should have just made the road ride to the tower.
Afterwards, Shanna told me she thought this was the first time I'd been hurt since my
bad foot injury on June 3, 1999, which was eight months ago. Hope to be able to ride again
by day after tomorrow...
Approximately 1400 verts.
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