[Above] Long Pond West ended at the observation platform. A hundred yards up the trail, I could hear the summer crowds being herded out of the water by the lifeguard's bullhorn. I dropped down onto the beach wearing old school Oakley Racing Jackets (think George Hincapie in the 2001 Paris-Roubaix) and my D1 camera mount. Don't think the cheap light beer and turquoise tattoo crowd dug my get up. Probably thought I was some sort of Narc on a stakeout. But, I have to admit that I liked the feelings of defiance and scrutiny while pedaling through the Kid Rock masses on $4000 of full suspension.
What a strange place. Remote, rock strewn trails end at a crowded beach stuck in 1987 cryo-freeze. You know you are getting close when you hear the sound of rap metal power ballads and smell the lighter fluid. But there was a time when I was chained to a desk, so I will take the gift of mid-day, mid-week singletrack any chance I can get.
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