Dump Truck
50 Fridays 6: Riding Roughshod in the Wilds of Westlake
Another late start, dammit. My plan to ride Pace Bend switched to something closer. I decided to drive over to Westlake, park near the top of the Hill of Life, and ride some of the trails on either side of the the hill. The Hill of Life is a beastly, ledge-filled climb on the north end of Barton Creek Trail. It’s technical as hell to climb or descend, and gains 300 feet of elevation in about one-third of a mile.
Dropping in at the top of the Hill of Life, the trail is a ledge-filled rapid descent. At the top, I hit a series of ledges. They come up so fast you don’t have much time to think—I just dropped and kept rolling.
Trails lead off of either side of it. One of them is an all-time favorite of mine. The trail snakes across the side of the bluffs just off Camp Craft Road and Surrey Hill drive, an area that Google Maps dubs the Woods of Westlake Hilltop region and a trail Strava calls Dump Truck. The trail is about as technical as it gets in Austin, with rocky drop-offs and narrow sections that skirt the bluff. In a few spots, the trail crosses a small, rocky ledge that protrudes from the side of the hill . . . meaning you are kind of out in space as you cross. The drops are also tricky and technical. As I crossed several, the technical terrain and narrow trail built a little wall of nervousness inside my brain.
Fear was tickling me, and caution arose. I’m now nearly 50 years old—I still can’t quite wrap my head around that one—and I tend to listen a bit more to fear than when I was younger.
I have zero interest in being laid up for several months due to a broken bone, and while I’m not the world’s biggest wimp, I am not a fan of the punishment rocks can dish out.
So when the fear meter starts ticking, I give it a little respect.
I think I best learned how to fight fear when I quit my day job back in 2007. The fact that every month I had to make a certain amount of money caused me a lot of anxiety. To deal with it, I created a spreadsheet that listed each month, the assignments I had landed, and how much I would make. Once I had a month booked up with enough work to pay the bills, I'd look for work for the next month. I was typically booked six months out.
When anxiety raised its ugly head, I could open up the spreadsheet and focus on what was concrete and real, which allowed me to push aside my fear and move forward.
Mountain biking fear is really no different for me: I can deal with it with technique and focus.
That ledge is pretty steep, and the root at the bottom right is likely to catch the front wheel. I could drop, the front wheel could deflect on the root, and I could go over the bars into those rocks. If I drop my seat and put my weight back, the drop is on problem. And if I take the left line, there’s a nice line past the root.
On the trail, I was having a good day. I have a dropper post on my bike these days. I bought the bike back in May 2015, and I’m still sorting out when and how to use it.
On Dump Truck, the dropper was magic. I dropped my post about halfway, which I find is really good on technical trails. I’m wooden and stiff when in the saddle, and less so when I stand up. The half-dropped seat forces me to stay me on my feet, but also gives me an out. I can sit down if needed—it’s just low.
I was still dreadfully cautious and slow, but I hit a couple nice drops and climbs.
I ran Dump Truck, and then another trail on the other side of the Hill Life, one my friend Joel showed me. It’s technical and tricky to climb, and fast and fun to descend.
I ran that, and then climbed the Hill of Life. That’s a satisfying beast of a workout.
Climb, focus, execute . . . it’s Friday.
Yippee ki yay.
Dropping in at the top of the Hill of Life, the trail is a ledge-filled rapid descent. At the top, I hit a series of ledges. They come up so fast you don’t have much time to think—I just dropped and kept rolling.
Trails lead off of either side of it. One of them is an all-time favorite of mine. The trail snakes across the side of the bluffs just off Camp Craft Road and Surrey Hill drive, an area that Google Maps dubs the Woods of Westlake Hilltop region and a trail Strava calls Dump Truck. The trail is about as technical as it gets in Austin, with rocky drop-offs and narrow sections that skirt the bluff. In a few spots, the trail crosses a small, rocky ledge that protrudes from the side of the hill . . . meaning you are kind of out in space as you cross. The drops are also tricky and technical. As I crossed several, the technical terrain and narrow trail built a little wall of nervousness inside my brain.
Fear was tickling me, and caution arose. I’m now nearly 50 years old—I still can’t quite wrap my head around that one—and I tend to listen a bit more to fear than when I was younger.
I have zero interest in being laid up for several months due to a broken bone, and while I’m not the world’s biggest wimp, I am not a fan of the punishment rocks can dish out.
So when the fear meter starts ticking, I give it a little respect.
I think I best learned how to fight fear when I quit my day job back in 2007. The fact that every month I had to make a certain amount of money caused me a lot of anxiety. To deal with it, I created a spreadsheet that listed each month, the assignments I had landed, and how much I would make. Once I had a month booked up with enough work to pay the bills, I'd look for work for the next month. I was typically booked six months out.
When anxiety raised its ugly head, I could open up the spreadsheet and focus on what was concrete and real, which allowed me to push aside my fear and move forward.
Mountain biking fear is really no different for me: I can deal with it with technique and focus.
That ledge is pretty steep, and the root at the bottom right is likely to catch the front wheel. I could drop, the front wheel could deflect on the root, and I could go over the bars into those rocks. If I drop my seat and put my weight back, the drop is on problem. And if I take the left line, there’s a nice line past the root.
On the trail, I was having a good day. I have a dropper post on my bike these days. I bought the bike back in May 2015, and I’m still sorting out when and how to use it.
On Dump Truck, the dropper was magic. I dropped my post about halfway, which I find is really good on technical trails. I’m wooden and stiff when in the saddle, and less so when I stand up. The half-dropped seat forces me to stay me on my feet, but also gives me an out. I can sit down if needed—it’s just low.
I was still dreadfully cautious and slow, but I hit a couple nice drops and climbs.
I ran Dump Truck, and then another trail on the other side of the Hill Life, one my friend Joel showed me. It’s technical and tricky to climb, and fast and fun to descend.
I ran that, and then climbed the Hill of Life. That’s a satisfying beast of a workout.
Climb, focus, execute . . . it’s Friday.
Yippee ki yay.