Although I swore I wouldn’t return to Government Canyon to ride until I had lost some weight and built up my endurance, I found myself a little tired of the monotony and crowds at McAllister Park, so I decided to explore the less technical part of Government Canyon called the “Front Country” this morning.
I entered the visitor’s center to the same smiling elderly lady as before.
ME: “Good morning!”
Lady: “Hi! How yew?”
“Fine. One please.”
“Weren’t yew here a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Where’s yer boyfriend?”
“Excuse me?”
“That slender, good lookin feller that looked like a terrorist.”
“1. He’s not a terrorist. 2. He’s my cousin.”
“Sure, and I’m Britney Spears. I saw how he was holding yew tight after your last ride…”
“HE WAS CARRYING ME TO MY TRUCK! I WAS HAVING A HEART ATTACK!”
“Sure. Serves your fat ass right for trying to ride the Back Country Trails. Which trails are yew ridin today?”
“Front Country”
“I newd yew was a funny britches! Yew gonna ride them sissy trails?”
“Ma’am, I’ve about had enough! I can’t believe the Great State of Texas would allow their employees to treat patrons like you’ve treated me this morning!”
“They don’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a volunteer. Here’s yer change. God bless yew sugar britches!”
“Uh, thanks.”
(Not actual verbatim conversation, but it’s my story)
So began my second Sojourn of Hell….
The day was beautiful, with a slight crispness in the air. There weren’t many people on the trails at 9 AM this morning, which suited me just fine. Although not technical at all, the trails provided a nice option to Mac’s familiar single track.
I was getting a good workout despite the lack of technicality, but two hours into my ride, I noticed my front wheel was not riding as smoothly as it should. I stopped in the middle of the trail and dismounted, only to find that the tire was flat!
“No problem”, I thought. “I’ll just change the flat and put my spare tube on. No biggy.”
I took off my backpack and set it on the ground. I began to rummage through the compartments and found my C02 cartridge, which I screwed onto the tire valve. I squeezed the trigger and didn’t hear the familiar sssst of the C02 filling the tire.
I removed and shook it, only to realize there was no more gas in the cartridge. I remembered I had bought an extra canister at the bike shop, so I started digging in my backpack for it.
“DAMMIT!” I couldn’t find it.
I was halfway through a 5 mile trail and was 2.5 miles from my truck, so I crammed everything into my backpack and started walking my bike down the trail. A mile or so later, I came upon a man with his son, who appeared to be 5 or 6 years old.
I struck up a conversation with the man and he asked me about the trails, as it was his first visit to the park. I felt slight tug on my shirt and the little boy was next to me looking at my bike.
“Mister, did you know your tire’s flat?”
The reaction on my face must have shown my frustration, as the man said, “Uh son, that’s why he’s walking. We’d better go now.”
Fifty minutes after beginning my hike, I was back at my truck. The thought of me forgetting to put a spare C02 cartridge in my pack bugged me throughout the entire hike back, because it is so out of character for me not to be prepared.
Once I opened the back of the Xterra, I completely dumped out the contents of my backpack. Sure enough, you guessed it, lodged underneath the hydration pak, were my two spare C02 canisters….
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