Thanksgiving Winthrop Style

I'm not sure how we got on the "distinguished guest" list for Winthrop this year, but given past reviews of the traditional Thanksgiving weekend riding I definitely wasn't about to turn it down! Friday night Marc and I screeched out of Comox after work in time for the 7:30 ferry, and found ourselves on a little windy road in the mountains before too long. Around 2 am we pulled into a house that had the right cars in front of it and bedded down quietly on the sofa, hoping that we were actually in the right place. If we were in someone else's house we only hoped they wouldn't wake us too early to kick us out.
 
As luck would have it, we were in the right home (very lovely) and the next day had breakfast with Aniya - the newest member of the European et al. invasion, Jacek, Gail, Paul, Angie and Chris, landlord extraordinaire. We stopped at the house down the road that was the temporary home of the rest of the intrepid travellers, and then started on our way for a lovely ride in the sun on picturesque Starvation Mountain, land of red fall coloured shrubs and charcoal coloured trees.  

 
After going uphill for a few hours I realized there was a reason not everyone else was going our way. After a few more hours I thought they might have had a good idea, and the thought of sitting in a window seat with a hot mug of tea and some apple pie seemed rather appealing. We finally popped over the pass at 7000 feet for the most amazing downhill I think I've ever ridden, and for once felt sad for those too smart to have joined us. 
 
The first 20 minutes of snow surfing on bikes was a blend of ridiculous and technically demanding biking with very cold fingers. After the snow melted off we followed a fast flowy trail that wound it's way around steep hillsides with pretty fall colours on steep slopes and painful consequences for staring at the pretty colours. A few creeks, a few more uphills to remind us of why we were happy to be done with that part, and the trail just kept going forever! Marc turned off his GoPro just before the near-miss-by-rampaging-cow that gallumphed along the hillside above and crossed the trail to her friends, but he does have some very cool footage. After about a half hour of downhill I had completely forgotten that there was an uphill first, and after an hour and a half of almost continuous downhill we arrived at the cars again.
 
Back at the ranch Gail had dinner ready for us, which was the most amazing welcome. Food was wonderful and I crashed into my lovely soft warm bed much earlier than I'll admit to.
 
Sunday found us feeling a bit mellower, and Paul, Chris, Marc and I eventually headed off to ride up along a ridge and then down through the canyon below. If I could remember the trail name.... it's not a secret, I just forgot it. 

The photographer at work

Looking at the canyon from the top of the ridge

Chris and Paul were on 29'ers, while Marc and I felt like kids on our little short 26'er bikes. Heading into the flowy trail I was trying to stay on Paul's wheel for some obscure reason. The corners were a bit tight for pedalling, so compressing the bike into the corners helped it leap out the far side to maintain this (excessive) speed - until my compressed front wheel touched something on the outside of the trail and I became airborne. I sat on the ground for a few minutes, took an advil and debated the wisdom of trying to stay with the boys after the injury riddled year I've had. Then I gingerly approached my bike and continued on. The trail wound it's way upwards to some amazing lookouts and down through rocky switchbacks which were really quite fun even when ridden with my newly discovered caution. I was quite sad when the trail ended at the double track at the bottom, but the ride back along the canyon floor was peaceful and pretty. And had cows, which did become a theme for the weekend.

Thanksgiving dinner was an amazing spread of appies, wine (traditionally drunk while cooking), salmon, turkey, mashed spuds, sweet spuds, candied sweet spuds, carrots, cranberries, stuffing... and three types of pie. When we couldn't move anymore the lights of the other crew could be seen randomly biking their way across the field to the house, and everyone piled in for a fun evening.
 
Monday morning I thought sitting in a comfy chair would be ideal, so the bike seat was a bit of an unwelcome surprise. We rode up a logging road in the drizzle for a while, encountering more cows (and cowboys this time as well) and then up singletrack for longer than I felt truly necessary. 

Clean pre-bike ride people

Bikes and Cowboys - and there is a herd of cows in front of the riders

Top of the uphill

Once again the uphill was completely forgotten once we hit the flowy fast trails through yellow grass and bright fall colours in the fog. Angie has suddenly become a downhiller without our knowledge, and she followed my wheel through several kilometers of flowing trails as we swooped our way around the hillsides. 

Andy in red zipping down the hill

Angie in blue ripping it up

The group way down below me

After the ride we piled our muddy selves into the car and after a shower and some awesome leftovers we headed back into Canada and onto the ferry. Home at 2 am - there's starting to be a trend with the 2 am bedtimes that I can't say I appreciate, and luckily - back to work to rest up a bit for the next adventure.