by Chris Gilligan

Christmas Day, I gave myself a present, but it was one that is a federal crime, so I'll just have to change the place names to protect the guilty (namely, me). I took a long afternoon ride, by myself. Although I don't necessarily recommend riding alone, I find it to be a rewarding experience if I treat the trail with respect and stay well within my abilities.

I ate lunch, then packed up some trail food: candy bars, pistachios, and one of my favorites, peanut butter and honey on home made raisin bread. It's a gargantuan sandwich, and has to be forced into a Ziploc bag. I also dug through my inventory of cold and wet weather riding gear, and decided to take just about everything, just in case.

Driving north, I passed over White Oak Mountain, and things didn't look good. Trees were down everywhere, even falling into the highway in places, pulled to the ground with the weight of ice deposited on their branches by our first storm of the season. Nearer my destination, the ice was melting, and there were even patches of blue sky peeking through the clouds and mist. I could see that there was a lot of ice on the mountains above 2000 feet: maybe even some snow.

Even now, I remember back to the blizzard of 1993 and the destruction it caused in Cherokee Forest. The most graphic example I can recall is that it took almost 6 hours to do the Clemmer and Clear Creek loop. Bikers spent more time climbing over, under and around blow downs than actually riding. The dead falls were so heavy in one spot that brother Patrick estimates he traveled about 2 miles without ever even touching the ground: he carried his bike as he scrambled over a tangle of downed trees.

I mentally prepared myself for the same sort of hike-a-bike trip on Christmas day. I aired up the tires on the Razorback, then dressed for the weather. Here's a list:

I saddled up and began to climb from the river bridge. After about a half mile up the hill, I started stripping down: off came the parka and the ski gloves. I stuck the gloves on the bar ends so they would be handy. On the way up, I passed a man and his wife hiking, then a mom and her daughter. No other bikers were anywhere to be seen. The clothing choice would prove to be perfect for the long climb ahead.

As I ascended, the ice on the trees was thicker and thicker, but it was nearing 40 degrees now, so chunks were falling from the branches, and the trail at times was a couple of inches thick with loose, pebbly ice which offered pretty good traction. Nearing the top of the first pass, I met an old man dressed head to foot in camouflage, obviously a hunter. I stopped to talk to him, and we talked about the animal sign we had seen that day, mostly deer and coyote scat. He said he was scouting turkey for the Spring season, but he wasn't having much luck, as the dry summer had really stunted the acorn crop, and the animals that depend on the oak for their sustenance were few and far between. I told the old guy I had never seen a bear, although I had seen plenty of bear signs, and that got him going on quite a few bear stories. He had come upon several bears in his many years in the woods, and he said they would run away if you raised up your arms and jumped and yelled. We talked about my bike and how I could travel so fast and quiet that I often spooked deer and turkeys. After about a half hour of stories, we went our separate ways. He headed back to his truck, and I headed up the hill.

I was riding up a steep gravel road now, in a mist so thick that my glasses were dripping and beads of moisture were rolling down my fleece pullover. Near the top of the second pass, the clouds cleared, and I could see blue skies above me, and the mountains below and in the distance made dark islands amid a sea of misty white fog. The ice falling from the tree branches made everything around me shimmer with irridescent flashing light. It was so beautiful that my spirit bounced back and forth between crying and soaring for a couple of minutes while I stood and watched in total awe. I get that feeling just about every time I visit the high wilderness alone: no matter what the weather, I am always presented with sights, sounds, smells, and feelings that combine to make the strain and effort of the climb seem like a pittance to endure for the high. Enjoying this feeling alone is easy, but I sometimes miss being able to feel it with others.

I turned onto the trail, which is a single track tamped into one of the old logging roads that crisscross this mountain. The surface is very smooth, fine shale gravel. I have been riding this particular trail for almost ten years now, and it is one that I try to do once a year, but not much more. If it got constant bike traffic, it might get pretty chewed up. Anyway, most people would find it too far from the highway for convenience or comfort.

Near the top of the mountain, I came to a clearing where I have played naked in the grass a couple of times, and I was pretty much overcome with yearning for a former lover who has moved out of town. We were pretty adventurous in our year together, and I can't drive or hike anywhere in eastern Tennessee without seeing a peak we climbed together, just to be able to enjoy each other at the summit. Our landmarks dot the landscape: I have sometimes thought I should plot them on a map and connect the dots to see what words or signs it might give. I'll save that one for a really, really rainy day.

I walked around and ate my sandwich and slurped on some Gatorade while I stared at those spots on the ground where I had enjoyed nature so completely. I was in danger of slipping too far back to that time when a strong breeze brought a shower of wet ice down on my head and I decided to put on my parka and gloves for the descent. I had over 8 miles of downhill as my reward for a two-hour climb, and the sun was beginning to get low over the western slope of the big mountain. The descent took about 45 minutes because I decided to take a single-track traverse on the way down that would provide a good fast training ride. My mind was light and my legs were feeling really strong, so I opened up and hammered the whole way.Coming down to the river bridge, it was just getting dark. Perfect timing...didn't need the NiteRider light.