Sunday's Kitsuma Loop, With Pictures

Ahoy hoy blogareenos. May your Monday morning be full of happiness and joy, cram-packed with the anticipation of hidden wonder that awaits you... in the form of a scythe wielding reaper, pointing at you with its osseous mandible and the word's "See you soon" in a cartoon word bubble above its head.


The Blog introduced Hawley employee Joshie to the rooty wonders of Kitsuma sunday afternoon. Cane Creeker Eric and his lady friend Kelly were also in tow. Eric had Stan's-ed his wheels the previous evening and was looking forward to trying out the WTB Prowlers in a tubeless form. This would be a fortuitous decision as Eric would remark on how well the tires hooked up on the rooty goodness that was to be had the following day.

Instead of parking at the Old Fort picnic area, we headed straight from the Kitsuma lot to the 20 or so switchbacks that lead to the summit (or false summit). It felt nice to ride this portion without waiting on 20 people in front of me and not having 20 people behind me yelling at me to get out of the way (memories of ORAMM).

Sadly, no warm up meant slow going on the vertiginous first 300 yards or so. Eric somehow dropped us on the climb so we rolled along as a power troika. Rains that morning had made the surrounding fauna steamy and the roots slicker than snot. Sadly, as much as I love my Race Kings, they are not wet root tires as I would find out later.

Well sooner than later. On the second downhill after one of the false summits, I hit a fairly wet root, my front tire went horizontal and I was ejected over the handlebars as my Kona followed me down the trail. I was dazed with a healthy sized "Videodrome"-styled gash/orifice on my left knee. Ugh. This is what happens when you're not paying attention.

In hindsight, the WTB Prowlers would've been the wiser choice. Que sera. After catching up with Eric, we continued down Kitsuma. The lower we went in elevation, the slicker the roots became. Anything off camber became a test of keeping the bike relatively upright. Sadly, my wreck must've sketched out Kelly as she suddenly lost her nerve on some of the rootier sections. This ain't Bent Creek Kel!

After some more close calls, we made it to the bottom and headed back up Old 70. The gummyment recently purchased part of the road with the hopes of turning it into a greenway. A freshly paved "lane" made the climb a lovely exercise in soft pedaling as my knee was screaming out in pain. This was supposed to be a short, "chill" introduction to Kitsuma. It turned into a bloodsoaked pain-fest that will be lingering for the rest of the week, as it should be.