Tuesday, September 28, 2010

phil's world, cortez co

So what's the skinny on Phil's World trails you ask?  Well, lemmetellya-

I stayed at the Holiday Inn Express, 2.5 miles from the trailhead as it turns out.  And while I'd like to represent how I mastered all those jumps on Rib Cage, that would be stretching the truth a bit much, even for this ole angler.  

But I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night,  baddaboom!  Thank you thank you, be here all week.

Ahem, sorry bout that.


Picture a trail network winding in and around a sagebrush-and-pinon rimrock mesa, much like High Desert Trail.  Throw in a bit of technical chunk from Horse Thief Bench, some kray-zee Otero downhill.  For good measure, add to that a fair amount of Kessel Run snakyness, you'll start to get an idea of the tread offered out at Phil's World.  

But wait, there's more.  Much, much more.

sorry, only crappy cell phone pics for ya this goround

All of that plethora of tread is just your appetizer to the main course.  The piece de resistance is a brilliant coupla miles of alternating grin and cold-sweat inducing whoopty-doos on a grand scale.

Think Shaun White's half pipe at the Winter Olympics and you begin to get a sense of what the Rib Cage has to offer.  

Well maybe not really for many of you pros out there, but Rib Cage certainly felt that way for this mere mortal...

Starts out calm enuf, but you're soon diving headlong into your first arroyo,  teeth clenched, thankfully on sun-baked, hardened adobe tread.  Speeds instantly up, you crush deep into your suspension as you bottom out, and are soon flying up the other side, your momentum carrying you clear off the tread to top out in a tabletop jump before you know it.   WTF!  Before you can catch your breath wondering what the hell happened, you're already plunging over the lip of the next drop, hanging on for dear life.  god help me!

Momentary terror on the plunge, g-force induced crush at the bottom, fleeting sense-of-relief on the up, followed immediately by a mix of dread and elation as your tires clear the opposing rim and you hope, hope, hope for a controlled landing. 

Wash, rinse, repeat.  In a continuous cycle for like an eternity 10 minutes of alternating hell-and-bliss, riding by the seat of your pants, praying it all ends well. 

Yeah, kinda like that.  

And then when you're done, breathless and a bit dazed at the bottom, you want to go back and do it all over again.  

And again.

sorry, no pics of Rib Cage, I could not stop!   ferreted out the below vid just now, not me as you can't hear the screech of searing brakes at every plunge ;-]

No comments:

Post a Comment