A failure of epic proportions

Did everyone have a great Mother's Day weekend?? We visited with my family Saturday night and had a wonderful spread of food for dinner.

We ended up leaving and going home to relax a bit because we had planned on doing our biggest mountain bike ride to date. We had done 10 miles on Saturday, then I made the suggestion to hit up the Pemberton trail at the McDowell Mountain Preserve. Its almost 16 miles long. I have hiked it a few times and knew the terrain. Dave said. "Sure!"

I had purchased some Powerbars, some of the energy gels and some other snacks Saturday at the store. Dave loaded up the car with our bikes while I packed up our Camelbaks. We each have one that has a 3 liter bladder. I filled it up to the top with ice cold water. Then, because I've been down that road before, literally, I put two extra liters of water in my bag (my Camelback is also a hiking backpack and has lots of space.) I also put my buck knife in there, just in case we ran across a rattlesnake or anything else that got too close for comfort. We also packed a cooler and put a few large Gatorades in there.... why this is relevant, you're about to find out.

We got on our way on the trail about 9:30. The first part of the trail is mostly uphill, although there are some rolling hills in there to gain some momentum. It, in Dave's terms, is a lungbuster. If you dont get enough momentum going down, coming back up there were a few times that both of us had to get off the bike and hike up. We stopped a few times to gain our composure and catch our breath.

I got a great shot of us at about mile marker 4 (I can't regulate my heat very well, hence the extremely red face.)

We got going pretty well and got up to 7.52 miles (Dave has a cateye on his bike.) I came up and around a corner, coming up parallel with Dave. I took out my headphones and I hear this POP.... then Fssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I looked down and saw my back tire go completely flat.

Mind you, we are in literally the middle of this trail, there are no emergency services. There are no bathrooms. There is nothing. Unless you count the buzzards circling overhead and the ginormous geckos running around.

Oh. And bees. Lots of bees. As the frustration of the situation was kicking in; hot, furious tears started coming out of my eyes. I was already exhausted, but knew after mile 10, that its either downhill or flat. So I was pushing myself to get the other 2.5 miles in. Then, this. As I'm standing there trying to figure out what to do, I get stung by a bee. In the very inside of my arm, very close to my armpit. Now, I'm just pissed. So I started moving. I haven't hiked the trail in a few years, so I couldn't remember the terrain on the other side. . . but we knew what it was like on the way out there. I started backtracking on the trail. Pushing my bike.

Dave suggested that if its a good downhill, to just ride it down. Screw the tire. I pushed for a good period of time then I did. And splayed slime everywhere. The tire and the tube had come off the rim. That, was awesome.

I couldn't push the bike because the tire was off the rim. Dave picked it up and started carrying it, then messed with it enough to get it back on the rim enough to get it to spin when he started rolling it. He told me to stay on his bike to conserve my energy. I rolled behind him while he trekked the 7 + miles back to our car. Yes, my amazing man let me have his bike and pushed mine over 7 miles.

We both ran out of water, me about 4 miles back and Dave a mile out. I am incredibly thankful something or someone upstairs told me to pack additional water, regardless of the extra weight that it was.

I applied sunscreen three times and still was getting toasty. Poor Dave is burnt to a crisp even with the several applications of sunscreen. We both started getting delirious. I was seeing stars every time I closed my eyes. Dave started questioning whether or not we should get off the trail and cut through the muck to get back to the car quicker.

Luckily, we didn't. We pushed through. It was probably worse than it was when I had hiked it. I truly thought about giving up and sitting down. Dave told me, "Baby, you've got to keep going. Just keep moving and we'll be back before you know it."

When we got to a half a mile left, he gave me the car keys and told me to go get the AC going. This was approximately 4 hours and 47 minutes after we began our trek. It was now 103 degrees outside. I rode ahead and started the car, got the gatorade out and waited to see him come around the corner. As soon as I could see him, I ran up to him and handed him his gatorade. He stopped and said, "First things first, come here and give me a hug, that was scary."

Although I made light of the situation, things could have turned out much worse. Much, much worse. Both of us were watching our footing on the loose gravel because if one of us fell, it would have been game over. If we didn't have those extra liters of water, we would have been even more dehydrated than we were when we got back to the car.

We ended up home, safe and sunburnt with a mild case of heat stroke. Lesson learned. We will make sure that both of our tires are kevlar'd and slimed, we carry extra innertubes and that we have a portable air pump. We also know that there is no such thing as too much water.