D E C O R A H

If you were to search the history of this blog, you'd see a few decorah posts. In fact, I think two of my last three posts were to tell a story of my decorah trips. It's more of a reflection of my neglect of this blog than the frequency of my trips to Decorah. Anyways, my buddies and I went there again last weekend. Again, I tried to talk my wife into joining me but the forecast called for nights in the 30's. Good camping weather for me, but a little beyond her comfort zone. So Josey and I made the trip.

I got up there late Friday afternoon after scouring NE Iowa for that ever elusive bottle of Templeton Rye but to no avail. So instead, I rode. I got there early enough to get a campsite and go for a little solo ride as I knew Saturday's riding would be stop and go. I find myself having a lot more patience on the stop and go rides when my legs already have the cobwebs out of them. Regardless, I got my ride in and went back to camp. It wasn't long before folks started arriving and the night around the fire ensued. Below is evidence that there was some carnage, but it paled in comparison to other Friday nights in Pulpit Rock Campground.

We got going sometime late morning but had to stop at a bike shop because Adam forgot his shoes. He was prepared to purchase a new pair of shoes and cleats, but luckily the owner of Oneota Bike Shop is one of the coolest people on the planet and just happens to be a mountain biker that had a really big role in the very existense of arguably the best trail system in Iowa.

This guy not only gave Adam a pair of shoes to use for the weekend free of charge, but he happens to be brewing 25 gallons of beer in the back of his shop. Does your bike shop have a giant vat of beer brewing in the back room? I doubt it.

It wasn't long and we were up in the bluffs doing some riding. We had a tour guide that I've known for a while now but until this day had never seen sober. Turns out Spinner is a hell of a nice guy and a damn good rider despite his size. We went up to the top of the bluffs and checked out the view on one of our breaks.

On our way back down one trail system on our way to another, we found a little skinny to play around on. There are bigger and more consequential ones that we rode, but this is the only one where the camera came out. Here Adam is showing me how it's done.

And then I joined in on the fun. This is the first quasi-technical riding I have done since August when I tacoed my front wheel. A mishap that will eventually cost me around $200 to fix.

After a few hours, we retired to T-Bocks for some PBR's and some chow. This is hands down my favorite bar in Iowa. Good beers, good people, and they support the local club and trails.

Later, the locals gathered at our campsite. We let Adam catch a nap and finish his IPA before we headed out for a night ride.

Turns out that most night rides in Decorah end at a spot I've mentioned before called the Glory Hole. Now, it was only recently that I've learned the true origin of the term Glory Hole. This both goes to display both my level of naivity as well as the juvenile behavior that I enjoy so much about mountain biking culture. The glory hole, as it is re-defined in decorah is a place to drink beer and have a burn barrel fire. The beer planted early and strategically and is kept cold in a bat cave and the fire is started using stashed gasoline and collected firewood. Good times are sure to be had when 12 people bring no less than 90 cans of beer, 20 brats, and plenty of bullshit stories and don't leave until all have expired.

The burn barrel is / was a piece of art at one point having some sort of demon face cut out of it where embers spit out of periodically.

A game of toss the scalding hot ember even took place. Even I wasn't stupid enough to get involved in a game where a red hot ember flies towards you hacky-sack style where you're supposed to catch it and toss it to someone else before it burns your fucking fingers off. I figured abstaining from such activities would make my mother proud. Peer pressure can be a bitch especially when preceded by multiple 30 packs of cheap beer.