|3 of Duluth's 4 DBD'ers fatbike down Minnesota's North Shore|
Trail. (Eki, Buff (left), and Farrow)
5:50 a.m. I jolted awake to the sound of my watch alarm telling me it was time to go. Finally, I'd be out of the house and back on my bike, but this time I'd be on my Mukluk and back into the arms of the DBD. It's funny, cause it seems the more the DBD'ers go off in search of adventure, the less time they spend together.
"I was told there'd be coffee", were the first words I said to Farrow after months of not seeing him. You see some early week planning for this ride involved me riding across town on a cold, dark, morning for a nice cup of coffee at Charlie's house before we would embark on the ride itself. Well, ride across town I did and my hands froze, which was an amature move on my part, as I wore some seriously light weight gloves. Anxious for that "cup of coffee" I scampered up the steps of the Farrow estate, my cycling shoes skating around the frosty surface of his deck, when I heard his greeting, "Eki, I've got bad news...No Coffee". The plan was already falling apart. No worries, it could have been worse I figured. Suddenly, Charlie determined to not be beaten by the lack of coffee, made another announcement, "I do have this!" He produced a small tea bag looking thing (it was a small bag of coffee), swinging it in front of my face with a devilish grin on his face, "It's coffee!". I agreed to drink the substance after an addition of some almond milk, which came after some hesitation from me. Turns out the coffee was outstanding and jump started my frozen being. Soon, we were ready to ride.
We jumped on our machines, headed for the country and the North Shore Trail. You see good ole Buff was already out there doin' it and had been for hours, that's just the way he is. Our plan was simple ride the trail North until we saw our partner coming toward us, and then we'd turn to ride with with him back to Duluth. It was to be an epic day.
It didn't seem long before we were on the trail plowing through the wet, soft surface, regaling each other with stories of past triumphs when "it" happened. Farrow's ongoing battle with his gear reared it's ugly head. His chain SNAPPED! There we were somewhere North of Duluth in the middle of the wilderness with his machine maimed. He worked on the chain while I continued on with stories and kept an eye to the northern portion of the trail. Where was "Big Buff"? Then, over the rise the almighty one himself rode with ease as he shook his head either in disbelief or was he seeing something all too familiar, the site of Charlie working on his bike. Buff had arrived. It struck me that in order to put all three of us together on the face of this Earth, it must be done in the far reaches of the woods.
|Farrow fixes the machine.|
Soon we were riding again and it felt right. Buff hurt our legs as he climbed effortlessly despite the 2 plus hours he had on us thus far. The day began to warm as the fog cleared and the sun found it's way to our chilled bodies. The fat tires were a perfect fit for the soft, bumpy terrain. The ride would go down as one of the "good ones". There's no one else I'd rather spin 6 hours of trail time with that these two guys.
|A short break off the trail as we by-pass a swamp.|
As I spun home alone after splitting off from Buff I reviewed the day from start to finish. It occurred to me that at the start of the day while I mocked Charlie for not having his gear ready to go the night before, I never thanked him for that cup of coffee.
So, with the world watching I say, "Hondo, thanks for that cup of coffee. It was one of the best cups I've ever had."