The nature of the area dictated that entire days were committed to a handful of attempts at these lines. A punishing hike up the hill with desert heat, forty-five pound bikes, mandatory body armor, and loose sandstone was rewarded with a ten second free fall.
After six tiring hours, we had amassed five “runs,” three crashes, and two endless grins. It was time to call it a day and fire up the grill. As the sun set on the distant western horizon, the valley glistened in an array of purples and oranges. With legs sore and stomachs full, we loaded the bikes onto the Jeep and listened to the tires hiss through the sand. Before airing up the tires and returning to civilized roads (dreaded pavement), we reflected on a day of genuine modern rarity: truly riding free.
Related: And Then They Jumped
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