I was just looking for that quick ride. A gravel grinder would do the trick. I knew the perfect ticket. The Old Yellowstone Trail. And off I went.
I felt so good cruising the gravel that when presented with the option to turn up Beatie Gulch Road, I took it on. Besides, I needed to get off the main road to do some exercises.
I could smell death. I rode through a graveyard of carcases. The air fell silent and the heaviness of dead was upon me. I rode with intention and cleared the first riser.
Soon the air cleared up, and I stopped to test out a pine tree to see if it would support my weight for pull-ups. Nope! I rode on.
And up. Until, it was obvious I needed to get home before dark. First, I had to check out this old cabin. Crazy lines for photographs. Crazy, wicked, scenery. I could imagine myself living here back in the day.
Thes signs, I kept ignoring them. So many signs in this area. I read the one plastered to the cabin. Grizzly Bear loves this place.
What a great place to drop off carcases. Speaking of which, I needed to get past the graveyard before dark. I could end up as one of the rib cages sticking up out of the ground. I turned and bolted down the hill.
I was going moc 100 when I passed by the death. Every grunt, scrape, and rustle sound made me go faster. Could a grizzly catch me going 40. Intercept for sure. But I was going fast. Hopefully, my bike skills would shine today. I mean if … you know? What a peaceful place.