Easter Berrys

Camping streamside. Stealing skewer sets. Flaming bunnies. Major bike failure. Trail Mom. A long, long trail. Chocolate and Chili. Sounds like a fun holiday to me.

<Rita narrates>

I rolled in to Brazil Creek Campground around 8 on Friday night, having been lost between Potasi and the Mark Twain National Forest. I was lost, but one of the passengers of our two Suburu caravan knew where he was going, and both drivers were enjoying the twisty Ozark roads, so no one cared. When we walked up to the fire ring, I realized I knew at least half the people there - they were trying to convince Bethany to give up a stuffed toy that wasn't hers, or theirs. One fellow had received, on the eve of his drive to Berryman, a stuffed bunny from his grandma - press its paw, and it started dancing and singing "Here comes Peter Cotton Tail, hoppin' down the bunny trail, hippity hoppity Easter's on its way . . ."

The camp only had eight sites, and when Steve and Crash rolled in on Thursday, half of them were filled with an equestrian family reunion. They set up several tents in the other half, but by the time the rest of the bikers showed up, the horses had been packed up and hauled off. Other then one site at the trailhead, our group took over the entire campground.

Friday, while I was working, and then driving six hours from Madison to Missouri, the early arrivers went on a full loop ride, and then complained about the puddles and mud on the last several miles. Saturday morning, we decided on a route that would be slightly shorter, but would skip the worst of the muck. Muffy decided that he'd like to do more mileage, so he took off an hour early in a counter clockwise loop, and would meet us as we were heading clockwise on the same loop. Trail Mom Bethany handed out maps to all involved, and off we rode - immediately through the creek, and then up a highway until we turned off and up the singletrack.

Of all the IMBA Epic trails I've been on, Berryman has the fewest vistas. You never come to the top of a rise and look out over a valley (Levis) or butte (Maah Daah Hey) or waterfall (DuPont). But you do climb a lot. Contours and climbing turns are the name of the game, and you can often wave at the front of the pack whilst riding in last place, as you turn into a drainage that they are pulling out of on the other side. And while the trail is narrow single track, it's rarely technical. Most of it is buff hardpack, although there are sections that are loose round rock, and sections that are steep and eroding.
I somehow led the first climb up a dozen climbing turns and one true switchback. I heard one of the guys behind me ask who the mountain goat was in front, and my lips formed into a triumphant grin. Then I realized that I couldn't possibly keep this up for a 17 mile loop, reached the top and pulled over, modestly dropping back to mid pack. We did a lot of shuffling at first, as the sprinters gave up position to the long haulers, as folks chatted with other folks. The motorola radios let us know that Ryan and Becky were heading back to camp after a mile or two, and then Trail Mom had us count off to find we had 16 riders continuing on.

Although it had been a chilly morning, starting the day with a 1000 foot climb will warm you up, and our band of riders quickly started shedding layers. We'd regroup on the many logging roads that crossed the trail, then climb some more, or weave down through the contours. The trail crossed many little streams - little only because we had so little snow this winter. The bottom lands were wetter then the hillsides, with that tacky, hold-your-tires-to-the-ground black mud in long swaths. The vegetation changed from oak groves with some shagbark to brushy undergrowth, and although the leaves had not yet started budding out, it became harder to see the rest of the pack up ahead or around the bend, until the climb out of the bottom land to the sparsely undergrown hillsides and ridges.

On one such bottomland passage, Steve had been leading, bunny hopped one log, was stopped by a second log, dabbed, then pedaled on a few yards until he realized something was very wrong. At that point, the whole group cringed in sympathy. He later reenacted the incident at the picnic table using celery and a little bicyclist toy from the morning's Easter basket, but it was obvious that his bike was toast. As Crash and I commiserated about it, we had to mention how much Steve had bragged about his new Turner frame (named Treebeard after the character in Lord of the Rings - you'll have to read the books, he hasn't appeared in the movies yet) for months before he'd gotten it, much less after he'd had it to show off. Now, the extra couple bends in the tubes left it rideable, if uncomfortable, but no one was going to trust this thing at speed. Just then, Muffy came down the trail towards our group, and some riders jumped in front of the bent bike to hide it from his view. We talked a little about distances, then Steve, now renamed "Bender", said okay, show it to him, and the screen moved. The look on Muffy's face was priceless as he registered what had happened. Bender then hobbled back the way he came to the nearest logging road, out to the highway, and back to camp. The rest of us rode on, still 16 riders.

It's now about 10 miles into the trip, and we should be approaching Berryman Campground soon. We've spread out a bit, and haven't crossed a road to regroup on in a long time. We'd been talking about lunching on top of a hill, but the last few hilltop haven't shown me a group of lounging mountain bikers. I was getting tired and hungry, but didn't want to stop alone, and Crash had just powered up the hill ahead of me. I caught up to BenW and Adrienne on another set of climbing turns, and called out on the radios looking for the lead group.

"They are on the top of the next hill."

"Which hill is the next hill?

"The one in front of you."

How did this guy on the radio know where I was? "Who is this?" I asked.

"Hey baby," he replied. Had to be Crash, who had recently passed me.

We dragged our selves up to the top and collapsed on a logging road. Someone had a radio out and was guiding Amy and Tom into our group - they had started later and at a different point. Crash and Chele was prostrate on the road, eyes closed. LakeRaven and Trail Mom reclined to the right, as if holding court. I picked a tree for a backrest, sat down, and pulled out the picnic lunch I was carrying - mmm, gorp, homemade jerky, apples, cheese, crackers, and iced Clif bars. Since I was carrying my partner's meal as well as mine, my pack was about to get much lighter.

The fellowship broke up at this point, with the speedy group of eight taking off to do the last stretch at a faster pace then the rest of us could manage. They were actually six of our sixteen, plus a pair of riders they had picked up along the way. The remaining ten, plus Amy and Tom, eventually got up and continued down the trail.

It wasn't really far from that point to Berryman Campground. As we regrouped in the parking lot, up pulls Bender with a truck full of bikes. One of the other riders had brought a spare bike along, and Bender swapped his saddle and pedals to it, coaxed Ryan and Becky into gearing up again, and found someone who could return the truck to camp, and off they went. Chele was feeling under the weather, and Patrick the singlespeeder was tiring out, so they hopped a ride back to camp. We split again, as some of the group headed back via road, and the rest of us took the road to an intersection, cutting off about 5 miles of the remaining trail.

As the first part of the trail felt more uphill then down, this section felt more down then up. Not that we didn't have some good climbs, but we had some marvelous, twisting descents. Then the lowlands, and somehow the trail intersected with a seep, and we were riding up a streambed, about 3 inches of water flowing down while the eight bikes flowed up. We were happy to get out of the water, but then the climb turned serious: up, turn, up, turn. Brian and I were walking, saving our strength for the rest of the ride. Eventually (not a moment too soon!) we broached the top, then the gradual downhill contours, weaving in and out of the landscape.

Bender was waiting at the bottom, regrouping our party at the artesian spring and horse trough. Becky gushed about how much better this section was to the first several climbs, and most of us agreed with her. Crash, who was barely living up to his name this trip, rolled up complaining that his rear wheel had come off. He didn't look muddy or bloody, so we checked the quick release and rode on - up again.

We crossed several fire roads, and apparently were paralleling the main highway (Hwy W). Bender, who somehow had taken over as Trail Mom when Bethany had bailed from the ride, told us that the next fire road was our exit, and we'd then jump onto W for a gravity run to camp. We could've bailed out at any time, but if your choice is singletrack or pavement for a downhill run, which would you choose?

The swoopy trail dropped us onto the gravel fire road, the fire road climbed to the highway, and then we all did the tuck and coast. Apparently, 44mph is the record, but that person was pedaling. Even without, Scott clocked himself at 40mph. Coast over the bridge, turn and dip through the streamlet, then into camp, safe and sound.

We muddy riders gathered at a table, eating chips and salsa, the chocolate from the morning's Easter basket, and some other weird concoctions Bethany had whipped up (if its not exactly humus, what is it?). Some of the fast crew went out for a lap around the last section of trail, thinking it might be drier then the previous day, while the rest of us rested, snacked, cleaned up, and listened to Bender telling truck driving and climbing stories.

The 2nd-lappers began descending across the creek, and we cheered them from the campsites as the chili cook off contestants warmed up their pots. At six, we had the table by the fire loaded up, four pots of chili, german potato salad, fruit salad (btw, BenW didn't end up with his tupperware, anyone go home with two extras?), french bread, pumpkin/raisin sweet bread, and chocolate-espresso brownies. Patrick's vegetarian chili disappeared exceedingly fast, Scott's 6-pepper chili was a close second, and the other entrants had their supporters. When it came time to award the Travelling Camel Award went to Patrick with as much fanfare as possible in a quiet backwoods campground.

Then the schwagfest. Everyone brought out one item, and set it unwrapped in front of the fire. Drawing numbers, we had a bit of fun with the section of goods. The first number holder selected his prize, then the second number holder could either select anew from the pile or steal a previous prize, leaving the prizeless person the same options. No item could be stolen more then 3 times, and you couldn't immediately steal back what was just stolen from you. Hot items included skewer set, "Big Butt" lager, two sets of tires, mini mag lights, and a bottle of Everclear. When it was LakeRaven's turn to select, he grabbed two cans of Oldstyle out of the pile, and figuring no one would steal then, cracked one open and started drinking. Muffy eventually stole them from him, and since he had a can going already, refilled the open one just in time for LakeRaven to steal them back - I'm not sure, but I think Gary got the best of the deal.

After schwagfest, Bender got ahold of the second stuffed bunny from the morning's Easter basket, attached it to a stick, soaked it in the Everclear, and well, what do you think a bunch of drunk bikers at a campfire are going to do on Easter?

</Rite narrates>
the first batches of photos are in

Scott's and Crash's

the easter bunny along for the ride	Roll 3 - 36	Roll 3 - 62	Roll 3 - 35	Roll 3 - 59
Roll 3 - 33	Roll 3 - 44	Roll 3 - 52	Roll 3 - 31	Roll 3 - 29
"J.R.A", no wait...	and Muffy pulls up...	and sees Steve Frye's (hereafter called "Bender") bike	... and is really amazed!	Roll 3 - 25
Roll 3 - 50	Roll 3 - 64	so here's the story... [see the video] Quicktime reqired	Roll 3 - 24	Roll 3 - 16
Roll 3 - 45	Roll 3 - 54	Roll 3 - 15	Roll 3 - 55	Roll 3 - 30
Roll 3 - 49	Roll 3 - 32	Roll 3 - 61	Roll 3 - 40	Roll 3 - 57
Roll 3 - 34	Roll 3 - 11	Roll 3 - 51	Roll 3 - 10	Roll 3 - 9
Roll 3 - 12	Roll 3 - 6	Roll 3 - 46	Roll 3 - 4	Roll 3 - 3
Roll 3 - 5	Here comes Peter Cotton tail [video]	Roll 3 - 1	Roll 3 - 20	Roll 3 - 22
Roll 3 - 48	Roll 3 - 2	Roll 3 - 14	<Crash's photos> Roll 4 - 1	Roll 4 - 8
Roll 4 - 6	Roll 4 - 9	Roll 4 - 4	Roll 4 - 12	Roll 4 - 14
Roll 4 - 5	Roll 4 - 7	Roll 4 - 13	Roll 4 - 3	Roll 4 - 11
Roll 4 - 10	Roll 4 - 2

next page, Gary & Bethany's pictures