By Ron Koch
“Hey, those sure are some sexy tight shorts you got there. Why don’t you come over and do a little dance for us?” the possibly armed man yelled to us from about 50 yards away. I turned to my friend Roger and said, “Let’s just get out of here.” He clearly agreed with me, because without saying a word, he turned around and pedaled the other direction. Our fear of the oddly hostile group he was with was stronger than the thirst we had for the water that was stashed right behind them earlier in the day on our way past this point. And the crazy thing about it is that they were mountain bikers, too! At the time, none of it added up, but later in the day, the pieces of the puzzle started coming together. In all my years of riding in the backcountry, this was one of the strangest experiences I have had, and believe me when I say I’ve had a few.
Roger and I were riding in Santa Barbara, California’s backcountry, an area we rode a lot of in the late ’90s. But, this time we were going a bit further. Instead of our typical Little Pine loop (a Santa Barbara Backside classic), we were going 15 miles past it for an extension to Big Pine Mountain. It was hot, and there were no water sources along the way, so we packed extra. Not wanting to carry all the extra water with us on the 30-mile out-and-back portion near the mid-point of the ride, we stashed it behind what I can only assume to be a big concrete water-collection tank that was alongside the dirt road. This would prove to be a mistake later in the day.
A DESERTED BACKCOUNTRY, OR SO WE THOUGHT
The Little Pine loop was a popular ride, but it wasn’t terribly common to see anyone out there. Beyond this point is even more remote, but about halfway into our ride from the water stash point to the mountain, a rider appeared out of nowhere bombing down the fire road as we climbed it. “Nice helmet!” he shouted as he sped past us wearing no helmet, a T-shirt and cutoff jeans. We looked at each other in disbelief. What was this guy doing way out here? Then, a few minutes later, another rider passed us with another snide remark. I think he called us “Lance Armstrong” or something like that. He was followed by about six more riders, half of whom said something odd while the rest just put off negative vibes. They all looked more like backpackers in terms of apparel and had large panniers on their steel hardtails. I recall a couple of nice-looking Ritcheys in the group.
At the time I just assumed they were bikepacking, but their aggressive disposition was off-putting. We made the top of the climb and started making our way back down. About halfway to our water stash on a flat section of the road, something shiny caught my eye. Upon closer inspection, it was a dozen or so spent shells from what I assumed to be a 9mm handgun. And they were fresh; they were not there on our way in. So, now we knew that not only were these riders jerks, they were likely armed.
Knowing they were probably a few hours up the road in front of us, we didn’t worry too much about them, but I got a sinking feeling in my stomach when I turned the corner to our water stash, only to see all eight of them sitting up on the concrete water tank we had dropped our bottles behind. They were drinking beer, joking with each other and having a seemingly good time. Their attention turned to us as we rolled up and stopped about 50 yards up the road. That’s when the taunting started from more than one of them, but it was the fancy pants and dance comment that really made me wonder what was going on. They never showed the gun, but we were pretty certain that at least one of them was armed.
WHAT HAPPENED OUT THERE?
We took off riding down the Santa Cruz Trail in confused disbelief. I’ve had numerous negative experiences with other trail users of all sorts, drivers and even animals, but never another mountain biker. Many scenarios played out in my mind. Were they just a bunch of hippie bikepacking mountain bikers making fun of our Lycra outfits? Were they on some sort of “trip,” just out having a good time at our expense? Were those massive panniers full of weed from their harvest? All of the above, perhaps. Maybe none of it. But, even my extreme thirst at that point in the ride wasn’t enough to make me want to find out.
What’s the strangest mountain bike ride or thing you saw out on the trail? Let us know here, and if it’s good enough, maybe we’ll share it with our readers.