June 23 - 26 was my little riding groups annual "Man"cation trip weekend. This year we chose to go to Slatyfork, WV and ride the trails of Pocahontas County and Snowshoe Resort.
Our "little" group actually expanded to 8 guys this year. Jubber, JT, Prince, Fizzy, Mr. Clean (aka Luis), What's His Name(aka Pat), Earl(Jubber's brother from CT) and myself. By the time the trip was over we all had at least 2 or 3 nicknames, due to the hilarity caused by our collective stupidity.
Thursday:
7:30am we arrive at Johnny's (aka Prince) to a hot scrambled egg, bacon, sausage and pancake breakfast prepared by his wife, Stormy (that is her real name). We load up our gear and fill up our bellies and head for Gambrill State Park in Frederick, MD. It has become tradition to stop at a ride location on our way to our weekend destination. We had heard much about the trails at Gambrill and were not dissappointed. There was a nice mix of fast twisty stuff and technical rocky riding over the 7+ miles of trail we hit. The trip was off to a great start and we couldn't wait to get to WV.
So, we are sitting in a Subway in MD having lunch and I say to Jubber, "From here we just have to pick up I-70 and then take I-81 south to Strasburg, VA. But once we get off the highway the trip takes a bunch of backroads that can get confusing." He says, "OK, we'll keep the GPS plugged in just in case." We finish lunch and pile in his van and my Pilot. We get to the entrance of the Interstate and as we approach the I-70 West lane Jubber all of a sudden puts his left turn signal on and takes the exit for some state route and before I could react quick enough I'm already on the entrance ramp to I-70. "What are you doing, follow him!" is shouted from my passengers. "He's going the wrong way! I-70 is right here!" I shout back. "He's got the GPS!" they reply. "F**k the GPS! It always takes dumbest way! I just told him we were going on the interstate in Subway!!!" I reply.
I pull over on the ramp and we call. "Jubber, where the hell are you going?" "The GPS says that this will cut off some distance." "Dude, you are going to be on 2 lane roads through the mountains until you hit I-81. That's going to take longer." I reply. "Well, I guess we'll see who gets there first." Jubber proposes. Game On!!
My car is smoothly heading down the interstate at a comfortable speed above most of the other traffic and we are feeling confident that we will arrive in Slatyfork first. A quick stop for gas and we continue on the chosen route that goes off the interstate and up over the mountains of western Virginia. "Welcome to West Virginia" is a confidence builder to our finishing first. Our confidence builds when we crest a large hill and see the entrance to a spectacular 4 lane super highway with our route number posted on it. "Holy crap, look at this fantastic road out here in the middle of Nowhere, WV." Pat says. Sign says, "Speed Limit 65" and I set the cruise at 75. "I know the way they are going there is no road like this. We're going to kick their ass." As our conversations once again turns toward much laughing in the cabin I noticed a sign that said "Elkins 16 miles" and I know that our next route change is in Elkins, so we are golden for the next 16 miles at 75 mph......so we thought.
5 minutes later we crest a hill and at the bottom we see what looks like construction barricades, no biggie right, except that beyond those barricades we don't see anything that resembles 4 lane highway. Only mountains. The end of the road - literally! This super highway just stops. At the end of the barricades there is a sign that says exit left. It takes us across the opposite side of the highway to a little 2 lane road that immediately comes to a T and gives us only one sign "Rt 42" The problem is we were just on Rt 50 while we were doing 75 mph 3 seconds ago. "Now what guys? Left or Right?" I ask. "Go right since it looked like the highway was being finished to go that way." That was good logic so right I turn. A mile or two and things are not looking good. The road is getting skinny and rough, there is very little civilization, no other traffic. A few miles later the road is down to only one yellow line rather than 2 and the white side lines have disappeared. The road is rougher and I think may be stone soon. "Guys this is wrong, we need to turn around." Johnny says, "I'm trying to get a signal on my droid and hook into the GPS app." No bars, no bars, no bars! I turn around and begin heading back to the highway as quickly as possible, because we just lost about 15 - 20 minutes of valuable time to the Routaon. "Got it!!" Johnny cheers. "Barbara (that's the gps's voice) says we need to take route 42 south to 50. Good, route 50 was the highway number. Confidence restored. Now we just had to pray we keep the signal, because non of the other cells in the car had service out here.
"Next right 500 feet." Barbara says. Finally we are back on route 50. "Continue to route 28 and turn left in 2 miles." Barbara adds. "What, why is she telling me to take route 28? I am supposed to stay on 50 until we get to Elkins." I say. "Just do it!!" is collectively shouted from my crew. For fear of an impending mutiny aboard the 18 foot vessel Pilot, I comply. As I make the dark turn onto route 28 South, I think to myself - 'I am in a bad place lost here in West Virginia, In order to keep my crew's trust I must swallow my pride and years of navigational prowess. A woman of all things, has gained control of the wheelhouse - a woman who I will never meet, never be able to question - she better be able to choose the shortest route, because losing to the Routaon is not an option.....does she know that?'
Friday June 24th:
After taking our lumps from the crew of the Routaon for arriving 20 minutes after them Thursday night; we wake a little blurry eyed and in a brow heavy haze. JT already has the coffee brewing at 6:30am and the Inn starts serving breakfast at 7:30. Slowly, we each make our way to the Joe and the John and begin discussing todays ride. "We need one of those maps hanging in the lobby." JT says. It is agreed to do the map rather than pay a guide to lead us. We made the same choice last year at the Kingdom Trails and had great success. After breakfast is over, we talk to Gil the owner about a route to a storied trail called Prop's Run. He says, "It starts right here on the property and heads up to the top of the ridge and comes back. It's about 17 - 20 miles out and back."
He ends his description with those dreaded words "out and back." 
All 8 of us look at each other to see who will speak up first..............finally, I open my piehole. "Is there a loop that can get us there also? We'd like to avoid doing an "out and back" ride." So Gil takes another look at the map and starts to describe a much longer route that will take us on what looks to be about a 25 - 30 mile ride with lots of climbing. 8 guys begin to smile big. Then JT notices the trail color key in the corner of the map. He says, "So, all this gray trail you are showing us.....that's fire road?"
The other dreaded words we hate to hear - "Fire Roads." 
Gil replies, "Yeah, it's the gravel road the trucks use to haul lumber down the mtn." 8 guys begin a collective grumble under their breath. JT continues, "These other Yellow lines, those are single track, right?" "Yes" Gil says. "OK, so we could ride some singletrack that basically parallels the fire road, right?" "Yeah, but some of that is in old forested sections that may or may not be "hike a bike."
"Hike-a-bike" }:) - the Trifecta of hated mtb words has been spoken and we didn't even put our helmets on yet. It should have been an omen to us, but we were too excited to get started with our "Man"cation adventure to even notice.
45 minutes later we are all geared up and heading down the road to our first climb which is going to be a slow, steep 4 mile slog that gains 2000+ feet on gravel. It takes less than a mile for the group of 8 to quickly become a force of one. Jubber and Luis have been out of sight for 1/2 a mile; I can see Pat, JT and Johnny just before each bend. Earl is about 100 yards ahead and Josh is about 200 yards behind.
I love my granny gear, I love my granny gear, I love my granny gear. I hate climbing, I hate climbing, I hate climbing. I just want a beer, I just want a beer, I just want a beer. This f'n sucks, this f'n sucks, this f'n sucks. :cryin:
An hour and 15 minutes later I finally reach the rest of the group who are busy studying the map. 10 minutes after me - Josh pulls up. 10 more minutes to let Josh catch his breath and some more map reading when JT announces that "We are going to head in here at this yellow gate. It's going to be a single track that parallels the road." Great let's go, I think to myself - enough of this God awe full gravel.
The first sign things could be going from bad to worse was ignored by all as we must dismount our bikes to go under the gate - there is no "ride around" at this gate. We are embracing the old grown in jeep road that can only be ridden in the ruts since the grasses are as high as our knees. We embrace it because it isn't gravel and it isn't steep. The pace quickens, the chatter builds, smiles are growing - but still no singletrack. The jeep ruts are getting harder to see under the grass, a few miles have gone by, the pace starts to slow a bit and then it happens.
The jeep ruts stop at a large pile of pushed soil that has all kinds of native weeds growing on it. Signs of any singletrack are few. Out comes the map. JT begins reading it to us aloud so we can hear where we think we might be. Josh climbs the mound of weeded soil and says, "Hey it looks like it may keep going beyond this dirt pile." We agree and ride around the dirt pile to continue. First 100 yards we hurl our bikes over the first downed tree. Another 1/2 mile we hurl our bikes over the second downed tree. Another mile and a half, we hurl over the third downed tree. Once we hurl over the sixth downed tree the jeep ruts that we have been riding by "tirefeel" and not vision brings us out into a vast mountain top meadow of hip high grass. JT exclaims that this may be where we pick up the singletrack according to the map. "Follow me, I can tell where the jeep road is." JT encourages. The meadow seems to go on forever ahead of us and at the edge we scan feverishly for anything that may look like a trailhead.
What seemed like 5 miles (but was more likely only a mile or so) across this meadow we catch a glimpse of what looks like a wide space on the forest edge. JT enters first and immediately hurls his bike over another downed tree. However, the jeep ruts seem to be under foot still, so we give JT the benefit of our doubts and continue. A quarter mile later we ride smack into a dense pine forest with no signs of trail and the jeep ruts have disappeared too. Out comes the map again!! Imagine 8 guys off their bikes, walking around in circles in the middle of a dark pine forest, then walking over to the map and gazing at it, then walking in circles again and never going more than 30 feet from the map holder. :out: 
Finally, I say, "Well I read somewhere at the Inn that 'If you find yourself lost it may require that you retrace your steps.' In fact I think it says that on the other side of the map." I continue, "I'm going back before the grass we smooshed down pops back up and we can't find the bread crumb path back." 8 guys all agree.
I'm now leading us back through the meadow and I'm going at a pretty good clip. After all, the riding has sucked so far and we're lost in WV. I want to get back to that damn road and try and find some real singletrack. I'm approaching the point at which we first entered the meadow. I am at least 100 yards in front of everyone. There is a slight left hand turn we would need to make to re-enter the forest. I enter the forest and then immediately whip my bike back toward the meadow and pedal like a madman toward the group. I have a frightened face as I approach them. I use that soft but urgent voice and repeat "turn around, turn around, go, go, go." I wizz by the group and look at all of their freaked out faces. In a heartbeat they are all pedaling as mad as me trying to catch me and wanting to know "What is it?" Jubber and Johnny catch me and as we pedal they ask, "Whatcha see, whatcha see?" Once the others catch up I stop, turn around and say with a huge grin, "Got ya!!!!!" :crackup:
To be continued: