(I’m guessing this will likely rub some people the wrong way)
A few weeks back, the weather in San Diego’s Cuyamaca mountains was idyllic — sunny and low 70s. For 3 hours, I pedaled pretty much non-stop and did not see another mountain biker. Sure, it was mid-afternoon on a weekday and people had to work.
Nevertheless, I had one of those “San Diego is not a mountain biking town” kind of rides and I loved every bit of it. Beautiful trails all to myself, is what the experience was. Call me selfish.
When one of the few rock garden/techy segments of trail came up and was mostly flat and not technical at all, I sighed.
Post-ride: at Alpine Beer Company’s tasting room, I happened upon two local MTB legends of sorts. They, too, were riding Cuyamaca that afternoon. On their 5-hour ride, they ran into a rider or two.
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