The scene: Trestle Mountain Bike Park for the Trestle All-Mountain Enduro. Winter Park, Colorado is the resorty-est of resort towns but all is forgiven because the view is splendid. Also, there are enough bikes in Winter Park to cancel out the most ridiculous extravangances. Big bikes. Small bikes. Red bikes. Blue bikes. Bike-themed pizza parlours. It’s great.

At Trestle Macky and I hit our all-time low for cleanliness and all-time high for pure (although not entirely un-adulterated) love of life.

We spent the first night camped in the resort parking lot because we arrived at our intended campground after midnight and found it completely full. Oops. We spent the second night in the parking lot as well. I like to think we were thumbing our noses at the over-priced resort world, something like “if you’re going to charge me 6 bucks for a slice of pizza you better fucking believe I’ll be sleeping in your parking lot.” But mainly we just didn’t want to move our tent.

our campsite

In other news, lift access mountain biking may not count as exercise to all you cardio snobs but it still makes you sore. And it still makes you stink. After eight hours of baking in the high altitude sun, careening downhill at life-altering speeds and inhaling mouthfuls of dust and grime, Macky and I reeked. We sported the pungent odor that comes from the unique but dangerous combination of sunscreen, caked mud and unbridled adrenaline. Maybe we could have gotten starring roles in a Jeep Cherokee commercial, but no one wants to share a tent with that.

We remedied the situation by driving a few miles down the road and finding an ice cold stream that was deep enough for us to submerge completely. Not the most pleasant experience.  Exhilarating, yes. Breathtaking, certainly. And the the old couple camped by the stream in their popup trailer seemed to enjoy the spectacle, eying us amusedly as we emerged dripping, shivering, half-naked and sprinted barefoot back to the car.