The Toyota pickup truck pulled into the big parking lot at the top of Monarch pass and the four of us piled out into the cold mountain air. I saw a thin sheet of ice covering the puddle at my feet and I stepped down on it. Cracks formed and water seeped through with a satisfying crunch. Cliffy pulled a knit beanie down over his ears and said, you guys still think this is a good idea? I’m gonna be so pissed if we freeze to death. Each word puffed a small cloud out in front of him.
Relax, it’ll warm up, I said, my teeth chattered, once we get moving.
Kevin lifted the mountain bikes off of the padded tailgate and we leaned them against the Tacoma. Each of us started running through our own pre-ride checklists. For this trip we were switching out much of our standard mountain biking gear for warmer, thicker stuff. Instead of biking socks and my Vans I wore thick wool socks and light, waterproof hiking boots. My normal bikepack was swapped for a larger pack normally used for backcountry skiing.
Aww shit, Matt said, I only brought bike gloves. He held the thin cycling gloves and continued to paw through his gear bag trying to conjure up something warmer. A Subaru with bikes on the roof pulled in next to us and two riders got out. We exchanged nods and a few polite mornin’s. What are you guys riding? Kevin asked. A fresh faced twenty-something in a Melanzana hoodie shivered and said, we’re gonna ride Crest over to Fooses. Kevin grinned at the kid and said, right on, I heard that was open, should be fun.
At fifty, Kevin appeared like a wise old mountain elder. He still had a defined goggle tan around his eyes from almost a hundred days of snowboarding this season. His stubbled chin and crow’s feet radiated a life of mountain living. The younger rider was compelled to ask, what are you guys riding? Kevin explained confidently, we’re gonna break out Agate Creek. From the other side of the truck Matt chanted loudly in a deep voice AH GOT AYY! I was bent over tying my boot and responded with the same call AH GOT AYY!
The kid smiled, catching our pronunciation of Agate. He stepped closer, now intrigued by our bizarre crew and the challenge we were attempting. Really?! You think it will be clear?
I stood up and caught the kids' gaze across the truck bed. No, we know it’s not clear, but someone’s gotta be the first. We’ll probably cross a few snow drifts, especially down by the creek.
The kid was drawn in by our plan. He called to his friend, Tanner we should go down Agate with these guys! Tanner, the less impulsive of the pair, gave a cynical, yeahh, no. Agate has like a million water crossings and there's probably downed trees. Besides, we parked on the other side of the pass. He looked at me and asked, you guys parked in Sargents? I nodded.
Cliff chimed in saying, you guys don’t want to ride with us anyway, we make really bad decisions. We chatted with the other riders for a few more minutes as I looked over Cliff’s bike. In typical Cliff fashion he hadn’t done any maintenance, the chain needed oil and both tires were low. After topping up his tires, I put the pump into the truck and Kevin locked the doors. We wished the other guys a fun ride and started out of the parking lot. We passed the Monarch Pass gift shop and the small gondolas that offer tourists rides in the summer.
The initial climb out of the parking lot was a double track Jeep road lined by trees. The bottom was clear.
When we left Kevin’s house in Gunnison that morning the sky was sunny and blue, but here at the top of the Continental Divide high cloud cover turned the morning sun into a bright hazy blur. The single track trail started out with a mellow steady climb as it followed the ridge line. Two miles in we hit the first steep climb and we stopped to rearrange our gear. Kevin was in the lead and he pulled off the trail and leaned his bike against a tree. He took off his warm outer shell and folded it into his back pack.
I did the same then I said, damn it! I forgot to start my Strava! Matt mocked, aww so those first two miles won’t even count. I pulled out my iphone and opened the app. I selected the Strava Live feature and hit the record button. Cliff was standing next to me and happened to glance at my phone as he loaded a glass bowl with a nugget of weed. What’s Strava Live? He asked, then he held the pipe to his lips and flicked his lighter. I said, it’s this feature that tells your friends where you’re currently riding. In real time? He asked, then he pulled a big smokey hit into his lungs and held it as he gave me a look of disdain. I said, there’s a little lag, but it’s close to real time.
Matt was sipping some water and asked, so you’re voluntarily big-brothering yourself? I said, you guys just don’t get it. Yes, I’m big-brothering myself, but I’m doing it to make my mountain bike friends jealous. I put my phone away and double checked that I had zipped all the pockets on my backpack. I said, I’m already being tracked by the nanobots in the covid vaccine, so what’s the difference?
Kevin said, you know, back in my day we’d do a mountain bike ride and then tell our friends about it at the bar that night. I joked, meeting people in real life? Gross, that’s how you get AIDs.
Cliff took another hit and tapped the ash out. I don’t need Strava, I prefer to calculate the distances in my mind. Matt gave a subtle laugh, Oh yeah, so how far have we gone already? Cliff looked upward and appeared to think, he held his thumb up at the sun and squinted. Then he answered, we are exactly two bowls away from the car.
We got back on the bikes and continued climbing. The pine trees gave way to short juniper bushes, then the junipers gave way to thin grass and rocks as we rose above the treeline. Kevin was way out ahead, leading the climb. Living at high altitude and staying active kept him lean and wiry. Anytime he was away from work he’d head into the mountains. He snowboarded the backcountry all winter and in summer he biked and backpacked. Kevin’s sense of direction and knowledge of this area made him the perfect guide for any adventure. Usually we would just follow along as he determined which trails were right.
Behind Kevin, Matt was grinding along at a steady pace. What Matt lacked in cardio fitness he made up for in sheer determination. In the nineties he was a downhill mountain bike racer, then he landed a career that bounced him around the country and he stopped riding. When covid hit he remembered the feeling of joy that a ride in the woods can provide and he had the means to buy a top level bike. Since then we had dragged him out on a few adventures each year. His athletic ability remained at a level referred to as “off the couch.”
Cliff and I became the stragglers, we kept Matt in sight, but he was a ways up the trail. We dropped behind because it’s hard to maintain a good pace while having a serious conversation.
Some of the best ideas can be shared while climbing on a bike. The mountain air allows your thoughts to clear. The steady pace provides the perfect atmosphere to reflect on deep subjects and have a meaningful heart felt talk.
Cliff told me, I lost the charger for my computer, so I bought a new one, and after I charged my computer I returned it. I told them I was not one hundred percent satisfied.
I feigned disgust, Jesus Cliffy. You know, people like you are the reason we have tariffs.
People like me? He asked, people like you are the reason plastic bags need a label on them that says, This is not a toy.
I scoffed, People like you are the reason public toilets need locks on the toilet paper. He countered, people like you are the reason women fight so hard for the right to abortion. Ouch, I thought for a moment. The only sound was our tires crunching on the dirt, then I said, People like you are the reason there’s a ‘close door’ button in elevators.
He turned his head to look back at me, people like you are the reason streets have manhole covers. My face twisted in confusion, I opened my mouth to respond, then I drew a blank, I had nothing to counter. I took a deep breath and kept pedaling.
Another ten minutes went by just breathing and pedaling. Then I asked Cliff, would you rather be a Blood or a Crip?
After a few pedal strokes Cliff answered in a condescending tone, there's so many better choices these days. I'd have to take more of a world view when it comes to choosing gang affiliation.
With no trees to block the sun most of the trail was dry, but large snow drifts still remained in places the wind had piled it up. Hikers and mountain bikers had broken through the drifts in the previous weeks leaving muddy streaks through the snow. Droplets of brown slop splattered off the front tire as Cliff and I rode through one long wet section bordered by snow. Dude, how is your ass soaked already? I asked as I chuckled at the brown streak running up the center of his butt.
Wind pushed the clouds across the sky like a fast flowing river. Patches of sunlight came and went until we reached the junction.
The Crest trail continued on along the ridge ahead of us. A wooden sign on a post pointed to the right and read Agate Creek Trail. Kevin and Matt sat on a big rock, each drinking a beer as they waited for us. It’s about damn time, Matt said. Cliffy set his bike down and sat down hard on some dry moss. He made exaggerated wheezing noises and croaked, Can’t….breathe. Then he lit a bowl, took a big hit and said. Ok, that’s better. Kevin nodded towards Agate, I don’t see any tracks.
We rearranged our gear and shifted from climbing to descending. I dropped my seat and pulled up my knee pads. Matt and Kevin crushed their beer cans and stowed them in their packs. I gave a whoop as the anticipation built, let’s do this!! Matt pulled on his helmet and cleaned his sunglasses on his shirt, he motioned to me to go ahead, then he slid his black shades into place.
Leading the downhill is a great honor. I know I’m never the fastest rider, people always catch me. I always let strangers go ahead of me, but my friends and people who know me often ask me to go first. They say I’m fun to watch, in my mind this is a higher achievement than being the fastest. Style over speed is a motto I share with lowrider cars. That, and sometimes I have spectacular crashes.
With that in mind I rolled to the front of the pack. I gave one pedal a spin and stepped down hard on it. I looked back at the crew, Cliff was in the back fumbling to untwist his backpack strap. He figured it out, I heard a ‘click’ as he snapped the connectors together, Then he looked at me and gave a thumbs up and a silly grin.
Matt stood in front of Cliff straddling his bike, both hands on the bars. He stared straight ahead into infinity. In his brain he was opening up old memory files with titles like How to shred Downhill and Cornering Techniques for Loose Conditions. With his outer shell packed away I noticed he was dressed completely in black, from his baggy black pants to his shiny black helmet. He looked like an Imperial Death Star Electrician.
Then I turned to my man Kevin sitting on his bike behind me, the epitome of chill. We had been riding together since we were in our twenties. Now we both wore old man stubble, but kept the same hunger for adventure. Kevin was built to stand on the tops of mountains looking down. I asked him, Can I kick it? He smiled and said, Yes you can.
I started rolling, then did an air pedal and realized I was still in granny gear from the climb up. Then I sat back down with my seat too low and tried to shift down as quickly as I could with my chain clanging and pinging painfully. I got my shit together, we dropped into the trail and started tearing down the mountain.
The trail was pretty rough. Straight sections let me build speed fast which I carried into corners full of loose jagged rocks. After the first two turns I learned to plan for the rocks and was able to find some flow. The others were charging down behind me so I couldn’t let up. The elevation we had fought all morning to gain was quickly burning away as we dropped farther off the ridge line. Ahead of me the open tundra was ending and the forest was closing in fast.
The last thousand feet of open trail was smooth and buttery. I built up speed as I headed into the edge of the forest. Trees left the single track hidden in dark shade, I blasted out of the bright sunshine and into the forest, the sunlight strobed through the trees making me squint my eyes. That’s when I saw the tree down across the trail. I grabbed both brakes and started to skid, a fallen tree as thick as my leg was suspended across the trail at knee level. I hit it hard and airwalked over the handle bars. My bike caught the tree and cartwheeled through the air landing behind me. With my head on the ground I opened my eyes. A sharp pointed rock stuck out of the ground six inches from my face. I pushed myself up with my hands and saw an imprint in the soft mud made by my head. I looked at the rock again.
Kevin skidded safely to a stop on the other side of the tree. Holy Shit! Dude are you ok? I looked at him, my helmet visor was cockeyed on my head. I recognized the soft hissing sound of air escaping from a tire. I scrambled to my bike as the other two riders arrived. I grabbed my front wheel and spun it as I frantically scanned for the breach. There! bubbles of white fluid percolated from a section of the tire bead. I smacked the tire with my hand, then repositioned the leak so the sealant in the tire could reach it. I sloshed the tire back and forth and the tone of the leak changed. It sputtered and then stopped.
Cliffy was openly laughing at me while the other two complimented me on my self preservation. Matt said, better to be lucky than good. I took off my helmet and straightened the visor. Kevin tried pulling the tree but it wouldn’t budge. Matt said, I have a saw, I'll cut it.
Kevin said, hang on, I want to try this new saw I bought. He pulled off his back pack and started pawing through it. Check it out! The Ripsaw!..He pulled out a small tool and dangled before our eyes as if we would be amazed. That’s it? I asked, a piece of wire and two rings? Cliff asked, are you sure that's not a sex toy Kevin?
I got it off Temu he explained, let’s see if it works. He slid two fingers into one ring and dangled the other ring over the tree trunk. He gripped the other ring then he turned his head to look at us and warned, stand back! Then he started rapidly pumping his arms back and forth as the cable scratched a line into the bark. We all watched in silence as the cable slowly etched into the bark of the tree.
After twenty seconds the cable was still sliding along the outside of the tree and failing to cut through the bark, yet Kevin kept working at it furiously. Cliffy said, wow, Kevin, that's impressive. Matt said, Ohhh kayyy, rolled his eyes and opened up the eight inch folding saw he had brought.
Kevin's pace slowed, and then he stopped cutting and caught his breath. He ran his finger across the shallow groove he had made in the wood and said, maybe it works better on smaller trees. Matt said, or trees made of styrofoam.
Matt started quickly cutting through the tree with the trimming saw and Kevin shook the bits of pine bark off his Ripsaw. He twisted the wire between the rings and it formed a tight coil the same diameter as the rings. Then he clipped the rings together and showed us the small round unit. See how compact it is though?
I said, that will hardly take up any room...at the landfill. Cliff said, I give it one star for it's compactness.
We dragged the cut section of tree off the trail and started down again with Matt in the lead. We rode another mile down the mountain and he skidded to a halt. Ahead of him in the trail was a snow drift hip deep and fifty feet long. The snow was crusted and dirty with needles and pine cones sprinkled all over it. He hefted his bike onto the snow and started walking over it. He made two steps on top and the third one broke through up to his knee. He continued on breaking a trail across the snow as we followed behind him. Our descent slowed down as we encountered more trees and more snow drifts. The forest held firmly onto the cold and we dug back into our packs for extra layers and warmer gloves.
We had entered the adventure section of the ride. We could have stayed on the Crest trail and ridden down the Eastern side of the pass like those other guys. They would reach their shuttle car in a couple hours and be drinking beers in Salida by early afternoon. Our team on the other hand would continue to face multiple variables. The hours drifted past. We couldn’t hike all the way back up so we were committed to breaking through the bottom. Each of us understood the risks and we had planned for this. We packed warm gear, extra water, food and headlamps in case the ride went into the night. One thing about our crew is that we like doing things on hard mode. The glory of saying we punched out the trail was worth the misery of dragging bikes over yet another snow drift.
The snow drifts got smaller as we dropped lower down the mountainside. The four of us were pushing our bikes around a huge puddle that filled the trail. We were almost to the bottom of the drainage where we would reach Agate Creek. Kevin looked to the towering peaks to the north and said, we’re gonna be cutting it close boys. I followed his gaze and saw orange sunlight creeping up the rock wall. Yeah, we'll be in the dark, I agreed.
We made it to a dry section of trail and mounted up, we bombed another sweet section of single track, soon we were running parallel to the river. It was higher than normal, and looked cold as hell. The sky started to come alive with color as the sunset played through the clouds. Kevin pointed to the side of the trail and announced, there’s the van. I looked up through the trees and spotted the body section of a large white van. Above it was the mangled chassis assembly. The van had only been down here for a few years. some of the other wrecks dated back to the fifties.
Matt said, it looks like Godzilla grabbed it at the windshield and the front bumper and just tore it in half. Cliff said, my mom told me Godzilla’s aren’t real. I looked up past the van, above the trees was a long steep skree field of broken rocks. In the middle of the field was a flattened seventies era sedan. I kept looking up, all I could see were gray rock cliffs specked with a few aspen trees. I said, it’s crazy we can’t even see or hear the highway from down here. Matt said, it’s way up there.
The riding became more technical, rocks and wet roots lined the trail. Each of us had a near miss or small crash. We were wet, covered in dirt and running on fumes. I tried to remember the sequence of the car wrecks, it goes, van, the orange VW and then the crumpled up green thing. I was so focused on trying not to crash that I almost rode into the back of Kevin. He was stopped in the middle of the narrow trail and I couldn’t see past him. I looked over his shoulder as he said, well that’s new.
The sunset above us was peaking and the sky filled with reds and oranges. Even down in the middle of a ravine between two mountains it became somewhat brighter. Kevin leaned his bike against a tree and started walking. I looked down at the forest floor and saw gold coins scattered across the trail in front of us, hundreds of them all shining and reflecting the brilliant sky. I took my low light sunglasses off and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Kevin squatted down and picked up a coin. Five five six, he said. I didn’t understand what he meant, then I realized they weren’t coins. Cliffy stopped at our bikes and said, you guys stopping to burn one? Good it’s about time, hey what’s all that? Matt came in fast right behind him, Yo, what’s up why’d we stop?
Dude, Matt said, that’s a lot of fuckin’ bullets! Shiny brass cartridges littered the forest, weather and gravity had piled a long row of them in the trail. Cliffy reached into some brush and picked up a metal ammo can that looked like it had fallen out of an airplane. I could see stenciled yellow print on the side. Matt said, let’s see if there’s more! Kevin looked over at me, I looked up at the colors fading out of the clouds and shrugged. Matt and Cliff started scrambling up the incline towards the road. Kevin and I fell in behind them.
He’d barely made it a hundred feet and Matt gave a roar of delight! Yess, yess! ahhhh, dude! no fuckin’ way! I looked up in the dimming light and saw Matt hold up a machine gun. I said, what the fuck is happening? Did this come from a car? I walked over to Matt as he held the rifle up and turned it over. Its shape was easily recognizable as some AR-15 variant. I knew that much, but Matt was way more of a gun guy. I remembered that Cliff also had a gun collection. Kevin and I had kids, Cliffy and Matt had guns.
I approached and Matt said, look at this thing, it got pretty banged up, this optic is fucked. I had seen AR’s before, they always look aggressive, but this one looked like a toy. Bright red sections contrasted against other pieces of the gun that looked silver. Why is it red and silver? I asked, Matt said, it’s all custom. I was grinning, this moment held all the joy of an insane Easter egg hunt. We formed into a rough line and swept up the mountain and into the scree field. I fished my headlamp out of my bag and held it in my hand. Cliff yelled, I found two more!. He chuckled and said, I bet these fell out of a pick up truck on its way to a big gun show, or maybe they were in a trailer that came unhooked.
Kevin was just a dark shape moving along the broken rocks of the scree field when he called out that he had found something big. We all walked to where he was. Kevin had a massive gray Yeti cooler sitting upside down, the top was twisted around and connected by one hinge. Kevin reached down and tipped the cooler upright. We all looked inside.
Is that even real? I asked. Halfway into the cooler sat an AR with a dazzling red, white and blue color scheme. Heavy rubber straps ran from hooks in the side of the cooler snugging the rifle down onto a foam rubber pad. Three empty straps still hung from the inside wall of the cooler. Cliff leaned in and started releasing the gun. He pulled it out and set it gently on a flat rock.
He lifted the the foam pad up and found another rifle. Boring, Cliff deadpanned, the fifth rifle was flat black, He pulled up the foam under that one and there was the sixth rifle. It too was plain black, but it had a thick scope mounted on top and a flashlight mounted to the barrel. He said, we should hide these and come back for them later. Matt took the rifle with the flashlight and said, I bet someone is looking for these. Kevin said, at least no one knows we're here.
We carried the six custom assault rifles down off the rocks and back towards the pile of bullets. At the bikes we pulled our warmest clothes on and ate the last of our food. I refilled the water bottle on my bike with water from the pack. I ran my head lamp over the rifle I was holding. It was black with gold lazer etching in it. Gothic script said 1776 on one side and Liberal Tears on the other. I said how much do you think these are worth?
Cliff said, the three that tumbled along the rocks are pretty fucked up, That red one is mostly ok but these might just be parts. He considered the two rifles he was holding. These are probably like $1,500 a piece if I had to guess. Matt slid the magazine out of the gun he was holding and leaned the gun against a tree. He started picking cartridges up off the ground, he wiped each on on the hem of his shirt and then pushed them into the magazine with a snap. Surprised, I asked, What are you doing?
Matt grinned like I was stupid. What's it look like? I'm not carrying bullets down by the handful.
But, why do you need a loaded gun?
Matt explained, I don't need a loaded gun, I just need a way to carry these bullets, and I happen to be holding a gun. Cliff joined him, picking up .556 rounds and stuffing them into a magazine.
Darkness had washed over the forest and stars were starting to pop out above us. Kevin is usually the most level headed of the crew so I looked to him for some reassurance. He was rummaging in his pack, he pulled out a thin beanie and pulled it on, then he fished out a beer. He pulled the tab and foam started churning out of the top. He expertly sucked in the foam without losing any of the beer. What are we gonna do with these? I asked him. He held up one pointer finger as he contained the beer and took a long chug. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and said Ahhhh, what’s up?
I tried not to sound whiny, when I said, Does this seem like a good idea? Are we gonna ride out of here with thousands of dollars of stolen machine guns? Kevin, shook his head, no we’re not gonna ride out with these, we’re gonna stash them, and come back later. Cliff spoke up from out in the darkness, you need to stop calling them machine I guns, you sound like you’re dim. Oh fuck me, what ever, assault rifles. Cliff said, der, they’re called sport rifles.
Ok, I turned back to Kevin, somewhat relieved, Ok, yeah stashing them sounds good, where? Kevin took another long sip, slurped the bottom of the empty can and set it on the ground. I was thinking, he burped into his fist, in that old cabin. He stood up and stomped the can flat before picking it up and tucking in in his back pack, then he pulled his helmet down on top of the beanie. I said, still, we are involving ourselves in a situation we don’t need to be in.
Kevin said, we are involved in this already, whether we wanted to be or not we’re in it. He paused, burped again and continued. Yes this is a situation that needs to be resolved, but I don’t see how it’s a better choice to just leave these for the next rider to deal with. We don’t know who that could be, maybe it’s better that it’s us. Cliff said, yeah, we’re special. Matt said, we’re making the forest safe for everyone else.
Cliff said, if television has taught me anything, it’s that it’s better to have a gun and not need it than to need a gun and not have it. To emphasize this he rocked the magazine into the weapon, pulled back the receiver and fired a three round burst into the side of the mountain. Muzzle flash lit up the surprise on all our faces. The diamond shape of the flash was etched into my vision and my ears were left ringing. We all hurled curses at him, what the fuck were you thinking? Cliff said, I had to make sure the gun wouldn’t blow up in my hands. Someone could have heard that! Who is around to hear that? He asked, Someone getting gas in Sargents? A cop driving over the pass? Cliff lowered the gun to his side and I noticed he actually had his finger outside the trigger guard, safely to the side.
Matt said, we should get going. He slid one gun into the straps of the backpack and placed a second rifle across his handle bars. I followed along and wedged the Liberal Tears gun into my backpack straps. Some pokey part of it dug into my spine. Kevin, said, it’s not far to the cabin…but we do need to cross the river.
A sliver of crescent moon was slipping into the sky as we made our way down the trail, Carrying the guns was awkward, especially for Cliff and Matt who each carried two. The bright headlamps illuminated a trail that was too technical to actually ride. At some sections I could sit on the seat and scoot my feet along, but mostly I just walked and pushed my bike. The sound of moving water got closer and we dropped down a sharp incline right to the water’s edge.
Matt dismounted and held his bike to the downstream side. He took his first step into the water and muttered, shit that’s cold! Then he carefully felt for solid footing while using the bike as a brace. Fast moving water curled around his knees, but even holding the gun awkwardly across his bars he made it the fifteen feet across the creek.
Kevin and Cliff crossed next, Cliff stumbled and cursed, those rocks are slippery. He handed the Red White and Blue gun to Kevin who reached out and took it by the forestock, lifting it safely to the river bank. Cliff made it across and said, Ok! First crossing down. We moved along the South side of the river for a quarter mile, then the trail crossed back to the other side. Kevin scanned his head lamp beam across the tree trunks. There, he said, pointing to a gap in the trees.
We pushed our bikes up the side trail a few hundred feet. A dark form began to take shape out of the darkness. The cabin was made of thick dark logs that were rotting back into the forest. Strips of corrugated metal still clung to the roof line. I said, I’ve never seen this place at night before. The vibe really shifted ‘from chill smoke spot’ to, ‘the humans last stand against an army of the undead.’ Matt said, we look ready for a final battle. He walked towards the door of the cabin holding a rifle in each hand. He carried the silver and red AR and the tactical black gun.
Cliffy and Kevin were still coming up the trail. I followed Matt into the cabin carrying the Liberal Tears gun. He had his headlamp turned off and he leaned the silver AR against the wall. He held the tactical rifle up in a firing position and looked through the optic. The gun had a flashlight mounted to the barrel, he slid his hand forward and pressed the switch on the flashlight. Nothing happened, then he looked through the sight again and said, holy shit, that’s sick! He swept the rifle across the single room of the cabin chuckling in amazement.
Turn off your headlamp, he said, and I did it. My eyes slowly adjusted to the moon light coming through the damaged roof. I heard Kevin and Cliff talking outside. My pressed his rifle towards me and said look through this. I set the other rifle down and looked through the small soft rubber eyepiece. I saw the room lit up by a bright beam of light. I held the gun away and took a second look at the flashlight, then looked through the scope again. That’s nuts! I said, The flashlight is infrared? Yeah Matt said, and the scope sees it. I leaned out the doorway, You guys gotta see this.
Kevin and Cliff walked into the cabin. This one has night vision, I declared. I held out the gun proudly. They each tried it to the same effect. Kevin asked, so is this like military grade shit? Matt explained, the military doesn’t do this style. Any soldier with an infrared flashlight would be killed immediately by another soldier with an IR scope. This is more of a civilian grade night vision. People use this kinda thing for shooting feral hogs and coyotes at night.
That’s pretty sweet, I said. I turned my headlamp back on and it shined down on the rifle I was holding. I joked, my gun only comes with animosity. Cliff said, sometimes that’s all you need. Kevin knelt down and shined his light through a hole in the floorboards. They’ll all fit here, he took the red, white and blue gun and slid it into a void under the floor, I handed him Liberal Tears. He placed that gun next to his. One by one we stacked them up until all that remained was the hog hunting gun.
Kevin pivoted around to face Matt. Matt was cradling the gun like it had gotten him out of countless battles. Kevin held his arm out and made a gimme gimme motion with his fingers. Matt clutched the rifle to his chest. I’m gonna take this one home tonight. We should make sure we definitely get at least one.
I said, I mean..it’s a pretty cool gun, that light could be handy.
Kevin said, fine by me, if you’re gonna carry it. Let’s just get going.
Cliff stepped out of the cabin and exclaimed, whoa! Look at those stars. I stepped out side and looked up. The milky way spilled across the sky like glitter on a dancefloor. We were on the dark side of the pass. Gunnison was thirty miles away, and that’s only Gunnison. We were far away from the light, we were out there. In the darkest part of a drainage on the darkest side of the pass. I had seen a crescent moon earlier, but now I couldn’t find it.
We basked in the glory of the mountains for another few seconds until Kevin clapped his hands together and we mounted up for the final push to the finish line. We had leftover pizza waiting in the truck next to beers in a cooler, it was all I could think of.
The rest of the trail involved two more river crossings and then long natural bermed corners with poppy rollers on the straights. The trail was clear and easy to follow with the head lamps and we started making good time. I was riding sweep behind Matt, I stayed close on his tail and we combined our lights into the trail ahead of us. Despite the gun lodged in his back pack straps he was still hauling ass.
I replayed the previous hour in my head. Had I actually been holding an assault rifle? It didn’t seem real, and yet, I could look ahead of me and Matt has one hanging off his back. This was definitely one of the strangest bike rides I’d ever been on. Maybe not the sketchiest though. I considered the time I rode right up to a high desert meth lab in central Oregon.
I was just out following dirt roads to see if I could find some single track when I heard the dog barking. I looked around and there was nothing but sage brush and pinyon pine as far as I could see in every direction. I rode a little farther and as I came over the rise I was looking straight down on an elaborate compound. Three dirty, canvas yurts were bunched together with tarps stretched over them. I saw barrels of chemicals and a pile of at least a hundred car batteries. A scrawny black dog on a chain shot from around the yurt and started barking at me. Then I saw the flap door of the yurt fling open. I never saw who came out because I spun around and started pedaling down the rutted dirt road as fast as I could.
Yeah, that was my top scariest moment in mountain biking. Then I heard a shout from up ahead.. Matt skidded to a stop, I stopped fast right behind him with a skid. We heard a stranger's voice yell, who’s up there? A powerful flashlight beam swept across the forest. Mat hunched down and so did I. He slipped the rifle off his back and slid it under some brush on the side of the trail. Someone was coming up the trail with that light. We both stood up as the light swept across the trees on our right. Matt said to the approaching light, What’s up? And the beam zeroed in on him.The guy with the now blinding flashlight was right in front of us. I blinked and tried to block it with my hand, whoa dude. I said, how ‘bout you cut that light? He responded quickly with, how about you shut the heck up?
What? I asked. Then all my focus changed to a sound I recognized. It was a sound I had never actually heard in real life, but the moment I heard the sound, I knew it could only be the hammer of a revolver clicking back. I froze, I had never had a gun pointed at me before. The man stepped into the light of my headlamp.
It was a kid, close in age to the twenty somethings in the parking lot. Clean shaven, deep blue eyes, blond hair cut short and parted. His face was oddly handsome, like he should be a J. Crew model or something. He asked, anybody else behind you fellas? Matt, said, No, just us four. He pointed the gun at Matt, and you wouldn’t lie to me would you? Matt, glared and said, Buddy I don’t even know you. How about you put that hammer down or at least take your finger off the trigger? The man slipped his finger off the trigger and onto the trigger guard, probably embarrassed that he was using poor trigger etiquette.
Down the trail the two headlamps and another bright flashlight became visible. Matt called to our friends, Cliff, you guys ok? Our captor snarled, quiet! at Matt. And we heard Cliffy cal out, We’re ok, except for the gun pointed at us.
Another voice called out, Brother Gideon, how many have you got? Gideon looked at me at Matt and yelled, two. The other voice then said, walk them back up the trail a bit to see if there’s more behind them. If there’s more, shoot ‘em.
Gideon looked at us and motioned up the trail with his gun, get walking. I said, what are you guys even doing? What’s this all about? Gideon answered, I think you know. You found our stuff and we want it back. Matt said, I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re on a mountain bike ride. Gideon said, Don’t play dumb, we heard you shoot one of the guns. I shook my head slightly in disgust and I heard Matt mutter, god damn Cliff.
Gideon snapped, Hey, you watch your tongue, and get walking. We left our bikes and started walking back up the trail. There was a lot to take in with this guy. First of all was his brand new Carhart insulated jacket. New Carhart has a distinct look, and this jacket looked fresh.And no hat? What’s up with that? In the mountains of Colorado locals always have a beanie stashed somewhere, ready to pop on when it gets cold. He carried a massive Maglight flashlight. It was basically an aluminum tube full of D batteries. Part flash light part police night stick.
Gideon swept his large Mag light back and forth up the trail looking for other riders, we walked right past the spot where Matt had stashed the rifle. When he was convinced it was just us four he turned us around and we walked past it again. He ordered us to grab our bikes and push them down the trail to where his partner was holding Cliff and Kevin. As we got close the other gunman asked, You’re sure there’s no one else? Gideon said, firmly, Zeke there’s no one else, I woulda seen them.
In the light of the headlamps I could see Brother Zeke looked slightly older than Brother Gideon, but he had the same square jaw and smooth features. I asked, are you guys Mormons?
Quiet! Gideon snarled from behind me and he stepped closer, I heard a mechanical ticking sound at the same time my whole body went rigid and started to spasm. My legs were shot from the ride and I dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. He kept the taser pressed against my spine as pain rippled through every nerve. He let off the trigger and I collapsed onto the dirt.
Matt cocked his arm back fast ready to smash in Gideon’s face. Zeke pulled his pistol up and fired it right past Matt’s head. The forest quickly absorbed the sharp crack of the pistol. Matt unclenched his fist and held his hands up, Ok,Ok, relax,he said. Zeke pointed the gun at his face and said, try that again and the next one goes between your ears. Then Zeke ordered Gideon, tie them up!
Gideon pinched the light in his armpit, then he dug one hand into the jacket pocket while he held the gun in the other. Then he reached into his other jacket pocket, then he checked both pants pockets. Zeke asked with disbelief, are you kidding me? Gideon said defensively, I had them! Zeke said, yeah! I know you did, I told you to get them, did you lose them?
I don’t know!
Well, I guess we’re taking them to the van.
Matt helped me off the ground and Cliff pushed my bike along with his. For about ten minutes we walked down the trail, I glanced up and saw the crescent moon following above us. We walked until we reached a point where the single track ended onto a double track jeep road. A white Uhaul van was parked in a shallow pull off. Cliff, said, you're not supposed to drive out here. If a ranger catches you, you’ll be screwed. Gideon growled, that’s the least of your problems right now. He opened the door of the van and reached into the door pocket. He pulled out a bundle of thick nylon zip ties.
Zeke pointed the gun at us and said, take off those backpacks. And phones and watches, I want to see four phones.We took off our packs. Gideon gathered our packs in one arm and took each of the phones and slid the stack of phones into one pack. He set the packs on the driver's floor of the van while Zeke held the flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other.
Gideon pointed his pistol at Cliff and said, empty your pockets. Cliff held out a bowl and lighter in one hand and a rolled up sandwich bag of weed in the other. The Morman said, you can keep that. Then he pointed the gun at me, I patted my pockets and said, I got nothin'. He patted each of my thighs to check for himself. He turned the gun on Matt and Matt held his arms out to the side with fingers splayed. Matt said, don't freak out, I'm gonna hand you my knife. Kevin said, yeah me too.
Gideon took both the knives. he pocketed Kevin's folding knife and held up Matt's stilletto he pressed the button on the side and a serrated blade flicked out the end of the handle. He pressed the button again and the blade shot back in. Oh that's nice, he said, I'm gonna keep that.
Matt said, that's bullshit man. The Morman explained, if you guys help us get our guns back, we'll let you go, like this never happened. Then he laughed in a grim way that signaled he didn't care if we believed him or not.
He checked Cliff's pockets and then he made him turn around. He slid his pistol into a concealed carry holster in the small of his back. Then he grabbed both of Cliff's wrist's. Bro, watch it, Cliff protested. The other gunman warned Cliff, settle down there. Then we heard the sound of a nylon zip tie sliding tight. Cliff flinched and yelled, fuck, that's tight! Gideon smacked him hard across the head.
Seeing someone smack Cliff was kinda funny so I chuckled a little bit. That drew Gideon's attention and he yanked my hands together with a zip tie. Soon all four of us were sitting on the ground hands bound behind our backs.
Zeke said, so what all did you guys find up there anyway? You found some guns huh? How many did you find up there? Cliff said, we found all five guns, plus a bunch of bullets.
"All five," huh? How do you know there were only five? Cliff said, I dunno it just looked like that's how many would fit in that cooler. The bullets are scattered all over the trail.
What do you mean all over the trail? Gideon asked. I said, The ammo box broke open when it tumbled down the mountain.
Matt said, and three of the guns are pretty damaged. How'd they get damaged? Gideon said aggressively and shoved Matt, with his hands tied he could only tip over onto the hard ground. I said frantically, they bounced down a fucking mountain, what do you think happened?
Matt managed to sit back up, pine needles stuck to the side of his head. How did you idiots even find us?
This time Gideon hit Matt in the neck with his stun gun, Matt arched his back and clenched his teeth. Gideon pulled the stun gun away and Matt hunched over. I could smell burned hair. He didn't look up but he said, touch me again and I'll kill you.
You want to know how we found you? Zeke asked. That was my idea, I Googled this road and saw there was a mountain bike trail down there. Then I just set up my Strava Live for a Segment Alert on the Agate Descent. It gave me an alert when you guys started down and we headed out here.
Wait, it can do that? I asked. Yeah, he replied nonchalant, it's in settings, you select the Alert feature and then search for the Segment you want. Are you a mountain biker? I asked, more confused than ever, No, he grinned, I'm a road cyclist.
Gideon asked Zeke, which ones do we lock up? Zeke scratched his chin and said, the two with the knives, I don't trust them.
Gideon pushed Kevin and Matt towards the box truck. Kevin said, really wish I had gone piss before you guys showed up. Zeke ordered, don't go pissing in our van. He undid a heavy latch and slid the roll up door open halfway. Get in! he growled at Matt and Kevin. With their hands tied, they carefully stepped on the metal bumper and inched themselves into the dark cargo box. Kevin's headlamp swept around the empty interior of the box before Gideon reached up and pulled the lamp off his head. Then he pulled the door closed and flipped the latch into place. That's fucked up! Matt yelled from inside the cargo box. You can't kidnap people.
Gideon smacked the roll up door with his fist, and yelled, I think you're wrong buddy boy. You stay there and be quiet. Matt called out again, You won't get away with this.
I turned around and the two Mormans were standing in front of us with their guns drawn. It's time for you to to take us to our stuff, Zeke said.
Gideon put Kevin's head lamp on and set his massive flashlight in the cab of the truck. Then he led the way and the four of us started walking
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