Witch way did they go?

It was a full moon ride, and chock full of mystery and intrigue. It all began with a timely meetup and departure from the skeeter lot. Goldwing, Squish, Safety, Cap'n, Newb, B, Booker, and yours truly made a solid seven for what would be a night of firsts. Once suited up, we all argued over who would lead our motley crux. OK, not really, Cap'n and I argued over potential route choices, others voiced opinions, and with no clear leader, we departed out the back door. We dropped the equestrian camp trail to the spillway, then back up to MET and over the second dam to (surprise) the never-used horsey singletrack to lower Palin's. This proved a nice and techy start to the night's events. From there we headed back up to the Fleming fireroad and out to MET for a road crossing and then more confusion regarding our direction. We eventually rolled up Rufus a bit, then over to Ferrari Mill Rd and up to the upper Fleming lot. Then it was up Redneck Rising, with a slight pause mid-hill to help a six-shooter recover his missing English pointer.

Once atop MET, we headed towards the top of the Lips and yet another first (for me anyway). We decided to descend the left lip, but only after some searching for the proper entry point from MET. The drop was fast and furious, with no shortage of low-hanging fruit. Safely gathered at the bottom, we entered further democratic negotiations, with Cappy and I co-sponsoring a bill suggesting we head up Wedding March (another first for me) towards the Block, Flume, and then PC back to Powerline and a savory, deep-fried finish. At least that was the plan hatched at the time.

We commenced a CCW lake loop, did a quick safety check and flow assessment at the waterfall, and then headed up towards the campgrounds and the March. The Man was on patrol when we dropped onto the park road, therefor eliminating our poaching of the horse trail. We eventually made our way to 1A, and then headed for the March. En route, we detoured to Cappy's Slag pile, which was an impressive clear cutting just a skosh past the lower portion of trail below the March. At this junction, we were ALL IN. Once we reversed course, we needed to head north up towards PC, and again at the beginning (or end if descending) of the March, we were at full count.

You can guess by now, we were reversing most of our normal routes; climbing what are normally sweet descents in search of something different. Wedding March was devastated by recent logging efforts, so we walked a lot of it. At one point, near the top, there is a newish left turn cut in. The bulk of us stayed straight, and sightings of our last two riders went unconfirmed. Once atop PC, 5 of us paused for fuel and to regroup with Safety and Goldwing. The latter 2 didn't show as expected, so we waited, called out, texted, and more, until it was clear something was amiss. We eventually backtracked to earlier junctions, repeatedly calling and texting. We even performed a first-time 5 person, 5 directional simultaneous callout for lost riders (think 5 Tenors without the tuxes). At several points further down, we noticed these:

Things were spooky enough with 2 lost riders (how do you lose people walking uphill?), and then we found ourselves trying to decipher the source/intent of these arrows. There were 3 placements total, 2 pointing uphill, one final one near the campground pointing to the lake. By this time, we had firm contact with Goldwing, and knew they (a) were up at PC, (b) had no involvement with said arrows, and (c) heading down towards us. We met them just below the March, and it was a brief but joyous reunion.

Turns out they thought we had summited PC and headed straight for the Chopping Block. They proceeded to long-ride us by completing our intended route. They took the logging left off the March and were likely only a couple hundred feet away when we were waiting for them. They immediately dropped the Block, rode the flume back to PC, then PC to Powerline, before retracing PC to Wedding March and eventually our reunion. I heard 26 miles for those two, but that hasn't been confirmed. It was a strange turn of events, and the full moon, Blair Witch-like markers, and lack of contact for 1.5 hours left us perplexed.

At any rate, Mother had been notified earlier, and with her blessing we found our lost souls and made a rather late dinner entrance at the Knott. Luckily, there were a few remaining customers, and orders were quickly taken and dispensed. Table talk included a review and refresh of ride protocol, specifically the lost rider scenario. Tacos were a brief affair, and all were headed home by the stroke of midnight.

An otherwise interesting night, with some new route choices, a healthy dose of strange, proof that power-sharing agreements can be dicey, and the ultimate satisfaction of having left no soldier behind.

Until next time.