Little France Park in northcentral Indiana has some 8 miles or so or less of trails, most of which could be described as “beginner-friendly” for mountain biking. The other not “most” sections of the trails that make France Park “all big now” run along limestone cliffs of a quarry, providing an experience that is a true rugged, rocky, technical, “mountain” bike ride!

FP is fast becoming my favorite Indiana mtb destination. For 2 bucks I get entry into the park, can ride on little traveled trails that can be rooty, tight and twisting, and wide and fast, with a few short, punchy climbs. And rolling along the quarries that are so darned scenic simply feels good. Add on that when I’m done, I can swim in the quarry to cool off, or, if I’d rather shower off, hot water showers are available at no extra cost. Grab a burger at the “beachside cafe” and the day gets even better!

Finally, riding up on the cliff overlooking the quarry and seeing those immense, pre-historic-looking, mysterious spoonbill sturgeon near the water’s surface, dark shadows warming in the sun, long noses extending away from the body mass, and I am reminded of how miniscule my time here truly is.

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A mountain biker runs up the forest road, pushing his bike while doing so. I pull the pickup truck over to the side.

“What do you need?”

“A pump. Got one?”

“I have one.”

*******

A fellow rider flatted up on the ridge, exhausted his air cartridge trying to seal up the tubeless tire, then put a tube in, only to find out that his hand pump wasn’t working.

He was on a one gear (32 x 19) hardtail, big-wheeled setup, with a sizable amount of dirt and paved roads back to where he needed to be in about an hour.

*******

“Thanks. You saved me.”

“You should be good now. Safe travels home.”

*******

I got a spin in on the new, newer Wildcat and Abby, before making my way around the reservoir. It was Memorial Day, and the state forest was filling up with recreationalists. People hiking, backpacking, kayaking, fishing, camping…

What a wonderful sight?!

I decided to cut the ride short. Back at the truck I pulled out a beer, walked to the mountain stream, found a rock in it, and sat down.

A Nugget Nectar never tasted so good.

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Day 2 was picture perfect weather, again. I parked at the bottom of Dead Woman’s Hollow. Knowing that thirty plus years of exploring Michaux on foot and bike was soon coming to a halt, for a while anyway, I was feeling a bit of nostalgia and sadness.

Up Dead Woman’s > 3 Mile > Up Woodrow > Rattlesnake > Over to the Blocks > Traverse > Vista > all the way back to Dead Woman’s via mostly single track along the bottom of the ridge, including some new stuff I’d not ridden before and reconnecting with single track I’d not ridden in a looooooong time.

Up on the Blocks and later on Vista, I came upon groups of local riders, most of whom didn’t even say “Hello” after I initiated a greeting. One group with several riders wearing local club jerseys were hanging out while one guy repaired a flat. I stopped, commented on the ideal weather and trail conditions over the past two days, which was met mostly with silence, except for one guy that said the day before was too windy to ride. He went on to say that “tomorrow, we’re riding with [so and so super mtber, in their minds] … 25 miler…going big. You feel it for days after riding with [local bad ass rider].”

I pedaled away, wishing them well, and getting back to my second day of 30s-40 miles of backcountry solo riding, with one more day on the slate. I was glad that I didn’t have on my local club jersey.

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