Ahhh, the last good high country ramble.

The ride around Waldo Lake is always a treat, but it is especially delightful when the snow has once visited, the campgrounds are closed, and everyone has thrown in the towel, thinking that the splendor of the high country is off limits to all but the wild cats and bears for the winter.
Such were the conditions earlier this month when Steve, Mac and I headed out of town to see for ourselves just what the trails were like up at Waldo. It turned out the dirt was perfectly moistened, just enough for excellent traction-but no mud, the snow that had fallen had almost all melted or sublimated, about 60 trees had fallen in what must have been one massive wind storm, and aside from one brief sasquach sighting, we had the place to ourselves. We all rode some great lines, found new lines, and carried our bikes over some big downed trees. I surprised myself when I rode over an old doug fir that had just fallen. At at least 28 inches in diameter it was the biggest log I can ever remember clearing.