After flirting with death on
The Death Ride, Sam and I decided we hadn't had enough and to do another mountain bike ride named the Ghost Ride. I don't know what ghosts had to do with it. Something about a haunted castle that seemed pleasant enough to me. It was a more technical and challenging ride, and we hit speeds higher than on The Death Road, probably around 50 kmh down its dirt tracks. It even had some steep, technial single track options to offer. It was a lot more fun to ride down than The Death Road, although nothing can beat the feeling of riding your bike down within literal inches of a 1000 foot drop.
There was only one real fall on The Death Road (For us. You may have heard lately that about 4 people have died in the last two weeks. That wasn't us. We just had a guy get scraped up). Everyone managed some sort of crash on The Ghost Ride. I pulled off two, Sam at least three brilliant falls. On one, when all were at the bottom waiting as Sam was the last to come down, he flew straight over the handle bars in a spectacular flight. He was fine, and we were impressed. Another fall I witnessed was by and Aussie on the trip, who came down off a single track onto the main road, then straight off the edge on the otherside, dropping about 12 feet into a river gully while pulling off a flip to land on his feet. He was unhurt as well, though we couldn't figure how. I wish we each had a helmet cam to witness all these falls, because it would have made for some unbelievable video at the end. So would have the close encounters with traffic as we came around corners as well; I'll tell ya, suddenly staring at a big grill of a big truck as it blares its horn at you is a bit unnerving. But close calls were all they were, and we survived our games of chicken with the traffic, as well as our unseatings from our bikes. We all arrived at the bottom a bit battered with the aches and pains of bruised muscles and scraped skin. You would never have known it though seeing us race down the hill, pedaling until no resistance was offered, tucking to limit air drag, and sticking out feet to corner tighter and faster on the hairpin turns. It was one of the best mountain bike rides of my life.
The Death Ride, Sam and I decided we hadn't had enough and to do another mountain bike ride named the Ghost Ride. I don't know what ghosts had to do with it. Something about a haunted castle that seemed pleasant enough to me. It was a more technical and challenging ride, and we hit speeds higher than on The Death Road, probably around 50 kmh down its dirt tracks. It even had some steep, technial single track options to offer. It was a lot more fun to ride down than The Death Road, although nothing can beat the feeling of riding your bike down within literal inches of a 1000 foot drop.
There was only one real fall on The Death Road (For us. You may have heard lately that about 4 people have died in the last two weeks. That wasn't us. We just had a guy get scraped up). Everyone managed some sort of crash on The Ghost Ride. I pulled off two, Sam at least three brilliant falls. On one, when all were at the bottom waiting as Sam was the last to come down, he flew straight over the handle bars in a spectacular flight. He was fine, and we were impressed. Another fall I witnessed was by and Aussie on the trip, who came down off a single track onto the main road, then straight off the edge on the otherside, dropping about 12 feet into a river gully while pulling off a flip to land on his feet. He was unhurt as well, though we couldn't figure how. I wish we each had a helmet cam to witness all these falls, because it would have made for some unbelievable video at the end. So would have the close encounters with traffic as we came around corners as well; I'll tell ya, suddenly staring at a big grill of a big truck as it blares its horn at you is a bit unnerving. But close calls were all they were, and we survived our games of chicken with the traffic, as well as our unseatings from our bikes. We all arrived at the bottom a bit battered with the aches and pains of bruised muscles and scraped skin. You would never have known it though seeing us race down the hill, pedaling until no resistance was offered, tucking to limit air drag, and sticking out feet to corner tighter and faster on the hairpin turns. It was one of the best mountain bike rides of my life. 
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