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Hood River, Oregon
Ode To Post
Words by Mitchell Buck
Photos by Reid Morth
Having spent most of my life on a spiritually rewarding but financially dubious quest for singletrack, I have grown to accept a certain reality. That is: never will it be acceptable to live in a big metropolitan area. Schwanky outdoor mountain playtowns, with all their incredible beauty and lack of stable job opportunity, are a double edged sword I cannot, will not, resist falling on. Life is just too short to be spent sitting in traffic. It was this frame of mind that caused me to exchange a familiar but unstable life in one playtown, for a completely unknown one in Hood River, Oregon. It was just dumb luck that the place needed a good bike mechanic…
Located smack in the middle of 3 million acres of trail-infested national forest, Hood River is a gold mine for the riding inclined. There is so much to be sampled that in four years here, I have only begun to scratch the surface of what is available, though I am trying my best.
When Freehub Magazine called looking for a story on our favorite riding spot, it touched off a heated and profanity- laced inner-shop debate on just what to write about. The sweet trail network at Mt. Hood? What about the hundreds of miles of prime backcountry single track in southern Washington’s Gifford Pinchot Forest? Not to mention the year-round and ultra technical little gem known as the Syncline. There are also several epic but not entirely legal trails that if revealed would lead to my being strung up in the town square by a bunch of local old timers. It was amid this confusion that true enlightenment chose to shine.
The best place to go to let the legs out and purge the demons within also happens to be the closest, Post Canyon. Just a short distance from our door, Post rises three thousand vertical feet above town and is classic Oregon, meaning trees and ferns. The dirt in Post ranges from perfectly tacky on the good days, to sucking red clay when it rains, to little ball bearing clumps that have claimed many collarbones in the dry summer. Holding everything from cross country single track to stupid-hard freeride stunts and jumps, Post has something for everyone, except those who hate fun. The spider web of trails, both marked and not, seems to be never ending for the pedal-freaks. For those that prefer to huck their meat, the shuttle ride to the top of Binns Hill Road takes about twenty minutes and opens up a world of radness. There are huge jumplines to be sessioned, and endless skinnies to be ridden, not to mention a top flight hospital in town when things go wrong. The fact that Post is on largely lawless county land adds to the uniqueness of the place. On any given day, one can experience gunfire, redneck atv riders, or dope growing hippies, not to mention the occasional bear or mountain lion. There is even a practice area, known as Family Man, where the next generation of rippers can hone their skills. It is common to see parents teaching children, or children showing parents, the basics of freeriding. This last point is something that makes Post truly special; the community around it. Trail work is done on a volunteer basis only. The number of hours and quality of the carpentry that the freeriders volunteer is amazing. The turnout for clean-up and workdays is also heartening. Whole families show up to put in their time because of what Post is, the local backyard riding spot. This is a positive thing.
It might not be the sexiest or most exotic location around here to be writing about, but to me, the best place to ride is the one that helps you to escape life, scares you a little and pushes you to be better. Post does all that and more. I can work a ten hour day and still sneak in a loop before dark. It’s a loop I’ve ridden two hundred times; still, I giggle like a little girl every time I hit the giant G-out near the end. Wanna check it out? Our shop ride heads there every Thursday at 5:30 all summer long. Free beer afterwards for those who survive.
Happy Trails,
Mitchell
Dirty Fingers Bicycle Repair
