Tues night I slept behind the RV repair station in preparation of my 9:00AM appointment to service / fix my clogged spitter valve. I stopped by previously to discuss my issue. Service was still in order. I read some of his shop “humor”, I was concerned that after he read my stuff he would invoke the refusal to serve any customer. A mechanic worked on my van and not the owner. Problem was a clogged valve that took just the right knowledge to open it up. The spitter works and the owner is no wiser.
I then drove down to Fayetteville to ride MT Kessler. I parked @ the Old Smoke house parking lot. T-storms were forecast. I putzed around in my van seeing what nature was going to dump. A guy came over and invited me to check out the company, Fayettechill, that makes clothing. Rain started falling just after I took my bike off the rack. A brief intense shower passed. I rode up to the shop where several young men were working @ computers. One guy offered to show me around. Only later did I learn his name and role in the company. He is the owner, Mo. He volunteered to show me the trails if I wanted. i described my riding ability. He said he was still cool, we agreed on 9:00 this morning and that I could stay in the parking lot. The facility is owned by Frank whom I met 2 years ago. Rain shifted to steady. I put the bike back on the rack and changed back into street clothes.
I checked out brew pubs in town on line. I found a bike shop that had Formula brake pads. I set off for shopping in town. Seems like all the parking spaces are pay sites. each space has a number, you note the space number then walk to a pay station and deposit $ for expected time , take the receipt, and place it on your dash board. The bike shop, High Roller, had the pads. A fuzzy deja vu occured when I walked into the shop: I visited here first time thru back in ’09. I spent the night parked @ the airport. University of Arkansas, go Hawgs. Downtown is deserted as there are no students on campus. I opened the door of a brew pub and I was the 3rd customer. There menu wasn’t what i wanted. I saw a Table Mesa bistro sign, same restaurant chain in Bentonville. I went there for dinner making the first paying customer. After dinner I drove back to the Smoke House for the night.
Very humid but in mid 60s, slept w/ the door closed.
Today I waited for Mo to arrive. The ride starts right out climbing a steep paved driveway, no warm up. I’m huffing and puffing and young Mo is ahead talking to me. The trail starts out on steep slippery rocks. I checked a rock face that told me slippery was going to be the norm. I walked when necessary which was better than failing a balancing act. The trail passes between 2 slabs of over my head rocks. Classic pic of Kessler. Previously a biker who was hiking suggested rolling the bike on the rear wheel and slithering the handle bars thru. Worked. Mud packed up my Time pedals.
I stopped by Frank’s house on the way out be he wasn’t in. His son, Alex showed me the pub that they created. MT Kessler has been saved from development by private $ buying the land, Walton’s were involved. I have the large save MT Kessler sticky on my van since my previous visit 2 years ago.
I bid adieu to Mo and drove to Anytime Fitness for a shower then over to Springdale for my ear, nose, throat appointment. I had a long wait. The PA examined me and noticed swelling on the left side of my neck. She consulted w/ a DR and the decision was made for me to have an ultra sound and a scope to learn the cause. They were hoping to to make it happen tomorrow. I will stay another day here to learn their findings.
Thing about riding here in the deciduous forest is there are no views as the trees block out the sky and the topography doesn’t create openings.
