By halfway down the rock roll both my tires are sliding. The wheelbase’s worth of hard ground followed by a 90° turn at the exit are rushing towards me at an uncomfortable speed and at this point it’s just a matter of holding on and taking the hit. I send the signal to my brain to stay loose but taught, hold that bar arrow straight, but relax my grip. I feel a loud crunch, but there’s virtual silence as my rigid single-speed transfers the compression to me and rolls forward.

There are two more rock rolls coming right up. One with an abrupt exit followed immediately by one with a rooted entrance and I’ll be totally fine on both of them. There is zero doubt. But, I already know that today I’ll ride around Lower Crippler’s infamous ‘Scolio Coaster’ roller coaster, re-constructed by my friend Andy. 

I don’t even bother to pump through the entrance roller. Give it a wide birth and then I confidently carve the following jank to wait at the next trail junction for the rest of my riding group to do as they will. There was no point in looking at it. Plus, if I’m definitely not going to ride it I don’t want to be sitting within it’s zone of influence. Features like this radiate incertitude. 

*Title shot by Penny Other pictures by Penny & JacAttack.

In all the times I’ve ridden the Scolio-Coaster I’ve only crashed hard once. Had a couple of near misses. One time I rolled back down the second hump and wedged stuck (which was an interesting experience – thanks for the save Jacnokie). But generally, when I ride it things go totally fine, and generally I do ride it. But there are times when I either pump the first roller or even just look at it and know that today is not the day. Ride away, ride away, ride away. 

It calls to me. One of those structures on the North Shore that’s imbued with a primeval consciousness. Most features I say, once you ride them thrice you own them, but that’s never the case here. Each meeting is a fresh duel and each human triumph is entirely temporary. The coaster, on the other hand, feeds on terror and doubt, and each victory it has against a single rider girds it against all to come. I swear it grows every time someone crashes on it, and shrinks just the tiniest bit every time someone rides it cleanly. Thus we maintain a balance. 

I struggle to pull myself away from the energy grasping at me, attempting to drag me into hiking my bike back up the trail. Just then my group joins me and I hurry them along from there. Out of it’s aura I can relax. We head over to the lower section of Karen’s Boundary trail and I ride all the ladders including My Way Or The High Way. Not even a question. But none of them require the same sort of dance with gravity. Commitment and control, yes, but not the same shimmer. 

And that’s why the Scolio Coaster knows I’ll be back. I have to be. And it’ll be patiently waiting in that moment for me to decide if I’m good to go, or if it’s a ride-around day.