Waking up to a dreary sky doesn't always make for a great adventure, and I tend to disagree that the best part of waking up is Folders in my cup (because lets face it, it sucks). Surprisingly the weather panned out to pretty cool and made for an excellent day of shredding. The beauty of riding Yellow Creek wasn't that "It was muzzleloader season and if the warden caught us with less than the appropriate amount of orange then we would be fined". Welp thanks Jim Bob! By the way Jim Bob had an orange hat which my size 48 shoes accounted for more orange than what he had equipped himself with. Advice comes in many forms from know-it-alls-sporting-American-flags-from-their-Honda-Fit, but good thing we came for riding and forgot about advice. Back to the riding, YC sports some extremely quick single track to begin with, followed by some climbs, a chance to play in the middle and finally topping it off with some beautiful rocks to play on. We chased the sunset and some muddy high fives were had. A day in the life of some dudes who know that "fatbikes are mountain bikes"
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