It was a grey, Misty day on the shores of dirty Jersey.
A slew of action sports finest athletes had congregated on an impressive mountain range that connected Pennsylvania, New York, and New Jersey. The lot was supposed to film a “day in the life” style edit and that absolutely happened. But, it’s what didn’t make the cut that we will concentrate on.
In the winter the land serves as a mega-ski resort where thousands of people come and rent cabins and do whatever it is ski people do. But in the Summer time the mountain is given to those who dare challenge the rockiest terrain known to man on bicycles. If you are unfamiliar with overly aggressive downhill mountain bike heads, they are committed. And the soil in mountain ranges contain heaps of loose rock. This range was no different.
While all of the superstars were on headful of the good stuff filming gaps and jumps, a few of the novice riders hung back and forged our own fun. We took to the berms and turns that were offered because frankly these trails were gnarly. Droves of enthusiasts were on the mountain that day because a huge contest was around the corner.
My team consisted of Brandon Schmidt’s family. His dad Rod, his sister Amanda, and our homie Joel. We were having an incredible day of slow-motion mountain bike fun when we came across what I like to call, the “singing contortionist.”
When sailors used to crash their boats onto shore they blamed beautiful sea creatures that looked like naked women singing to them. In our case we came across a man that couldn’t speak English, literally mangled about 10 feet from a large jump he clearly overshot.
It was a weird situation.
About an hour earlier I had traded Rod two goats for Amanda’s hand in marriage, and now we were in the woods, in the rockiest terrain ever, with a man whose heel of his foot was now resting near his ear. He was screaming, none of us could understand one another, and calling for help wasn’t going to get an ambulance on the side of the mountain.
Rod assessed the situation and got extremely excited. In a situation where panic and extremely dumb decisions should have been made, Rod looked like a kid in a candy store. Apparently when the mountain is a ski resort, Rod lead the ski patrol. He had been salivating for a time like this and it was showtime.
Two hilarious things happened in the moments that followed. First, somehow Rod has communicated with the downed rider to get him to wiggle his toes while his foot was near his head. Rod assured me it was to make sure it was still working. I could tell by the smile and laugh on Rod’s face that he loved it. Second, Rod called over his son Brandon who had caught up to us and noticed his dad was in the middle of some sort of scene.
Well, Brandon isn’t trained in first aid and didn’t handle the scene too well.
He freaked out and said he will never ride a bike again. I’m pretty sure he just got back from Spain where he won a best trick contests.
I digress, Rod was now standing over the rider who is shaped like a pretzel and has his armed curved in a way that he was un-twisting the leg in his head before he did it. I could not believe my own eyes. Rod was about to set this guys FEMUR, in the woods, while he was screaming bloody murder and Brandon was freaking out. What an awesome scene!
There are few things that compare to watching someone set bones in the middle of the woods.
But I could tell by the Venezuelan man’s lack of yelling that he was grateful that Rod had taken his leg and pile drived it back into place. There were multiple fractures, there was everything against him. And still, good guys persevered.
I’ll never forget that day in those woods. I gained a lot of knowledge, humor, memories, and lost 2 good goats that day. Please enjoy the photo of the singing contortionist. Bang ya L’s one time for Rod!