Art King, a member of the Lawrence Mountain Bike Club and one of the leaders who helps maintain the 10.5 mile trail that snakes through the woods and hills along the north bank of the Kansas River, leads a ride Thursday through the popular terrain.

Adam Trunnell at downtown Lawrence’s Sunflower Outdoor and Bike Shop tells me he’s confident I’m going to “shred the gnar” as I go on the popular Kansas River trails for my first-ever mountain bike ride.

I tell him that I too am concerned about what’s going to happen to my gnar.

No, no, he’s says. Shredding the gnar is a good thing.

“It is like you are going to tear it up,” he says. “You’re really going to get after it.”

I don’t know. I’m still concerned about the gnar, but admittedly, I have a lot to learn about mountain biking.

Art King is going to be my guide for the day. Art is a member of the Lawrence Mountain Bike Club and one of the leaders who helps maintain the 10.5 mile trail that snakes through the woods and hills along the north bank of the Kansas River.

But I’ve also spent some time talking to folks at Sunflower and other locations around town where I thought I could get some savvy advice from mountain bikers. Indeed, I did. I heard “hang on” and “don’t fall in the poison ivy,” among other suggestions. But mainly I was told I would be fine because the river trails aren’t too “technical.”

That is good because I had no idea where I was going to put my graphing calculator in my Spandex. What is even better is that my wife never did tell me where she put my Spandex. So, I meet Art at the Eighth and Oak streets trail entrance in North Lawrence wearing blue jeans, hiking boots and a long-sleeve flannel. The presence of ticks and poison ivy influenced my wardrobe. It did with Art as well because he’s wearing much the same, although he has some leather gloves too. No calculator, though.

Come to find out, technical doesn’t mean what I think it does either. That’s a mountain biking term used to described the presence of jumps, large obstacles and other items that may test your skills on a ride.

Art says I’ll understand it soon enough. He says to follow him, and away we go through the timber and grasslands on a path that ranges in width from a couple of feet to about six inches.

Right out of the gate, there is a hill. Already, I’m thinking a little more technology could be a good thing on this trail. A winch, for example, might be nice. But I make it up the hill, although the last few feet involved me pushing the bike more so than pedaling. This is the first hill. I’m fully rested. This may not be a good sign of things to come.

I soon find that going up a hill may not be the most challenging part of mountain biking. Going down a hill may have it beat. Here’s the thing I learned about hills: They often come in pairs. You go down one hill and then quickly go up another. It is obvious that Art is doing this differently than I am. Art, who has a few years on me, is going up the hills much faster than I am. But he’s also going down the hills much faster than I am. Get your speed going downhill and let the momentum carry you up the hill. I seem to find a couple of problems with that strategy. One, speed makes my handlebars shaky, and two, large trees right at the trail’s edge make various body parts shaky.

To complicate matters, we’re going through a section of the course that includes sweeping turns in addition to the hills. Art says it is a little bit technical, but not really. I make it through the section, with a couple more pushes up the hill. Then I yell at Art that we need to stop for a moment so I can take some notes.

Yes, it seems very important to take some notes at this particular moment. I sense that Art believes there may be other reasons why I need to stop, perhaps evidenced by how my heavy breathing is causing the pages of my notebook to flap like they are in a Kansas windstorm. But I assure him that the only reason we’ve stopped is because of my obligation to be an accurate journalist.

And I do have an important note to take. I write: Trail not technical, but fear it will become clinical.

But I also have made an important observation: Mountain biking is a great exercise in confidence building. If you are ever going to be proficient in this sport, you eventually will become confident in going down a hill fast. You’ll become less worried about those shaky handlebars. And Art says such a day does come for those who stick with it.

“It is incredible how much confidence it helps build,” Art says. “I met a lady out here a while back, and she was pushing her bike up a tiny hill and crying. I still see her ride, and today, she is probably faster than I am.”

Note-taking done, I put the notebook in my back pocket and hop on my Roadmaster bike that I paid approximately $2 for at a police auction that was selling stolen merchandise that was never reclaimed by its owners. (The owner obviously did not reclaim this bike, and rumor has it that the thief turned himself in after realizing he had stolen a bike that has a seat that feels something like a petrified banana.)

Away we go. After a bit, we come to a wooden timbered device. It is a jump. It is about two feet off the ground and it overlooks a ravine that is about 10 feet below. Art tells me that riders routinely fly off this device at pretty good speeds. But we can’t do it today because the ravine is too muddy. Riding through mud is not cool on a mountain bike trail. It leaves ruts that create problems for others. Darn rain. Always messing up my plans.

But we do find action of a different type. Back wheels are fishtailing as we go around some curves that have patches of mud I quickly try to dodge. Then one curve has something a bit different to dodge: a dead skunk.

I do dodge it. Art — ever the trail keeper — stops to find a stick to move the skunk out of the path of traffic. This is good because I definitely feel a need for more notes. I’m just going to tell you now, this story produced more notes than a book report on “War and Peace.”

One item that I write down is about how you do get to experience nature on a mountain bike ride. You not only see it, but you also feel every bump of it. And what you do see of it, you see at a pace that is quite a bit faster than your average hike. For me, the different speed seemed to make me better appreciate the randomness of nature.

Billy Tope, a mountain bike club member whom I asked for advice, said the awakening of the senses is one of the things he likes best about mountain biking.

“Mountain biking is something that I don’t think is really innate to anybody,” Billy says. “It forces you to use your senses in a way that you don’t use them every day.”

Little do I know what’s in store for my senses. Art and I ride a bit farther, and then he tells me that we’re getting to a portion of the course called the Devil’s Right Hand. He says something about taking the half-pipe, and then something else about something that is off-camber. My gut is telling me this would be a very good time to take some more notes, but I decide not to.

“Follow my path, and you’ll be fine,” Art says.

That means I’ll need to keep up with Art going down a hill, which has not been my strong suit today. But we’re near the end of this day. Art had told me earlier that he rarely uses his brakes as he rides this trail. So, there you go. I’m going to ride the Devil’s Right Hand without using my brakes.

Then . . . I remember my insurance deductible, and I use my brakes. But I don’t use them nearly as much as I would have an hour ago. I emerge from the Devil’s Right Hand unscathed. There’s just one more big hill to climb, and we arrive back at the parking lot at Eighth and Oak.

We rode about five miles, Art tells me. We were out for a little more than an hour. Art says that it would take a novice about two hours to ride the entire 10.5 miles of trails. An experienced rider will do it in about an hour. The quickest anyone knows of is about 35 minutes. The trail has a reputation among riders as being one where you can go really fast.

I’m feeling like my performance today hasn’t done much to uphold the reputation of the trail. But Art gives me a pick-me-up. He reminds me of the last hill we did today and the first hill we tackled. They’re basically the same hill. I made it up the last one all pedal-power, unlike the first one.

“You got better just in the time you were out here,” he says.

I don’t know if better is the right word, but I’m certainly more confident, and even thinking about doing it again, minus the notebook even.

Maybe Art senses that, and tries to give me another pick-me-up. He tells me he has a smart phone app that says riding the full 10.5 miles of trails is enough exercise that it entitles you to a cheeseburger and a beer. I rode half that so perhaps I’m entitled to have half a burger and half a beer.

Hmm. I don’t want to get too technical here — trust me, I really don’t — but I think we need to check those calculations. My gnar is telling me I deserve more than that.

— Each Sunday, Lawhorn’s Lawrence focuses on the people, places or past of Lawrence and the surrounding area. If you have a story idea, send it to Chad at clawhorn@ljworld.com.