Sometimes, no matter how much skill and practice you have, that rut will still suck.
I mean suck you into it, and spit you out with rocks embedded in your helment, plant life embedded in your flesh, and a long ride back down the mountain using your shirt for a tournaquet so that you don't pass out from loss of blood before the 60-mile car trip to the nearest hospital. Oh, wait. Maybe that's just me.