don't stop till you get enough, I guess.

This is weird.

there's lots of leftovers that you can re-heat

KidBike Camping, fer instance. Boys only.



So yeah, because the full squish bike is in C______ for who knows-how-long, we couldn't take the Big Dummy this time. Of course, I'd forgotten about the whole wheel swap thing as I was planning this trip, and (of course) I was made aware of this upon initiation of bike packing at 7AM, morning of. Oops. What to do? Run what you brung, of course.

So D got to pack a little load of his own this time. The ever jury-rigged seatpost mount rack, complete with wire-yourself stabilisation so he could carry his sleeping bag and pad.


He had in his pack: medical kit, his jacket, rain gear, inflatable ball, Leatherman, cinnamon bread, and his brother's sweatshirt. We moved him up to the 24" wheel this time.



Without our Big Dumb Beast of Burden, we pared the load significantly. J and I shared a bag (as a blanket since we knew the night would be relatively warm) and a wool blanket. For cooking it had to be the twig driven Esbit; trusty, small. No griddle, no pancakes. We brought a LOT of water; 3L in the bags, plus bladders for each. 2 bottles on our rig, and 1 on D's. There is a spring, but I'd never gone out this late in the summer before and was unsure how it would be flowing. It is hot out there.

"There" being Indians Road South from Arroyo Seco, which has been re-opened since the fire. It is nice to switch up the camp spots.





We rode straight to the swimming hole, and swam. Jumped off cliffs. Drank beer.


Then, the long HOT uphill. Uphill. Hot. Uphill. There was some amazing complaining. There were girlish histrionics and gasping/sobbing. No, it wasn't me; I was a harsh taskmaster. All of that BS wastes energy and patience. D needs to learn to shut up and suffer. The only way out is through...






I took some pity (and his hot black helmet) since we were climbing. For hours.




We made it to the spring. But barely. It was still flowing (Give Thanks!), though at a very reduced rate. We turned around there and made camp at the high point about1/8th mile back. Then we walked back down to put the pots out to collect some more water.


Then it was time to gather some wood and carefully (carefully manage!) build a fire.


The rock wall reflected the light. We had our own private corner of wild Goodness. D came around and said how much he liked doing this. I reminded him that without all the long hot uphill suffering, we wouldn't be in such a spot with only ourselves and Wilderness. Hopefully it got through.

Dinner was Brown Lunch, cous cous, seitan, and a nice side salad. Friend J____ had brung a 12 pack(!), but we were too dried out to want to drink very much.



Upon awakening...









Cooking breakfast on the Esbit is slow going-especially when you forget to keep adding twigs regularly- but that's allright. It gives you time to drink your coffee and your beer.



What else are you gonna do on a leisurely backcountry morning?

Steel-cut oatmeal, with blueberries, cinnamon and brown sugar. Crisp, diced (and heavy) Fuji apples for those that want them.




Then it was time to wash the dishes and explore the cave.


We did a bit of trundling at the rock slide next to the spring...



which boys do enjoy. When we were done (at least an hour) there was a substantial dent in the slide.



All packed up, it was time to coast downhill for an hour and a half. No lie.







Then I got the bright idea to take the next photo while riding downhill.





D slowed and swerved around a rock. J and I did not. We had us a crash. According to J____, who was right behind us, we both ejected within a millisecond of one another. Took some time to re-align my bars, and my fenders were out of whack. The camera also took a small hit, so I don't have any photos to prove that we went directly to the swimming hole and jumped off cliffs & drank some beers...


You'll just have to have Faith.

good all the time

I don't know about you



but this kind of music is filled with the Holy Ghost. It's not their best example, but it's a taste. They are worth seeking out.




For A___ L____, who can play very well his own self.




Simple. Outstanding.




It's been kinda gloomy around here lately. Summertime on the central coast...

Father's Day

I love you.

we don't deliver, but you do

This one's for Gunnar...




I took a little ride in Santa Cruz on Thursday. This is what some of the riding there looks like.


See the singletrack there? Above the bar.



Some of the singletrack is real narrow and hugs the side of the hill.



It is nice and shady under the redwoods.



Sometimes the trees are very close together.





On the way, I came across this guy. I initially thought he was on a highbike.


No, he had climbed to Sand Point Overlook on a replica Penny Farthing, and was now heading down. In flip flops. He said he'd step down onto the mounting peg and drag his foot on the rear wheel to slow down. In flip flops. When it got too steep/speedy, he hopped off and walked.

Really took the wind out of my sails on the whole "I'm so hard for riding this on my fixed wheel bicycle" front.

velocache, sucka!

insert fart noise here

After all that, we drove over to the El Rio tacqueria for the best burrito I have ever had. Ever. What made it so yummy? Papas fritas y hambre, mis amigos. Little cubes of fried potato in the veggie burrito. I do not recommend their onion rings, however. While there, waiting for 20 minutes for them to make 12 burritos, we whiled away the time talking to the "cooler" for the local saloon. (He appreciated my intimate knowledge of Road House.) He claimed to be able to tell all kinds of things about people as soon as they walked in the door, and that it is actually about being nice...until it is time to not be nice. He said that most of the out of towners coming through were from Bakersfield trying to leave the heat. (They bring all their stupidity with them though, which explains the D batteries and the mystery foam, Lord Hayden.) For those that are not familiar with Bakersfield, it is the lamest place in California. Hands down.

When we got back, lots of people ate burritos. Then I went to bed; partied out.

Woke up relatively late, but refreshed. Coffee. Blueberry pancakes. Waiting. Chamois time, all kitted up. More coffee. Safety break. Waiting. A dozen or so people is a long time getting going- that surprises none of us. The morning turned into the early afternoon due to some very ill-considered decisions on the part of 2 and the resultant involvement of many. There was a horse trailer. There was a narrow and technical rock strewn road. There was a lack of skill. There was poor planning. There was a lot of back and fill, directing, ill-conceived attempts to dig out rocks which may have been boulders, human dynamics, losses of patience, and so forth. Waiting well is an important component of a successful field trip. It helps to have a well stocked cooler and some shade. I had long since changed back into my sneakers for comfort.



Fiasco complete, we piled into various vehicles to rendezvous at a different spot to accommodate everone's differing plans for leaving after the ride. I picked up some beers for the ride. We all met up and got into the shuttle cars.

To the top!

The day's trail- Just Outstanding. And it truly is outstanding.



F____ rode rigid and single, all weekend long. Hard.



The Manzanita Tunnel.

Right about this section I crashed. My foot came off the downslope pedal and I went over the edge and down into a thorny tree. I came to rest in said tree-head downhill , bike in the trail. I had torn my fancy boy white perforated! leather gloves, and there my palm. My first thought was how having wrecked hands would keep me from working, and that's no good. It ended up not being bad, just bleedy. I was able to right myself and remove my bike before F____ crashed into it.

My foot had come off the pedal on account of I forgot to grab my cycling shoes when we swapped vehicles. I found this out when I was getting ready to ride at the top of the mountain. What are you gonna do? Time pedals and sneakers are not a great combination, but that's what I brung.










Lots and lots of downhill. Lots. I recommend it.



Reload.


We sent our mountain bikes to C______, to be picked up by J____ on his way back later in the month, as we'd picked up an extra passenger for the return.



Going home.


In closing the Kernville Weekend 2009, I'd like to point out that canned beer snobbery is laughable. I can see your point about microbrews, but if you chose a can of ________ over a Hamm's you are kidding yourself. And, it would be a whole lot of fun to tour over CA 155 earlier in the spring, as it is a twisty windy road with little traffic.

you can fight it, or you can ROCK OUT to it

Mineral King.

First of all, here is a little video to document the epic scope, the PROness of the riders,




and how little grasp of the camera's features I possess.


As with last year, we camped well up South Fork Road outside of Three Rivers CA. Adding the ride from camp and back adds significantly to the mileage and climbing. We think it's around 80 miles now. It feels like a lot.




The difference this year? Par and tee. Or maybe the cloud cover which kept it from approaching the low 100s as in years past.



Yeah that cloud cover. Which kept a lid on it all day long.



Climb, sucka!


It got to the point at which I put on gloves. Then, it got to the point at which I needed a hat. Then, arm warmers. Then, knee warmers. Then, undershirt. Then, vest. I was glad to have had all that stowed away. The mountains will do what they do. It is best to be prepared.

We reached the top(ish) at Silver City, which is really just a grouping of cabins and a store that serves no beer, and overheard a fella tell the clerk about snow further up top. We opted to turn around at this point. We'd already had our miles of pave climb, complete with 13% grades and had our several miles more of dirt through the Sequoias. No point in risking marmot attack and snow.




Bonus:

We came tearing around a corner on the downhill and this guy was standing in the road looking confused. Apparently shouting road bikers are one of the things that frighten bears. He took off for the hill. Big bear, I'd guess over 5' tall. He looked lean and shaggy.


Which I suppose ups the totem ante in my favor.

Again.






It was hot enough down low for some beer drinking and some foot dunking.



Next day=travel day. Driving over to Kernville for the mountain bike portion of the Birfday Weekend. I will say, it is sweet to travel with folks who enjoy the journey. We stopped in Porterville at the Salvation Army and shopped the local fashions. Always entertaining, and occasionally rewarding. Who really cares? A Good Time is far more important than simply making good time.


To that end, we set in with the beer drinking (and then) when we arrived, really applied ourselves. Members of the group continued to arrive from points further South.

First we laughed at these guys camped next to us, for taking many pictures of their massive 4x4 after they'd driven the front end up onto that large rock you see to the right of it. then they backed off the rock and parked. And set up the biggest tent I have ever seen, and their portable picnic table for 6 complete with tablecloth, and outdoor shower stall, and 3 lanterns (so the entire camp was lit in series, like a front yard walkway). They left the camera set up on it's 4' tripod all weekend, to be ready at a moment's notice.


But they ended up being very gracious and polite young men. I thought I was lending a hand by going over with some kindling for them (after witnessing the amazing display of wood splitting; which involved at minimum 2 practice/aiming slow motion swings with the axe blade reversed before finally striking the upright log and sending it flying off towards one of the other Armenians wearing flip flops). The lead Armenian was attempting to start the fire with his homemade mixture of dryer lint and petroleum soaked cotton balls... and with a flint and steel! They invited us over for drinks.

Some of us ended up smoking Salvia with these guys. I can't say I recommend it.




But it was about bikes, not experimental drug use. So, there it is. Shuttle run to the top of Cannell Trail, which I can wholeheartedly recommendo!



To the top!



And then, up and around the other side of the top, briefly. Just some extra singletrack before back down to the parking area for the real start of the trail...





Miles. Tall trees.






The terrain there is very different from any other alpine areas to which I have been. The mountains feel low and dome-like. They have amazingly beautiful flat meadows. There is a lot of granite.






Hike a bike, stupid. The trail had to have been better. Had to. But you can see the meadow again.


Mr. E___ P______, not enjoying himself as much as at other moments. The Birfday Boy hisself.


Another party member loving the hike.



Getting more Southerly. The faces here were pretty sheer. That is Lake Isabella, I believe.


L_______, ruling it.


The inimitable Craig Ashcroft.


Then we rode some more. Around 36 miles, or so. 6 hours. Ridiculous amounts of fun. Do it, if you are in the area.

*It all sounds crazy when you put it like that.

The Brooks Saddle Factory
Originally uploaded by Hudsonic

2 things, uh, bitches:

That up there, which is 100% AWESOME!

And this: it is my learned and studded and studied opinion (read: FACT!) that carrying a load in panniers down low in front is fecking stupid. It just sets you up for handling problems. If you disagree, your "evidence" is lies and subterfuge, poorly concealed beneath a shakily applied veneer of classist vitriol.

Not so keen on that idea now, are you?

long tall Texas T

This one is dedicated to all y'all Minnesota yahoos. Gypsy? Puhleeeeeze.


You cannot eff with Mr. Bob Wills. Sounds so good he had to tie his hat on.


Gypsy swing from Mr. Cash.



Further afield yet closer to the heart of the matter, Wayne the Train.


Because it blows my miind!

my so called friends

OK...which one of you jackasses stuffed a soiled 3"x3" waterproof bandage in my seat bag?

It is possible anytime, anywhere!

Even without any dough.

Riding to work.

My hours were cut, due to business being slow. It did leave more time for riding. I was able to take trails both to and from work today. I am thankful to be employed, and am not complaining about the hours. Just saying. And now that I do say it, it occurs to me that this very trail is the one upon which I poured out an offering on the eve of my job hunting adventure.



On my way home, my chain blew apart here. The pins in the masterlink plates just gave up. I was able to find one of the pinless plates, but not the other. There were mosquitos. My chain was 9speed.


However, hey! I had cleverly stuck some extra plates in my matchbook. They were 10speed though. But they worked.


Ooooooooh, such a sandy trail. I see your street ride, and raise you my sandy trail.



Just in case y'all thought I was lying about the cat turds. I wasn't. Check out the size of that thing. For perspective, that is the pint bottle from the Sleaze Otter. The one buried 'neath the old rugged cross. The threads were still a little gritty. No, I did not have a nip on the way to work.



It was fun to take the Kampe Monkey out after so much riding on the skinny tires. Give me some big fat tires and some hella low gearing, and I can move the world. Everthing was climbable- apart from busted chains. I rolled over all kinds of stuff I'd had to nimbly, nimbly dodge on the skinny tires.



I'm not sure about the wide open possibilty even without any dough though. On account of I really need a new drivetrain. There are many creaky noises on, in and around that bike.


But there ain't no flies on me.

if I could infuse your home with all that good smell

I would. It would be quietly floral, and mildly overpowering.



One foot in front of the other. My quads were akilling me yesterday. Left over lactic acid from Monday's fiasco fixed ride. No stretching (like a eedjit) and no tennis ball rolling...got to wake up pre-tty early in the mornin to feel stiffer than this guy. And the quad soreness was a bad mojo on account of the plan for Wednesday.

Which involved a reet repeat of the large-ish cross loop in Santa Cruz, revised to include skipped portions and missed turns and such. Including but not limited to paying for water at the Summit Store?!? because the mid-store sink is "disconnected" and -NO.
"Huh. Well, can y'all fill my bottles for me in the deli prep area?"
NO
"Is there a bathroom I can use?"
NO there's port potties in the lot.
"Is there a spigot outside?"
NO the closest is at the school for which you need a key.
"I guess I'm buying water then."
grumble grumble
Because apparently they have to haul the water up and nothing is free. All this in spite of the fact that I always purchase something there (typically at least 1 tallboy) and had, in fact, already spent money during that very visit....
NO

Just, you know, so YOU know. Make sure you bring money to pay The Man.

So, as a fat washed up loser, I took it to the streets. The mean fire road of Nisene Marks to be precise. Looked full of people, like a bust type scenario, yo. So road it was and the road is good there. On the hill it was that delicious feeling of knowing the day is HOT out from under these refreshingly dank redwoods and if I weren't almost cold from the rush of my speed and the delightful shade...why then I'd be heavy sweating and seeing purple spots.



Then it was making the correct decision and staying ridgeline through Demo, although Tractor Trail is fairly steep and rocky and kitty littered it's ownself. Should I be taking Braille Trail? You know, with the cross bike and all? Whatever. It is fun and swoopy.




Familiar climbing gentle grades to the rip off spot, er, Summit Store. Then the climb on Summit, which I'd been thinking about/dreading since I'd first felt my crampable, twingey quads earlier...and which really wasn't so bad. Aside from the flat.



And what a flat curse I am under these days. My tube was pinholed at the base of the valve stem; figured I'd patch it just in case (in case such a screwball patch job could work) because that's always a Fair Idea and SOP. My spare was pinholed 6mm away from the valve stem, so of course I misplaced the first patch , and it leaked. Patch again, and it held. What a relief. Down to a prayer and one patch left.

On and on with no beers(!) and no stopping(!) to that one road, this shot has such a nice feel of leaving the sun and entering the shady one lanedness



Finally got some photos of the silo house. This place is so cool.

...then down to Bean Creek, Blue Bonnet, Lockewood, cross the street and make all the right moves following sinuously quick sandy (yet predictable) trails. Perfect alignment of pitch, rhthym, and pace. That feels good. Then my "knowledge" fell apart at the RR area, on account of there are several tracks, and which one is the right one? Found a way, found the way, and then it was time to cross 9 and head up UCON.

At the top of it all there was a gathering of Wednseday Riders, and (strangely) some guy on a ladder in the middle of a field. Turns out the ladder guy was shooting a Giant catalog. So we hung around and drank beers while watching some 8year old lay down skids and ride back and forth in a beautifully lit golden field on a shiny shiny new bike. Hope he got to keep it. The more the beers that went down, the more the heckling volume and intensity that went up. A gentle mocking resulted finally in the foolish photogs allowing us to take the time trial bike for a brief spin on the singletrack. An amazingly poor decision on everyone's part which was fueled by feeding the Giant staff some beers. Denver( I just met him and liked him)'s Dad "couldn't" ride himself anymore, but just wanted to contribute how he could. How could he? By driving up an 18pack on ice. That's a nice contribution.



Finally, a little more downhill which we handled like tipsy Ewoks. Taqueria, streets, homeward bound. 50ish miles? Some climbing.



I'm going to have to find suitable doll, some feathers, a little barbed wire and several old inner tubes. Perhaps a small voodoo pyre will rid me of my flat curse. Hey! Maybe I should ride with one of y'all...see if it rubs off.
*************************************************************************************

Maybe the Full Strawberry Moon should be ridden under on Saturday evening? Who has thoughts or hidden knowledge? Somebody. Anybody.

the best part of waking up

May well lie in knowing about the waxing Full Moon.



Yes, campers- the comin Full Strawberry Moon promises shiny Goodness to all who hear the call up. June 7th. Darkish. Be there, wherever there is for you.

Around here? Well, Santa Cruz made some noises last month about hosting this go-round. We'll see, and keep it posted. If not, well it will be warm and bright down here on the cool side of the bay and we got some BIG idears about new routing...suffice to say it involves lots of dirt, and some twisty, windy speeeeeeeeeeeeeed on the pavement.
over

here I sit, broken-hearted

Broken legged would be more to the point. As in crumbled, reduced, spent and achey.

photo...

Fixed crosscheck sneak towards Fort Ord. In and around, taking 50 up and down on both ends with Little Jewford (we did not find Velocache #16; though not for lack of trying- including acting like idiots and riding down the corkscrew- just for lack of paying attention to the photos...) and then solo back South Boundary to up and over back road style.

Not alot of stopping, just riding. Training. I got Mineral King on the brain. For those on the fence...GO!