Man, it is the best. In a world filled with compromises, a cross bike's strengths suit me to a T- wherein the T stands for tepid bowl of porridge. That's how "just right" a cross bike is. You can ride the road to the trails and then back again, having a kickass time all the time.
That's really what it's all about. Isn't it?
I rode the roads to the trials to this. This fallen oak has stopped us for the last time.
That is how it looks now. Every time I ride those trails I find myself wishing I'd brought the clippers and/or a saw. This ride, I did.
The Gerber folding hand saw gave up the ghost on this one, with a broken locking mechanism and a split handle?!? I'm going to take it back to REI and demand (demand) a store credit, as I do not want a replacement. Any saw that can't handle a middling job like that is no saw of mine.
Then it was on to the South Boundary Rd and up into Laguna Seca for to take 50 down and up to the overlook. Sandy. Loose. Fun.
A beer from the caprock and a sandwich from the saddle bag. After that, and Blair Witch, I tried to keep angling Southward to find some good connectors. Ever since the devastation of the stairs, the DoD sections are ruined. I hunted and pecked and backtracked the way you can when it's you alone, and found the beginnings of some decent routes. Sections of greatness.
Riding home through Cside! I laughed at this. Makes me glad I don't live across the slanting street from this guy.
1 comment:
Good Practicing Preacher
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