this is the stuff that cured a nation

 After the increasingly frantic and despondent search for the bottle, we faced the sad, hard Truth that we must climb out of that cooling bottom while the climbing was good; before dark, when the monsters come out and it gets pretty dang cold. Up we pedalled, back into the sunlight and then along and then up some more, for that is the essence of Henry Coe.

We found ourselves at a nice flat spot, high on the ridge, and set up camp for the night. For the record, I love instant mashed potatoes. To_d let loose of all his distress over the loss of the whiskey by having a jumping fit. A moment of wild punk rock pique which, coincidentally, reduced most of the wood we'd gathered for twig-fueled cooking to useable tinder bits. I held my own hate close and let it warm me for a bit longer. I'd really pinned a lot of Good Feelings on the recovery of that cache. The hardness of the crazed creek-bed bushwack made it seem all the more salvatory, so that it took on importance all out of proportion. You may not be aware, but a 1/2 bottle of nice rye really makes a camp-out better. As it turns out, it was good I did not have the bottle and did have the fiery hate. I might have gotten a wee bit too loaded to notice the growing wetness around my "pillow".

Just as I had the previous evening to good effect, I'd stuffed my hydration bladder and some loose pieces of gear into my sleeping bag stuff-sack to use as a pillow. I had removed the bite valve to more easily fill the Kelly Kettle while making dinner, but I distinctly recall checking the hose shut-off valve after, and then checking it again before putting the bladder in the sack. I must have opened it the 2nd time, because the stuff sack (ironically a dry-bag) was now a bag of water and plenty of it was leaking out onto my down bag and all over the tarp.

I leapt up from my warm comfort and began to dance around in my underwear trying to contain the spill and minimize the soaking. My glad companion lay in his puffy cocoon, atop his cushy pillow of air and laughed and laughed. It took a cold while to dump out the water, dry the sleeping bag and pad as best I could, flip the tarp over, hang up my wet clothes and get back to ready for bed. The safety pin had gotten lost in the hullaballoo, and so my bag reduced to a poorly designed quilt. At least the soaking was minimal, so it was still a warm quilt. Imagine if I'd been drunk...imagine if I had not had the hate to warm me.

It was a hard night, but around the tiny hours of the AM, I realized I could use my shoes and a bag of sunflower seeds as a makeshift pillow. I slept well after that. Then it was dawn.

 That looks real picturesque and comfortable-like...

 and so does that?


I exaggerate for comedic effect. My vacation is not your worst nightmare, it is fun! Good old-fashioned fun, and I relish it and seek it. You would have loved it.

 Kelly Kettle speeds coffee along and does not require chemical fuel. BAM!

 

 After breakfast we rolled off into the ridgescape, looking for the Good Stuff.

 We found it.

 Interspersed with effortful climbs and scenic fire roads were effortless drops and twisty singletrack.

 Coe is legit. The thing about camping by bike is that your ride doesn't have to end! Reach someplace nice (also much further out than would be reachable by, say, hiking), have a meal and some rest and then go on to ride some more. It sounds simple, but it is profound.

Us being so civilized and all, we stopped for a coffee break. We had the whole day to ride. To_d brought back the classic Safari Sophisticates Collection. Note the neatly tucked pant legs for practical tick protection. A smart merino ensemble tops everything. Fashion is form. None of this is accidental.

I meself am resplendent, if a little difficult to make out, in Dreadneck (no really, yes I) Great White Hunter Fashion. It's my fall-back. I feel pretty.

  We promise to coordinate our efforts next time so as to not offend your delicate sensibilities.



There was a lot of singletrack the last day. I enjoyed Dam Trail, and Cross Canyon Trail (as always, down and up). Dropping all of our gear beneath some California Black Oaks (Quercus kelloggi) off the trail and rallying the shit out of Grapevine was well worth doing, even if it was a thirsty climb back up. That was a real nice spot for some peanut butter, date and banana burritos. China Hole Trail was great (really fun), also, down and up. The final climb up the Manzanita Point Road was a cold shot, though. Especially with visible singletrack curving along below us, both reduced in elevation gain and off-limit to bikes. Based on my experiences so far, it is now my firm belief that future trips should begin and end at the Hunting Hollow end of things. Finishing on the sweet singletrack downhill is just so nice.

But, I'm open to checking other new options...is there any good riding to be had on the Dowdy Ranch end?

 All in all, a real Good Time. It is such a treat to have this expanse so close and to have it open to riding. I'd like to thank my riding partner for his masterfully snacky ways, his complete willingness for the experience to totally suck (truly- if you aren't open to the possibility of failure on a magnificent scale, you limit your potential joy just as surely), and his unfailing sense of humor.

Yay! Boo.

it started as an innocent game, then took a menacing detour into the unknown

 In this region, so near to the Pacific Ocean, there is a lot of moisture in the air. At night, it settles. You may recall descriptions of heavily dewed camp-outs in blogposts past. This 1st night out we experienced a driving mist. Having an inkling of what would ("maybe", we thought) come, we rigged our waterproofing as best we could. I simply laid my bike on it's side and strapped my tarp to and over it in a low A-frame. T_dd got busy (Byzantine) lashing together a series of downed limbs to each other and his bike and secured his midget pancho over the top.

I find that every time I head out, there is some crucial piece of gear that is forgotten or fails. Aside from the tents, they were left out...intentionally. This round, I had forgotten that my sleeping bag's top zipper slider had gotten ripped off over Xmas, leaving only the bottom slider- which mean that I could only fasten the zipper by "opening" (pulling the slider all the way to the top) the bag, safety pinning that point, and then crawling in and zipping the bag closed on the way down. It took a couple tries to get it right. I maintained my cool collectedness.

Shortly, soon after conversation faded hazily into drowsing, the 1st drops hit. There was the usual mad scramble to assess and re-rig. I ended up stuffing my sleeping bag swaddled lower legs and feet into my pack and calling it waterproof. My sad companion curled up like a little bug and called that waterproof. His sad sack was too tiny to accommodate.

We dozed and awoke. There were intermittent and constant noises.

 Upon awakening, I discovered that T_dd had gotten up in the middle of the 2nd (and sustained) shower and abandoned his tiny shelter for the trees...

 

 We got our act together. Coffee 1st. Breakfast 2nd. Poo 3rd. The Kelly Kettle performed well. I think I will get the larger size. The small model I have is bulky enough that the weight difference (never that big a deal for me, truthfully) is negligible. It already takes up the space, I may as well have the extra hot water. The small boils 19fl oz (eh, I'd call that optimistic- more like 15fl oz) in 5 minutes the 1st go-round, and as little as 1 minute by the 3rd, when the coals are really going. Anyhow, it is a good product if you mainly need hot water, which is my style if it ain't cooking on a grill over the fire.

 Ash-laden stalactite.

Just down the hill from camp was a spring, and we used T_dd's "Freedom" SteriPEN to kill the nasties. I carry the Potable Aqua tablets (ready in 30 minutes) if I'm feeling pinched on weight or space, versus a filter, cuz I'm low tech like that. The SteriPENs I have been associated with in the past have proved extremely temperamental, though the USB rechargeable "Freedom" was more friendly. The iodine tabs do not protect against cryptosporidium, but that's a fairly benign gut bomb. Words you never thought you'd say...

 We rolled North, up the Narrows, looking for Bear Mountain Rd for some exploring. This HardCOEre 100 route listing Bear Mtn inspired us to head up and see if it was cool.

  It is NOT cool.

I became very upset that someone would recommend it. T_dd attempted to devishly advocate it on the basis that it could be required so as to not duplicate any sections in such a long event, to which I replied and reply: fuuuuuuuuck that. Only the most pedanticated, mindlessly adherent judge-head would pick that ridgeline fire-break to hike with your bicycle.

 I don't even know how steep it is. Steep enough to make you holler. I enjoy suffering on my bike, but this was just not...fun. At all.

After the hellish climbs and the substantial bushwack of Bear Mountain Spring Trail, we reached Mississippi Lake and were stoked. We felt we were back on track for fun and heading in the right direction to reach the (needed) whiskey cached at Pachec further South.

Having dealt with Willow Ridge Road's vicious ups and downs before, we felt we could outsmart ourselfs and take Heritage Trail down to sweet Pacheco Creek Trail for the win.

This was not to be. I think we blew the turn shortly after dropping like stones to a knob at which the "trail" could be perceived as equally possibly West or South. We checked the map. The vegetation is capable of closing trails up like in the Ventana, and we were guessing South as it looked more established. It ended definitively about 40ft above the creek bed. Being very reluctant to hike back up and then to face the vicious ups and downs of Willow Ridge Rd, we figured we could bull our way through, around that knob, and we'd be at the Pacheco Creek drainage and golden. We checked the map.

Nope.

That creek bed was the 2nd most hateful experience aboard a bicycle I have ever had. We were a drainage further East than we'd reckoned. The poison oak closed in, the manzanita closed in, the walls closed in. I felt like I was in an ant lion trap, the sides were so steep and ready to slip. At times, it was preferable to haul our loaded bikes up the rotten sides to get over particularly thick thickets of poison oak. We traded leads. Procedure became: curse, lean your bike, break (literally- smash branches, most of which were rotted and thankfully easy) trail, curse, return for your bike, curse, move forward until the next impasse, repeat. Really tough.

Eventually, we broke out into the Pacheco drainage, but there was no celebration. We were tired and concerned about the amount of oak we'd come through. That stuff is really uncomfortable. It's now been 4 days with no symptoms, so I'm hopeful. We were covered pretty well- I had gaps between my socks and knickers (the American kind, thank you) and sometimes my sleeves rode up from my wrists, but it was my face I was worried about. The brush was so tight I was very glad to have large French sunglasses for style and protection.

We rode (how novel!) down the creekside singletrack and, after a bit, it lifted our spirits. Sadly, my spirits were broken when we reached Pacheco and I found some jackass had discovered and taken the whiskey. I can write no more tonight.

one way in and no way out

Staring down the barrel of a 3-day weekend backcountry tour aboard a moderately loaded bicycle?

 Here are some words and pictures to help in that difficult situation.

That there is a scientific, mathematically complete checklist of the gear I used. Not pictured: stuff that wasn't in this picture. Study as needed. Experts, take notes. Plan accordingly- do not think of your local influences, do not take more or less. My bike/equipment/nutrition choices aren't choices so much as directives from technically proficient people who know; people who've done it, like, 3 or 4 times even. Follow this exhaustive indexpertise to the letter. If you had ordered the x-ray specs then you would know that there is food and cookware in that Trader Joe's bag. And you would wonder: Huh? Why is there not the case of beer I carried on last year's middle-of-Winter-bicycle-trip-through-Coe? I have no good answer to that slavering T-Rex jaw of a question, but I can juuuust wedge it open with the spindly reminder that there was a 1/2 bottle of rye whiskey cached at Pac a camp. (It wouldn't be prudent to crow all over the internet about having a valuable trove of quality hooch, a precious, hidden in the wilderness...only an idiot would do that.) But, surprise! I didn't actually take the bag, just the contents. Plus that other stuff.

Truly helpful words are communicating the underlying premise, which, plainly stated, is: if you are interested in bike camping, just go do some. Truly, you don't need special anything to make it happen. What you do need is to accept an invitation when it is given and then to actually follow through with it, as well as a positive mental attitude (more on that later). There is so much talk, in person and online, about doing things when there could be the actual doing of things. Which do you prefer?


 Also, take a look at this (especially noting the shirt-sleeves in February?!? and the well executed front rack):

That is the only other show upper for this Full Moon Freakout. The remainder were awarded, in absentia, the Dummy Of The Year Award(s). I suppose one could say they were all go, but no show...wait- all no go and no show.


What the hell, fellas? Stop blowing it.



The given of using what bike and camping equipment you have at hand notwithstanding, we are bike geeks, so...I chose the Surly NeckRomancer as my rig for this trip. Mostly because I have one, but mostly because it is a fine way to smoove out the rough edges encountered in many a camping oriented bike ride. If it is rough going (i.e. up a lot of chunky stream beds or bushwacking little used "trails") or traction is an issue then the big and fat tyres are a help. It has better load carrying options than a full suspension bike. A rigid frame takes the excellent and game-changing frame bags (I lik these), which allows the bike to ride like a bike, not a wallowing pig of a bike. You can still rally, which is the purpose after all. _odd chose his 29er super custom Black Cat AdventureBike, which achieves the same rallyable usefullness but in a lighter and zippier form. I weighed my rear wheel afterwards, when I was stripping the bike of all cables and housing for a (required) complete overhaul, and I frowned when I saw the scale needle tip over past 10lbs(!!! for a wheel!). Then I stopped thinking about it, because it is what it is and it works real well.

California at it's finest. We rode out from the HQ entrance, which choice we have discussed at length now, and concluded it is not the way. Coyote Creek is muuuuuch nicer; less people, no buildings, and you end on a downhill as opposed to an ass-whipping climb of at least an hour. Arriving at the park around 2PM, the plan was ride until some campsite looked good in the evening light. So, our timeline was not ezzackly fixed. I find that best. A general direction, a loosely defined region of possibilities leaves a nice opening for spontaneity and adaptation to current conditions.

We looked at the map and saw that there was some good singletrack available, and we rode that. We rode as much of that as we could figure out how to string together in a route that would lead us over towards Pache the camp where the whiskey was waiting. We got a ways after some real nice descending and climbing and camped under some oaks.

Both of us eschewed the safety anchor some folks call "a tent". With a 10% chance of rain, only a fool would willingly carry that much extra. I ended up using my tarp as a tight A-frame, and my sad companion attempted a similar set-up using his child-sized tarpancho. After the late evening songs of the yodel dog, we slept the sleep of the just barely roofed. It was extra sound, since I used my hydration bladder and shoes along with some loose gear all stuffed in my sleeping bag compression sack as a pillow.

There is plenty of Secret Knowledge to fill your dreams.

the hypotenuse

Yaz, yaz. The side opposite of the right angle.

And, consider yourselfs warned. That's my side.

apparent disregard of taste and fine art

Dude came into the shop the other day with a 1976 Masi Gran Criterium to be boxed for shipping. I don't really dig them, but I know of some guys who do so I packaged it up real nice. Lots and lots of foam wrap and tape and cardboard and zip-ties and newspaper. I'd a taken some pictures, but...you know. The guy sort of gave me the creeps, to be honest. I packaged it well out of love for bicycles and anonymous peoples on the internet, not him. He was in his 60s and spoke with an English accent that may have been put on, and his wardrobe was age-inappropriate. Was it you?

Other guy calls the shop yesterday, and was nonplussed when informed that his 39t middle chainring has not arrived. "But you told me it would be there today." I had no hand in this prior to answering the phone, but I'm a team player and I'd like us all to have our bikes and ride them too, so I explained that, perhaps, the extended weekend played a part in the delay. "I don't even know what to say to you people." Which I particularly like, because I get to be part of a persecuted minority and that is rare for me. I speculated that the part will be arriving in short order- quite possibly in the following day or 2- as I am certain it has been both ordered and shipped. I checked the computer while he was grumbling at me. I assured him we would get right to work on it when the part arrived and call him upon completion. "I guess I just can't trust anything you people [really. again! I love it.] say." I told him I will try and keep a tighter control over the mail for him and hung up. He was such a dick and I was done swallowing. We will see if I face repercussions over this, because our owner is almost maniacal with regard to customer ass kissing.

I showed up this morning to a text from the mechanic who worked on the bike originally, saying he's forgotten to tell the customer he'd installed a new BB ($55 surprise!) because the old one was crapped out. This had not been cleared or discussed. I texted back the above exchange and the other mechanic tells me that dude hung up on him when he was told he'd need a new chainring and it would require ordering. Winner, winner. This whole scenario was effed, because at that point the guy had a legitimate (we should have called and gotten clearance before installing parts- it's common sense, common courtesy,  and even policy) bone of contention he can really worry, and he seems just the type to do so.

And so I set to work on this fine, middle of the road, 7 year old carbon fiber, triple chainring, adjustable stem pointed down and housing not trimmed accordingly, broken alloy chainring bolt, busted free seat tube water bottle bolt insert...bike only to find it hasn't been ridden (or taken care of) in months, and yet dude acts like he's got some rush to ride. As though we were blowing his tight regimen all to hell. I cleaned, carbon pasted, installed, trimmed, replaced, glued, lubed and tuned the hell out of that bike for the love of bikes.

And for the love of a small paycheck. And for industry pricing. If he hadn't been such an ass, I'd have even re-wrapped his bars for him as part of the tune, but he was and I left those unsightly gaps.

We have a separate form on which we document all the details of a tune-up. It's a useful checklist that helps prevent forgetful mistakes and allows for an in depth explanation if the mechanic who'd done the tune is absent, etc. I documented all the little details, and when the guy came to pick up the bike I quoted him the final price, with no mention of details. Then I paused for the explosion. That's my style. I will try to brazen it out if possible. Ask forgiveness not permission, you know. Dude didn't blink an eye, so neither did I.

Fuck it, I'm going bike camping!

outside of the Law your luck will run out fast

Just finished Tyler Hamilton's (with Daniel Coyle) book, The Secret Race. Hell no I didn't pay money for it- library, fool! It is worth a read if your interests lie in that direction. If you're not already completely overloaded on the fiasco that was PRO road racing in the late '90s and 2000s. I'd have a beer with Floyd Landis. The UCI has really got to go. Lance Armstrong truly is a butthole. Etc.

Who is rallying for this weekend's Full Moon Bicycle Freakout? It promises to be a real fine time...

one or two passable extravagancies

You are in the grip of an obsession. How do you want to handle that? There are some ways it can not be a disaster. Chief among them? Riding that bike, the one that has all the parts on it right now and is in working order.

In this corner, I got back in the saddle on the cross/street bike (again, on account of how the rear wheel which is in the process of breaking has not fully broken...so it is not imperative that I fix it right this minute). Walked out the door and rode a blend of street and dirt to that one sweeping right hander into which a bushy and annoying oak limb has been intruding. For a couple years this branch has been pushing. Used to be, you would have to duck down to handlebar level and lean out over the washy, off-cambered downhill to avoid it and I was tired of that. Enough to finally remember and bring a tool to fix the situation. I used the small pull saw. Were you to ride that trail today, you wouldn't even notice work had been done and that is the sad mark of the PRO trail maintenance. It is slightly melancholy because there is nothing to show for all that effort. There is the improved ride, though.

Ripping downhill, with short bursts of steep climbing. Knee brace did some work.

I popped out onto some more street. I had stashed the saw in the woods so it was lots of unencumbered road climbing to those false summits, one after the other. I was not able to find the singletracks we have been speculating are over there. I was able to roll right offa that perfectly smooth and pitched asphalt downhill and onto the bumpy and steep dirt road which led in turn to the triceps hammering combination of trails down again. Street to home. That street/cross bike is such a fun ride. It's hardly a compromise anywhere! So fast. So thrilling.

I do enjoy riding from my door. I recognize that I am fortunate in living close enough to the trails that I can have that option, but I also figure it's a choice I make. We got lots of folks in the shop asking about "bicycle racks", and I start asking what they want to carry- only to find they are asking about "car racks for bicycles". That's a let down. I say, "if you have the opportunity, you should ride from your door", but what I mean is "you're probably blowing it." Sniff, if you must- but are you sniffing because you are lazy and uninspired or because you really do live more than a half hour's ride from the Goods? And I'm not talking about road trips, I'm talking about your local.


P.S. A gal came into the shop today and clued me in to a dirt road offa that other steeeeep climb that goes a place we want to go, with connections to other places. It falls to __ to hunt down those of the possible connections that are not only rideable, but enjoyable...because some of this terrain around here is too steep and rough to be fun.

now even blander and more conflict-free!

Words. You may have noticed the content around here listing heavily toward the obfuscatory. What can I say? What can I say? What can I say?

Some of the rides that we do or plan are not for public consumption. I'd rather be under the radar than under the thumb. But, I am strangely compelled to scribble about these bicycle jaunts and so there are the blank spaces, the redactions, here. Just know that if it's unclear it was so much _____er than you imagine.

In this vein, __d_ and I rode the cyclocross bikes t'other day. I haven't been riding my super custom Black Cat cyclocross bicycle because I've got issues with the rear wheel. The drive-side spokes are pulling through the shitty Salsa Delgado box sucktion rims, and I've been too lazy and there are too many other accessible bikes to ride to do anything about it. This day, I'd decided to do something about it...say "fuck it, the spokes aren't going to fail catastrophically" and ride it anyway. It worked out great.

We started with a plan, but it changed on account of the above was just coming off the couch and illness (and still put the screws to me?! Dang.). Since the original plan had involved a bunch of road and then a bunch of singletrack and then a bunch more road, I'd (cleverly) decided to make my compromise on the trail section, it being nominally shorter, and have everything available to me on the (longer) road section(s). With the change in plan this was no longer the genius selection it had been. At the end of a day spent riding I had a big smile on my face.

At several stages during that day though, I had a big pucker going. At one point I was bound to the slidey, sandy, off-camber-to-the-outside Earth solely by a combination of willpower and ass-clenching. It was exciting! I will allow that the dirt was perfect. Perfect. Tacky, firmly set-up goodness. It was rarely the slick 37mm tyres holding me back as we climbed and climbed and descended and climbed, swooping the while. A new trail in Santa Cruz? Yes, and it is good up and down.

Whatever mushrooms the forests up there hold, they are safe from me. The singletrack will not be denied. It is February, if you are unsure, and we were laying down the Radness all day. Sometimes this California ish is OK.



Halfway stop:

...just up the street from the Bigfoot Museum. I have yet to have less than a Good Time there. We have shown up in all kinds of states and frequently in full body-hugging lycra and never even had the hint of a bad attitude. Classy as it gets.



The knee brace worked out pretty well. It is adjustable in several ways, and is open at the back to allow for easy flexion with minimum binding. It did catch on my frame pump (you damn right, frame pump), and of course it chafed and bound a little. However, there were 2 distinct instances when I felt it save me from some gapping at the joint- so, worth using for certain. Just like the slick tyres, everything is a trade-off somewheres. There might be a lesson in that.

the perfect occasion

 achtung! SON (Schmidt's Original Nabendynamo) is now producing a dynohub with a 15mm thru-axle...I think you know what this means. I see it is available through Peter White Cycles*(scroll down a bit), and looks to retail in the $ohmygoodness range, but it is what it is. I'm excited and you should be too, if you like to go adventuring off road on your bike where it is rough and you're smart. Or soft I guess. I am those things in spades.

There have been several "incidents" involving demo bikes and the use of a guy's personal normal dynohub, and they aren't optimal. The 15mm thru-axle makes a big difference in stiffness. I say all this while resting on my laurels of notorious discontent with the marketing of bike related items solely based on the "new" and "improved" monikers (does anyone still recommend bike stuff based on how Xtreme it is?). For real, this is exciting stuff. I'm shtill vaiting for ze huge groundswell of support needed to convince zose Germans zat a 135mm spaced dynohub is worth making...fat bike riders rise up and take your stance!

*your local can get these parts from Peter White Cycles and sell them to you for retail pricing, if you prefer. Because you aren't the kind of casual asshole who walks into the local shop expecting and demanding discounted everything.

my ___ is playing tricks on me

“With a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever. Always thinking that just behind some narrow door in all of his favorite bars, men in red woolen shirts are getting incredible kicks from things he’ll never know.” 

Hunter S. Thompson,  "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" 

 My knee is troubling me. Seem like I turned a certain corner on the trail of Life and now I have issues. MCL is a bitch, but it could be worse. Supposedly injuries to this ligament respond well without surgery, and this is a level 1 (self diagnosis is my doc) at most. It really feels like a pre-injury. There is a clicking sensation and a small but sharp pain with some motion, like when I catch my foot walking and it tugs my lower leg out. I seem to be doing this a lot lately, though I figure you probably don't notice the times when there is no instability to light up. Anyhow, I have begun icing and will look into getting a brace tomorrow- which is key, because we are thinking of lighting it up on a biggish cross bike ride (remember those?) Tuesday...

I hope this finds you well, or at least good looking.

the exact same thing

Words to the effect that there was the rolling and the leaning and the grinning cannot adequately convey the asskicking goodness of the getting off work early, the ritual suiting up, and the dirt riding. Pictures are unavailable, as I have broken my camera and my phone's ability to be a camera. Prolly because the overall joy of dirt riding is too much to be contained by either.

I demoed the full carbone full squish from the shop, and dang! it is a rocket. I love to hate mass produced throwaway bikes, and will not be purchasing one, but it is some fun. Throw your weight into the inside of a turn and feel the bike come around beneath you like you were the pivot around which the whole damn planet revolves. Do it again.

The only way to really pick up what I'm putting down is to try it for yourself. This is me telling you to go ride your bike. This is the Truth within you recognizing the Truth through a computer screen, darkly. GO!