You could do right. In passing the heavily signed and guarded Happy Trails yesterday I noticed crews with chainsaws mowing wides swaths. I'm thinking the horsey folks are chomping at the bits to turn that area into some sweet sweet strip malls and hotels to service their shitty racetrack. Those trailblocking sign-sleds (built of 4x4 timber?!) are the tip of the iceberg. Goodbye, Fort Ord, you were nice.
This sight behind me, and having ridden from Carmel, I proceeded to proceed across the Ord. At the Caprock (a bar I no longer frequent since it has filled up with plastic benches and lowlifes) I was inspired. I dropped 50, climbed 49, dropped from the altar, climbed Shithouse, dropped GoAt, and snuck out the back. Resupply at the 7-11 (coffee, banana, snickers) and cross 68 for a lap in Toro.
Dropping the oh so mediocre Pipeline MTBers ONLY, I surprised a MTBer who said that my Surly Ogre "actually looks fun." We had a few words about bikes, but given the givens I'm reluctant to stand around and jaw about equipment. You ride what you ride and I'll ride what I ride and as long as we actually ride and not just talk about it, we'll likely have fun. Nuff said.
That said, surprise! I built the Ogre. The Fargo is benched. All parts swapped. The Ogre feels much snappier than the Fargo, but they are both tanks. I did install the Plug, so expect more knowledge as it accumulates. We can stand around and talk.
The King is dead.
Long live the King.
After Toro it was up Toro Rd as it parallels Laureles to drop the Grade into CV to home. Maybe 55miles?
Today saw a fast and furious Mt Charlie aboard the plastic and it was good.
Joy us. Joy for us. And I'm jumpin on it. Regular Arroyo Seco route, with a surprisingly expanded cast of characters. 4 adults, 5 kids on Day 1.
Friend J is a seasoned PRO, as evidenced by his rig:
Yep.
And we took on loan M____, #2 daughter of a friend/neighbor as well as our own pickneys. Remember that GT I expanded with the Xtracycle kit I had laying around from pre-Big Dummy days? Of course you do. I set it all up (back then, even) with the side-loader bits and the deck we've been using so that E____ could take his son L____ on a Spring Break camping trip that got rained out...well, they made it this time round:
This was L's first ever bike camping trip. He has been used to the camper and electric conveniences. I believe it was eye-opening for him. He and J have been bros (what can I say? They're from Cali.) since they could walk. J was suuuuuper stoked to finally have a friend his age along.
The loan of the Xtracycle platform necessitated some last minute bike swapping as I tried to distribute all our customary Arroyo Seco gear amongst my family's bikes. A rope swing is a bulkier item than you think. And there are floaties to consider. I ended up running the Fargo and pulling the BOB trailer. It worked OK. That bike is more suited to personal bikecamping than the gypsy wagon set-up required(?) for camping with kids, but we made it work with everyone hauling something. 3 days of backcountry won't haul itself.
Man, I sure do love turning that corner from the shitty, gangster-strewn lower level camping areas (seriously- spray painted XIV etc. on the rocks in the river, for crying out loud. Salinas needs to chillax.) and opening my eyes to the Ventana.
Flip the switch.
It was a stark contrast between the 2 youngest boys' experience levels. We all start where we are. Hopefully the hook is set, and inspiration follows. There was some whining. There were tears.
E rallied on his 1st ever bike camping trip. Especially when taking into account his non-biking surfer ways. Loaded. On a cargo bike.
Day 1 was really evening 1 by the time all was said and done. Getting there and setting up camp were about all we accomplished. Fire ban= s'mores over the twig burning stove.
After
"sleeping" on my double coach platform (yes, I even pulled out the
sleeping bag) I eventually washed up in Grand Junction at 10:10AM.
My
bike was extensively disassembled, so I puttered about on the platform
for quite a while, putting the bike together and listening to the Amtrak
employee tell me stuff about Freedom and the dangers of heat exposure
in the backcountry.
By 11, I was no disassembled and ready to hit it. My 1st stop was the nearby bike shop for a Latitude40 topo map of GJ and Fruita. After some lunch at Main St Bagels I rolled West on 340, heading for Fruita. I had filled only my 3 36oz water bottles and 1 100oz bladder, thinking to save weight/effort. When I reached Over The Edge Sports (the shop to patronize in Fruita) I axed those guys for pointers and filled all 4 100oz bladders. It was nice to meet you, Greg. It's still a new experience for me to meet the live humans behind computer screens.
By the time I reached Mary's Loop, gateway to the Kokopelli, it was hot.
Hott.
Hottt.
At a certain point along Mary's it was no longer fun. I skipped Steve's. Hottt, loaded heavy and tired is no way to flirt with the edge. At a later point, on Troy Built, it became hateful. Usually, I can keep a sense of humor whilst suffering. I went well past that point. I began to hate. I hated myself for committing to such a stupid plan, and more for not being smarter about it (like I'd "planned") by riding in the cooler hours. I hated Troy Rarik for putting such rotten lines in his loop. I hated you.
Truly, it is rare that I cannot laugh about how bad things get. I knew the jig might be up. I sweat a lot, and my electrolyte balance was out the window. Whose idea was heading from my constantly cool coastal kingdom up to 4,000' of 98* in the shade? What a jackass.
I stopped in the good shady wash, pulled out my pad, and napped for an hour or so. This was an attempt to bring my core temperature down. I was beginning to feel nauseous, and that's an early warning for heat exhaustion. I poured some over myself several times, but my water was all too warm to help much. It felt hot, not refreshing.
When no more napping was to be had, I got back at it. I immediately felt just as ill as before. I wanted to reach Rabbit Valley as close to 4pm as I could for reasons of my own, so I pushed instead of staying there in the shade as I should have done. I should have waited for cool.
That above is the cut-off down to Salt Creek to reach the Kokopelli as it branches from the Mary's/Lion's Loop. It is a bitch.
I dropped down and crossed the creek. I wet my socks, bandana, and hat. I was very bitter about any "unnecessary" elevation gain. I could see climbing up that fin was gratuitous, but I knew no other route. After following the train tracks for a bit, the trail turned up. I got off. I began to push. It suuuucked. I settled into a routine of pushing the laden bike an arm's length away and climbing up to it. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. On the (frequent) occasions that a (surprisingly small) rock stopped my wheel, I felt like crying. It was a total emotional breakdown. I have never felt so broken.
I reached Rabbit Valley, and my camp site, as the sun dropped below the horizon. I was surprised to have cell reception. I texted several folks with my dejection- I was cramping and sad. I knew I should sleep on it, but I felt like abandoning. It would have been easy to hitch to Moab as that campground is only a mile at most from I70. Eventually, I rallied and got up from my prone position on the table top to heat water and make tea and dinner. Then I slept.
Feels just like yesterday. That is a picture of the Fargo's front end, as it stands. What you are seeing is the test ride, which verified the Minimalist rack configuration viz light position and 8 beer minimum capacity. Those beers are now resting behind that one log along that trail, so the focus is really on the light. It is that Supernova E3 (remember? the dynamo-powered 800lumens?) and it works grrrreat. I'm not certain the placement is optimal, but it's the best I've figured out so far. The lighting quizality is top notch, though, and that's what counts.
This is gearing up to the ill-advised train trip/Kokpelli ride next week. I wisht I could take a squishier bike, but this is the set-up that works given the hauling and (more) lighting needs. This trip will be taking place in the dark of the New Moon (you can't force me into your categories!) and during the hottest month of the year, so I'll ride a bunch of night hours...
If you need bike lighting, the E3 is totally bad ass. And it never runs out of battery! It's available through your LBS (QBP carries them) and, as of now (sadly too late for this trip), so is the Plug- Supernova's top cap USB charger. That's some sweet technology.
Today was the 1st longer ride since my shoulder Went Bad. I got a trick collar bone. It felt pretty OK riding up and over the hill for some EZ version of the dirt commute. As easy as that can be, which still means a bunch of on the bars dropping via bumpy singletrack in the woods.
Shoulder feels workable, ass is silly. I got this golfball sized lump of cramp that is killing me. When I straighten my leg after being seated, it clamps down like you wouldn't credit. I been using a soft-ball for working glutes, stretching my hamstrings (trying), foam rolling IT band, point working vastus lateralis, and the insertion of biceps femoris along the fibular collateral ligament...and it won't quit. This ass cramp is the pits.
See the doc tomorrow for the 1st follow-up. I will get a PT prescription and initiate bionification sequence. In, like, 3 weeks I'll be so yoked.
Enough woe is me. This day saw me aboard the Salsa Fargo (those big puffy tires on the NeckRomancer are slow and expensive- I don't wanna run them for distance on the street is the upshot) for some reintroduction to actual riding. Not that drive to the trail head and lap it up stuff, I'm talking door-to-door. Picked up YasonYonson and _ean in Cside(!) and rolled a nice loop through the East Garrison sections.
All I got for you picture-wise are these shots of a downed Monterey Pine along some singletrack.
With the crosscut saw looming large in my thoughts, I find myself looking at this scary tangle of limbs with a fresh perspective. The downed tree's top is resting on another Monterey Pine's limbs and a small Coastal Live Oak, with the root-ball resting on the ground.
I look at the middle section and see (in the lit portion, the crack left of the branch sticking up) the different compressions and tensions in this particular snag. The 5 kinds of Bind are as follows: top bind, bottom bind, side bind, end bind, and no bind?
Given my current (absolute beginner) status, all I will do is bring the pull saw over and lop the pointy limbs interfering with easily scooting underneath. This much floating log requires more equipment than I possess. It is fun to think about, though.
After all this riding around on the Salsa Fargo, I can say: "Damn it feels good to get back on my custoptimized Black Cat cyclocross bicycle."
That thing is quick, where the Fargo is cumbersome. It is jumpy where the Fargo is sluggish. It is light where the Fargo is heavy. I notice I wish the Salsa Woodchipper bars had a little more bottom. (If only they were just hella flared Nitto Noodles, I'd be so happy.) I notice the front end will get a shimmy, both loaded and un-. People forget. Forget they're hiding. Now don't get the wrong idea- the Fargo is a fine bike, and it will serve it's purpose well. It is nice to spread the riding around so there's more of it to Love.
Anyhow, riding bikes is fun. I been keeping up with the foam rollering and boy howdy! is it making some nice differences. My legs/hips/back feel much better. For real. You should do it.
Also: In my current neck of the woods, a log across the trail with room to ride beneath is a "trail feature". Once it rots or slips down further, it will become a "trail blockage" and I will remove it. For now, I relish it for it's challenge and interest, and though it beats me every time it is part of the fun.
In which our merry band continues on the Birfday Tour 2010. Day 2:
Woke up quick. The sun is a long time getting down in the valley where we'd camped, but the change in light was enough to bring me around. Thankfully, though it was chilly and some middling dew had visited, there was no fog.
I like to have my morning constitutional 1st thing, so it was off into the underbrush for me, right away. Then I took creepy pictures of everone's sleeping set-ups. For future reference.
The Skipper: I've had passing interest in bivy set ups. Looking at how wet C____ seems to be, my interest is passed. I'd sooner use a tarp in any one of several configurations.
N___ and K____. Peacefully slumbering unawares. Bet y'all feel different, now.
Travelling light really pays off. KB was extra crabby upon the early wake up. If I had not been gonna be out for the 2nd night alone, I'd have skipped the weight of a tent my ownself. But sleeping in the woods alone is too scary for me to go tentless if I have a choice.
I'm chicken.
Folks got up and at it well. We had a lot of ground to cover that day. Much of it on the uphill.
I was able to cook on the fire, both the previous evening's dinner and this breakfast. You know how that pleases me.
There was a lot of overlap in people's coffee set ups. This worked both for and against me. I contributed grounds to the general fund, and this earned me several cups with no effort on my part...but ended with someone packing my grounds away with their own and leaving me (gah!) without coffee on my 3rd Day. You know how that affects me. I was not to know this until I'd set up my little ritualized outdoor kitchen the following morning. It took several (increasingly) frantic searches of (all) my gear before this really sunk into my dim bulb. I got angry then.
Back on the road.
Back on the climb.
Big country. Clowns to the left of me.
Looking at the road bed dead ahead. See it? Indians Road is like that all day.
No pictures from Hanging Valley. It's not spectacular and I was going way too fast to trifle with documentation. They would have been blurry photos, what with all that speed.
You're looking at me, I'm looking at you.
Around the corner and down to the water again.
Look! People's touring bikes!
N___. He's a freeborn man. His home is on his back. He knows ever inch of highway, ever foot of backroad, ever mile of singletrack. I tried to convince N___ that he'd have more fun stashing the trailer near the campsite and retrieving it later so he could ride unencumbered by gear he no longer needed, but he wouldn't crack.
The Skipper*. Notice how his bag of HQ is gone? That thing must have weighed pounds. All of his "achievements" are now void because he opted to stash his bag near the campsite to be retrieved later. Asterisk for you.
The incredible lightness of J__. What the?! Did T___ carry all your stuff? I mean, aside from my pillow and my notebook, I had only essentials. I even left the rope swang and BB guns at home.
K____. Seemingly demure, yet filled with __________s.
KB. Now check the suicide front shifter.
Picnic lunch at Indians Campground proper.
Then miles of pedaling through the thankfully mild Fort Hunter Ligget.
Gratuitous water crossing action shots.
SPLASH! POW!! SOckO!
More miles. Picture rolling oaks. Picture oddly burned patches.
Brief stops at the turns.
Miles and miles of this. Kind of hot miles.
We're headed for the back side of that, at roughly the same elevation as the far light blue peak. Now put your head back down and pedal ragged circles, alone.
Penultimately, we passed out of the military's joint (the checkpoint was unmanned for the 1st time in my experience) and began to climb up into some cool continuously contoured climbs. I abandoned my party when it became clear none of them had any more beers in their gears, and thus it was not a party but a loose grouping holding me down. I totally soloed that climb.
That's the only photo I got of that. There are 2 points of false hope on that climb- but I know them for what they are now, and so these days they just encourage me.
The top. I had stashed the cooler and bag of snacks in semi-hiding when I dropped the racevan off, on Friday night. They were fairly easy to spot, because it was dark and cold and there may have been monsters around when I was there by myself in the dark cold. And also because there really is no good cover at that point. Anyhow, the USFS had found them and left them along with a nice note requesting we remove all our party trash. Excellent. I have to trust that the majority of folks who make it to places like that are cool enough that they will not wreck our stashes. It's worked so far.
Beers were so cold they hurt your hand. And, plus K____ was handing them up before people could put a foot down.
Solid.
All too soon it was time for the little doggies to get along. Sun don't wait.
They had to get down the pave, as there was not enough day left for them to attempt the planned (Ha! plan.) trail. There's still 5ish miles of no joke fire road from that saddle to even reach the trail head. The racevan awaited them at the base for to take them back home, while I would stay the night on the ridge and ride back the following day.
My plan (Ha! plan.) had been to ride part way down a technical trail, all things working out, and camp at one of the sweet spots. I had been rethinking that one from the start of the day's climb. At this point there was no question of doing that given the light, even if I had still wanted to do it. Honestly, it would have sucked. I could have gotten badly hurt riding that gnarly trail loaded (even with fresh legs), and with no buddy around it would have been foolish in the extreme. I'm not smart but I am dumb, so I decided to find a spot a little ways up the dirt road and hunker down for the night in the trees. By the time full dark had fallen I was relatively comfortable on a small rise, tucked in for the night. I hung my food bag from the center pole, so as to discourage mice from chewing their way into the tent/bag, and went to sleep.
