betrayed by your accent and manners

Street bikes in the dirt are a Good Time.

I had some things to say, but I forgot what they were. I have been meaning to say THANK YOU to whoever(s) did the extensive Poison Oak clearing on those several trails. It doesn't take much to knock that stuff back, as it's really fragile at the joints and you can use a switch no bigger than your finger. What it does take is the willingness, and that's both uncommon and much appreciated. So, THANKS, mystery trail steward!!!

There remain several logs along various sections, and of course, (always) more Poison Oak everywhere. Who wants to get loaded and do unpaid manual labor in the woods?


I'm feeling pretty these days. I've gotten bored with posting what feels like the same old ride a trail/drink a beer account- never boring doing it, just writing what feels like the same story- which means this spot is quiet. I mentioned before that I am posting some things at the Drunk Cyclist page, so if you are inclined check that out. Also, instagram has taken over documenting radness.

We just did a prep tour for the upcoming Condor (which kicks off Monday), and it was super fun. I had an issue with what I thought was a slow leak. I kept losing pressure, but try as I did (several times) I could not find a pinhole. Well, I had my suspicions, and when I got home I removed the tyre.



Yes, I retired that.

The issue was that both sidewalls were pulling away from the bead! The tyre wasn't losing air, it was expanding with the tear. Increasing volume equals decreasing pressure...



And when it drop, you got to feel how much you was doing wrong. I reckon that is a opportunity to realize how to do Right.

Don't take things so seriously. It's just riding bikes.

tell-tale evidence of criminal activity

Get on your bicycle, whatever type it is, and pedal it away from your home. Ride it along (some streets most likely) to get where you need to be at. No cars need be involved.




To me, I will take the dirtiest way every time when I have the time. It's just much easier on your constitution.


Ride choice goes in cycles, as things will. It is easy to ride the same old route. That's where I been lately. Even if I decide ahead of time to do Y, by the time I realize I'm committed, I've let my unconscious make my turns for me and I am riding X again. It's not a complaint- that route is so ingrained because it's a good one.

On the other hand, Variety is spicy and I like that.

yo

Anybody out there thinking about the Arizona Single Speed "championships"? Saturday February 7th is race day.

(hyperlink: SINGLE SPEED ARIZONA)

Yes, I don't live there. But word on the street is that the course is going to be real good...and what else are you gonna do in February that involves bicycles? I realize this is not the Full Snow Moon (that'd be the 3rd, which is the Tuesday before) and that is a black mark, granted.

I am thinking about riding my SS  thru Big Sur to SLO and taking the train over to Tucson. That way, I can (not drive) have a nice time the whole time. Maybe get some hott full moon type action whilst riding down the coast...take the train on Wednesday, arrive Thursday, and "win the race" on Saturday. In it to win it. Looks like around $200 round-trip...

I talked to So and So about going, and he was unenthused. I understand. Seems like the SSWC has become...well, less a gathering of people who enjoy single speeds and partying and more a gathering of people who enjoy gatherings of people who enjoy single speeds and partying. You know? But, while I can see that side of it, I can also see the side of it whereby new trails are ridden and new people are well met...fuck a bunch of costumery.

Anyhow, I'm thinking about it. Who's in?

scientists, crooks, and laymen

In a massive ride scene shakeup this week, several comings and goings engender a flurry of local bike activity. Comments have been made, pedals turned, whiskey drunk.

Old School Part time Local YOc__ showed up for a few rounds of sleepless weekend ride/work/ride/work cycles. Mr. P represents the porridge that's just right though that doesn't represent him at all at all...it's just that he's the middling bridge, neither old nor new and here all week. Then the FNG for this series, #bearglove, who stumble_ucked his way into the Night Ride intro(s) that'll ruin you for anything else.

It's funny/peculiar because we have been hitting the local Goods so hard we are at risk of too much fun, and it's because the motivation is so present. You know how it is when you can ride it whenever.



It will always be there.






You might as well stay in and watch that good and important television show, because- fuck it, there's all these opportunities just lining up to be took. Save the effort for a really perfect ride, and keep holding down your place on the couch. You got time.

Until you don't. I mean, sure, someday you'll die (wait- if I eat right and live in America, that's optional these days, right? right? amiright?) but that's not even in the picture. You might move away, though, from your good scene and easily accessible, friendly trails staffed by willing and known trail stewards and trusty ride guides. You might move away, and realize you miss the Goods. You might move away and realize you missed the Goods! Heading down to that one trail, or rolling up to the twisty stuff you heard tell of, and meant to...but didn't...yep, all those opportunities just will not wait.



It will always be there.



It will. But you can still miss it. Especially if you don't motivate to do it. So. With YOc___ back and willing (stoked, even) and Mr. P back and willing (like, really) and #bearglove lining up to knock em down before he no longer has these opportunities...well, I am the one who really benefits.



It will always be there. Go and get it.

guides you through uncomfortable questions...

I don't need to know everything. Neither do I want. Secret stuff stays secret if folks don't say anything about it. So the minute you start running your mouth about riding ____ ______, is exactly the minute I regret* ever having said boo. What's the first rule of any club?




Hanging out with 9 year olds has certain advantages. They are generally down for a Good Time, and I respect that. We did some "stealth" camping last week which I am sure blew up our spot- the close one- for good. The poor old gal walking her fancy dog was surprised to see hobos invading her neck of the woods, is all I'm saying. Lesson (finally?) learned- time for a new and more tucked away spot.

That picture above is the neighborhood peloton rolling deep down HWY1 to Point Lobos (where they disallow bikes on the trails, sadly...though the roads are pretty mellow it being a state park and all. And where we need to really suss out the legitimate camping opportunities really and for real) like a gaggle of tentative baby ducks. We had a nice time.



The ride is about 1/3 dirt, too. And of course, right next to the Pacific if you are into that.



I have collected some odd bits and fashioned them into a 24" rough stuff roadish bike for J. Super jerry rigged Schwinn Sprint (c.1980?), so a tank fo sho, but and hecka sweet, He rallied it down the loose seaside singletrack. 24"x1.75...it is stable as hell. He's feeling the drops out. So far so good.



Bikes. Bike rides.

Also, I finally got J____ S____, long time shop supporter, to come out and see what his AWOL can do...he got his eyes opened, and so did I as to the magicality of getting around by bike. You forget, being immersed in it, that biking for transportation and adventure are the same. He was so blown away that he's lived on the Monterey Peninsula (a real scenic place) for 20someodd years and had no idea about the routes we took, nor the ease with which we took them (no cars on trails and fireroads...).



And I keep listening to this:




because it's good.













*Regrets? I've had a few. I wished I'd a stuck to the old ways and never said anything out loud. All communication about the off-piste is handled with waggled eyebrows and jerks of the head. Then nobody is the wiser that there even is a secret much less, wonders what it might be...

Anyhow, my motto has become: I might show you, but I'll never tell you.

you are your own master

Hit me.




Going, going, gone. Rolling around this peninsula doing hood rat stuff. Looking for a full moon, finding only fog. Oh sure, it's back lit so there is a strange illumination to be had, but it's juuuust enough to sit in the woods and drink a beer and listen to the sounds. It's not as good as it could be, though what ever is? You appreciate what is there to be appreciated and the contrast gives value to the truly sublime moments. And, plus if you aren't out there looking for them those moments will remain in the shadows anyhow. We only get 12 cracks a year at this full moon stuff so make them count.

Mr. P is living la vida loca these days and reports that the terrain everyplace is not conducive to the full moon experience (viz. letting the front end ride). That is, sadly, a true statement. I forget that not everyplace has white sand trails extending out into scrubby (friendly, bumpering) chaparral. Insert sad trombone here.

Also, if you forget you're riding a fixed gear and try to coast, don't worry. Your bike will remind you what's really going on.

computer malfunction

It has been said that it's not the bike it's the rider. Recognizing the difference in ride quality from bike to bike (or in wheel size, or differences in componentry, or etc) is self evident. I have heard that there be "horses for courses" from one side of the mouth, while "run what you brung" drips out the other. Certain bicycle goods companies (almost all of them) will tell you that new is improved.



I can sweat the small things with the worst of them, but I prefer to not. The best bike? The one bike to have? Undeniably better than all the others?


that can is well seasoned

The one you are actually riding.

Today I rolled around on my rad townie (shitty is in the eye of the beholder). I can come up with any # of things to make this bike better. Especially when I am distracting myself from the hot and sweaty climb. None of those upgrades make any difference if they are unridden.





Get in the saddle for some time away from ____(s). Away is where it is at. It is the ride.

enjoy it before it's over

Some sleep in the dirt therapy is just the thing. Secret Boys style.



Want the treatment? Get out there and set up your fancy tarp while it is still light. Swang on the rope. Explore some new bits of woods. Wait for sunset. Ride around doing whatever it is you do. Eat take-out burritos in the dark, and wish for a candle lantern (which is something you haven't thought about since Boy Scouts). Talk amongst yourselves. Awaken several times in the night and lay there, listening to the soft rustling of the wood rats amongst the beer cans hidden in the tree. Think about various configurations of material in an attempt to maximize fun space. Relish being out in the woodsy night time.



Check out morning in the woods. Gaktronic likes to sleep on the platform, and he really likes having the roof. It spit a little the other night while I was out solo (and shelterless), so I brought the tarp along this go round. I am super happy with it.



D and I slept on the ground. 



Fun with Princess Bride ad libbing. The boys are well versed in that film.



What you do not see is me. I found a set of insulated coveralls. Perfect for lurking incognito.




Spontaneous mild derbying...I was so proud.




"Make your camp face."



May you experience aero tucks and kindly bears.

perfect for naptime

Same old same old. Old.



I got to get out of town and ride something other than the same trails.

You can keep an interest by keeping a hand in via trail maintenance. Kind of. I, for one, ain't skeered (remember all that No Fear bullshit in the 90s? all your current "styles" are tired rehashes of dumb trends from the past. "2nd place is the 1st loser" et al.) of the poison oak and know that it is vulnerable to strikes at the joins...even light taps with whatever switchy branch is lying about will take off shoots. Saws are more interesting, and I've taken to carrying the pull saw on the commute. "My" trails are immaculate?

FWIW, that's the oooooold SS, the Soulcraft from 2001 all fixed up so there's no coasting and the head tube length is accommodated using a road stem from Hunter Cycles shimmed with a Coors can to fit the 25.4mm MTB bar. It works. A fellow has to get his kicks when and how.

ride with me or get rode on

How is Spring treating you? Do you find yourself riding singletrack on this bike and then on that bike...2 wheel drifting, pushing duff, releasing the brake and accelerating with gravity like you were shot from a cannon?



Then you're doing it right. Game don't wait.

Do the "NO BIKES" signs stay up? Or do they just disappear? Are your chainstays the perfect shortness for snappy come arounds? Can you carry the load? Legs feeling froggy? You been using the foam roller?  Your beers staying cold under some log(s) and smelling like the forest floor?

Commuting to work on your bike? Or pissed off in traffic?

I don't buy dreams, I sell em. 

other entities

Holidays and holy dazes. My brother, whom I used to describe as "a rowdier and funnier me, only with no regard for limits", sent me a text containing the words: st paul & broken bones. Upon searching, I found this...




and it was surprising. It's a whole lot of soul coming out of that nerdy white boy! That kind of dichotomy is extra pleasing.



It's like those times when you're suffering all by your lonesome at the back of the field after 40 miles or so of featureless dirt road and one or several of the dirty yahoos who've been ripping your legs off all day/week drift back to you and place a steadying hand on your back.

Close your eyes and give yourself over to the creepy sensation of a ghostly palm on your hip. Let that spiritual momentum be transmitted to you, like a gassy tailwind helping you along.

feverish activity

Guess who's all thumbs and isn't going bike camping in Coe next week. Yes, my life is not my own, and my superiors have informed me that that plan is unworkable. Which is tough, because (well, I wanted to go play) I am trying to finalize my set-ups for this upcoming tour. 6 days on the road ain't going to suck itself. There are substantial dirt sections, and folks in recent years have been taking their mountain bikes, so I'm thinking I'll revive the success of the Surly Ogre with the 29+ front (dyno)wheel for distance and comfort. It worked well on the Death Valley Ramble. Lots of load capacity and little to go wrong. I need that. I also lik the flatform pedals for the long hauls. It is nice to have the freedom to move around a bunch and I believe there will be the walking next to the bike for extended periods as well.




 Even after all this extensive riding around to and from and after work, I am not ready for this. Which is as ready as I'll ever be. When we form like Voltron, I will be the tail end bringing up the back.

This week I will be dehydrating hummus and baking kale chips, rolling around on foam cylinders, pulling out the myriad tarps to find the usablest one, making lists, and purchasing rations. It's a process. You got to find what strikes the best balance, if it works for you then it is undeniable.

strange animals you never saw

Days off are for fun. Relax in the woods with some clippers and a pull-saw for 4 hours and what a you get? Trails clear of logs (the smaller ones, anyhow. There are a few still down that will require some real sawyering...under cover of darkness), free from eye-poking limbs, and NO POISON OAK within arms reach of the singletracks. Those are some results.

I been demoing a full squish (full carbon?!) with the 1x11 for the past week. While the Magura disc brakes squeal like they're a little overweight and their log book is way behind, I am enjoying the shit out of the experience. That 1x11 business...that is all right. No problems climbing the sustained, the steep, or the punchy. Lots of giddy.

The bloom is on over here, and I'm thinking folks going bike touring 2 weeks from now are gonna be missing the wildflowers, which will be past. Seems like a couple days in Coe are just the ticket for some climby flower viewing...who's got 2 thumbs and is off next Monday and Tuesday?

another showdown scene

Out of everbody invited, only me and Adolph Herman Joseph Coors showed up for the Full sandWormsofarrakis Moon. We toured from 10th street liquors ("coldest beer in town") on out to the tower by the boarded up military shack the Sleaze Otter ran through that one time. I'd plugged the light in, and left it at home and my blinkie was blinked out, so all in black makes it a be safer offa the roads evening anyways. A homeless dude told me to get a light on the path out of town. The other tower is full of bees again, like it is seasonally. And that damned skunk was tail-up on the trail as he will be sometimes, at the intersection after the poison-oaked access. But he moved when I told him to beat it. For once.



All strapped up Saturday night.




Well, I wanted a close-up view of one of the old DANGER! ordinance signs. I love them, with the skull and crossbones they're waaay more effective than just strong wording.



Swapping the framebag around from bike to bike. Loaded with 10.L of water, it is some heavy load to push. It's OK, though. Still rallyable.  It's not as though it weren't fun or nothin.

Spring is sprung over here, for sure. Waking up was delight; the 1st of many warm and sunny mornings, I hope. Bird choruses and good green smells.






I put the B17 back on the bike, and my pants didn't have any holes in them when I got home this morning.

a notorious creampuff

Here are some things:

 




Your "religion" is actually a Cargo Cult. Stings, don't it. If it makes you feel any better, you can send me your $15 and I'll tell you what to think and believe, take some of the pressure off. Same diff, only I will be a benevolent despot. I promise.

So...a big (BIG!) upcoming bikecamping expedition has me examining all of my gear selection. What you know about this?

Aw yeah. That fairing sock? in a flesh tone? with a integrated 6pack cooler? and some short shorts? You know, to get the mostest out of the aero-legs. It could be the next big thing.

Could be. Now, I'll hand you a list: Aptos Creek fireroad, Buzzard Lagoon, Highland Way, Summit Rd, Morill Rd, Wright's Station Rd, some stuff I can't categorize, Aldercroft Heights Rd, Old Santa Cruz Highway, Mtn Charlie Rd (in with a whisper), Glenwood Dr, Granite Creek Rd, Branciforte Dr, Mountain View Rd, Laurel Glen Rd, Soquel San Jose Rd, Olive Springs Rd, Aptos Creek fireroad.

Cross bikes. I sit here with recovery legs. It got so tough up Olive Springs with the cramping. I'd shift around on my saddle, trying to maneuver my pelvis into different alignments so as to spread the over-work over a wider range, which sort-of worked; the cramps would lessen, and then shift themselves over to a different group of muscles. No lie, I could walk my cramps around. Ridiculous. It got to the point where I was only actively engaging muscles to kick away from myself as everything else musclewise was roached. Then I had to get off and walk up the darkening fireroad. Horrible and glorious. I blame myself, since it is revealed that my hot button is being called "soft". Seriously, it's like taunting a caged animal




my response is Pavlovian. I first declined to add the heinously steep Olive Springs to the end of the ride, was accused of "getting soft", and before I knew what had happened I'd agreed to the extra like a reflex bypassing my brain. Dumb.

I have some work to do to be ready for the stern mileage headed our way. And since I'm heading in a new fashion direction for this outing, I have some outfits to plan. If you see any discount gold rope chains, let me know. I'm a get my shit together, boy.

the distinctive mark of great classic style

I am recognized at the liquor store round the corner from the jay oh bee. They treat me with all the courtesy required by a humble man who doesn't drive a great big Cadillac and is, in fact, just riding a couple blocks over to pop a quiet top in the graveyard...I ain't special. I shut up and finish my drink. Pedal.

I am known at various points along related yet subtly ever-varied spots on the routes from this town to it's outlying dark, tree-lined or open maritime chaparral singletracks. It's only the Monterey Pines, the coastal live oaks, the Hooker's manzanita, the ceanothus, and the poison oak, but beggars cannot be choosers. Except in the sense that I have chosen these spots, and the skunks, the raccoons, and all the different owls who also choose them are my boon companions on a dark night. I flatter myself that my route is hard and my pace is high, but the reality is that I am working with boozy vision, chasing low-mid range bike lights down sandy, crumbly singletracks. Pedal.

I am accepted by the dark. Granted admittance, given a pass, have options laid out for me. I toast the lurid glow of Monterey and walk a few steps to the other side of the ridge to toast the garish lights of Salinas. I had left a pocket bottle of Old Grandad under the tree on that now-closed top section of 49, but last time around, there it was- emptied and tossed in the bushes. That treatment causes me to think it was some do-gooder pissing off trail who saved me from myself. That's just a waste, and I cannot be saved from the depravity sunk deep in my bones. Look at it: gently swaying along a trail miles from nowhere...it's absolute moral decay. Pedal.

So this next bottle, I hid it better. And, of course, some jackass drank the tallboy from the Caprock (remember before folks knew about it, and it was a regular bar?) and did not replace it. I figured that would be the case, and slithered on over to the new stairs. There's some beers there, and the masses don't know where it lies. Pedal.

I'd fixed the fixed gear. Tightened the BB, and reversed the chainring, so the drive faces are somewhat fresh. Good enough to get me further down the trails until I order actual new replacement bits. Home to workplace in the unseasonably warm sunlight, job interlude, then leave work thru Cside(!) with a little Frog Pond surprise singletrack and out and up So Boundary for a larger loop, pedal pedal pedal, don't stop. Except to piss in the street. Pedal.

It is a Good Feeling. Trails, trails, trails. Legs, lungs, no brain.

scientists and monsters

"Today is the day you perpetrators stop playing." People turn away from the Truth that Suga Free spits on account of it's uncomfortable. It's all True, though, and he says it with so much humor and flow. Some say attitude is a choice. If you enjoy getting your ears chewed off, you should check out Pimps Up Hos Down.

People who don't (I get it) should, at minimum, avoid buying used downhill bikes. You know those grunions don't take care of they shit.

then light your torches and go!

 This internet, jeez. It is winter here, and for many of us that means decreased ass kicking in the out of doors. Kick ass adventures are some celebratory shit, maing! That's where you get your Good Feelings from. That is not to be taken lightly. I'm not talking about some SAD bullshit, either, I'm talking about the source of some postive, creationary, eff you en.

When folks are not having some type of Good Feelings on a regular basis, they begin to feel mean. And lowdown. They begin some rants on the internet? Somebody might be upset...for instance, that carbon is so heavily used in the bike industry on account of they feel it is a creaky, breakable and expensive sleight of hand. Prolly mostly that it is so damned expensive. Or, maybe mostly that they weigh nearly 200lbs and ride the shit out of their stuff (daily) rather than polish it and wait for the fucking Saturday ride to race their Cat 5 buddies to the 1.5 hour mark, only to replace it next year with the version 2.0 because if it's new, it's better, right? Clearly.

Perhaps it's these new guys, the ones all fired up about fat bikes, that are the next bogeymen. I hate the hipster infusion of (recent everything) "colour ways" and their co-option of classic men's fashion into a stale, jokey uniform of moustaches and whatever the hell they call that haircut from the 1920s...but a fixed gear bicycle is a joy forever and classic men's wear is classic because it works. Those are stone cold facts. Hey, a fat bike is just a fun time, it's not the fair target for hating the new school. I remember when.

Or, somebody might feel like giant bike company A,B, or C has instigated the complete ruination of cycling via _____________. A legitimate concern, I'll grant you. Particularly in this era of "flagship" and "elite" brand-only stores. The soul can leak out thru that hole real easy, but.

All a these customers coming in to the shop with their me-too and their give-me-a-deal might find their way to becoming in love with cycling for the simple sake of pedaling along on a kick ass adventure with whatever gear(s) on whatever surface. They might. The benefit of the doubt could usefully be given at first glance, on a temporary basis, on a case-by-case tip. It wouldn't hurt. And if they don't? fuck 'em. Sell homeboy that geegaw with a smile.

Look. Nobody likes to have their scene turned out. To see this bastion of hardness softened up and divided. There was a recent interview in Dirt Rag with Missy Giove (remember?) that had a relevant bit about having the mtb race scene invaded by athaletes. People were bummed that genetic freaks had come calling to their fun thing and turned it into something....mmm...less pure. Folks had been attending the mtb county fair because they loved it and it was it's own reward, and then the money and the Circus had come to town, and it was clowns to the back of the train.

None of that can make actually riding any less rad than it ever was. Let the fools and their shysters have each other. We have bikes. To the limited and self-selected audience reading these words: If you are not riding, you are blowing it. I personally don't see how that happens, as the riding is required or I start getting mean and lowdown my ownself, but I see that it does, so. Shut up and ride.

 Maybe take a ride to your local graveyard and drink a beer near a mausoleum. It's quiet. Well, it might be on your way home from work.





And, as regards the recent (and welcome!) wet weather, I remounted the fendered and fixed Schwinn Le Tour; an old and trusted friend. Some 32s and a hella raked fork swing me to and from my work and garden path type trail use. And, yes, that fender line is tight.

 None of my experience with technical rainwear has been positive, so I'll let y'all in on a secret you won't like: Carradice riding poncho and Filson tincloth chaps:

Well, I said you wouldn't like it. Yes it's heavy, yes it suffers if there's crazy winds or one is descending a col whilst being chased down by the peloton, and yes it actually keeps you dry and comfortable. I don't use this combo on short "training" rides, I use it for a day(s) on the bike. For short stuff that sees a warm shower and dry bed soon, I'll either use more aero "normal" gear or just trust in wool to keep me warm while wet. For long stuff, or camping, you can't be too dry or comfortable. I know you will, but...don't kid yourself.

the memory still lingers

My chainring is in the process of getting roached. I can feel it with each pedal stroke. It is a creak, a shimmy, and a wiggle. The chain is newish, clean, lubed, and taut. The BB is sound. The cranks- the cranks have their issues, but they are OG XTR c.1995 and as such as are in it for the long haul. (the threads are stripped, and I can't remove them without a gear puller, which I don't have) I mention these things because they are relevant and on my mind as I climb; especially as the fixed gear is usually refreshingly silent.

Pave/dirt commute the fun way. After dark, a little attitude adjustment, and quiet back road hills over to 68. I like the night, so if it's feasible, I leave the headlight off; just a tiny white blinky on the bars (keep some contingency lights on the townie(s) to be safe and keep the cops away, yeah?). Solo on the road, the red blinky stays on- it doesn't affect my vision, and it's safety 1st.

The commuter traffic on 68 is heavy. I turn on my helmet-mounted headlight (the slightly too heavy for helmet use Supernova Airstream claiming 260 lumens...I need to pin those (local) Light&Motion clowns down about a night ride test ride party) for increased visibility to the cars. I spin a complaining 46x18 along the highway. I watch for debris on the shoulder. I listen to West Coast rap like it ain't no thing, but only in my right ear so I can hear what's going on traffic-wise. I am (again. always) thankful to be wearing a cycling cap- the visor is a must to keep the oncoming headlights from blinding me.

I check behind me and bank across the lanes into the shopping mall with the 7-11 there as 218 intersects. The fixed gear is smooooooooth and fluid, creak be damned. I am watchful in there, as the cars are not. It is a nice way to cut the light, and I pop out onto 218 with much less traffic. At the right to climb up General Jim Moore, the traffic level drops again, significantly. That's what I'm talking about. An easy series of rollers ahead, my mind tries to play tricks on me with the suggestive option to take the right and climb S Boundary (it's closed to cars! you can drop 50 the swoopy way!) but I am wise to my ways and continue straight. At Eucalyptus, I turn off all lights and roll out to dirt.

I sit in the dark for a while. It is quiet.

Turning homeward, I take the easy way out and drop Cside(!). I still feel climby, so it is pave up the hill to one of several dirt options down the backside. At one point, I hop a fence. There is a beer stashed in the bole of that oak standing all by itself, and it is a nice spot to sit down.

35miles? The pedaling never stops.

it just seems like games

Rolling along the byways on the new route home, I found several pockets of the freshest air. Do you have those? I mostly ever come across them in the redwoods. Ozone so intense it's crazy. As though it were fake, artificial. I love that.

And, I came up on this boar so big that at first I mistook it for a bear! (all shoulders and crouchy movements, you know) That was a surprise.

And, there's this one bit of trail which was blocked maybe 8 years ago by a fallen Monterey Pine. Folks went around it, and eventually (years) the trail became very well established as going around it. But. I personally been actively looking forward to the time when it rotted clean away on account of how much speedy straightness of flow the trail carried into that diversion, which was that much more of a distraction and interruption to the trail because of it's situation. Well, it rotted through a month or 2 ago, and I moved it as soon as I saw the change. RErouted the trail along it's original flow, and damn glad to do so.

Some jackass went out of his way- into the (admittedly dormant, but still) poison oak- to replace the log section into the trail. This is a roughly 2'x5' piece of crumbly, bug-eaten pine. I chuckled, and hoisted it up again and really (I thought) sent it flying off trail, again into the poison oak. 3 days ago, it was back in the trail. 2 days ago, it was back off the trail, because I hiked it out and around and through the poison oak. Well, I wear knickers and tall socks. 1 day ago it was still off-trail, but I wonder how far dude is going to take this. It has been my experience that people are weird.