automatically converted

Straight out of 1979:



Don't kid yourself.

Apparently, the cure for what ails you is to load up a musette with 9 Hamm'ses and a quart of OJ to follow some ladies and their entourage up a fire road and onto some trails. Under a canopy of Redwoods, Bay Laurels, Madrones, and the like you might pop a top or several, slam the top 1/3 and fill with OJ to formulate a "Hammosa". You could share them with your fellows, pass around whatever you pass, and have a small (small) pinch from Christopher St. John's tube of wondrous materiel. That is, if riding loaded is to your taste. You know, on singletrack and such.

Or, not. As you like. Though it was pointed out to (not by) me that it takes a certain bent to ride the bikes and partay.



Monday (that's my Funday) saw a return to my monkish solo fixed road/off-road ramble. Inspired by the ant-like efficiency shown on the girls' birfday party ride, I brung the clippers and used my left hand to clear up a little of that bushy section under the tower. You know the part.





I stopped at Goodwill in Cside! and was sad these fine art pieces were for auction and not for grabs. You _uckers would be finding them in Velocaches for months. I was able to score a sweet bedroll:


Which was the perfect compliment to stopping on the bike path and taking pictures of hobo bikes:


This guy was sour to come back from the beer store and find me there stealing his bike's soul. I tried to mollify him by offering to erase the image, but he would not be assuaged and acted put upon and long-suffering.
"(sigh) No. You already took it. It's done."
I pointed out the fine technical aspects of his set-up and explained that I was/am genuinely enthused and we had us a conversation about living on bikes. It was worth it.

I didn't tell him I thought his white gas heater (contained in the big black bag on the trailer) was frivolous. Who am I to say?


Finally, it is prime mushroom season here on the Central Coast, so on the way home under the Monterey Pines I kept my eyes peeled...Granulated Slippery Jack ( Suillus granulatus) mushrooms IDed with the handy (pocket sized!) field guide titled All That the Rain Promises and More... and sauteed with onions, rosemary and oregano. Not the finest boletes available, but right there, fresh, and nowhere near unpleasant.

[those links are safe]


A full day.

And, plus there is the plan in place to spend this coming Saturday night riding trails under the Full Cold Moon from a hidden campsite at an undisclosed location nearby. If you are within the sound of my voice and you kick much ass, get at me.


I will bring the sweet bedroll, you bring the hobo trailer full up with beers.

speak when spoken

This has been stuck in my head since Berg posted the unexpected and killer version by Wayne the Train and Brian Setzer. Who would have put the steel guitar in there? Wow.



Now it can be stuck in yours.




I like this: rew10 is big in Japan, I guess. I like it a lot


Ahem. If you ride around town getting drinky and end up at (or begin) at Alfredo's you're pretty much guaranteed an interesting time. The lights are low, the jukebox is good, and if you purchase the 1st one, you can pour yourself further shots of Wild Turkey under the table from that bottle in your pocket. Watch out though, this will make Segovia's damn hard to get to.


Or, if you'd rather have something else jammed in your ear:


CA uber alles. Suck on winter, you.

you are one of the select few

Crashes? We don't need no steeeeenking crashes!



Residual effects include: soreness, stiffness, reduced capacity for critical thinking, increased desire for riding the bike(s), and the ability to gut out all the short steeps on your local mixed bag loop?

Yes. All that and more.

I like to use the time at the stoplight on top of the incline to stretch. I always have that time there. And, plus it beats waiting in the street with all the impatient cars.



Black shorts. Fish net bandaging. So PRO, all the ladies will notice.




For the sake of argument, let's say (hypothetically) that you were denied access to this one trail on account of ____________. Now, usually, you'd just shine that on, but sometimes _________are present, and that's a bust. What to do?

Well, that's what for which kickass alternatives are. Sparsely traficked roads are acceptable substitutes.



Who's kidding who? You'll end up on some singletrack if it's important to you. It might be that you head over to that one get-in, only to find the gates open like an invitation. You'll know in your heart that it isn't, but it will feel that way, and you will climb that whole section with no foot down. Doesn't that feel right?

The twisty piny trails are perfect right now. Even with the slippy oak leaves everwhere.

Noncycling people around here assume that I know everthing about everthing involving bikes on account of I appear interested. I've been getting all kinds of questions about the newly constructed bike path at HWY1/Carmel Valley Rd, which I've answered authoritatively without having a clue.

I remedied that on this ride, and found the tunnel under the CV Rd goes a who-knows-how-expensive 1/8 mile up Hatton Canyon to abruptly terminate.


The signs already have their patina of graffiti, so the money was well spent?


The tunnel under the CV Rd, which leads from the dead end to the Barnyard shopping center. That's a lot of dough for not much practical use. I guess the county had $x0,000 they needed to burn through or lose. At minimum, middle school kids can cross under the road and weasel around on Rio to get in the back way with little car interface. That's a good thing. And I can only hope the trail will be continued up the canyon towards the high school; which would give another/better alternative to climbing HWY1 if that's your bag.



So there's light at the end of the tunnel.

Sorry, I couldn't not do it.

I always know where you are

You might think it's crazy.



My brother and niece visited. We took them on a little bike camping trip...






T_____, the niece, flat out hated the ride out. It's (only) 3 miles to the shady trail to camp, but they are a hot, up and down 3 miles. Apparently, I forget that this little camping trip is more than most kids are prepared to get up off the couch and enjoy. It is hard work.



I forget that because I enjoy the hateful parts of a ride. Eh...it's a gift we share, you and I.




Turtle spotting. J saw 2.








I took my phone for a swim and it didn't work out well. If you've been trying to reach me with no success, that's why. Get at me via some computer based text.





That shot there? That is T_____ forgetting entirely the work it took to get to that point. Get it while you can.






Masks and snorkels continue to please.













Breakfast with the propane stove. No fires right now...













2 days worth of living by the water's edge. Floating, swanging, jumping, swimming, lounging, etc.


Loaded with camping gear for 7, the Big Dummy was...more awkwardly laden than ever before. Not at it's heaviest, but certainly at it's top-heaviest. Weird sensations of flex...






Everything (all of it) made it on board, but it required a little more thinkering than usual. Give thanks for long straps! The xtracycle platform (represented here by Surly's Big Dummy) continues to haul much ass on kickass adventures.


That is: bike left/ green drybag with one 2man tent, one 3man tent, and one 4man tent; bike right/ kitchen bag with 2burner propane stove, two propane bottles, fry pan, pot, coffee press, plates/bowls/cups/silverware, spatula(!), dishwashing tub,etc; on top/3 folding chairs, 1 folding stool (with the cooler bag underneath); on topper/ gray dry bag filled with sleeping bags for 7, and pads for 5 (some folks carried they own pads)...what you don't see up front is the panniers containing the (not much) left over food and various deflated float toys.

Help getting up the steep singletrack from campo to Indians Road was required.




I should mention: J rode the big boy 20" wheeled bike with hand brakes and gears! I set the gears to "easy" for him, but he worked the brakes all by his lonesome. And yes, that is a single speed cruiser with a loaded basket...D is a stud, and he has no idea. Perfect.


We took a little time out to watch Black Dynamite, which I can wholeheartedly recommend to those who enjoy films in that genre. It was clear the filmmakers really loved what they were doing. They even left the boom mike in several scenes so you'd know they know you know.








I'ma have to change the name of this blog to "Look at us at Arroyo Seco!" if I don't get some new content...






July in Monterey...






It was sure swell hanging out with those 2.

afternoon skull examination

Sunshine saw me up and over, packing some trail maintenance gear (I looked and looked for the folding saw, but nope. Since it doesn't do to be spotted on trails packing a saw, I tried to arrange the one I could find- handled and sheathed- as inconspicuously as I could) and a guidebook... neither of which were called up; no dead falls in my neck of the woods to do more work than has been done, and no mushrooms looked edible. I guess the sunny weekend saw a lot of hunters.

Wet and spongy in places. Better to wait for a while to ride in the trees, as I found PG to be boggy and sloppy- HEY! Pacific Grove! Do you even ride bikes? The trails over there are in pitiful shape... Not my problem, as I won't be going back for another 13 months or so.

Anyhoo, here is the Monterey y'all want to see and I never show you:

Westward, ho.



What does it say that this

is what I see?



This is the East. I usually avoid this section of things, as it is a true tourist cluster_uck. So there it is and enjoy.


The Monterey Pine loaded trails up through PG and into Pebble being what they are, here's some things:



The plastic packed Early Times has been in place long enough to concern me that the booze is disolving the plastic- that can happen, right? But the mouths of the cached cans of beer have been getting a gnarly mustiness to them, so it is just what is needed to cut that. Note the full topped PBR. It is some science type sterilization going down.




Good to be on the bike.




Maritime chaparral, here I come. Fort Ord is the set up Goods on account of the eggslellent drainage properties of all that sand.


I need to do so much maintenance. As a good friend says: I recommend replacement. a.k.a. I hate my drive-train.

I did motivate to pull off the shellacky tape and adjust the angle of the levers on the Le Tour. Before:


During:


I'mma ride it bald for a few days to see if this truly is the angle I want before putting on the fancy sky bleu cotton tape and shellacking it all into some celeste-ial greenery. You can't teach me, but I can learn the hard way eventually.



Did some work on the kids' bikes; big bike camping coming up. Location to be decided/announced. Do y'all even ride bikes?

They always drop the damn thing, so there you go.

I check my pulse and the pulse of my friend

Living in the shadow of groovy times. My brother and niece came to town for a week's worth of Goodness.

One night I invited him to accompany me on a pub crawl via bicycles and he reluctantly agreed. I did not tell him we were going to see Lyle Lovett and his large band play at the Golden State Theatre (est. 1927, bicthes), and when we pulled up he was suitably floored. He told me then he had thought I was just being a Bike Nazi (his term) again. I have dragged him on some dubious outings in the past, but still. Anyways, if Lance Armstrong's life is detailed in a movie (you know, prior to his presidential run) well, Lyle oughta play him. Later, we were asked to leave Alfredo's Cantina- ok, given the choice between that or having the police escort us from the premises.

One of the other things we did was to take that bicycle surrey




and ride it out to Marina to the beach. Those things are singlespeed like you read about, and the seats do not adjust... Shut up, strap a Chrome messenger back pack full of iced beers and juice boxes (on account of the waterproof truck tarp construction, see) on the back, hang a few tens of more lbs of picnic goods, towels, toys and several sporadic-at-best-pedaling freeloaders off it and ride.


We parked it out on top of the dunes and hiked down. I'd guess it is about 11 miles out to this spot. The sharp eyed among you will recognize this venue from previous velocache! action.


Hike down.




Raw and uncut footage here.



...attack.


etc.





Hike up.





The surrey, just where we'd left it.


Everone looks real enthused on the way back. We checked the brakes on the way out prior to hitting this section of trafficked mall/bikepath interface. They worked. But barely.

It was a hot sweaty Good Time in the sun.