Living in hope

that some day you'll be in with the winners? Stop. Please, for real. Stop and consider your hopes your dreams, your day in and your day out. Stop and check this out (the whole thing- you are just wasting time here anyhow):



Fact: Bonnie Rait is under appreciated. And, to my mind, fact: almost hitting yourself in the face with a bird you've startled up trail-side on account of how much rally you are carrying down with you is the very definition of success.

I cuddled my bike today. Leaned into the descent and hugged up tight with my cheek laid along the stem while all thoughts of slowness or braking fell away. My speed increased with jumpy acceleration and I was pulled willfully toward the bottom, Gravity was working so hard it yanked tears from my eyes.

If a simple commute can make me feel that nice...

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. 

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.

humble yourself and be calm

It was quite cold when I set out on my way to work aboard the fixed gear bicycle. As I climbed, it became warm enough for me to take off my pants. So I did. When I know I'm riding, and I am not wearing some fancy pants (which, pretty much, I only do if it's to be a longish road ride) I wear the wool boxers. You can get some from your local bike shop, or you can just cut the legs off some long johns. Either works fine. And then, when you take off your pants everbody just assumes you have on cycling shorts.

But it feels like you are getting away with something.

sometimes I don't know where this dirty road is takin' me

Other times I have a clear idea that I'll find the workplace at one end, and home at the other.

I don't leave my precious (whichever of them it is on any given day, and it changes) strung out in some bike rack, where it can get all banged around or all wet, and certainly not all out in the open where opportunistic grabholes might even so much as see it. Nope. I stash that ish where people don't go.

 Big seat bag holds lots of stuff I "need". The Minnehaha from Banjo Brothers is available through your local (of course and only!) bike shop, and is a real fine value.

Big pedals hold my feet. Toeclips are played out. Big gear is my version of what's the best compromise, since everthing is one.

Commute by bike. It is fun and it is good for _____.

after all our so-called success

Some things I notice whilst commuting are: 2 wheeled drifting is fun and exciting, how quiet (how still) it is up above town in the trees, the magic golden hour in which all the trees are lit from the setting sun and especially so when approached from the East and below, how green and inviting the hills seem from the drab streets surrounding the shop.

                                                         that's on a way to work.


Commuting puts me Right with the world. As an aside, A___ (who claims to know certain things about certain places we'd all like to ride our bikes in order to see if it's fun and worth it so that we can connect these places with others farther and nearer in order to form a more perfect bike ride of great magnitude and camping while drinking beers) is a bundle of divided attentions and he asked me how many miles in a day I do and I told him "prolly like a 100" and he didn't bat an eye either because he didn't pay attention to the answer or because he has no frame of reference (even though any fool, locally, could tell you roughly the mileage from Carmel to Monterey or look it up if they actually wondered versus just saying something for the sake of having something to say, which many people do) and, but, so it made me laugh.

About 16 miles the route(s) I use. I'm not into "training", I'm into riding.

My, the Poison Oak (toxicodendron diversilobum) is lovely this year!

And finally, who among us doesn't love a honky tonk?

it's all in here

The good with the bad.

This is the 1st time this particular issue has arisen for me. That is a particularly slick pair of light-weight dead man's trousers, and they just wouldn't stay rolled up. One thing led to another, and I found myself stopping short.

Ridiculous.

without ceremony or sentiment

I roll through the doors of the big bike shop on my cross bike, having smiled my way to work, and mention my route to the other other mechanic. He's into car-supported laps down the hill behind us. I'm not into that. I say how I rode up the trails over there, and down the road over here- he says it would be fun to ride the trails down over there (says it likes he thinks I'm blind) but it's stupid to ride up them. I think he misses the point. I think it would be fun to ride the funnest possible route to do what one gotta do to get where one is going for one to get where one need to be at, and starting at the bottom of those trails precludes riding down them. At least until the return commute trip, which is how it went. The truth? It was fun both ways.

And that is the real magicality of a cross bike. So much is on the table in terms of fun.

Hell(a) yeah, West coaster.

how long can you stand the heat?

I know a way to get to work..

I enjoy a soundtrack. I'm a rider fo life...

 You could take a way to work, too.

I like to drink on my way to work...

and I like to drink on the way home from work, too.


My name is Dick, and I endorse and condone this announcement. I would also like to state, for the record, that (and I quote): "my drawers are so clean, my nuts are so powdered."

Proceed.

stupid glorification of mere filth

I have assembled the ingredients for the Happy Life, and successfully combined these disparate steps into a coherent and translatable recipe. Prepare to receive instruction:

 There it is. Simple, no? That is my favorite corner anywhere, by the way.

I have been spending so much time aboard the fat bike because it suits a bunch of the riding I've been doing. It forgives boozy line choices, sucks up poorly routed sneak-throughs, handles roots and pine cones etcetera hidden by shadows, tracks straight through the chunkiest rock sections and more. I am enamored. But...it is a pig. Changing to the Black Cat SS for the commute was a delight. So light, so responsive, so willing to leap forward. That morning commute through singletrack will put a positive spin right on you.

Simple formula: dirt commute = lasting happiness.

 The stem drew me in. Bulbous.

Next, a parking brake caught my eye. It's plastic tubing fixed under the grip with a bolt on the free end which inserts into the gap between squeezed lever and body and held in place upon release of lever to keep the brake engaged. It's not my thing, but it's very well executed. When the brake is squeezed again, it springs out and away immediately.

And this? Der Kaiser (as this former airplane mechanic introduced himself) wanted a longer cage, so he made one. He had dumpster dived the frame in Tucson and this is what he's made of it. I called the other mechanic out of the shop and we marveled. You could see it warmed the Kaiser's heart to have his ingenuity recognized and valued. I enjoy my weekly shift in Monterey. There's more kooks over on that side of things.

I saved my lunch money and spent it on tallboys instead. That's that one spot. I was collecting empties and producing new ones. The ride home? Ripping singletrack. I had to walk up a bunch of hill, but it's a SS so I don't feel anything but fine. Up turns to side turns to down hill.




Finally, you can't teach me, but I can learn the hard way. Depending on others to provide for one's own Happiness is a sure road to Failure.

Fact.

Oh. Yeah, tomorrow is the Easter. While I don't believe in magic and I certainly don't believe that my group's magical theory is grounds for moral supremacy and/or resource appropriation, I do know my kids like to hunt for Eater Eggs. Who doesn't? So, tonight will see me rolling the stone away and riding around a certain section of trails drinking beers and hiding eggs...

focused on what you need

 
Portrait of a commute.

Featuring the fancy pantsed 1987(?) Stumpjumper. It's a surprisingly snappy beater. Every now and then my heels will get lodged under the rear baskets on the upstroke. Since there's no helping it, I choose to find it amusing rather than annoying, and it is exciting.

I retrieved the pull saw from it's stash spot of 2 weeks ago. I had forgotten it was there.

The signs point to success.

It's an OK commute. If you're into that.

don't let it go to your head

No.

How much better could it get? I could be riding more. We can all say that, always. I try to keep it at the forefront- it is, after all, what keeps me happy. Cycles, etc. These days it is some commute upon commute, which is really the only way for me (you/us) to maintain whatever it is being maintained.

Commute. For real and for ever. Sure, easy for me to say, it's like this place is air conditioned all tucked up next to the Pacific- but it is True.

My commute is one I have perfected. It has extensive dirt options. I can commute it any one of several ways depending on how pressed for time I happen to be. I know how long each section and it's possible routes will take on average, so there is no guessy pressure or anxiety.

I will be leaving that job soon, and the (only) thing I will miss about it is the commute. It is so good. Lots of hard efforts, logs to ride over and duck under, multiple switchbacks, and always with the flowy lines.

It bears repeating that a good commute will whip or keep you in shape for all that fun ish you got planned.


And, plus, I tuned up several of the household bikes so that's heartening. Not that there aren't several more in various states, but. I did find the seat sandwich for the Brooks B73, so I fit it on the NeckRomancer. Whoa. What a jalopy.

No sneak attacks from this guy- you can hear me rolling.

Finally, it doesn't hurt that I know where the beers are hid along that homeward leg.

you got to bring ass to get ass

Whew. 


Summer is coursing through my leg veins. Meditate on it.

My commute (part of which is pictured above) is a good one. Made even funner by the 37mm Paselas with the gumwall. Now, whatchoo know about that?

I see velocache is heating up again. Why don't you head on over there and learn a thing or 2?

while the other person runs and hides

Listen to this: Whilst riding singletrack- OK, OK, doubletrack- to work, I could hear the conversation between 2 hawks taking place well over my head. It sounded like 1 was treebound and the other was coming in, and my assumption/hope was it was a pair and I might could see some babies. So I picked up the pace and came under the ~60' Monterey Pine as the flyer landed 5' away from it's mate.

It was a pair of  Red Tail Hawks (Buteo jamaicensis), which are big- chicken sized. The flyer paused for 20 seconds, during which time I scanned the tree for a nest to no avail, and then it took off. A few more seconds and the other attempted to take off, only to stick there flapping and tugging. The only explanation to pop into my head was that it perhaps it was tagged and the tag had gotten tangled in the limb. I considered who I could contact to help. It was a loooong way up and out a skinny branch above inaccessible terrain. Meanwhile the hawk was dangling upside down by one leg, swaying in small arcs. It was worrisome. Then the hawk flapped very hard a couple times and the branch cracked loudly. The hawk took off, and the branch fell away revealing a long dangling strip of shiny...ribbon?

It was a snake. The hawk had caught a snake and landed in the tree. The snake had wrapped itself around the branch and wouldn't let go while the hawk tried to wrestle it free with the dangling and swaying. The hawk flew across the small valley to light in another tree and bent it's head to eat that snake. Whereupon a bluejay began dive bombing it.

Some days are hard.

That is a True Story, and I witnessed it by commuting to work via trails. Amazing.

I'm allergic to fake bitches

and to all this pollen painting the town yellow. It's as though the backs of my eyes are made of sawdust and my nose is running nonstop. I'm blinking and sneezing my way through Global Warming 2012.

Speaking of, it was a day for trail maintenance on the dirt commute way to work. All those slappy branches on the HWY sneak? Gone. I do need to get a pair of loppers and get after the poison oak while it's leafless and vulnerable, though.


The perfectly sized Revelate Frame Bag (available through your local bike shop!) holds a full size scabbarded pull saw perfectly. Like you'd hope it would.


Recent experience with largeish timber cutting has done changed my outlook on what is/not able to be tackled. It was that one, plus another 2 the same size, and that larger deadfall. I need to get a bigger boat to tackle the 18" snag. Anyhow, the trail is speedier for the work and I enjoy doing it.

Can you spot the difference?



Also, there was a note on the stump at the end of the HWY1 sneak, written in pencil on pink paper, directing Donny to call Walt. The trail had been blocked and the pencil end shattered under what I can only assume was Walt's forceful writing...

Is Donny the creeper who lives (stealthily, I add) off that trail? Who left the note? Surely it was Walt? Was Walt upset? Why? Has Donny blown it? Is something?

a bird in the hand

came in the mail.



I sent you a picture.

I was counting on this for Saturday Night's Bike Fever Bike Feverr. Test rode it today on the short dirt route to work.
Whoa.
I gotta get this tyre pressure figured out. The road sections were compromised like you'd expect (slow, boundy), but it's not a bummer. I suspect that road sections of much more length would shift the balance into notsoworthitivity. I will, of course, put this to the test. The dirt sections were fun. I have no idea how to tune the psi yet, and that must be the key. That much was apparent on the short dirt demo rides. As it stood, there is a lot of...deviation to the ride. Off camber of any significance was very strange. I dropped the pressure from what I assumed was proper for road to what I assumed would be proper for dirt descending (and those are actual measurements) and the wind up was so pronounced I began to just push the end of the bar down until I felt the tyre warp finish and then I leaned into the carve. It was very inexact. I'd hoped for a more straight across swap for full squish. Maybe not so much. We'll see. It's only clown fun, after all. Tuba music for all my friends!

Singletrack commute. Morning and night.

I had a fine time up in the moonlight all by me onesie, climbing that singletrack. Lots of times when in the woods with other folks I wish more of them would be quiet more often and let the sounds of the woods at night be the soundtrack. On the other hand, tucked in alone under the canopy with trees everywhere it gets spooky. I took the shortest long way home, trying the planned route for tomorrow. Conditions are perfect.



Be thankful you're living. Drink up and go home.

wanna see something gross?

Well, who doesn't? That's hardly a fair question. I didn't take any photos you understand, but after yesterday's totally kick ass dirt commute (dirt both ways, mind you- and it is dark in the woods at night right now) I found a tick on my rhymes-with-tick.
Yep.
I know.
You know you're a mountain biker when...?

Well, I threw him in the toilet and pissed on him. Sorry you had to hear about this.



And, Mysterious B___ S_____ is, I'm sure, disappointed with me for not being punk enough to leave it there.

I wasn't even going to tell you about this, but

I've been working on something VERY big.


That is a 700c wheel. Yes, I ride those tyres on trails. Impressive? Pfffffft. This is less than 3 minutes into the trail system. I wasn't even trying yet. King Boletes...these are more like princelings.

Fly Amanitas (Amanita muscaria) are easily spotted (see how we do that?) but are not edible except for psychodelics.
Pass.
They are very pretty, though.


I was after the kings:


They are commonly referred to as Porcinis 'round these parts. King Bolete (Boletus edulis) as big as your face! Unfortunately, the giant was too far gone/softened to be worth harvesting, but the one on the handkerchief is the size of a cantaloupe and firm as zucchini. Perfect.




Then I found another even bigger! This was some mushroom hunting as a side project while riding to work via some trails.


Because this is how we do it.



So here is a picture of them at work.

I talked to the sous chef, and he was excited. He claims the large mushroom is worth $500. That porcinis are selling for $80/lb. Hey! Whoa!

I tried to sell them at a couple fine dining joints (we got a lot of those here on the Monterey peninsula) on my way to pick up the boy from after-school-care, but all the chefs had their stock for the weekend. The way to do it is to hit them earlier in the week. So I may.


The boy and I rode home in the dark and looked for recipes...


but we eventually simply sauteed them with olive oil and garlic. some are drying now, as the porcinis supposedly make excellent soup stock, and can be re-hydrated with good result.


Pretty girls love big mushrooms.



That $500 was _ucking delicious. Rich, buttery, substantial.

we go for all weathers

A way to come home from work.



A possible payload, which could be found on a given day on a given trail.


A toast: Here's to August. Here's to remembering to bring some clippers, a saw, and some long sleeves.

thank you for the opportunity

I'd rather have the Orville Crouch original, but it's nowheres on the interwebs I can find. Anyhow, anyway, if you can turn your nose up at this Buck Owens interpretation (HeeHaw was formative for me, and I admit it) then you're just feelin mean.

Lay before me another section of duff covered, intermittently bermed, occasionally rooted, perfectly paced singletrack. For it is the best in the land. I'll take my turn on the climb, and find that old peace of mind.


Dirt commutes are worthwhile. Ideally it would be swoopy downhill both ways, but we all know how it goes: up and down, up and down. Climbing on pavement is easier and makes time. Descending on pavement is easier and makes time. After work, it is some time to spend climbing on dirt, enjoying the lullingly painful climbs that put you out of your head, and the flats that allow you to return, and (but mostly?) the downhills- which require you to be right there and only there.