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.

winds have changed

When picking a line through the debris and/or technical bits it is best to focus on the points along that line. You will only be present at each individual spot temporarily, so if the flow takes you into some troubly looking areas it is not the big deal. Hit the high points and the momentum will keep you movin' right on thru.



I have been wallowing in the low spots of late, and it is less. Tired of- especially my sandy local trails (gah! hottt and sandy) and my local streets and my this and my that. But you can't let other people get your kicks for you.



So, that one secret project that I kept thinking about has kept me out late and sleeping in the woods, and it is ON. I got most of the hoops jumped thru, and there is a plan in place, and there are most of the necessaries in place. Momentum is high and iron is hot.



In the middle of that extended and amazing sunset, I stopped at the taqueria and the gal behind the counter recognizes me and tells me to be careful out there in the dark. She thinks there are things of which to be scared.



I just assure her that I will. I don't try to explain.

mysterious disappearances

Unexplained absences. Virtual this and that. As always, I attempt to crack open the seamy underneath and get some bike riding done with an eye to start something. Nibbles on the line- the old familiar, faded and frayed "who wants to Party? and ride 'hard'?" It's ever one or the other with these people. Small success the last couple weeks getting folks (plural?!) out in the woods at night aboard bicycles, drinking beers, doing things. An injection of chaos and good-natured anarchy is a balm to the soul. So, plans. Plans for the wrecking of some things that well deserve ruin, and from which wreckage a new platform for the launching of further fun and relaxation.




So and so gave us a handle of Crown Royal, which is out there for the time being. Go get some. I hauled it out from home, via bicycle in a backpack, too, so it is shriven. Yes, it's a glass bottle. C____ B___________ told me he'd had occasion to utilize the shrine for it's highest/best purpose the other day when he needed tools he didn't have with him. I liked hearing that. It really isn't simply a box of whiskey.






I received delivery on the parts to make a new front wheel for the Big Dummy the other day.



With some help (it took some figuring) I got it all loaded



and rolled that ramshackle sleigh up the hill, along streets and trails, and took it home to my workshop, my dear.



That ain't the best comparison photo, but you aren't paying for this. It's the Surly Dirt Wizard 2.7 on a 26" Rabbit Hole vs a 2.4 on some Mavic or other. It eyeballs about 12mm wider, and maybe the same taller. I reckon more float is good when hauling a bunch of other people's camping gear (for example) around on some fairly tough trails. If I may say so. I'll let you know how she goes. Oh. It's a dynohub on account of adventure and fun take place at all times, and you're better off prepared.





Also, there is not a whole lot that's better than staying loose on the bike and putting the front end where you want it while the rear hops and slips and catches and breaks loose and hooks up and it's all just like it should be.

_______ of these events is merely bargaining

With 2 consecutive days off, you have choices. Some opportunities present themselves more readily than others. Bike camping is always ready to cut in line. In point of fact, the Big Dummy featured in my dream on account of we had been planning to use it for this trip.

 J is still willing to ride for fun. We figured we'd head over to the Secret Spot and spend a night.

Neither of us fancies driving if we can ride.

It's been a while since I used the Big Dummy. Sad to say, it has been put away wet many times. On the climb I stopped us a couple times to rerig the load in an attempt to banish the clunk. By the time we go to the interchange pictured above, I could not ignore the wiggly bottom bracket.

I considered. My inclination in situations of this type is to just run it. It has worked for me as often as not. I can learn the hard way, eventually, as evidenced by the decision to turn around, go home and switch bikes. This was a tough break.

J did really well riding with traffic. We talked about watching for car doors, and cars on the side of the road with their lights on (indicating potential for ________), and cars backing up, and where to stop and how far over to the right to stay, etc ad nauseum. He was rock solid. The turn around did not phase him on account of it was all downhill.

I don't know where you are in your bike repair spectrum right now. I, personally, have 2 bikes in perfect working order and 9 several in various stages of non-work. Of these, a number have parts cannibalised and interchanged. I knew it was a whole new ball of wax waiting for me in the bike room, and I wasn't stoked. I wanted to ride, not wrench! And daylight is always slipping away...


Gah!


I got right to the parts swapping. One thing led to another, and there was the backtracking and the sidetracking, and just as I was deciding it was a master stroke to just go ahead and attach the Pletscher rear rack rather than take a rack off another bike to attach- J said, "Why don't you just take the basket bike?" Which bike is one of the 2 bikes in perfect working order, as it is my commuter. Well, as perfect as a clapped out collection of sweet-but-well-used-parts hung on a 1989 pink/purple/teal StumpJumper (top of the line, bitches! Specialized doesn't make a nicer bike) can be. But and yes, that was just the right idea at just the right time.

So I was guided to The Way by an 8 year old, and in short order we were gone.

In that there above, J is cleaning his rock that he found to take home.

And in that there above, J is Eddy Merckxcury. Welcome back, 1982! He likes to wear tank tops these days to "show off my muscles." I blame California.

hey! did I ever tell you 'bout the time I married my cousin out in Las Vegas, Nevada?

Last night I dreamed.

I dreamed the wife and I were walking up a road in a mountain town holding armloads of flyers for some event. There was some big festival going on- Bluegrass or something. I was pushing the Big Dummy, and set it down on a lawn as we stopped to post a few of these flyers. As it was a dream, I did a thing I'd never do in real life- I walked away from the bike and forgot it. Even in dreams, though, I do like the bicycles and very quickly realized the error.

When I turned around, some bike thief was getting on the bike and clumsily turning around for a get away. I began to run after, yelling "Stop!" I ran in slow motion. He was getting away, through the crowds of festival goers. I yelled again, "Stop that long bike!" But he absconded. I ran too slow.

I asked the group lounging on the lawn if I could borrow a bike to give chase and a gal obliged. It was a burning man special- all trashed and loaded up with dirty accoutrements. I chased, and I rode in slow motion. Eventually, I was hiking the bike down a cliff-side singletrack. It was the next morning and I was still looking. I saw the thief below me, giving joyrides to his degenerate friends in the camping area. I made my way through several confused obstacles down to the field. I wandered the rows of campers and autos and I considered what to do with the POS loaner which now had a front flat; the tyre hanging off the rim. I knew I couldn't leave it and it was incredibly frustrating.

Then I woke up mad. I tried to go back to sleep so's I could catch that thief and give him a beating, but to no avail.

generous and inarticulate

I took a ride down to Big Sur in Smiling M___ H____'s little red truck. He keeps all manner of tools in the back and on his back. We stopped short of the avalanche shed at Rain Rocks and pointed our feet straight up Twitchel (as it changes from Road to Trail to Elevator) until we reached Stone Ridge Trail. It was the 1st time on either of them for myself, and while Twitchel was an idyllic wonderland in that valley with the glossy fire-blacked Redwoods and the generous flooring of Redwood Sorrel (oxalis oregana), the rest of it was a steep and brutal march up the face. Elevator for real.

I carried the 4' crosscut saw and my daypack containing only a small pullsaw, a jacket, some lunch, and a water bladder. Smiling M carried a shovel, a pulaski and his pack containing a lot, including but not limited to: a single jack (hammer) to drive wedges, several aluminum wedges, loppers, water bottles, and lunch. His radio pack had handset, notebook, pocketwatch, and a dangling pair of hand pruners. He was also strapped with a plastic sheathed pullsaw. Our loads were very different. He would not share the burden, but did allow use of his tools.

note: the blue background is the Pacific, not the sky...

A day off from work consisted of riding an hour in the car to hike 3 1/2 hours straight up, spending 4 hours wrassling with a laid over California Bay Laurel (umbellularia) and doing light treadwork/maintenance, then hiking 3 hours back down (the elevator shaft) to pay $4 for a bottle of Coke at Lucia Lodge.

I'd do it again.

trashy and vicious

We have a weekly ride of sorts over here. It's loosely organized at best. We try for one or both weekend nights, and folks show up as they can. It's a small pool from which to draw, the shallow, murky pool of people who enjoy both the party and the ride. I may have mentioned this before. The Monterey peninsula has been called (rightly, in my opinion) the home of the newly weds and nearly deads. Which is to say there is not a lot going on- particularly bike-culture wise. So, a pool which would be small anywhere is very small indeed on the central coast.

Still, the surest way to have fun is to make some yourself.

I myself am very motivated in this one area. So after the back and forth texts of excuses and "reasons" (you know my views on the texting- it just allows any plans to remain open-ended until go time and beyond for some people. Maximum flake out potential. Gah!) I showed up at the shop to meet the one other potential attendee. Tales of personal woe and claims of tiredness and such ensued. I looked my bro right in the eye and said, "You are fucking up." What else is there to say? He knew it and I knew it, so I left. Rolled out the door to stop at the corner store for some tall boys- because I do like drinking and riding (and owning up to it on blog posts) so all a you pussy boys with your high tone set an example bullshit can get a load of that. pffffthp.

While loading large cans of cheap beer into my frame pack, I reflected on the choices we make. I know that brother is not riding any of the other days -much less nights- of the week. He is a working father with school in the bargain. I realize his situation. I also realize it is easy to turn down hard things, and riding up these particular trails, while not technically difficult, is strenuous and in the dark to boot. Which, I know, I know, is a selling point for some.

So I rolled back on over to the shop and knocked at the door and then knocked at his flimsy denials until he did the right thing. Then we rolled up the hill and into the dark for the one night a week we currently have of Good Times.

If you need it plainly, here's the crux- this is what you like to do. What else is there?


*photo from the inexhaustible il dolore

are you now, or have you ever been?

Let's all get down.

 There is some sidehill singletrack around here. It just takes getting up and out of your little roundy rounds and look at a map. You see the options. Some of them will end after you climb up and up and up and up only to come upon the endless poison oak tunnel. Then you check it out (because you must) to see it would require some serious work with the loppers and the paper bodysuit, and turn around and descend to try the other trail. That one works, to a point.

 It is worth doing.

Sweet, 100% in bounds camp spots are out there.


I only had so much time for exploration, so at the 3rd creek crossing, which was more than I wanted with a bike in hand, hiking out for a look-see was the way. I liked what I saw.

This camp had nothing but a trash bag filled with Swedish Fish packaging, a pair of blown out houseshoes (who takes those to the woods?!), some loose dog food strewn on the forest floor (nice way to bring in the skunks...), and a 1/4 full bottle of Evan Williams. I'll take what I can get. I packed out yahoo's trash and took his whiskey for my efforts. It is now hidden at the sweet camp spot.  1 more reason to head out there, as if it were needed.

 The singletrack was well placed, shaded, and fresh. As of a couple days ago, the wildflowers are beginning to pop. An empty whiskey bottle from another camp spot (what is with these hack drunks? Pack out your trash!) made a nice vase with which to deliver a bouquet to my sweetie.

I dropped the pressure in my tyres quite a bit, and it was shmooooth music. That Endomorph 3.7 is skiddy skid, though. I got concerned in some of the corners that maybe I was not going to make the turns. I don't love that. Now I have a Nate 3.8 on the order. Supposedly it is the solution. We shall see.




Options. Maps. Willingness.

put your face into it

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.

lose 20lbs sitting on the couch!

For real.

Dipping in and out of perfectly set up sand singletrack, that's what's up. Trying to tie together all these rough edges into a smoothly pedaling time on the bike. As I repeat the loops along the old Friday Night SS route, it is coming back to me. So much of that which was ruined now is returned to top notch- well, minus the fantastic tunnel effect of OG maritime chaparral that was 12' high, but the quality is there; in the dirt, through the berms, the rhythmic flow of carving turns. Drop the hip here, a little push on the front end there. Staying with a steady, even spin that stops just short (but not by much) of the bum rush.

Now is the time. These trails are on the chopping block again! Today the getting is good, tomorrow the world ends. Go get some Fort Ord before Sea Otter effs the trails. Conditions are perfect.


Oh me? I'm clawing my way back one fat rotation at a time. I will be peaking Saturday April 21st, at the 6th Annual Sleaze Otter. Carmel Bob is at it again, I see. I am pleased to see Sr. Magni is again featured in their propganda. Remember Sleaze Otter III?

That was a Good Time.

Thank You Friends, and welcome.

Now, swing out.



The rep came into the shop today with his super secret suitcase of SRAM. I had not been following recent developments, and was surprised by the yawwing front derailler and the return to single pivot(?) brakes which are a kind of a step toward real world in their clearance...up to 28mm. Not real world enough for this cowboy, but a welcome shift. Jim Jones says click the colored words, or else.

Whatevs. I'm not buying road stuff this year. I am stripping bikes to frames; thinning the herd for the old switcheroo...papa needs a new and suspension corrected adventure touring bike. And a packraft. (Moab, I'm looking at you to get in this saddle- y'all got the goods. Don't kid yourself...) So, who wants to buy a thoroughly used/maintained 62cm Surly Long Haul Trucker frame/fork in the hue of what a maroon? Also up will be the L Santa Cruz Blur LT with the Fox DHX 5.0 spring. Soon to be pulled apart as well, the OG Salsa Fargo inna XL style. I'm even gonna offer the Soulcraft custom (25" of TT) pepto bismol pink Holy Roller (29" SS) frame/fork/King steelset headset. I mean it about making some room.


My sidekick and I wandered along on a teeny SouthSide entrance tour after school and work today. Brief but effective. J says, "There's always something new around the corner." No juvenile bobcats today, but some inneresting points, some decrepit army shithouses, some rickety high places, and some windy singletrack. Super rare clips to follow:

It's this kind of creepiness that lends credence to wild suppositions viz. haunted treasure, kidnapping, and revenge.


Whoa. That yellow belly has been lying in wait for months and months. It waits still.


Look out for !DANGER! BEES? No, not anymore. Look out for increasingly unsound infrastructure.

FREE! READ HOW

Back in the day, ____s use to stick together.



Brief clown fun in the Ord today; I gots to shake off this brokeness. We looked so retro in our flannels. A short and slow float around a portion of the old Friday Night SS course- you know that's mostly open again, right? Do it. Do it. Do it.

I feel...slowly returning. It's funny, how after a "trauma" the body sorts itself out in stages.


WARNUNG! boringish injury analysis to follow...

At first it was all shoulder, though I was aware of the hit the knees took (must have tagged the bars as I went for the somersault dismount). Then the knees really came to the fore, and it was left knee uber alles. To the point that getting up was an issue, standing up became hurtful and difficult, especially because I couldn't use my right side to help in any way. I worked that and it faded. After the short rides a few days ago, the right knee area (attachment for vastus lateralis and IT band) made it known that there was some serious smack down there, and it furthered through to glutes- it feels like I have a peach pit sized glow of pain in my right ass cheek. Back and shoulder (with particular emphasis on anterior deltoid and pec minor) fight for pride of place as I am more and more able to use the right arm and push those muscles. Everything has to restabilise and restabilise again, as 1st: there is a weird vacuum in my shoulder where all was richly, densely, handsomely yoked lean muscle/tendon/bone and now it's some inch and a half of angry stretch below my skin from a collar bone with it's head in the clouds; and 2nd: after the muscles splint this new body geometry, each new extension in range of motion requires a corresponding new arrangement among these skittish co-operators. And again. It lends itself to spasms and aches.

So I stretch the front (pecs/delts/scalenes). I was able to roll the right IT today, and OH! that was exquisite. It helped though. Some rolling around glutes on the softball, some draping myself over the roller to stretch pecs with spread arms accompanied by some use of the softball to compress/roll pectoralis minor and anterior deltoid...it is some Old Time Personal Suffering for future Good. It helped. It helps, then the pain comes back. This is looking like a long term back and forth.

Anyhow, bit by bit getting better. Bikes. Rides. Plans for a bikepacking trip for Spring Break, 3 weeks out. The childrens can haul most everything (is this injury the break for which I've been waiting? whereineverafter they bear the main load?) if we go nice and light. I'm thinking these fat tyre inner tubes will make some sweet floats. I want a pack raft so bad!

newly dangerous and recently unsanctioned

I did get carried away and return the following day for a repeat teeny ride. Which did, of course, swell a little to include some more (perfectly tame, gentle and rolly) hard-packed singletrack.




Some of us has got to.

Or else it won't get done.


I'm paying for that now, with some painful trigger points in rhomboids on the affected side (my right, which is novel as up until my really impactful injuries have been more sinister), and gluteus maximus. You were right. I was wrong. You know what you're talking about, I am a recidivist of the lowest sort.

I did have a quick consultation with the man behind the curtain over there in the sidebar. Thanks, Coach. I will follow directions and they were some good and detailed ones. The wrapping of the joints in particular seems effective. You'll be the first to know.



And, plus WTF? Somebody is walking around with an invisible sweaty, hairy black spot since they stolt the tools out of the bike box shrine.

Why would somebody do that?

I replaced the 5mm and the 6mm allens, which where what I had to lend at the time...this leaves a hole shaped like an 8mm/10mm wrench, a 4mm allen, a couple tire levers, a patch kit, and the chain tool with which I never got around to being willing to part anyhow so that's only virtually missing. Or maybe both virtually and actually. However you arrange the what's and the if's, the whole thing is a bit of a let down. You figure someone who stumbles across a stocked emergency bar in the woods would be a decent sort, someone who could recognize the usefulness of some at-hand tools worth maybe ~$12, and leave them in place for the next guy. So, I'm holding on to the slim hope it's one of you degenerates that needed the tools and meant to put them back, but forgot. Otherwise, it's a turd in the punchbowl.




What? Huh? The ?JBs in Monterey? Nothing like this goes on around here in sleepytown these days. Perhaps Monterey was a hotbed of funk back in the day?

everything these days is pictures

Pictures and a lot of noise. Nobody even knows how to talk. I was looking at some NAHBS coverage on this one website and made the mistake of reading the comments section and it was your typical internet blowfest involving semi-knowledgeable puffinstuffs who hastily type in their angry half-formed criticisms. The site is a DH (DownHill) forum, so the crowd has that angle. It was reminiscent of the aisles at Sea Otter, where there is so much division between bicycle subcultures...but it does seem common place here in the ether. Be a lot cooler if people would shut up if they got nothing productive to say. Not that I don't have some criticisms as well, but mine are well-founded. What am I criticizing about?

Whatta you got?

And speaking of shutting up and being...uh, cool...I took my riding partner out and rode a tiny, easy-peasy, gentle mixed bag of fire road and hard packed (with the occasional deep sand pit- it is the Ord) buff singletrack yesterday afternoon. Yeah, I heard what you said, but it was some well advised get back in the saddle type goings on. My whole self feels so much better for it. I been going karazy.

We drove out there (see?) and parked at the good spot, which is not 8th/Giggling. From there it was the old loop...

Any of youse remember stopping here? We did it all the time.



Stop to check out the old ropes course. Sure is a lot of building materiel laying about for the construction of some tree house. Or something. This was a good spot for rehashing the ghost stories we used to tell N and D. J is so much younger than them, he wasn't around for the 1st tellings. Which, in a way, is better since it it lends these sagas some legitimacy - having his older siblings treat them like old hat. For him they ring of history rather than fantasy.

From the broken down army buildings of the old loop we rounded to the New Stairs. Some of the materiel would be useful here. If any of youse Monterey types happen to be out there with hammers or crow bars and trailers or cargo-bikes, you should consider moving some likely pieces here for further clubhouse renovations. Maybe we'll build a siiiiiiiiick skills park. Maybe we'll just put a back rest on the drinky bench. It's your party.

On account of the mighty oaks provide a skills course of their own, anyhow.







note: the following is a photo of J trying his best to get out of the Ord before twilight brings the Skull Ghost to look for children...
On and on.

So, the injury report is what you come here to read: my arm/shoulder gets tired quick. Today it feels sore- but a healthy sore viz. post-workout. The only scary moment on the ride was picking up a 2x4 to beat the poison oak back from the doorway of one of the army buildings (because what's a kid ride worth if you don't stop to check out creepy abandoned buildings?). And this only because the rotten 2x4 broke as I began to swing it, causing my arm to suddenly shift, which freaked my shoulder out but good. Otherwise, the Surly NeckRomancer handled all the shifty terrain with aplomb. Cushy fat tyres are good for riding tanked at night, and recovering from shoulder injuries. I figure that's 2 more cycling subcultures, right there.

Ride bikes and scare your children,
Dick

my bone has got a little machine

...which seems to be plugging away there beneath my skin, binding binding binding. Swelling is gone. Bony lump remains, but that's just my wayward clavicle being all separatist and moody. Short head of the biceps is tender/complaining and anterior deltoid is the same. I have no strength to muster for overhead maneuvers. Really though- if I could go back and not post all these details in a panicky facebook style, I'd retract all this internet drama. I'm healing like a well trained dawg.

Pulling a bike down from the hangers at work tweaked it a teeny bit, but I was careful and it's use or lose it time...I rode to work. Yep. Granted/relaaaaax, it's just that little cruise down to the shop and not the climb up and over, but I felt good. I felt happy.

I am not taking chances or trails. Repeat. I am not taking chances or trails.

I am sitting here, icing my shoulder and mousing with my left while I excercise the right by externally rotating my arm holding a 12oz weight. This is also good for curls, i.e. biceps.

See how we do that?

Some parts came in for some folks today. Does anybody wanna see my shiny new titanium wood burning stove? How about some dirty pictures of D's bike getting the bars swapped and new ESI silicone grips (he likes red)?

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.

burst your eyeballs in the vain attempt

In spite of all this talk of bikes that shift and bounce.






I loaned this bike out for the Sleaze Otter, and it came home changed. Flip flopped from fixed to free was enough to put me off riding it. Brazen indolence was enough to put off fixing it.



I had forgotten how effortless riding the fixed wheel can be.


Now I remember.

you can fool some people sometimes

Have you heard the Good News? No news is Good News. No news is Good News.

So you and I are among those left behind. This is really getting awkward! The Number of the Beast is revealed to be mistakenly translated; it should read 616 (nobody tell the gays, lest they start ruining marriage for the rest of us). The tsunamis in Japan, et al, may just be natural disasters (though helped very much by our energy-use-caused and escalating climate change). Peak Oil is reached (? Learning to bowhunt is fast becoming a real inneresting idea). Lance's spoonful of sugar is going down (in the most painful way-Tyler is a slow tic trainwreck).


I try to keep it light. Try to keep everbody focused on what we have here in common. Is that right?



We went to Tulsa, OK, to party at my brother's wedding instead of waiting around for the hypocralypse...but Bible-thumping relatives dragged ol' JC into it anyways. I just kept quiet, because it's not worth disturbing the party-in spite of those folks themselves oughtening to know better. In their very own writings straight from God but delivered via human hands (so you know it's True, to say nothing of accurate) it says nobody knows the day or hour...so I say let's party instead of pray. I mostly keep quiet on the doping-in-cycling issues because it's a downer that has been the elephant in the peloton since the 1930's (at minimum) and, frankly, what good does fixating on PRO sports do any of us out here in the gutters and on the trails? About as much as forecasting the End of The Party. I say: let's party Smarter in order to Party Longer.

Rode a swell loop up there in Santa Cruz today...all shady dirt with swooping singletrack and tight Redwoods.

Who's up for a Ride tomorrow? No sky cake, but I hear there's Free Beer.

tops, ramps, hoods, hooks, flats

Start out cold, settle in, climb some, descend at speed, maneuver (how's about shaking it around a little).




On account of last week's relative inactivity, riding is hard again. My left TFL (tensor fascia latae) is my bugbear, and increasingly constant companion.( I know, alls it needs is attention/stretching/work, but it's easier said than lived).

...is that you?



On account of last day and night's rain, the trails are tacky again. And plus, the rain warshed away all the duff in which I'd cleverly cached the velocache name of Dirty #30 (I know, but they can't all be gems) so as I passed it today I re-cached it.


On account of people breaking balls, bike choice is in my mind today. So let me just say this: I like bikes. I like road bikes (geared and fixed wheel) and mountain bikes (geared {full squish and sprung on the front and fully rigid} and singlespeed {fully rigid and sprung on the front} and fully rigid fixed wheel). My wheel size of choice is 700c/29", and that is cuz I'm a long tall Texan. I think proper wheel size is more a matter of relation to rider size than anything else; you should ride what fits you. I enjoy most of all to ride the cross bike (geared or singlespeed or fixed wheel) so's I can take roads and trails.

So. If you don't like one or more of the above options- well then it's time to _uck or _ight.

And further, if you are of the opinion that one or more of the above options is not legit, then you need to stop kidding yourself; a different ride is a different ride which allows for a True appreciation of any one of those options. The wheels on the ____ go round and round.

Any questions?
Oh. THE FULL HUNTER MOON WILL PROCEED AS PLANNED, FRIDAY 22ND...DARK THIRTY AT THE WATER TANKER. Corner of Parker Flats Cut-off and that other street.
Any other questions?

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.