Sometimes you need a reminder. So, hey, queso, some folks wanna talk. They wanna talk about bike gear. They wanna geek out over gear, like what tyres you run, bro? What reeyums? They say they gonna build this with that, but you know what? That's all talk.
SO BORING. Shut up about your 800mm wide dream of future stuff. I don't- no one does- care about your stuff. Shut up about stuff. If you are a rider, you ride. If you are a talker...
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.
As Summer is in full effect right now, we continue to (attempt to) ride our bikes to a sweet camp out. Tuesday is as good a day as any other, and better than most. It is a day I have off, and weekdays are good trail days because many folks are working so the trails are clean. Etc.
In keeping with our ride to the ride ethos (where possible, when it's convenient and safe and more fun than alternatives and we aren't too pressed for time and the weather is nice, it's not too hot and the traffic is light...) we rolled out the door all dolled up. There is a required section of HWY 1 from the house, and I took up the rear guard position. It occurred to me, as we rolled along mightily, that we were all dressed alike. That was unintentional, but amusing. Light weight cotton long sleeved shirts to keep the sun (and poison oak) off and khaki shorts. The inherent embarrassment of this was pointed out to me by elder son, D______, who (at 14) is very sensitive to appearances and who felt his newly cut-off shorts were making him look bad to _____, who had just been driven past by his momma. I am sensitive to feelings, so I told him to not worry what soft people in cars think and cheered him with the assurance that he is the hardest fellow at his school and how none of the other kids his age could pull off what he was doing. Sadly, these Truths did nothing to raise his spirits.
By that point, we were arrived at the first trail section. We rode dirt slowly uphill, and had a brief discussion on fashion and peer pressure, during which I made excellently worded points regarding the folly of giving a shit what assholes say about you, and the wisdom in choosing a wardrobe solidly based in classicism for the reasons that A) it is classic because it looks well on a man, and B) trends will ever come and go, so it is always a losing proposition chasing the latest fleeting variation.
Needless: he firmly believes I 1)look stupid, and 2)don't get it. We are both 100% correct.
J______, who is 9 and in some senses wiser than us both, was oblivious and continued to half-wheel me. I told him to take it easy (we had a long way to go- about 16 miles!). Riding with these noobs is taxing. Lots of wasted efforts, lots of poor decisions in line choice, dangerous positioning in traffic...it is a constant awareness type of mother henning. Cluck cluck. Especially crossing the highway, where we don't trigger the light. After all this safety 1st yakking, we have to wait on the sidewalk and use the pedestrian crossing button to then cross against left-turning traffic only to ride on the wrong side of the road (on the sidewalk) and cross the other street to make the right we'd initially needed...lessons learned at the knee of playing it fast and loose. As bicycling in a world paved for cars requires, sure. I hope the lesson is one of do what you must (safely as possible) rather than anything goes.
There was talk the usefulness of proper gear selection as we climbed. And climbed. Panting for breath will become sobbing if you let it. Don't let it. Whining does nothing to alleviate suffering, but it does make your companions want to leave you. Doing hard things is hard. Sometimes all you can do is let it be hard and keep pedalling. Some truths are so True you forget them. We rested at the summit and laid ourselves on the warm bike path pave while eating peanut butter sandwiches. It's all downhill from there!
Sure it is. I was "testing" the new front wheel. The 26" sorta half-fat wheel? A 50mm Surly Rabbit Hole surrounded by the 26"x2.75" Surly Dirt Wizard. Now, this may come as a surprise, but I am an idiot. No, it's true. (Go ahead, laugh- it's good for you.) I had grabbed the first 26" tube at hand, and it was a 26x1.5/2.0...which is pretty skinny, but it's what I got. Sure, I thought, rubber expands just fine. It'll be OK as long as I don't hit any sharp bits. Well, this proved false. The saddle-like join around the valve expanded so much and so awkwardly that it pulled apart and pinholed. Not once, but twice because the spare tubes on both the Big Dummy and D's 26" bike were also the 1.5/2.0 variety! Gah! I felt so stupid and mad. AND there was no patch kit on any of our 3 bikes! (not that it would really have helped in that regard as it would have continued being super blown out and wear hella fast, but you know. Duh. What asshole doesn't have a patch kit? Apparently this asshole. So. More angry stupid.) I tried not to be pissy to the boys as I stood there simmering and thinking. What I came up with was to deflate D's tyre and hope that it's tube would prove larger than the ones with which I was laboring so that I could swap in the thinner 2nd spare (well his tyre was only 2.2...)and I could use his fatter tube on my fatter wheel. This, so as to limp over to the bike shop which was happily only a mile or so away. There I hoped to find a more suitable/fat tube. Fortuna favet fortibus? Well, if you call a $20 retail DH tube a favor, then sure. Though I did have/get to use the tapered reamer to fit the schraedered tube.
Hardships behind us, we forged ahead the bikecentric way thru Cside(!) and stopped for burritos. These weekly campout rides are the quick and easy, you understand. It's much less about "camping" as it is about getting outside in all conditions and having a fine old time. Tall cans of cold Modelo help, too.
The secret spot camp was as nice as it always is. We hung the hammock and swang the swing and did other stuff and told stories. J likes to hear about when I was a boy, and so next time I think we'll bring Risk and have a game like back then.
The moon came up late, and was waning halfway along but it was plenty bright to pull me out of bed so I could stand around peeing in the woods and listening to the yodel dogs split and regroup and split and regroup as they chased softer prey than us- hard men that I ride with.
We were softly picked up in the AM. And taken to Red's Donuts on the way to work/home....
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?
I figured I had this bike, the $15 complete, 1989 StumpJhumper (the J is silent I understand), just cluttering up the joint with it's horribly good looking but dissatisfyingly small and spinny 26"edness. A bike around with which it would be possible to tinker. There is a lot of talk about the new new- when is there not in the bike industry?- and it is true I do not love the 26" for myself and my style of riding.
[aside: I feel that wheel size should be chosen to best match rider size/style and that 27.5"/650b-if-you're-nasty has a valid place if you are looking to retrofit a 700c bike with a larger volume tyre for some hott action ungettable on 25mm, or maybe if you are between 5'6'' to 5'11" and are real damn particular, otherwise it is a straight punch to the hard sell and some buy-it-because-you-lack type of snake oil.]
Anyhoo, I had nothing to lose and possibly something to learn, so I ordered some rims (25mm wide Velo Orange Diagonale 32h) and some tyres (2.2' wide Maxxis Ardent front and Crossmark rear- that Crossmark hooks up like a champ, too) and away I went.
27.5" and 26" respectively, in a science shoot-off.
There used to be a stop in the drop...
which I chopped. And later cleaned up with a file.
That derailler was crapped out and got replaced.
Clearance looks good.
I thought perhaps I might retain the Paul's cantis, but nope. For kicks, I put a v-brake arm on the boss. However the tyre is so tall the cable canoe rests atop it. It is times like these that allow me to bask in the warm glow of my bike-part hoard, though....WTB Speedmaster cantis c.1995. That is OG, son. The leverage is unfortunately reduced by moving the pads so far up the arm,but it runs and don't cost nuthin.
Booty bin almost matching King hubs?!? Yep.
I been sitting on these for a while. This seemed like the time. It's been years since I rode a King rear, and I forgot how instantaneous pawl engagement is. It is a fucking delight.
Swapped out the dirt drops.
New parts are rims, tyres, cables/housing and purple lock-on grips because obviously. It's so nice at this point, I'll trade out the poopy chainrings and BB.
Yes, I have been riding it. It's fun. The thing I notice most is the King's snappy get-up. The less than optimal cantis feature, too. As for the real point, the wheel size; the 27.5" climbs punchy or steep well. It is a slog on the longer stuff. I notice it's zzzzzzzzzzsmallness, just like a 26", and pine for a bigger momentum. Same on the flats. It handles nicely in the tight singletrack- speaking of which, the new 49?
Holy shit. I have to say- whoever routed that, you did a real nice job. Thank you! Seems like you were constrained (by BLM distance regs?), and there were a couple too-tight serpentine folds that I think are going to wash out, but you clearly had to dump elevation and your mandate was clearly Good Times. That's a man date I like to go on. Well routed, player. Fun up, fun down.
In the end so far, I remounted the rear baskets and threw on the porteur rack and it will be a fun townie and spare camping bike. It's fun, but not a dedicated trail bike for me. Also, I could potentially use those wheels on that old Salsa La Raza, whenever I actually get that running again.
If, for whatever reason, you got an old 26" bike you wanna swap over, it is likely doable. Even easier if using a disc specific wheelset.
After an extended hiatus, the OG Black Cat road adventure bike is back together in as pure and bastardly a form as you could want. 120mm axled 5 speed Campagnolo Record hub is now a 130mm spaced 5 speed Campagnolo Record hub. What year? Who gives a shit? I'll just shut the fuck up and ride it until I break the axle. A Nuovo Record rear derailer pushes the chain around, at the behest of a NOS Suntour thumb shifter. Which one? I don't remember. The all metal job that looks like a little guard tower. Campy cranks circling a Phil Wood BB. New parts? Yes- the Paul Components Minimotos and levers; dull finish so as to be in keeping with the lowness of key.
Those Velo Orange MK retro cages hold a tall can real nice. I was pleasantly surprised at their robustness, since they use some pinner tubing.
As far as all the obsessive cataloging and hoarding of bike parts goes, I can't be bothered. I just want some well made stuff that lasts. Then I will ride the shit out of it. That's what it's for.
Gee, I wonder if I could ride gravel on it. That would be so neat. You know, if it were capable. Prolly have to buy something purpose built for that kind of extreme shit.
A question is posed. Possible responses: no, I got stuff to do instead, aren't you worried you'll get busted?, maybe- text me later, I'm tired, I don't have the proper gear, Hell Yes!
I like one of those.
These days, with my bike camping packing play so nearly complete and dialed, I find myself messing around for the sake of mixing it up. Just funkin around. For fun.
I was reluctant to pull the other Salsa Minimalist rack offa it's current berth on the fat bike, so I put the Pletscher rear rack on the Ogre, and loaded up some panniers with warm clothes, Kelly Kettle, Ti coffee press and cup, breakfast food, cans of beer, etc. Old school. Then I put a 100oz bladder on top (in the grey OR bag).
Well, that will be among the last of the funking around for fun with panniers, unless it be for quickly diminishing food supplies on long backcountry tours. The ride quality really does suffer compared to a frame pack. Really and for real. And the Pletscher, well, it did wiggle. The goofball Thermarest off the front? No problem except for ridiculousness, and we are past caring on that front. It did puncture, and me without a patchkit pushes me into loving a non-inflatable sleep pad. Not a whole lot to go wrong is alright.
Surprise! The 29+ Knard on a 50mm Rabbit Hole fits in the Ogre fork just fine, and the ride is better not all jacked up by the taller Krampus fork.
Rides like a bike.
Mr. P was the driving force behind a sneaky mid-week campout. On account of he just built a new bike. The All City (Macho Man?) turned out swell. Of course, Mr. P has made multiple mistakes on gear selection and in life; chief among them is the Revelate designs Viscacha seat bag. Or, as it might be known, the Revelate Designs Asscatcher. While I admire and use several fine products from Revelate, that one is dumb. If you aren't riding anything technical, OK. But if you are, then nope, you aren't. Because how are you getting behind the saddle with that all up in your business? Anyhow, his bike came out real nice. He even got meticulously busy with the drillium:
I am jealous! After it is ridden some, those little holes will set in so nice. I will be a copy cat, for sure.
So. In the beaten way of things, we loafed- bullshitted and drank beers- until we were well past our intended start and getting food for dinner (it's easier than cooking, and all the kids want the quick and easy) was going to eat up too much of our little remaining sunlight. Then I remembered that my rack was rubbing on the front tire because of the careless fork swap. So that ended up taking up too much of our remaining sunlight, instead. Dinner? Cliff bars and sunflower seeds for all my friends!
We did make it out and onto dirt before dark; even if it was only just. We arrived at the spot and set our gear down so as to ride a little in the unencumbered dark:
What is it about riding in the dark? As before, it is the mystery. Familiar trails become new and exciting; sometimes new and exciting enough to make you crash. All kinds of good noises are in the woods at night. The owls were getting after it with an old time hootenanny, and that is a party I enjoy. The moon was only 30%, but it was a waxing 30% and capable of casting shadows. We appreciated it even more because the night was warm (a rarity here on the coast) and we could see the tall bank of fog waiting in the wings and smothering the lights of town while we had gloriously clear skies above, right up until bed time.
That is the type of situation that could have been sub-optimal or even downright sucky (I have had one of the wettest and rottenest campouts ever in that very spot), but was elevated by the very same possibility of failure into a great success. I say it regularly: the best adventures are that because they require the real possibility of the worst (you know, aside from, like, sharks, explosions, and stuff) be faced. But, the only people who ever hear it are already out there with me. Someone choosing to stay in and watch their 32nd favorite rebroadcast TV show doesn't hear it.
No tents brung. No tents required.
Morning in the woods.
I had to get to work, and singletrack was on the way there.
Wah! I sorry for you, my friend. Now seal your fate...
Bikes. Riding bikes places. Trying to stay on dirt as much as possible.
I stopped on that one trail and looked up (at random) to see someone has built several (specifically 3) platforms quite high up. I climbed up to check them out, but lost motivation when it became obvious that a musette full of tallboys was not an asset when trying to ascend to rickety structures 18' up a rotten limbed Monterey Pine. Anyhow.
So I'd taken some 299mm spokes home from the shop for a project, and after the musette was holding empty tallboys, I decided to take it offa my back to allow it to drip not on me. Of course it dropped off somewheres on the descent. I found that out upon arriving home. It was not a surprise.
The following day was the Full Get Offa Your Ass Moon, so in observance of same I rolled out backtracking my previous trip, hunting the bag. Happy face! It was just inside the gate and not up the hill at all. That opened the door of possible alternate routes slash exploration; a door I stepped through. Well, sort of lifted the bike over and then slithered under meself on account of the barbs, but you understand.
I was on the fat bike, having some personal clown fun and looking for the Good Stuff. Eh. I did find a section of niceness, but the bust factor is high. Then the trail took a turn for the steep and loose. But- how else do you find what you don't already know, right? The fat tyres are a nice bit of equipment for trundling along on questionable surfaces. I hunted and snooped for a ways. When one is solo, there is no fuss; false starts, backtracking, lots of poison oak, fainter and fainter trails that just have to go through, etc. Damned if it didn't get darker the whole while. Darker and fainter and more oak.
Just when despair was nigh- a recognized fence! All of a sudden I knew exactly where I was, and there were open trails ahead of me. That's a sweet relief, I can tell you. On the one hand, it is magical to have such nearby access to remotitude, and on the same hand faint oaky trails in the dark blow. The friendly open trails led me right back home eventually. That section of the peninsula is not comfortable solo in the dark; it's super forested and creepy.
The spokes? They were for the newly gotten Surly Rabbit Hole rim that goes in the Krampus fork to be slung on the Ogre in the interest of trying new things...
What's the 1st thing you do when you get a new fork? You fnord drill holes in the middle!
Well, because there weren't any.
And I wanted a spot to cleanly mount the rack. On account of it is for camping. So I did that, with the riv-nut nut-setter.
Dyno Alfine with the "2 cool 4 drugs" hub shiner. Camo tape rim strip. (thanks, Mr. P!) Silver rim because I have class.
We tested it's capabilities last night. For a wheel born of such circumstance, whose very structural components were literally soaked in cheap beer well prior to actually use...it performed like you'd expect.
Rides like a bike. I'll keep you posted. It's not like it's anything legit. It's only clown fun.
Another thing I forgot to mention is that the Sturmey-Archer S3X has a free-wheeling motion. It is true. A slight upclick from 2nd can disengage the drive. It's real imprecise, and frankly kind of scary- at the slightest tap, the lever will pop into 2nd and then NOW! you are pedaling again. Not a safe transition if you are "coasting" at speed. I do it when I'm mindful. Or, when loaded and I forget.
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...
In this region, so near to the Pacific Ocean, there is a lot of moisture in the air. At night, it settles. You may recall descriptions of heavily dewed camp-outs in blogposts past. This 1st night out we experienced a driving mist. Having an inkling of what would ("maybe", we thought) come, we rigged our waterproofing as best we could. I simply laid my bike on it's side and strapped my tarp to and over it in a low A-frame. T_dd got busy(Byzantine) lashing together a series of downed limbs to each other and his bike and secured his midget pancho over the top.
I find that every time I head out, there is some crucial piece of gear that is forgotten or fails. Aside from the tents, they were left out...intentionally. This round, I had forgotten that my sleeping bag's top zipper slider had gotten ripped off over Xmas, leaving only the bottom slider- which mean that I could only fasten the zipper by "opening" (pulling the slider all the way to the top) the bag, safety pinning that point, and then crawling in and zipping the bag closed on the way down. It took a couple tries to get it right. I maintained my cool collectedness.
Shortly, soon after conversation faded hazily into drowsing, the 1st drops hit. There was the usual mad scramble to assess and re-rig. I ended up stuffing my sleeping bag swaddled lower legs and feet into my pack and calling it waterproof. My sad companion curled up like a little bug and called that waterproof. His sad sack was too tiny to accommodate.
We dozed and awoke. There were intermittent and constant noises.
Upon awakening, I discovered that T_dd had gotten up in the middle of the 2nd (and sustained) shower and abandoned his tiny shelter for the trees...
We got our act together. Coffee 1st. Breakfast 2nd. Poo 3rd. The Kelly Kettle performed well. I think I will get the larger size. The small model I have is bulky enough that the weight difference (never that big a deal for me, truthfully) is negligible. It already takes up the space, I may as well have the extra hot water. The small boils 19fl oz (eh, I'd call that optimistic- more like 15fl oz) in 5 minutes the 1st go-round, and as little as 1 minute by the 3rd, when the coals are really going. Anyhow, it is a good product if you mainly need hot water, which is my style if it ain't cooking on a grill over the fire.
Ash-laden stalactite.
Just down the hill from camp was a spring, and we used T_dd's "Freedom" SteriPEN to kill the nasties. I carry the Potable Aqua tablets (ready in 30 minutes) if I'm feeling pinched on weight or space, versus a filter, cuz I'm low tech like that. The SteriPENs I have been associated with in the past have proved extremely temperamental, though the USB rechargeable "Freedom" was more friendly. The iodine tabs do not protect against cryptosporidium, but that's a fairly benign gut bomb. Words you never thought you'd say...
We rolled North, up the Narrows, looking for Bear Mountain Rd for some exploring. This HardCOEre 100 route listing Bear Mtn inspired us to head up and see if it was cool.
It is NOT cool.
I became very upset that someone would
recommend it. T_dd attempted to devishly advocate it on the basis that
it could be required so as to not duplicate any sections in such a long
event, to which I replied and reply: fuuuuuuuuck that. Only the most
pedanticated, mindlessly adherent judge-head would pick that ridgeline fire-break to hike with your bicycle.
I don't even know how steep it is. Steep enough to make you holler. I enjoy suffering on my bike, but this was just not...fun. At all.
After the hellish climbs and the substantial bushwack of Bear Mountain Spring Trail, we reached Mississippi Lake and were stoked. We felt we were back on track for fun and heading in the right direction to reach the (needed) whiskey cached at Pachec further South.
Having dealt with Willow Ridge Road's vicious ups and downs before, we felt we could outsmart ourselfs and take Heritage Trail down to sweet Pacheco Creek Trail for the win.
This was not to be. I think we blew the turn shortly after dropping like stones to a knob at which the "trail" could be perceived as equally possibly West or South. We checked the map. The vegetation is capable of closing trails up like in the Ventana, and we were guessing South as it looked more established. It ended definitively about 40ft above the creek bed. Being very reluctant to hike back up and then to face the vicious ups and downs of Willow Ridge Rd, we figured we could bull our way through, around that knob, and we'd be at the Pacheco Creek drainage and golden. We checked the map.
Nope.
That creek bed was the 2nd most hateful experience aboard a bicycle I have ever had. We were a drainage further East than we'd reckoned. The poison oak closed in, the manzanita closed in, the walls closed in. I felt like I was in an ant lion trap, the sides were so steep and ready to slip. At times, it was preferable to haul our loaded bikes up the rotten sides to get over particularly thick thickets of poison oak. We traded leads. Procedure became: curse, lean your bike, break (literally- smash branches, most of which were rotted and thankfully easy) trail, curse, return for your bike, curse, move forward until the next impasse, repeat. Really tough.
Eventually, we broke out into the Pacheco drainage, but there was no celebration. We were tired and concerned about the amount of oak we'd come through. That stuff is really uncomfortable. It's now been 4 days with no symptoms, so I'm hopeful. We were covered pretty well- I had gaps between my socks and knickers (the American kind, thank you) and sometimes my sleeves rode up from my wrists, but it was my face I was worried about. The brush was so tight I was very glad to have large French sunglasses for style and protection.
We rode (how novel!) down the creekside singletrack and, after a bit, it lifted our spirits. Sadly, my spirits were broken when we reached Pacheco and I found some jackass had discovered and taken the whiskey. I can write no more tonight.
