a puppet for forces greater than myself

What do you do with a couple consecutive days off, some nice weather and a full moon, and a bunch of losers for friends who won't go on a mini bike tour with you? Yes, that's right. You just pack up and go by yourself.



Heading straight out the valley with 2 wheels and a gangster lean, I rolled along on the Surly Ogre with the fattish front end on account of I was heading for some dirt along the way...



I stopped because it was hot. I was tired. There was shade. I had a swap the bar ends from their aero position to one that would help with climbing. Etc.



It was all timed so perfectly. I hit that good corner just at moonrise. That was a fine spot to stop and savor. What a glorious evening. What a fine harvest moon. What enchanting prospects for cool, quiet climbing in the silvery light.



I don't know when was the last time you scavenged dropped-in-gravel BBQ flavored Cornnuts (I won them at the bike races!), but I reckon that's the last time you were really living. To be so wrung out and hungry and in such an environment...well, it's a genuine pleasure.

After lounging and savoring and appreciating and getting stiff and cold, I climbed the old dirt road for the next hour or 2 and it was just me and the moon. My wife says she would never ever go out there alone, and I understand. The first several times I was solo in the back of someplace, it was scary and I slept poorly. But nothing bad happened. There's no monsters. Mountain lions don't want to eat me. And stuff. By now, it's not a thing. I do enjoy the company of others, but there is a lot to enjoy solo as well- quiet, relaxed pacing, relaxed schedule, flexibility. So climbing up that road in the dark (I leave my lights off to appreciate the moonlit goodness) was real fine. Eventually I reached the spot and stopped. Just a sleeping bag and the sky for a roof. I sleep very lightly when I'm by myself, but it's not a bother. It's another opportunity to look around and know I'm where I am and be glad of it.



The spring. So much flow. When I got there, the plastic basin some smart guy left was full of gnarly algae and dead bees. I dumped it out and put my pots and a water bottle in there, hoping they would be close to full in the morning. And they were, plus plenty. The water tasted...earthy.



Yes.



Whatever ate this little fox was hungry. It even turned the face inside-out to get at the ear muscles!



All that is downhill. Happily downhill. But it does lead to a long and hot and long and hot and long crawl over to a substantial, though shady, climb. I found myself breaking the day into stages, but then there were the in-between-stages stages, also. You have a lot of time to think about minutiae on a long and hot and long crawl. For example: how I don't love the bar ends at all. They were not very useful as aero bars, and they're not very comfortable as bar ends, and I don't like the enclosed sensation at my hands, nor the reduction in bar width. I removed them for the final descent. To maximize my steering and promote a more positive end feel.

Bikes. Bike riding.



The thing is, if you wait for your buddies' plans to coincide with yours then you may be waiting for quite a while. Why wait?

how to read anybody's mind

Words and pictures regarding one of the finer Full Moon Performances witnessed here along the Central Coast. My features contorted into a ridiculously appropriate grimace/smile which the bracingly chill wind cemented into place. For really real, at one point I became aware that I was drooling through the open grin as I pedaled smooth, even circles down an abandoned HWY1 with the Full Ass Moon high above and the Pacific Ocean of fog immediately below. If I'm not careful, my face may get stuck this way.


Man, did you Suckers blow it. 


We were only 2, leaving COTSRHQ sharply at 7:45. Hammers and tongs to the Rocky Creek Bridge. Pushing. I was nervous we'd miss the closure at 9PM. It was needless anxiety. At 8:30someodd we rolled up to the one lane stoplight and waited our turn. By 8:30alittlemore we were off the bikes with cold Hamms in hand at one of the nastier pullouts/pit toilets at which I've ever had the pleasure to stand around at drink beers on a night time bike ride. We lurked as far from the toilet paper shrine as we could and watched the last minute scrambling to make it past the closure. There were some folks hanging it out there. We listened to the fox up the slope scream at the moon along regular intervals as it climbed.

Once the flashing lighted truck swept, we began to roll with no lights and no cars. I cannot say enough about how nice that is. Moonlit Big Sur all to oneself on a street bike ride. Yeah.




I was overdressed in my rain gear and booties and neoprene gloves and all. It could have been heavy fog the whole way, so I rolled out prepared. Drizzly cold to begin...

 Safe, like Tron chillaxing in this virtual world with a warm road-side Hamms.


 I ended up wearing my rain pants tied around my middle just above my over-loaded pockets. The plasticky bike doesn't support a frame pump well, and I will NOT use CO2 (laaaaaaaaaame and wasteful and what happens when your little waste canisters are all used up and you get another flat?), so it was minipump in the pockets along with all the rest. Loaded. And since I had borrowed L's bolt-on! generator hubbed front wheel, for the full electrick treatment, I had to carry a 15mm box wrench too. I enjoyed both the lighting and the cobbled together fancy electrick jalopyfication.

The Shimano light has a lot of exposed bulbage on top, so I booted it with an old 26" tube. Makes for pleasanter riding not having that shine in your eyes. Plus, it really ties the race bike together.


Esalen was delightful. Back and forth between the very cold and the very hot 50' above the edge of the continent until you are wrung out and content. Tired smiles, 40miles.


Sleep in the dirt by the side of the road? Sounds fine to me.

The long and the short equals this is a must do repeat. The road closure is in effect Sun-Thur until February (Rocky Creek Viaduct Project) , so let's make it happen at least a couple more times, whether the moon is full or not. With the no cars? Tell me something better.

beyond the parties and cheer

Day 3 started with sunrise. We were observing the fire ban (twig burning stove, yo) and without a mesmerizing campfire bedtime comes pretty early. Morning comes early then, too.

 I allow no electronics in the woods. Phone for camera purposes excepted. Children are better off for it.

Sleeping out with no tent is my preference. Some folks are scared, but we ain't them. With regard to creepy crawlies: we saw 2 tarantulas on the asphalt leg from the p-lot, but it was a nearly bugless trip. 1 tick in total. A handful of flies gathering at cuts or scrapes.

 "Vinegar Weed." We stirred up the witch hazelesque aroma of Trichostema lanceolatum as we walked around visiting the outhouse in the AM. I used it as a hand sanitizer. It is really strong smelling.  

Camping with an outhouse nearby is a big plus in the boys' books. D is especially appreciative.




 After strong black coffee (1st!) and oatmeal (with the dehydrated blueberries and/or strawberries and/or bananas accompanied by a small bag of nuts- you know you love them) the only thing for it was to pack up and get over that Northern ridge to reach Coit Lake.

 After lounging and chillaxing at Kelly Lake the day before, the memory of the ridiculously sloped climbs lent this gentle ascent an easy rhythm. That's a delight.

 20% chance of rain was forecast. I watched the clouds move around with no concern. It was a welcome break from the heat. At the split on top we (all of us) checked the map and headed down the Easternmost approach.

 We were looking for that Good Stuff. There is a side-hill singletrack on the South shore of Coit Lake that is worth riding.

 J schooling us about California Everlasting (Pseudognaphalium californicum). It smells so strongly of maple syrup you'd swear someone was hiding in the bushes with pancakes.




We dropped bikes at the good spot and went for a stroll.

 

We were looking for the good jumping rock, which I'd only ever approached by swimming across.

We found it and the wild Hollyleaf Cherry Tree (Prunus ilicifolia) next to it! Those cherries were _ucking delicious. Very little fruit around a giant pit, but free, ripe, available, and sweet. D got tired of me spitting my pits at him.

I leaped in with a stick and cleared all the duckweed that was clogging up the landing and approach. Then we just jumped off rocks and swam and ate cherries and sat in the sun and stuff.

This took up much of the afternoon. Later we were all busy with reading books lakeside and filtering water and napping.

2 thumbs way up. Coit is miles better than Kelly.


After a well received Indian Dinner (cooking out of spacetech pouches has certain benefits; it's super easy and cleans up easy too) we retired to our patch of ground. Later, I awoke to a Gray Fox (Urocyon cinereoargenteus) unzipping J's pack (not 10' from where we lay) and stealing the bag of peanut butter-filled pretzels therein contained. I did not realize there were snacks in that pack. I got up and hung up the boys' packs with the food bag so we wouldn't lose anymore snacks. After that excitement, I slept soundly, warmly, and comfortably.

1. Lord loves a workin man.

2. Don't trust whitey.

3. See a Doctor. Get rid of it.

3 simple rules in the English language. Words to live by, folks.

Night rides? yes. Leaving your lights off to save power? you might be seeing more than you'd like of the peelers. We'd taken the bike path out to the Ord (why?) and so were cornering our way back to the Parker Flats cutoff entrance, when upon making a fast right, we popped out in front of the popo. All lit up from behind, and a fuzzy amplified voice telling us "You 3, pull over NOW."
Oops.
"Why didn't you pull over when I told you the 1st time?"
We had the wind in our ears.
"I'll take that. What are you doing riding with no lights?"
We thought our blinkies were on. We were trying to save the headlights' power. We're turning them on right now. Shuffle and scrape, my sons. Smile and nod. Bow and whimper.
"It's for your safety. What are you doing riding out here?"
Training for a 24 hour event. (ha!)
"That's admirable. Let me see your licenses. Not riding the trails out here are you?"
No!
I won't go into everthing surrounding this, suffice it to say I began sweating for a whole new host of reasons. My backpack full of beer and camping supplies wasn't helping. Neither was that other thing. Or that other other thing. And I didn't have my ID.
He was a block from his HQ, and too eager to end his shift to run the IDs, and we had pulled off seeming sober respectful citizens, so...it went as well as possible.

I am inspired to cast these pearls, so, when dealing with the one time, attempt to control the situation in the following ways...
1. Don't panic.
2. Be respectful. This really should go without saying, but I have been in similar situations in which companions have copped an attitude and/or been surly. This never works. Johnny Law will never let this slide. Shut the hell up and take it, or they will make it worse. Believe me.
3. Steer the encounter in the direction of you needing help, not enforcement... You're injured. You have mechanical problems and need tools or are waiting for a ride home with your broken machine.It's a winning strategy! This switches the scene from administering justice to administering aid; a shift in your favor.

You're welcome.




After all this, what was left was to immediately hop on those trails, pop some tops and drop some hammers. We stowed our packs in the bushes, and rode around real fast. Then I piled up inside a loose corner on downhill 50 and cracked some ribs on my left side.

OMG, this hurts. It is the hurt that keeps on hurting. I never realized how much movement depends on oblique abdominals bracing. You know what they brace off? Ribs.

all ratted up like a teenage Jezebel

Boys only, immediate family only trip towards Indians from Arroyo Seco via the bicycle...and it broke me. I spent a lot of time thinking about the various expressions for exhaustion used in the cycling world of my acquaintance while climbing the hateful face above the gorge. (I had a lot of time.) None of these expressions encompassed the depth and sincerity of my condition.



I am well familiar with the bad feeling that comes in the early minutes of some rides. This was that and more. Particularly in light of having ridden this same hill recently in similar circumstances. Last time it was the trailer-bike and as ultra-light as I felt we could go as a family in the heat. This time it was the Big Dummy. The Big Dummy was loaded, I was not. Since we had the cargo hauling capacity, we hauled some: to the tune of the 2-burner propane stove, the 9,000lb cast iron griddle, enough bags (3) for everyone, the tiny picnic stool, the heavy Paco pad (7lbs and worth them), and a small cooler. Not so light, but not nearly as heavy as we've gone before.


I'll blame the heat. It's convenient.



So my 9 year old schooled me up the hill.



I eventually asked J to climb off the back of the big Dummy and walk. I only rode at his walking pace, so it was no great loss to him. What a difference- I came to realize how much his pedaling input last time helped offset his 37lbs. When I stopped to allow him back on, I put my foot down on a tippy rock, and fell over the side of the roadbed. Only my grip on the bike prevented me from continuing on down the slope. That would have been bad. I was too fatigued to react quickly. Oops. It has since been decided that I will not take the boys so remote with only one adult.

All I ask of my boys is that they look like old time Australian miners...



Camplife:







At the spring for refills.


Dinner by the campfire.


Night time screaming?

I sleep very lightly in the woods, so in the middle of the night I was awakened by some unknown-to-me and very scary noise. I raised up onto my forearms, and heard it again, seemingly 40-60 feet away. A weird shrieking sound. It did not sound catlike, but that is all I could think about- mountain lion. What else could make such a terrifying and BIG noise? I grabbed the headlamp from the "gear attic", and sweated in the dark without turning it on. I didn't want to give away our position. It sounds ridiculous here (clearly whatever it was knew good and well we were there) but at the time it seemed the best course of action. It repeated 6 or 7 times down the roadbed to the North, and then after a pause (during which I was steady staring at the roadbed towards the noise and scanning in front of the tent as well and seeing nothing moving) it came again just to the South and much closer ( maybe 20 feet) at which point I pressed the light to the mesh (so it wouldn't just reflect back at me) and tried to spotlight what I thought of as "the creature". Immediately it sounded again, 2 more times and each time it was more muffled, as though it were getting farther away. The boys slept through the whole thing; which was good. I did not sleep so well for the remainder of the night. The one night I did not have a knife next to me. I usually keep a knife right to hand and even indulge in such paranoid levels of preparation as to pre-open the blade (because after all, were I to actually need the knife, I'd need it ready), but this night saw me in the tent with a 6" camping knife, and a 16" handled saw just out of reach and outside the tent, and me the only "adult". Scary situation.

Turns out it was a fox. Who knew? You scoff, but I guarantee you that noise would scare you pantless in the dark.

Dawn and breakfast eventually showed. I searched for evidence of "the creature", but found no sign on the hard, stony ground. Blueberry and banana pancakes washed away the taste of fear. I forgot the coffee, which made things hard. D stuffed the sleeping bags (unasked), which was a help. The boys threw rocks while I broke camp.




All downhill to the swimming hole.






The load was lightened (due to the food all being eaten) and was more compact. I also wised up and laid the big canvas bag flat on the snap deck instead of upright, and that made a noticeable difference as well. I lik to forgo the sideload supports, and keep the side cargo as high as possible. This allows better clearance, which is important since the old roadbed is littered with rocks. The full cooler on the front rack makes steering more cumbersome, but it also holds cooled food and a 6 pack. Trade offs.

The steering was much more precise than the Albatross barred Long Haul Trucker and trailerbike. Maneuvering through the rubble was odd at first with the super long wheel base. It quickly became 2nd nature again. J was kind of jammed up against the stem mounted water bottle this time, and did not like all the bumps; he got pretty upset on the constant downhill- even with the thermarest pad. He likes the trailerbike much better. (Times are changing.) We may have to work out some different system in the future.




This section of road bed does not look so impressive here, but the darker section is the remains of a road closing slide that is pretty sketchy.







The big payoff.


You should trick your own kids into doing this before they know any better.