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.

always keep one step ahead of yourself

Waking up on bike tour is a delight. Solo is even more delightful in some ways. You can look around, see that the sun is headed your way, the birds are awake, and decide to keep sleeping. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat, until the sunlight heats your bag and you have no choice but to get out of bed and make some coffee.



That blackened stump has been out there for several seasons now.  We set it alight accidentally back when we were using the Esbits. It is a reminder to be careful with fire. I pulled it out of the woodpile for use as a stove base (again), but this time I soaked it first.

I enjoy using the Kelly Kettle. I like the ritual of gathering and busting up little twigs, which don't seem like much and yet there it is- your first boil in 5 minutes. It's quiet. Solo, you can lollygag your morning with an extra round of coffee, and not even think about other people's unspoken agendas. You all have them.



You can waste your precious time lounging in the sun, eating breakfast at a leisurely pace, and speculate with the map about potential loops from camp sans gear.




Someone had left this deer skull in the tree next to the fire ring, but I thought it would have more impact mounted on the cabin porch and covered in wildflowers...

I settled on a fun route and hung my gear up in the shower with a note asking folks to leave it unmolested. Then it was hottt climbing, only with the feelings of extra power. When you are solo, you can also feel fast.


Seems like every time we are out there, I kick myself for not having tools for trail maintenance. This time was no exception, but I did put some work in by hand. I think it will help a little. No one can do everything but everyone can do something. Thank you! to all the volunteers who put in the good work on those trails.



The dried creek beds were full of deerweed/California Broom (Acmispon glaber) and surrounded by fields of CA poppies, and lupines in shades of purple, blue, yellow, and white. The buckeyes are going insane and smell wonderful.  It was some real grasswhacking singletrack, but the ticks were not bad at all. For Coe. The bugs are out, but not bad yet. I have itchy ankles from mosquito action in the early evening. I reckon another week and the flowers will be all gone; it looks like last week would have been ideal.



I'll take what I can get.



I like these mariposa lillies (Calochortus venustus).




I also appreciate, for name alone (?), the wally baskets a.k.a. Ithuriel's spear, a.k.a. grass nut (Triteleia laxa). See also the white globe lily, a.k.a the fairy lantern (Calochortus albus).




My gear was still hanging when I got back. It is such a luxury to have that cold shower! Hell yes, I took advantage of it. After lunch I packed up and began tying the fun singletracks together in as fun an exit as I could devise.



There is a lot of good hillside singletrack out there.



I saw this Northern Pacific Rattlesnake (Crotalus oreganus oreganus) about 6' before I ran it over. At speed (hella), all I could do was unweight the wheels as much as possible and let out a quick, shrill scream. I stopped and checked it out. It seemed totally unfazed. The range of coloring for these is surprising, and I really like the colors on this one. I guessed it to be about 24" long. I was glad not to have harmed it. Snake magic.



What a fun trip. "Jumping" the snake would have been ...better with a podner, and illustrates the wisdom of traveling with (capable) friends, but damned if the whole thing wasn't a Fine Time. I came home dirty, salty, and tired. That makes me appreciate the home life as it should be appreciated.

on the incognito tip

You call up your ____, however works best for you.




Secret Boys hand deliver by bike a shrine of sorts...




We'd discussed possible placement for this, the inaugural shrine, and decided on this spot as both knowable and hidden. Which, if you know where it is, it is. The boys are looking for likely spots in the above.



We settled on this. I'd drilled mount holes at home with power, but here in the woods it is all hand crank. Something like this is always vulnerable to thuggery, though we tried to make it secure with 2" wood screws. I think it would frustrate would-be despoilers to the point of simply wrecking it before it comes loose.


Aha! At last we see who hands off the bidon.





By this point they were done "helping" and were just chasing lizards.

We'll see how this goes. The shrine contains: 1 bottle of the good corn liquor, 1 patch kit, 1 box of matches, 2 tire levers, 1 26" tube, 1 700c tube, loose allen keys (3,4,5,6), 1 box of assorted common to bicycle bolts, 1 chaintool (you can't front on that), 1 short length of 9speed chain, 1 lighter, and some hoodoo.




It isn't exactly hidden, and it isn't obvious either.


And, plus I swapped the Nitto Northroad bars (which have been on the fixed Crosscheck for years) for On One's Mary Bar and it felt fantastic! So dialed. I was loving the feel of my cockpit. You would love the feel, too.




Then I banged my wrist on some wood while we were making some adjustments to the New Stairs and the fun was over. I burst that vein and my wrist started stinging and swelling. It was time for an immediate one-handed ride to the race van and home.


Jury-rigged ice pack. I can't be having wrecked hands. In fact, this post has been entered on the left. It is time to rest the right.

You party haters need to stop it

Jingle jingle.


We observed the "Take yourself Mountain Biking Day" that was yesterday. And is today. There is free beer tomorrow.



Welcome to the New Stairs. Same as the old Stairs?

Same, same, better. At minimum, these are being here now. LOL, you should have been there when we put these in...

I'd been scouting for a replacement Stairs spot for months. This one struck me, and I'd vetted it for a slightly lesser period of months. Drunk beers on this oak. Climbed this oak. Jumped up and down on this oak. Gone from oak to oak from this oak (the sturdy, sweeping branches intersect with several other trees). Etc., like you will when you are deciding upon a secret hideout.

I had intended to rescue the remains of the used to be Stairs, but alas and alack, they have been taken I know not where. So instead, I conscripted the remains of some other structures from one of the woodpiles dotting the Ord. Big Dummy to haul it. And several weeks ago now, the boys and I rode out with a bag of hammers and some nails to put it all in place.

Come to find out some bees had made a secret hideout of their own in a little-known bole on the far side of said branch.

D was holding the cross-piece as I tacked it in place when he was stung on the ear and neck. He and J ran for the clearing. There was a lot of yelling. I ended up doing the rest of the install on my lonesome, since I had on a hat and long sleeves. It went up pretty solid, with the occasional break for swearing and swatting.

And the bees haven't put in a return appearance, but J was awful leery. Look:

Not too sure about the whole thing.



So then it was a quick velocache, and some checking of trails we hadn't checked before. Ask me any questions you like. I got answers.








That's how the Past gives way to the Future.

you are marvelous

you are marvelous

Hey, know what? If I build your bike...the bolts will all be greased and tight. The wheels will be Round and True.Whether or not it's some- in my opinion- poorly chosen mass produced no Soul having rolling impulse purchase. If I build your kid's bike...the bolts will all be greased and tight. The wheels will be Round and True. The reach will be adjusted for little hands. Price point is no object. The wheels will be as Round and as True as I can make them.

These are things that are important. Doing something Right and Well is Important.

...wait. Why am I in charge, again?

I am reminded of the sage advice offered up by Mysterious Bill S_____ as he lay, laughing from the diaphragm, upon the cold asphalt of a dirty parking lot:

"It's how you learn."

And while my son J had not been drunkenly attempting to literally stop on a dime with less than perfect success aboard a borrowed bicycle, he had been brazenly attempting to master the art of braking.


J is fine. His fork took a lot of impact...




Long time readers may recall the beginning of the riding to school on a regular basis.



This was proceeding well. Though J had shown some hesitation in coming completely to grips with the new to him 20" wheel (witness the crash into the sapling in Fort Ord months back as he cut the S-turn into an I-turn), he seemed to have a handle on things. Day 1 passed without incident. We talked about how important it is to NEVER crash into traffic, and how the only place to bail (barring a cliff) is over the side. We talked about looking where you want to go, and not at where you do not want to go- on account of you aim for your focus. Day 2, I did need to remind him to keep his feet in a level position to achieve max results from the coaster brake, but he managed just fine.

Day 3 was a different story.

Right away, at the top of the incline, he began picking up more speed than he could handle. Twice, I rolled up next to him and grasped the handle strap of his pack to slow him down. Twice, I reminded him to keep his speed under control.


The third time he began to pick up speed, he was already veering to the right. He was looking for the cut through we take at the bottom of the incline so as to avoid the well trafficked T-intersection. He veered too soon, and entered the drive way, not the cut through. When he saw the tree, he was going to fast to do anything other than crash. He looked at the tree and he rode right into it.



I was right next to him one minute, and the next he was peeling off into a tree.

He hit that tree square with his front wheel. He flew forward, impacted his thigh into the stem and pivoted thereupon to smack into the bark with his helmet. He had no time to get his hands up. Hit so hard it knocked his shoe off. It was like in the old cartoons, when a character busts through a wall and leaves a self-shaped hole with arms and legs akimbo. That was hard to see.



As I dropped my bike and stepped to him, my concern was for potential spinal injury. Though when I reached him, he was already moving to turn over, so I held his upper body still and brought him to my lap. I saw immediately that his helmet had taken the hit and there was no mark on him, but as I registered this, there was a gush of blood from under the brim which flowed pretty steady. Like a head wound will.

I told his brother D(who handled the situation with calm collectedness) to "call Mama and tell her to pick us up". Several passing cars stopped to ask if we needed help. L had only just left for work and took only 3-4 minutes to reach us, else I would have jumped right in that first Samaritan's car.

We had him at the ER within 15 minutes of crashing.

Then it was 4 hours to get him stitched. 16 total (4 sub-dermal, in the muscle belly, and 12 on the surface). It took longer because we insisted a plastic surgeon be called in for the sew-up. The cut is from the skin bursting as the helmet was forced against it, so there was very little that needed to be cleaned out of the wound. Imagine if it had been the tree...


As we wait for a crash replacement fork for his beater, I ride J to school on the back of the Big Dummy. He was hesitant about even this at first. He has been on several off-road rides since then (this happened over a month ago), and is getting back into the swing but his enthusiasm is greatly diminished. I hope he gets it back.



No parent wants to have their child hurt.

I think about what I did wrong: I should have taken more time with him getting comfortable on the bike before heading to school- it seemed like he attached a different and weightier significance to riding to school than to just riding along... I should have maintained a grip on his bag and slowed him completely rather than letting go when he was (to my mind) "under control"- unbeknownst to me at the time, he wasn't applying his brakes at all, he was letting me slow him... I should have let him decide when he was ready to ride to school- it's unfair to push my choices on him, and walking is a perfectly viable option even if it is dullsville.


I think about what I did right: with the help of my fantastic wife, I raised a little badass-that was a hell of a wallop...I stabilised his head-spinal injuries are no joke...I made him wear his helmet, and positioned it correctly-anyone who wants to haggle over helmets' usefulness can suck it while they go look at those helmet pictures again...I made him get back on the bike-though it may not end up his joy in life (as it is mine), allowing him to drop it because he had a set back would be the worst lesson I think he could be taught. Even if all he learns is that his old man is a hardass, he won't learn to be a quitter.


We all fall down. That's Life. The only thing to be done then is to get back up.

Loaded for 5.

Loaded for 5.
Originally uploaded by Reverend Dick

Loads been going on. So to speak. Our home computer has crashed. And with it your reading pleasure?

I have not crashed (less you count tumbling backwards into poison oak stalks) so as Spring begins to progress, this icy silence will begin to thaw. For now, it's a trickle.

Hope you been getting your miles in.

Don't dance near the chemicals!

Punk Rock=DIY.



So last weekend was the high school kids' tour from an undisclosed school in W_____ville. I rode out to the Ord in order to cheer them on and provide some small measure of the heraldry requisite for such a fine entourage.




I just think that's so great. These kids (are in the bicycle maintenance class(!), and many of them had put together their own rigs from the frame up. I just think that's so great) aren't using power meters or elecktrinkal shifters and they don't care how PRO your kit may be, they are just riding their bikes a long damn way and doing it for days.


The 2 brave souls chaperoning this trip are fucking heroes. MS, KB- good looking out. For real, guys. It's one thing to take one's own children on kick-ass adventures, but a whole other higher level thing to agree (knowingly) to the inevitable headaches and hassles of shepherding other people's kids on multi-day journeys to bad-assery. Y'all are making the future.








And, plus- speaking of Punk Rock, what with bike touring on the brain lately, these fine bags from Tauro Leather are worth the looking. I like them.

fibrous networks of Self

Sometimes the road is rocky along the way boys.



Injury, heartache, trouble and loss. Riding bikes is bringing me back. Slowly, slowly. I feel dangerously close to decrepitude.

The Stairs are gone.

Same old used to be.


They are gone, but potentially salvagable at this late date. Who's got 2 strong/willing friends and an Xtracycle...?

The trail has been glazed over. This section of Fort Ord is ruined fro twisty singletrack until further notice. Do not start with trails, do not pass wildlife.

I got ambitious that day and really overextended myself. Cold rain, and pulled muscles. Dang, the traction was so good.


Sunny days.


Wanna know what is inspiring to me right now?

This is a way to get to work! Isn't that great? There are all these little snatches of trail within the city (well, town anyway) and they can be overlooked or seen for the gems they are.



It is time to be covered up. Tall socks and long sleeves keep los garrapatas y los poison oak away.






One of these days, when you hear a voice say "Come" where you gonna run to?

And as far as the Sleaze Otter went? All the stories you heard were true. And, some piggies need to understand fun is not cast out in the mud before you; you have a role therein.

primeval jungle plantings

Same, same, different. Did some work (turning down custom warshers, finishing dropout clamp areas, reaming, tapping, reaming, tapping, tapping, tapping) this week learning to use the mill and the lathe in Santa Cruz (or is that Capitola right there? I get all your little important divisions mixed up). That's right, you heard right, I am learning me some small steps towards using machines that make the bicycles. Some time this winter I expect to step up to the torch and wreck a bunch of stuff.



Mr. Myagi (my personal Pat Morita) refuses to do mystic ish like sending me to fetch a sprig of poison oak from Santa Rosalia, but he is all to happy to assign the wax on wax off work that is slowly and secretly turning me into your worst nightmare: me in the middle of your little group ride on a matchine of my own devising. You know the second one I make will be a mixte. Don't kid yourself.

All's I can say is: fuck yeah. Maybe it's cuz I'm such a noob at this, but perhaps it's just cuz it is so freaking cool to make bike. Whatevah. I'm well stoked.

And in the meantime, I try to hawk one. I try to hawk one, in the meantime. Taking a break in the middle of your day to go and ride the sweet singletrack is well advised; particularly when staring down the barrel of a big rain. I will say that it is getting pret-ty mucky under the redwoods. I hadda do the right thing and get off that one trail and head back to the dryish fireroad for the up. I also had to give in to the Dark Side and ride down that serpentine and most perfectly pitched singletrack on the down.

Perhaps it is time to consider Fort Ord, and it's excellent drainage characteristics. Home trails are coming into season right now. And on that note, the Full Wolf Moon is coming at you on a fast lope. Saturday (hear the sound of obligation dogs calling, you have to go if it's a weekend night) the 30th. Lift your leg and mark your calendar.




And, plus apropos of the type of riding one will do under the Full Moon (i.e. super tanked) I have had a little wake up call of my very own. I was riding that one local loop last week when I stopped at the stopping place and took off my helmet and had a beer and made a few calls and such. I then picked up my helmet from it's hanging spot on the log and put it on. It was very cold and wet, like your helmet gets when it's all sweated up and you foolishly take it off and allow the sweat-filled pads to lose body heat. Yuck. I turned to get on my bike. And there on the handlebars was the helmet I had been wearing on that ride. I had left the log helmet on the log days before, and had enough to drink on my mind that I didn't notice I rode off helmetless. Not as crazy as it might be, as I ride helmetless often enough (suck on that, safety advocates) that the sensation is not unfamiliar, but not as copacetic as it might be either. Time to reign meself in some.

Words to live by, bicthes. I hope you are well.

get right with _____________(insert godhead of choice here)

Oh my god. This speaks to me, fundamentally, in tongues. Not least because of Lucinda Williams' take on it.

I'm in the process of building a shrine for the Love Muffin Cafe, in Moab. Whether it's late night fork rebuilds, sampling canned beer in a poorly lit parking lot while eating overpriced fries when you had really wanted tater tots, or preparing cryptically titled food items-pure gold. So, I was doing a little research into bike shrines, and found this. Our man Harrison Mayes spread his personal Sweet Baby Jesus by bike. None of these bakfiet-come-lately types are hauling any kind of ass like the weight of the world.

I've got to start building me(and you?) some riding shrines. Perhaps these trailside attractions will be inspirational and stocked with the essentials- a pint of Old Grandad, patch kit, chain links and tool, matches, allen wrench set, clear plastic rain cape, maybe some lube. You know. Stuff you can use.

Maybe I'll tell you where they are, if you ask nicely. Maybe not, the way the whole easter egg situation has been working out.
Amen and pass the snakes, brother.
____________________________________________________________________


Y'all thought I was joking when I raved about the taint moleskin? Well, think again, suckers. Ridiculous as it seems at first, it is a fantastic idea for epic rides. Not so sure about the whole reuse thing, though.