enjoy it before it's over

Some sleep in the dirt therapy is just the thing. Secret Boys style.



Want the treatment? Get out there and set up your fancy tarp while it is still light. Swang on the rope. Explore some new bits of woods. Wait for sunset. Ride around doing whatever it is you do. Eat take-out burritos in the dark, and wish for a candle lantern (which is something you haven't thought about since Boy Scouts). Talk amongst yourselves. Awaken several times in the night and lay there, listening to the soft rustling of the wood rats amongst the beer cans hidden in the tree. Think about various configurations of material in an attempt to maximize fun space. Relish being out in the woodsy night time.



Check out morning in the woods. Gaktronic likes to sleep on the platform, and he really likes having the roof. It spit a little the other night while I was out solo (and shelterless), so I brought the tarp along this go round. I am super happy with it.



D and I slept on the ground. 



Fun with Princess Bride ad libbing. The boys are well versed in that film.



What you do not see is me. I found a set of insulated coveralls. Perfect for lurking incognito.




Spontaneous mild derbying...I was so proud.




"Make your camp face."



May you experience aero tucks and kindly bears.

important stats

Just be thankful.

Summer is ready when you are

Keep rolling.

 I been telling (threatening) the middle child that we would do a s24o camping trip on a school night since last fall. Now is the time and the time is now.

The secret ridge top camp spot is rideable from home (totally), but in the interest of keeping it as fun as possible for the shorter legs among us, we got dropped off  in the middle of nowhere.

 From the middle of nowhere, it is a short ride to the Good Stuff...

 You remember how all that poison oak is all encroaching and stuff? It's a bad situation in which to fall:

 D learned on the ill-fated Coe trip that sometimes, when riding loaded, you high-side it into the oak, and that when you are lying full length in the stuff you should keep bare skin as clear as possible and wait for help. And suffer the indignity of having it be filmed.

He was carrying his down bag (on account of how packable and light down is...) in his pack, along with warm clothes and school books required for the next day. His sleeping pad was strapped to the bars. It is a workable set up.

I was carrying my down bag (for the exact same reasons) strapped to my saddle and food, cookware, and toiletries in the frame bag. My sleeping pad was strapped to the bars. I also had a small pack loaded with the test-hammock and it's straps,beer and a warm jacket.

D opted to sleep in the hammock.

A nice meadow.

 The evening slid into night and the owls came out. We stood around and hooted at them. I drank some beers. D ate some chocolate (but declined to make s'mores. It was a Good Time. He is much more talkative when away from the distractions of TV or youtube skate videos or his 1/4 pipe, or just about anything more inneresting than talking to his old man. (Though I suppose the same type of distractions distract me, too.) Anyhow, when we're standing around in the dark with nothing to do but hoot at owls, it is not only a Good Time it is some Father-Son type scenario. I lik that.

Sadly, all things end. We went to sleep, I on the ground and D in the hammock. The old heads among the audience have been wondering which item I neglected to pack on this camping trip. Well, wonder no more- I left the tent at home on purpose because it was a 20% at best chance of rain, so I only forgot the tarp. No big deal, I've slept in worse than fresh meadow grass in a comfy down bag on a cushion of air.

I first had to cover my face because the fog rolled in and sat upon us so heavily it was dropping water at a rate just under actual drizzle yet precipitating enough you could feel it tapping at your skin. Since this shoulder thing has been happening, I can only sleep on my Left side (the back was out cuz the face shielding down bag would smother me). The precipitation gently increased throughout the night, turning my comfy down bag into a sodden, heavy disappointment. I hoped D was faring better in the trees, because I was waking every 1/2 hour. The text I sent my sweetie at 5:19 read "I'm effed. I am wet and waiting for light."

When it brightened enough to move around without a headlamp, I made coffee and oatmeal. I'd been warm enough in the sad sack, but once out my jeans (soaking wet on the Left side from where the drizzle had pooled on the sleeping pad) underscored the wisdom of wool and the folly of cotton.

D had fared a little better, but he had not slept well because of the drizzle and the down. When I looked in on him, he'd wiggled the pad out from under himself and it was useless next to him in the wet hammock. He wasted no time in getting up when he heard me rattling around.


I bet I remember the tarp next time. For what that's worth, it's time I learned the lesson that camping around the ocean is always a dewy mess and we should just bring the dang tent. Synthetic bags would have been a lot less water-logged, and warmer in the meantime.

D felt better with some hot food in his belly. We packed up quick- the dripping wet sleeping bags I just shoved into my expandable small pack- and got on the trail. It was all downhill from there. OK, 2 climbs, but mostly downhill. I blew D's mind with the sneaky patchwork of singletrack and path I wended us through in order to be late to school. (That part didn't bother him.)

All in all, it was a bust.













Still beat sitting around the same old same old. Don't kid yourself.

every clown has a silver lining

Every interbike has it's seamy side. There're lots of quality photos and words on the computer screens regarding the new bikes/parts/etc. I will add these words: beers, fat tired bikes, bourbon, brownies, go-karts, lost wallets.

Lost my wallet. Several hundred in cash, my credit cards, ID...In the parking lot of a casino. In Vegas.


Thank goodness for kungfu bicycles and Priscilla Presley. In large part, their influence enabled me to gladhandle my friends into enough cash to drive home.

Friends- THANK YOU!

You will see your dollars come back to you.Whatever version of the story you heard is the Truth, and anyone who says different is...misinformed.



I will further say that Surly employs the worst kind of trash. The squirt guns, the ring tossed tires, the insults, the lowbrow conversations. It's almost enough to put me off the cold beer and the Pugsley I will be purchasing.

don't kid yourself

ILY.

come and see a fat, old man sometime

D_____ and his buddy Q___ ventured out at dusk to see the original True Grit at the outdoor Forest Theatre. Bonfires at the corners of the stage and coozied beers in your hand. It's juice pouch if you're nasty.

Heading up the hill toward the dirt connector in the foggy twilight was sublime. I almost took a picture then. Wished I had a camera capable of catching those 2 bumbling their way down, across, and up on the way home; stiff, cold, and in the dark. Dark. Little headlamps pushing short cones into the fog, at nipple height to a one eyed fat man. But still- willing.

It makes me fog up meself, watching them pick up that torch. Westerns? The Duke? Filmed in Ridgeway? (D tripped on the location of the film when I explained it's nearness to his accustomed winter retreat- the Mountain Belle hut above Ouray.) But mostly the bumbling home in the dark aboard the bicycle.

Willing.



If you got 5:48 to spare, and you're willing, I think these 2 videos are ones to watch.



By now you know how we feel about Ry Cooder.

to all those that know what really time it is

J's first ever trail ride!



Which quickly became his first ever trailside crash...



followed by his first ever trailside recovery.


He really tore it up. Especially in light of keeping up on dinky 12" wheels.



There were moments of panic, in which he forgot the coaster brake and Flintstoned to a stop. There were moments when he used his feet as outriggers and pogoed back and forth down some inclines.


We took the mildest singletracks available. Some fireroads. A very small amount of pave. Not one complaint.

Ostensibly, the plan was to head over to the old Boy Scout Camp and cut the hands off the used-to-be clown-headed swing sets. The heads are long gone. There's one frame/body still standing, but people beat us to it. Those hands are gone now, too. There is one body in the weeds, which location I thought I remembered but could not find. I had stashed the body in the dark of night maybe 4 years ago, after I'd hack sawed the head off. I kept telling myself I'd get around to hauling the body out one of these days. Dang. Who doesn't want a white gloved tube of galvanized steel with chains attached?

Anyhow, we cooked Brown Lunch and fooled around.


J got tired on the way back. We strapped the pink bike (which had been N's 1st bike and then D's, and J's in turn) onto the tail of the Big Dummy and J climbed on board.


We stopped briefly at the stairs, where J decided he wanted to ride the rest of the way himself.


Then we collected some trailside logs for firewood and called it a day.



We should all be so stoked. ~6 miles.

...not horrible.

Is how D answered when I axed him how today's ride was.


Since the camping trip last week ("It sucked.") was so hot and bothersome for him, I've been thinking. He really put in the hard effort for that ride (even with the epic bitching) and it was very much off the couch. I have not been taking him riding. Largely due to my selfish preference for going at my own chosen speed, but also because both older children say that they don't want to go with me.

"It's no fun."

"It's too hard."

I am again saying "It's too bad for you, my friend." to all of that. So today I dragged him out on the condensed sneaky loop. It was condensed in that we drove up the hill to near the top, and I got the car without him later. This allowed us to skip a lot of uphill (which he dislikes) and a lot of traffic ( in which I dislike for him to ride), and begin his conditioning. I believe I have mentioned here before how we used to be ski bums in a fine little town on the Western slope of CO, and how lots of kids in that town were incredible skiers but were burned out on the whole thing by age 10 because their parents had forced it on them and how I want to avoid that with bicycles and my own offspring...well, those are words I should heed.

Today was a search for the middle ground of hard and fun. It began with pave but quickly switched to dirt.

We had an impromptu clinic on riding steeps. This is his 2nd ride on the 24"wheels, and it is taking some adjustment. Looking at how he's had to spiiiiiiiiiin to keep up on his 20", this seems to be a mostly welcome change.




Getting "stuff" out of his shoes.




After a reduced-yet-still-substantial circuit, we broke out the pocket chainsaw and sawed some logs. We used the 2man technique to good effect on the 12" (old and dry) log, but the freshly fallen 18"er broke us, and we'll have to take it in stages.


Then it was time for Brown Lunch.


To begin we cleared away the duff. Then we set out the pan/lid as a base to avoid a forest fire.



Guess what I forgot today?




Jack axed about Esbit legitimacy...I will say (again) that this stove is supremely useful. Compact, able to use natural/local fuel. Practically foolproof, and I should know.





See?



We sat on the hillside log.



We looked out on this.


Then we ruled it downhill some more to crawl back home on pave. 6 hours. 0 complaints.

Not horrible.

hey all you gays- quit forcing me to do...uh...stuff!

So this:

is beyond the pale.


My favorite is: "I will have no choice." That is correct white teenage girl! You WILL have to...uh, what was it she will have no choice about again? Whatever. Hey all you gays- you stop destabilising my marriage! It is on the rocks now on account of you and your darned love for one another!

God hates stuff I want Him to hate!



See?

Coppi v. Bartali?

This is not inconsequential.


There it is.

Coppista? You will say that "it is clearly Coppi handing off his bottle". You will say"Look at the form of the man, he is not looking back to grab a bidon; he is looking forward to the race." You will admire the intensity of his gaze . You will point out the downward glance and evident fatigue of Bartali. You will deny the possibility of a Bartali handup, saying "But his cages are full! He only has the one barmount, and the one downtube. Where would he have gotten that 3rd bottle if not for the munificence of Il Campionissimo in giving a drink to his greatest rival?!" Perhaps you will bare your teeth and growl.

Bartalista? You might sigh, and ask "why is it that Copppi holds his other bottle in his hand if not for the fact that he is engaged in replacing both, and aren't they both empty? Isn't Coppi receiving a full bottle from "Pious Gino", who in fact is sufferring humbly while Coppi grimaces through his dehydration?" You could question "whether anything at all can truly be told by the location of bottles in this picture. It may be that more is to be gained from the expressions; in which case isn't it the aging master calmly sacrificing his water for his greatest rival?!" Maybe your eyes will slowly close as brows go up and palms rise.





Here is the answer: It just doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter if the challenger is paying homage to the champion, or if the aging master is denying himself for the sake of his ascendant protege.


It's all love.

You say it's YOUR birfday?

well, happy to you, too. Celebrated D_____'s 9th today.

9 years, 12 kids, 1 scavenger hunt. 3 hours on the bike (well, total time out anyway) setting this thing up. 1.5 hours total scavenging time. They literally ran the whole way. We had to jog and run to keep up.

My cue sheet:

0) Home clue- this was the 1st clue to familiarize them with the format and outline what was to come in terms of searching for: clues, stars (which I had attached to stuff with screws, so D could use his cool birfday leatherman and feel all badass), and scrabble letters (which were the letters of his name).
It referred them to the native plant garden several blocks from the house, and mentioned Native Crafts as well.
We split them up into Red Team and Green Team. Green won the intro question: 9x6=? and so got the clue to keep to themselves if they wanted. Of course they did, and wandered around our yard looking at whatever caught their eye until we talked them into sharing. The Red Team knew where the native garden is, and they were off and running. Literally.

1) Native Garden- Here they found the Ohlone tule reed housing sample D had made in Social Studies recently. It had 2 clues woven into it which referred to the 1st hidden star and 1st letter, and to the 2nd clue which was hidden in a dead Monterey Pine killed by pine beetle attack! This referred them further North and onto trails.

2) A Rubber Chicken- hanging from a tree containing the clue to look for it's tiny tiny tiny brother. Which marked the next star, and the 2nd letter, as well as a clue asking them if they were stumped. This was marked with an asterisk saying it was a riddle.

3)The Stump- another letter, and directions to play Guerilla Bocce (simply throwing the jack and bowling at it in the woods) with the winning team receiving the "secret clue" which (again) they could keep to themselves or share. Red won, and kept to themselves the clue; to head towards the bridges...

4) I waited until the older kids had rushed past and then dropped an empty/cleaned Proofide tin containing a further clue in the trail for a younger (think slower) kid to find. It told them to look on the small bridge for a clue, and the large bridge for a star.

5) Small Bridge- a Dia de Los Muertos Groom hanging from the bridge with a clue tied to him. I was surprised how quickly they found it, and by the screwball methods they attempted to retrieve it. Not logical people, these 4-11 year olds. His clue referred to his dead wife, and to remember the 1st clue in looking for her. She was in a dead Monterey Pine, and her clue referred them downhil towards the __R___ __SS__N. It took them pencil, paper, and a while to work out this was the CARMEL MISSION. ( After we called them back from running pell mell up a different hill...there was a lot of directionless, frantic running)

Large Bridge-the star was hidden under the hand railing, marked by a carven star in the bridge surface.



6) I dropped a bottle containing the clue that there was a star and a letter in that clearing. I was not sly enough; N saw me and so found it right off. The clue hidden behind the letter directed them to another game of Guerrilla Bocce and the now familiar secret clue with the now familiar selfishness. It had them looking in stumps for clues.

7) The next Large Stump-containing a bottled clue and a letter. "Take the next trail to the Left".

8) The next trail to the Left-led them to a star attached to a log,which had a trail marking arrow of branches pointing to a stump up slope with a clue sticking out the top. This directed them to take a downhill trail and look for a Smile.

9) A smiley face stuffed animal covering a clue to "keep keeping on" and a letter.

10) Keeping on until the T-intersection, where the trail marker arrow had a star attached signalling them to the Dolittle Trail.

11) At the Y-intersection they were left clueless. They opted to split up and Green went high while Red went low. Low they found a star and a clue ("NO!"). High they found a clue in a jar ("YES") telling them to head up to the meadow.

12) Meadow-Hidden in the lower back corner of the lone bench was a clue and a star. They had to play Bocce again and again get a secret clue.



13) The Chairs- at the top of the meadow are some chairs for sunset gazing. They found the lunchbox tied up in the Eucalyptus branches so quickly, I was very surprised. This clue directed them back home for the final clue...

14) The front gate-I'd attached a clue and the final star as they were leaving, and they found it upon returning. It asked where D would perch if he were a bird. He likes to hang out high (high- like 40feet up) in a redwood in the back yard, and from there he can see all around the neighborhood. While they were figuring out this is what the clue meant, I snuck out the front with the Treasure Chest and placed it on the roof of the truck.
D did not see it, so N went up the tree to help. They saw the Chest together, and climbed down to get it. I could hear N plotting how D should "lead everybody a different way so [she could] go get the chest..."
The treasure was their party favors, and then it was time for cake and yelling and running.




We are tired.

Buckets of moonbeams in my hand

You got all the love, honey baby,
I can stand.

Nice return to the busy happy ride life. The more foolish Santa Cruz clown troop piled out of their tiny car and spilled over into the Fort Ord countryside. The local boys make the Good Life with the showing up of 2. Improvements in the wonderful. Cannot say the better than here about the Good Time of the Moon and Bike.



Little red wagon, little red bike
I ain't no monkey but I know what I lik.

Ready, WILLING, Able?

photo taken from M. Curiak, link below

I have been following along with Mr. Curiak's off road adventuring here, and dang! am I envious. I know I have been very fortunate in my riding life; both in places I've lived having fantastic trails and in trips I've taken for riding...but that guy is operating on a whole 'nother level.

I personally have ZERO interest in riding my bike through shi_loads of snow and all. Because that does not sound like fun. I'd rather ski/snowboard if it's gonna be like that. But maybe that's what gave him the outlook needed to pull off the stuff he's on about now. Self-supported multi-day back-country riding. That sounds good, huh? Yeeeeeees.

The Colorado Trip this summer was super fun. Good folks and better trails. It has given me the awareness of what it takes to plan something along these lines. That is the hard part- trails can be tough to hook together for this kind of distance, more so when you don't live there and know them. And it has given me the awareness of what it takes to execute a series of epic rides. That is the hard part- day after day riding is hard work, and trail junctions can be hella confusing when you're an exhausted simpleton. But fundamentally, a trip (of whatever duration or sort) takes one thing to make it kickass:

The willingness to have a good time.

That is the most important element in whatever adventure you happen to be on. Whether it's a 60 mile jaunt through alpine singletrack with cold beer waiting at the end, it's yet another lap of the local loop, or it's riding alternately boring and terrifying(cars) same old streets to get to work. It's far too easy to let _________ get in the way of a Good Time. People get tired and cranky. People have expectations that are disappointed. People get rained on, or cold, or too hot, or...People have a rigid schedule that must be followed. People have mechanical issues. People get injured. People don't have the bike for the purpose. People can't be bothered to ride because they are too out of shape, or have to get up early the next day, or...


The willingness to have a Good Time can solve all your problems. The Church of the Sub Genius, before they became embittered and fell on hard times because they staked all their hopes on alien salvation (hmmmm- divine help from the sky. sound like any other religion?) which failed to appear on X Day 1998 as promised (hmmm-appointed day for Salvation did not deliver. sound like any other religion? better reschedule, and this time leave it open ended, or the sheep will get restless and harder to fleece), had a good premise: the Short Duration Personal Savior. The ShorDurPerSav could be whomever or whatever you need to get you through. Maybe you need Jesus, or Mohammed, or maybe your God is nothing but an elephant! Maybe you just need that flattened and sweaty PB&J that's been waiting (already appraised and dismissed) in your jersey pocket for the last 2 hours. Maybe you need the love of your Sweetie. Maybe you need your mom. Whatever you label your need, it comes down to the Willingness to have a Good Time.

Sweetie Weekend

Was this you?

J pedals alone.

The release:
Yes! It's on now.

We took the training wheels off and the pedals too. Slammed the seat and let him coast for a while. It's a real smooth transition. With no pedals in the way, kids can use their legs as outriggers while they fine tune their balance. He's been hauling ass around the yard for weeks now, picking his feet up and coasting. He has a solid (rock steady) grasp on pedaling from his tour on the "trailerbike". Now he's got to get a handle on stopping- never his strong point.

That pink bike was his sister's 1st . Then his brother's 1st. Then a family friend's 1st. Then another family friend's 1st. Now it's back.

It's like the priest and the altar boy here at Church HQ. But without all the creepy undertones. And it's on.

A quick fix

After the reanimation of L's old Gitane mixte, I rode it yesterday to the parent-teacher conference. The BB was loose as a goose by the time I got home. Adjusted it. Rode it for a quick spin up the hill to some secret dirt today, and it was tight as a _________ (help me out here), and just as sweet. The 40/14 was a change. Climbing the gentle grades was perfect. It's just the right gear for me to feel really on, just the right amount of power required to feel it, not too much. Like Goldilocks. The steeper stuff blew, what with the flex inherent in a too-small 1970s inexpensive unisex (Hey! men ride them in Europe) bicycle coupled with the mutant 250mm 1" stem and wiiiide WTB dirt drops (OG, too.)- but, the steeper stuff is gonna blow regardless of the gear, so I'm golden. Getting off and shuffling along is not hurting my pride. The 700/37 Paselas run at maybe 70psi added their proven touch of cushy goodness, but the forgotten gem...The Brooks B66(6)...Wow. I'd forgotten how sprung-what?sprung this thing is. Riding the Peugot was an exercise in delicacy from day one due to the crappy 7/8" pipe. No longer. The Reanimator was rock steady and smoooooth. Wow. I am stoked on this "new" rig. It's got possibilities, man. I am stating for certain here and now: If I don't break this between now and then, look for this bike at CCCX 2008 Cross Races near you. And I do mean "look out", cuz I'll have a hard time stopping or turning real sharp.

So there's that. I had the B66 from then, were I to purchase something along those (effing smooth- serious comparison to full suspension in both feel and weight penalty) lines now, I'd opt for theB67, which has the same ass lovin dimensions without the unnecessary 2nd rail. Save quite a bit of weight, too. Perfect for any Big Dummy build. Which, by the way, I got screwed out of (again). I've had that thing on Itemwatch on and off (mostly on) since it was offered there, and it popped up at night as available, only to be sold out the next day upon order attempt. And that's the 22" frame! WTF?!? I'm sour, Surly. Qbp may be the Borg.

Leo needs a new pair of shoes.

Finally, as per conference discussion I went over division of improper fractions with N tonight. Again. She has the lousiest work ethic I've ever seen. She's a smart kid. She doesn't put that into her work. Whatever work. Anything, at all. Even things she enjoys, she'll skate through. It is maddening for me. I want so much for her to grow into a kind, considerate, capable person- I see real potential for her to attempt to squeak by on looks and charm. And truth be told, she ain't that charming unless she's getting her way. Lots of whining, quick with the complaints. How to get her eyes open?
Anything worthwhile takes effort. Real, sometimes even painful, EFFORT. This plays out on rides, too. Bitch about the distance, or sand, or climbing, or blueness of the sky...then say what fun it was when it's done. Don't misunderstand, I know all about only enjoying a ride once it's over. All about it. (B___, thinking about the later sections of 35 here) N just seems incapable of connecting the overall worth of suffering. This won't be the last she hears of it, nor the last ride out upon which she's dragged. Though, I do try to balance that...within the scope of my own obsession. I witnessed too many parents in Telluride push skiing on their kids. What's not to LOVE about skiing? But sure enough, by the time they were 11-12, and they were phenomenal/sick/intuitive skiers, the kids refused to ski. They hated skiing...

Any ideas?


And, plus. Big Ride plans brewing for Sunday,Sunday, Sunday.