immunity from ridicule

Beyond whatever pale you got. There's a good spot out there, somewheres. My roommates and I went looking, and we found one. Nowadays we know right where it is- about 15 miles from HQ. We take the back ways whenever possible, on account of they are less trafficky and more quiet.

Everybody fusses before we leave. The boys fuss because they know what kind of effort they have in front of them, and I fuss because the this and the that aren't where they "should be" and a strap pulled off, and this part needs adjusting and that one needs lubing, etc. I am a crabby packer when I am trying to concentrate and answer questions and give directions all at once. I have realized I am not great at multitasking (mul tit asking?) At all. Eventually we get all sorted and roll out. On the road, all these irritants blow away. It is time to settle in.





D is in a growth spurt, so he's a hard fit on his bike(s) right now. And he is extremely reluctant to adopt an efficient/aggressive bike stance- he wants to sit upright and slouch with his giant flipper feet square over the pedal. He test rode his mama's Xcheck and didn't want to ride it because of (half foot)toe overlap. After some (more) instruction (again) he got it and that bike fits him best and is quick rolling. It is hard to talk to him about riding because I get frustrated that he can't remember basic instructions (like how to take a front wheel off). He doesn't care to learn is the issue. I try not to flip a switch (it should be fun) and I succeed maybe half the time. So he pouts and I say "too bad. You're doing it." Hopefully the fun is enough to overcome the "this is hard." Time will tell.



This route is the same as the last route. J was sad that we juuuuust missed the fruit stand hours of operation. We rolled over to the taqueria and they know us and our order and how we like our burritos in foil, not the cardboard to-go box because they're more packable that way. We stopped at the sundries store and got a glass jar to stash some candy out there. We learned to store sweets in glass after the ants crawled under the wrappers of the Tootsie pops that one time and all that was left was an empty balloon of wrapper and stick. We crossed the street and picked up some tall boys of Modelo (gettin' fancy) and some Skittles.

Stopping at a high point to drink a nice cold beer, I put my jacket on straight away. There was a good on shore breeze, and being sweaty- that'll chill you quick. J followed my lead and then D. After a few more minutes standing around speculating, they had theirselves a yard sale:



I laughed and laughed. Off with the shorts and on with the pants...



and the ninja.






I ordered this handlebar setup from Revelate a while back, and am only now getting it out for a shakedown. Well, I been so complacent with the (already installed) porteur rack. Anyways, it's a process. It does mess with cable placement, and I now know you gotta pack a smaller bag in closer to the bars or your brake finger action is impeded. I reckon I'll use the bag on my sporty bikes and slap the rack on this Big Dummy because cargo bike. I carried all the boys' stuff in order to make hard effort as fun as possible. Also, I really, really like the big front end, but I feel like I'm wearing that ($pendy) tyre out too quickly by rolling around on so much pave on the get to and from, so I'll switch back to regular and save that for the real trail rides.


When we arrived at the place, the light was fading and we had to get our set-up set up. The boys were hongry, so they began eating whilst I set up the tarp. Which, that is a time suck. I asked/told  D to set up the hammock meanwhile...and he sucked his teeth and threw up his hands (the irritants all come rushing back in!) indicating that he was busy eating his burrito and what the F. Oh man, does that put me in a tailspin. I explained the importance of helping your family/team and how that helping will be appreciated by anyone he ever hangs out with for his whole life versus how laying back and expecting things to be done for him will not be appreciated, etc. Also, if the hands get thrown up again, ever, there will be some hands being thrown. Some new attitudes (freshman in high school) are being taken out for a test drive and I will see that shit STOP. Generally he's a great kid.

Moving on from parent rant. Check this out:







I picked up some ENO party lights (your LBS can get you some) and, wow, are they neat. There was plenty of light for Risk-the game of world domination.



Fog will drop a lot of water when it does, so we all slept under the tarp.






You already been knowing how the Kelly Kettle boils water for coffee and for oatmeal...



and how to fashion a bowl from a used tallboy.

back stage passes

See me after class for the actual best way into the interior of Henry Coe. Climbing is a given, but there are ways and there are ways. Behind turning a lot of corners, and pedaling, Pacheco Camp is only a afternoon away, after all.

I crumbled Sunday after work, and did not make it happen. Soft. Looked out the window at that upcoming Full whicheveritis Moon, knew in the moment I was blowing a great and rare opportunity, and went right on crumbling. I completely turned it around on Monday, though- left super early in the afternoon. Right at the crack. I kicked myself about it then (it don't bother me now, though) because it is delightful to ride open trails beneath the silvery moon, and the chances are at best 13 in a year's worth.

It's only riding bikes.



My personal bikepacking configuration is ever adapting. I don't use some calcified "system" that locks me in to a "right" way of doing things. With the Revelate frame bag, if I'm thoughtful, I can fill all the nooks and crannies and fit a surprising amount of kit in there. If I ever meet that guy, I'm shaking his hand- he has changed the way I use bicycles to the good. Having the weight in the frame, rather than wiggling away outside the center of gravity, allows for way more ripping. Way more. I felt like I really nailed it this time, but I could have brought more beers and some whiskey if I'd a been willing to suffer a pack (temps in the 90s?! No thanks). As it was, I strapped the sleeping bag to the barends I have mounted aero style. It's an old Slumberjack tube style stuff sack that I'd never used before, and it is pretty OK for that use. Makes me want a tubular dry bag. I strapped the tarp swaddled sleeping pad to the underneath of that, and then of course things began acumulating...



After all the hot and sweaty, Pacheco Camp has a shower!



Post shower, the hardships began. I had plenty of light left to walk around and hassle the local turtles (the Pacific Pond Turtle Actinemys marmorata- which could be my totem for Henry Coe, because "though slow and plodding, pond turtles are capable of impressive movements", I reckon they travel from swimming hole to swimming hole, and they have some impressive claws. There was time to eat a burrito packed in from El Frijolito, in keeping with Coe tradition. Still time to set up for the campfire, etc. And it was after my campfire tallboy that I really felt the lack of a shot and another beer. No one can have everthing. I consoled myself by sleeping out of doors between 2 oaks (to keep the very bright moon at bay) in the specially comfortable vortex that is Pacheco Camp. I really like it there.

When I first began sleeping outside alone it was scary, even with a tent. I'd wake up a lot, with all the little noises potentially scareful. No way past it except through it. These days, while I remain vigilant, it's pretty alright. I'm comfortable sleeping out under the stars solo. You hear a lot more when you aren't talking. It's worth doing.

strike from the shadows and slip away unseen

Some bike trips are bigger than others. 6 days on the road...




Some bike trips' mothers are bigger than other bike trips' mothers. True fact. It makes a twisted kind of sense if you really think about it; the kind of thinking one can really only settle into whilst sitting around on your saddle with several other wasted and weather blasted hobos in the middle of nowhere deep in the heart of an 11 hour pedal. Drifting in and out of the here and now as weather, clothing, road/trail conditions, hunger, exhaustion, hilarity, helpful teammates, the availability of water (or tallboys), etc conspire to effect change.

Such weather! Sleeping in a luxurious campground shitter. Sleeping under a jury rigged $4 blue tarp as the storm raged and the thunder crashed about 18" overhead, and the hail fell hard and loud. Sleeping roofless under clear skies. Etc.

I enjoyed the ____ out of the Condor Tour 2014, and all of y'all who rode along were solid and even-tempered hard men of a type seldom seen in this modern and pussified world. Thanks, bros, I never had a better time. The wall rides down the penultimate downhill? Watching a paceline of dirty yahoos loaded with bags and racks hit them in formation? Words.

It was as though we were on a secret locals' tour everywhere we went. Super well routed. Several folks referenced the currently ubiquitous finely-documented bike touring epics sponsored by X, Y, and Z and laughingly compared our rag-tag band-of-brothers shoot-from-the-hip rough-and-tumble aggregate to that kind of slicksterism. Each time, we all laughed. Well, looking around at the other dirtbags, you had to. There was not the matching kit, nor the matching bikes, no support car, and the guy at the liquor store in Santa M_______ was so convinced I was just another homeless DUI on a bike he tried to deny me a plastic bag (which I needed in order to tear in half and line my disgustingly wet, cold and smelly shoes)...you know, regular assholes on whatever they brung.



I wish I had photos of all of it, but- alas!- I left my phone on the 1st day, and it died. I would show you the different set-ups, because that sort of thing is interesting to me. I was surprised and impressed at the packing skills some of these fools evidenced, as in "how does he keep pulling more warm clothes out of there?" and "I wish he had shopped for me instead of my own lousy choices", or "I'd like some of your beer", etc. As for me, I was running the well-used and trusted Surly Ogre, as it had served me well on the Death Valley Ramble and other bike campouts. I ran the Big Wheel front end because there were to be multiple dirt sections (local singletracks, oh yeah!) and I like the float without the complexity and I understand Murphy's Law. I was ridiculed and envied in turn...there were also lots of road sections. Overall, I am satisfied with my choice. I do wish I had run lighter racks and not assumed that my packed-to-go sleeping bag was the synthetic model I thought it was in stead of the susceptible-to-soaking down version that it actually was (check your gear, meathead). My choice in rain wear was the controversial waxed cotton poncho/chaps, and it worked as well as anything does in a full-on gale but it was slow to stow, requiring stopping and strapping. I feel like it was 6s, even given the headwinds (many and mighty). I did miss a wind-proof layer, and will remember it next time. My Jiffy-Pop surprise failed when sorely needed- the aluminum pan had taken too much abuse and sprung a leak, dropping ugly red geasewax all over the stove. I want a bigger tiTAINium cook pot. Using the future stove instead of my cave-tech Kelly Kettle not only saved bulk (we split the load) but worked in all the soaking wet conditions that would have really stymied the wood burner (thanks, To_d!).

Riding a paceline is a skill, and it is worth having. Those fellows all knew what they were doing, and it showed. Hand signals, laying off the brakes, etc. We moved along at a good clip, which felt great sometimes and was all I could do to hang on at the back other times. I will say- when you come to the front, do NOT surge, but keep the pace even. It hurts the yoyo at the rear.

I am left with Good Feelings. Mostly, I am deeply impressed with the routing- it was SO good. But also, I respect and admire the spirit of brotherhood (without getting mystical- it's just riding bikes) shown so casually.

If you go...just go. You don't need anything fancy. The gear you have is the best gear of all. Use it.

add the Will to the Strength and it equals Conviction

I suppose a broken hip does give you a lot of time to kill. And, I must say, _odd killed the hell out of it with his researchemont concerning the riding options in the Death Valley. Emails flew back and forth in a flurry of schedules and maybes and reschedules and folks were in and folks were out and it went on for some time that way, the way things of that sort will. Everbody wants some.

Ultimately, 6 of us committed really and for real. Then the flurry was one involving increasingly frantic swapping of gear and racks and drive trains (for some). To the point that I settled on my "final" configuration of my tour bike the afternoon before leaving. To the point that as I rolled that final configuration down the driveway the morning of, I felt a vibration that I shouldn't feel and knew something was loose. What is there to do but turn around and figure it out? It was the cones in the rear hub. I tightened them and the wheel was sound, but my mind was blown- monkey wrench in the brain.


I said nothing to the fearless crew with whom I bike toured. The "check engine" light came on in the race van as _ick and I dropped the other side of HWY17 and I said not a word. All through Yosemite I feared the worst and kept it all quiet. What good could come of what ifs? For hours I wavered between intense concentration on the engine's feel or "fuck it", and the possibles troubled me.

We made it to the staging area without a hitch.

Each day I told myself to stop worrying about my too-light rear wheel crapping out under load while imagining what I would do when it did. I'd put a couple hose clamps on the bike in case of ____ failure(s), and thought about tying the cassette to the spokes with those and how I could (possibly) limp out in that way if it came to it. Etc. I said nothing about any of this, because what good could come of it. Even when _ick's own rear hub loosened up on his incredible cargo sled, I said nothing about my own concerns, because why jinx it further.

And each of the 5 days, in spite of the horrible washboarded ass-pounding climbs through miles of gravel or sand or sandy gravel, nothing went wrong. Our motto, quickly established, was "pretend you like it". It was appropriate. In spite of excellent route working out (planning, sure, but the map is never the territory...) Death Valley is some real hard work. Only 30ish miles a day had us in our sleeping bags and out by 8pm each night.

It was a big trip- too big to quickly sum up. Things that stay with me: cooking communal dinners is the way; 29+ is a real interesting category for some camping by bicycle; my Kelly Kettle would have worked just fine out there in the desert as there was always enough twigs around for some boiling water and I felt like a ass standing around begging hot water in the mornings; MSR dromedary bags are good equipment; having our Safety K__k around on the moto was a source of hilarity and disappointment (no cooler of cold beers?!?!); there is a light and it never goes out; etc.

Whomever of my fellow Death Valley Ramblers reads this: thank you for a real good time.



P.S. There is a lot of you name it on this internet about bike builders etc. Much of that is all show, and it saddens me in the shop and on the computer to see so much misplaced value. Hunter Cycles and Black Cat Bicycles just spent the last week sleeping in the dirt and riding the shit out of their bikes. Just like you. Not for a PRO anything- not a PROmo or a look book or a sepia-toned poem. That is some Realness worth considering. Also, Surly Bikes' junk straps are the greatest single bit of bike camping equipment ever.

built over millenia

To really do a s240, you must 1st master the art of fetishizing. Otherwise, it would just be a campout. Right? And what's buzz worthy about some losers riding their bikes out to the woods so they can booze it up and sleep under the stars?

Well, that is the question. Your answer is yours. Me, I just think it's a real fun time for cheap. It helps if you know which liquor store is the nearest to your exit- the spot at which you drop off the edge, slip through the cracks, and ease on down into the gutter trails. In this way, you will save effort and your beer(s) will remain cold longer.

It also helps if there is a burrito joint nearby to that which serves french fries, too. It's all about the quick and easy. You know and I know cooking dinner on one of these outings is not going to happen.




There is a point at which the streetlights stop. It is quiet. Shortly thereafter the trails open and your real fun begins. After the recent days of rain the summer's worth of powdery, blown-out sand is tamped into a wheel cradling singletrack maze.

It is on.

We pull the bags off our bikes, hang them in a tree out of reach of skunks/raccoons/possums/your mom...and rally. We rally like you do when the getting is good. Rally like it's a real fun time. Like the longer loop is all of a sudden a fine idea. Like the goon squad. Like.

Surprise! We checked that one spot which we never check on account of it is played out, and what did we spy? A lone can of beer, left there so long it had sand in all kind of odd places. We appreciated that can of beer as if it were a gift. As if it were a can of long standing tradition which had been thought to be past and gone. As if magical. As if.


The night was balmy. The night was clear and the sky full of stars. The night was full of complaints about bullshit (for instance, why is that so many Things That Are Cool become wrapped up in layers of obfuscating jargon and idle fetishization?), snickers about other people's bike choices, and plans being made. We ended up back at the camp spot at the perfect time. As though it could have been otherwise. I threw beer cans at Mr P's new bike. He was not bothered.

Morning will come, and if you are lucky there will be coffee.

 Mr P's bike:

which, sporting that awful frame pack, deserved it harsh treatment.

My latest incarnation of this Crosscheck (c. 2000), rocking it's new porteur rack rated to 50lbs. I got carried away loading it, said "fuck it" and piled almost everything on there just to see how it would ride. At times it felt like I was chasing my luggage down a sandy trail while sudden changes in direction were both not in the cards and required all the time. Exciting and not recommended. I see it being a nice place for the bulky-but-light items. Please ignore the stack height, as this is an experiment. And, for what it's worth, I have since added a longer stem to move more control over the load. I know your bikes are all totally dialed. How is that?

That Sollight lantern is a recomendo. It works great as a water bottle, and as a solar powered! lantern (with a red/night vision saving option, too). We've had a couple since mmmmm2002? And they just keep working.

I had to be at work by 10, so we barely had time to stop at Red's Donuts for a chocolate covered cake donut. I made it with 6 minutes to spare.

So there it is.

(fond) farewell to Summer

This is the way Summer ends, and it ain't a whimper. No whingeing!

As per the way of things, we rolled out of the driveway at 3:39pm. Well, there was some stuff to find, some stuff to pack, some stuff to organize, then the bikes revealed their various issues- including but not limited to: broken spokes, misaligned brakes, flat tyres, a whole new rear end for the Big Dummy, and the old standby...loose bottom bracket. Etcetera.

Why not find/pack/organize/wrench the day(s) before? Oh please. Like you have it all together. And, plus where is the exciting frustration in that?

Bros only. The ladies were to join the party the following evening. We asked around, and of the boys' friends only _ooper was on board. He had no idea. His folks don't camp, and he doesn't do a whole lot of outdoors. Still, nothing trumps Willing. It is all you need.


Since the government of this country (don't kid yourselfs everbody else, either) is run by monied interests, the park was "closed." Not closed to anyone who doesn't need the government added "value" of a shitty paved campground and enclosed pit toilets. Still, I briefed the boys on stealth.

We were like ghosts.

Any of you following at home have surely noticed how I am employing the slow boil frog torture technique to my children in terms of loading them progressively heavier each time out. It is working great. Also, J took the 24" this go round. He is getting bigger.

Here he is, passing the FNG.

That was Day 1. We arrived and set up camp. The older boys were sour that I'd only brought the 4 man tent and they didn't have their own. I did not care about their feelings in this matter, especially as I was sleeping outside the stinky boy tent anyhow.



Day 2= lounging. Coffee, oatmeal, and waiting for the temps to warm up enough to swim.  We divided our time amongst the swimming holes. The water was COLD. There was also a deer leg in the creek downstream from the horse bridge (now flagged as unsafe for pack stock...), which was a source of fascination and revulsion. Later we found another leg, and then the full remains. There are lions out there, and I love it.

After lying on my sleeping pad for a couple hours in my fly proof suit while the boys yelled and threw things in the creek,

I rolled out to meet the ladies. They reckoned riding in at night would be "scary". That whole process took some time, and almost went awry. I'd forbidden the boys fires and knives while away, and told them I'd be back well after dark. It is good for them.

After a successful moonlight cruise, we showed up with burritos and partied. Happy circumstance that the kids' "Fall Break" fell on the week leading up to the Full Moon! The ladies brought minimal gear in with them, but did bring another tent...

so the boys got their very own satellite camp, and in the morning J stunk it up for them.

And, base camp...

As an aside: food bags were hung from the oak limbs behind the tent. Trash, too, at night. We did have a visiting skunk for nights 2 and 3 (even disciplined camper kids will drop food, etc) but they are bad climbers. No problems.

 The wild cherries (Prunus ilicifolia) were going crazy.

And so were the tarantulas (Aphonopelma eutylenum).

We were careful with them. Nobody wants to hurt a big hairy spider. Though...I'd be lying if I said the idea of a tarantula vs. big-ass crawdad did not occur to us. Relax. We just staged that in our minds' arenas. Think about it. My money is on the crawdad.

Boba Fet in her bug-proof suit. It was awfully buggy. Moving around was fine, and the water was fun, but there was NO relaxing in camp. It did not spoil the fun, but I'd be remiss to not mention them.

Brooks saddles.

 Day 4 dawned. We moved quickly, since L had to be at work by 11am. The ladies left us with most of their gear, and went their own way...

We found so much trash left out. What kind of person goes out with a packing blanket and a pair of dorky white sneakers? The kind of person that leaves same tied up in a tree "for later". I'm totally in favor of this guy's can-do attitude, and completely disgusted with his soft, self-indulgent bail-out.

J caught a Pacific gopher snake (Pituophis catenifer catenifer) on the way back out.

That right there is what it's about. You don't need any fancy gear to go out in the woods and have a fancy time.

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”

 John Muir knew what was up .

 

 D, behind my freaky floating collar bone.

The dregs of a Good Time.



Hey. Do NOT get hung up over gear. Don't let a perceived lack prevent you from a kick-ass adventure. All's you need is a pair of sneakers, a packing blanket, and the Will to keep a hold of them...