the memory still lingers

My chainring is in the process of getting roached. I can feel it with each pedal stroke. It is a creak, a shimmy, and a wiggle. The chain is newish, clean, lubed, and taut. The BB is sound. The cranks- the cranks have their issues, but they are OG XTR c.1995 and as such as are in it for the long haul. (the threads are stripped, and I can't remove them without a gear puller, which I don't have) I mention these things because they are relevant and on my mind as I climb; especially as the fixed gear is usually refreshingly silent.

Pave/dirt commute the fun way. After dark, a little attitude adjustment, and quiet back road hills over to 68. I like the night, so if it's feasible, I leave the headlight off; just a tiny white blinky on the bars (keep some contingency lights on the townie(s) to be safe and keep the cops away, yeah?). Solo on the road, the red blinky stays on- it doesn't affect my vision, and it's safety 1st.

The commuter traffic on 68 is heavy. I turn on my helmet-mounted headlight (the slightly too heavy for helmet use Supernova Airstream claiming 260 lumens...I need to pin those (local) Light&Motion clowns down about a night ride test ride party) for increased visibility to the cars. I spin a complaining 46x18 along the highway. I watch for debris on the shoulder. I listen to West Coast rap like it ain't no thing, but only in my right ear so I can hear what's going on traffic-wise. I am (again. always) thankful to be wearing a cycling cap- the visor is a must to keep the oncoming headlights from blinding me.

I check behind me and bank across the lanes into the shopping mall with the 7-11 there as 218 intersects. The fixed gear is smooooooooth and fluid, creak be damned. I am watchful in there, as the cars are not. It is a nice way to cut the light, and I pop out onto 218 with much less traffic. At the right to climb up General Jim Moore, the traffic level drops again, significantly. That's what I'm talking about. An easy series of rollers ahead, my mind tries to play tricks on me with the suggestive option to take the right and climb S Boundary (it's closed to cars! you can drop 50 the swoopy way!) but I am wise to my ways and continue straight. At Eucalyptus, I turn off all lights and roll out to dirt.

I sit in the dark for a while. It is quiet.

Turning homeward, I take the easy way out and drop Cside(!). I still feel climby, so it is pave up the hill to one of several dirt options down the backside. At one point, I hop a fence. There is a beer stashed in the bole of that oak standing all by itself, and it is a nice spot to sit down.

35miles? The pedaling never stops.

be a bike racer or just look like one

One of the guys at the shop was helping some young girls with a new bike purchase. 19, or so, not 6 or 7. The one girl said she didn't really know what a fixie was, apropos of not being sure what she wanted in a bike. The employee said he thought they were the worst thing to ever happen to bikes, without explaining anything. I make it a point to not intrude (and attempt to make it a point to not listen in- sometimes with more success than other times) unless actual misinformation is being given, BUT. If I were to have been the talker, I'd have explained what a fixie is, from whence it has come, and how fun it is to ride a fixed gear bicycle regardless of the low position they currently occupy in the public mind. Lamentable trends do not determine my feelings.

Why, I took myself on a fixed gear solo tour of the moonlit peninsula just the other night. After an inspiring night of camping beneath the full moon, I was inspired to sprint from one hidden beer stash in the woods to another and I can tell you: turning circles is where it's at.

                                     you didn't show up, and your beers got drunk for you.

 


On the other hand, if you keep an open mind people will throw trash in it.

 CCCX#3 went off with several hitches. 1st time for me riding the CSUMB course. I crashed in that one long sandy section on account of a guy ahead of me had crashed and was bent over rerailing his chain. I thought it would be a funny idea to spank him on his ass as I passed, and (of course/deservedly/like a dummy) with only one hand on the bars I crashed immediately after. Almost took out that rat-tailed kid on the single. How it's done...

 Lots of juniors on cross bikes.

Good Times.

representing you for free

A few things I forgot to mention are to follow.

On the last day of the family camping trip, and whilst shredding down twisty singletrack, I bottomed out the rear tyre in a rocky creek crossing. This resulted in a pinch flat. That will happen, and will even be likely given how loaded the Big Dummy can get. While swapping for a fresh tube I noticed the slice in the sidewall. Yikes! I patched the tyre itself and booted the patch with a wrapper, but the cut was high enough that the risk of it spreading across the tread and being a ride-ender was very real. It worked out fine, which is why I was able to forget to mention it, but it could have been a serious drag. I have resolved to bring along a spare tyre in the future.



We have been doing plenty of fun rides under the moonlight, but they have been mostly un-document-able. For one reason and another.



Consider the words "dirt" and "summit", and how they might be combined. Full Pink Moon. As an added bonus, we did find the hole in the marine layer several nights running. It was brief, but moonlit forest singletrack is to be savored.



And I have been struggling with vague knee pain lately. You know as well as I how easy it is to let the self-care slip until something acute forces the issue. I guess my issue is forced. In my 40s aches and pains creep in. I gotta stay ready so I ain't got to get ready. (Go to the doctor?!? Are you crazy? ) It was so bad the morning after the full moon long ride, that my knee buckled in the shower. Scary. I had continued riding because (well, obviously, it's what keeps me happy) it wasn't causing pain to pedal, but that was the real tipping point.

What it has come to is trigger points in the popliteus muscle. Happy day! I was hobbling around last week because it was so tender. Wearing my brace, icing my knee...not riding on my days off. It was no bueno. Bad enough that I was increasingly convinced that it was the MCL, and the potential need for surgery was looming in my mind...anyhow, I was motivated to learn some more about possible causes for that type of knee pain, and there it is. Popliteus. This is video is a real help:



It's simple and it works. After working the trigger points along the insertion (along the top of the tibia, the inner, lower leg as shown) I had a ~75% reduction in pain right away. The next morning, the by-now-familiar tender and constant ache had returned. Upon working the insertion again, the pain receded again, and has not returned!

Now you know.

tactical rehabilitation

Are you taking for granted X, Y and even Z? Does your morning coffee without that hint of woodsmoke fail to satisfy? Are your clean, crisp sheets not a luxury to be savored and regarded?

You have grown soft and your outlook is dim. You need some suffering in your life. Get on that.

2 days off. 65 miles of pavement down the Big Sur Coastline. Hot. Calm. Pleasant mindless spin- so much so that the only thing that stays in my mind is the shirtless weirdo who'd parked his stickered up 80s vintage VW van at one pullout and was cruising the pullouts in his way-too-short cutoffs aboard his 29"wheeled Rockhopper toting his Yorkshire Terrier in a home-made dishrack/basket. I played leap frog with the tourists in rental RVs- Fun Finder X?

Lucia at sunset and climbing Nacimiento Ferguson in the dark. I dropped the backside in the dark, too- passed the 1st campground and stopped at the 2nd. I misremembered there having been a spigot there. The fee was $15. The camp host was still there (this late in the season? at that out of the way spot?) so I put $10 in the envelope because it was $5 over or $5 under, and I opened with under. I figured I could bluff if it came to it. Settling in for the night was quick, and I will tell y'all this: the instant garlic mashed potatoes from Trader Joe's are conveniently packaged in 2 2person servings and are super easy/great camping food! I was tired enough (that Nacimiento Ferguson is a hard climb!) that I really appreciated the ease.

That picture there is from breakfast, when I was done cooking and just wanted a cheery twig fire. The Kelly Kettle boils some water like no other. It requires far less time spent gathering/snapping/sorting twigs than I am used to, and uses way less fuel to bring a given amount of water (say, a large water bottle's worth) to a rolling boiling in about 5minutes. It is worth looking into if you like that sort of thing. It is very bulky (it took up the entire front rack) in comparison to the Esbit, more in line with your gas powered JetBoil. Everything is a trade-off. It is of little use to actually cook on, because the water inside boils and spits out the spout (some of it dribbling into your fire pan base) and you either have to keep refilling the reservoir as you cannot use it dry, or figure out what you want to do with your boiled water and then refill, etc. So- cooking not so much. Boiling? Hell yes.

I liked it quite a bit for making coffee happen so fast.  But, I will likely not be taking it on solo outings in the future. For that application, the trade-off is not worth it. Now I know.

Anyhow, after breakfast I had to leave as quickly as possible. I didn't want that camp host coming over for his $5. All the long and hot way through Fort Hunter Ligget I distracted myself with scenarios involving disgruntled camp hosts seeking retribution. And it was a long long and hot way. Every ride through there it seems like they add a section. By the time I had taken a wrong turn and ridden several long and hot miles out of and then back into my way, my shirt was stiff and salty.

 That's my crowded handlebars. No pack, so the water bladder was in the frame bag and it's hose you see. The white cable is the USB cord to recharge the iPhone via the Plug (worked like a charm). I listened to Ry Cooder's I, Flathead on repeat.

I have, now, in my possession, a plastic spoon which is the spiritual equivalent of a Golden Eagle feather. That's what you get, on your vision quest, when you hassle a wild Golden Eagle. Right? When you actually make the effort to get offa your bike and walk over to underneath where said magnificent bird perched. Right? If a feather from your (ahem) totem is unavailable, then you must avail yourself of the spiritual equivalent in situ. Probably, there is more personal magic in that sun hardened plastic spoon on account of giving a hoot and stopping pollution and all. Anyways, I have my mojo working.

 By the time I stopped for lunch, at Escondido Campground, I had made several bad choices regarding water. I had a hard time focusing. It took a while to sort out the order of doing things to make food. The new cook system wasn't helping. Coffee and space packaged Indian food.

 I had enough water to last to the spring past Hanging Valley, so I just decided to keep pushing. Once there, I laid in the shady spot in the dirt for 20 minutes while sweet, cold water trickled into my bottle. Dripped down from the very finest ferns and muck, that water is the best in the whole world. It is sweet and cold. The best.

That right there is the Good Place. Seems like ever time I'm there, though, I'm too worked to appreciate it fully. The Ventana Wilderness is magic.

Then it was all downhill for a while. Then pavement and dark to home. Somewheres in the neighborhood of 140 hot, hard miles in 2 days. I am relishing the comforts of home today.

you could do wrong

You could do right. In passing the heavily signed and guarded Happy Trails yesterday I noticed crews with chainsaws mowing wides swaths. I'm thinking the horsey folks are chomping at the bits to turn that area into  some sweet sweet strip malls and hotels to service their shitty racetrack. Those trailblocking sign-sleds (built of 4x4 timber?!) are the tip of the iceberg. Goodbye, Fort Ord, you were nice.

This sight behind me, and having ridden from Carmel, I proceeded to proceed across the Ord. At the Caprock (a bar I no longer frequent since it has filled up with plastic benches and lowlifes) I was inspired. I dropped 50, climbed 49, dropped from the altar, climbed Shithouse, dropped GoAt, and snuck out the back. Resupply at the 7-11 (coffee, banana, snickers) and cross 68 for a lap in Toro.

Dropping the oh so mediocre Pipeline MTBers ONLY, I surprised a MTBer who said that my Surly Ogre "actually looks fun." We had a few words about bikes, but given the givens I'm reluctant to stand around and jaw about equipment. You ride what you ride and I'll ride what I ride and as long as we actually ride and not just talk about it, we'll likely have fun. Nuff said.

That said, surprise! I built the Ogre. The Fargo is benched. All parts swapped. The Ogre feels much snappier than the Fargo, but they are both tanks. I did install the Plug, so expect more knowledge as it accumulates. We can stand around and talk.

The King is dead.

Long live the King.



After Toro it was up Toro Rd as it parallels Laureles to drop the Grade into CV to home. Maybe 55miles?

Today saw a fast and furious Mt Charlie aboard the plastic and it was good.

I'm feeling fit, aggressive, and happy. Cheers.

a long time to hold your breath

Alternately, this post could be titled "the Velocache that wasn't". I set out for Point Lobos (no issue keeping it a secret now) with intentions of dropping a package discretely into their environs. Point Lobos was a total bust in terms of bike access (please see me after class for more in depth exploration of this statement) so there was no velocaching, but it was a worthwhile ride. The museum at Whaler's Cove is very interesting, and the docent I bothered was knowledgeable and enthused. She told me Roy Hattori's great story about saving himself from drowning due to a broken faceplate by using the sucking power of his harvested abalone. Roy's whole tale is inneresting, but he gets to it at 14:28:




The well-used "hard hat" (a copper or brass helmet gasketed onto a vulcanized canvas suit and fed with an air hose) abalone diving suit was really neat. And they had patched it multiple times with old denim bits, so you know they were punk. The harpoon section was fascinating, as well. Taking a ride tethered to a pissed off whale capable of diving so fast and deep the lines were in danger of catching fire? No.

I envision the abalone divers and whaling enthusiasts like this:



After the lame scene at the Pacific (the wind), I hunted and pecked a dirt route inland, through Carmel Valley that tacked some actual singletrack onto the patchwork of parking lot, apartment complex, golf course, confusing hodgepodge of Palo Corona (open by permit only AND no bikes?!?). I may or may not have jumped a fence.

"Experience Carmel River where Nature and people meet"


All this to reach a nice sheltered spot to brew some coffee and test my new woodburning stove. It works real well. Better than the venerable Esbit because the added height makes keeping the twig fire fed much easier. And a twig fueled fire is a greedy and fickle blaze.

That stove is in a dug out area floored with damp dirt. When the fire was out, I dumped the char and ash into the divot, wetted it thoroughly, and replaced the duff. Because we don't want any fires (an aside: yay! it's been raining pretty good lately) and we don't want any trace. Secret boys.




It is a nice way to reintroduce meself to bike riding the way Little Richard would want it done. Regardless, this does leave me with a velocache to secrete.

FREE! READ HOW

Back in the day, ____s use to stick together.



Brief clown fun in the Ord today; I gots to shake off this brokeness. We looked so retro in our flannels. A short and slow float around a portion of the old Friday Night SS course- you know that's mostly open again, right? Do it. Do it. Do it.

I feel...slowly returning. It's funny, how after a "trauma" the body sorts itself out in stages.


WARNUNG! boringish injury analysis to follow...

At first it was all shoulder, though I was aware of the hit the knees took (must have tagged the bars as I went for the somersault dismount). Then the knees really came to the fore, and it was left knee uber alles. To the point that getting up was an issue, standing up became hurtful and difficult, especially because I couldn't use my right side to help in any way. I worked that and it faded. After the short rides a few days ago, the right knee area (attachment for vastus lateralis and IT band) made it known that there was some serious smack down there, and it furthered through to glutes- it feels like I have a peach pit sized glow of pain in my right ass cheek. Back and shoulder (with particular emphasis on anterior deltoid and pec minor) fight for pride of place as I am more and more able to use the right arm and push those muscles. Everything has to restabilise and restabilise again, as 1st: there is a weird vacuum in my shoulder where all was richly, densely, handsomely yoked lean muscle/tendon/bone and now it's some inch and a half of angry stretch below my skin from a collar bone with it's head in the clouds; and 2nd: after the muscles splint this new body geometry, each new extension in range of motion requires a corresponding new arrangement among these skittish co-operators. And again. It lends itself to spasms and aches.

So I stretch the front (pecs/delts/scalenes). I was able to roll the right IT today, and OH! that was exquisite. It helped though. Some rolling around glutes on the softball, some draping myself over the roller to stretch pecs with spread arms accompanied by some use of the softball to compress/roll pectoralis minor and anterior deltoid...it is some Old Time Personal Suffering for future Good. It helped. It helps, then the pain comes back. This is looking like a long term back and forth.

Anyhow, bit by bit getting better. Bikes. Rides. Plans for a bikepacking trip for Spring Break, 3 weeks out. The childrens can haul most everything (is this injury the break for which I've been waiting? whereineverafter they bear the main load?) if we go nice and light. I'm thinking these fat tyre inner tubes will make some sweet floats. I want a pack raft so bad!

keep your guard up

...and you knocked my love. and you know that's a lie.

I had this fancy post all rigged up. It was a side by side comparison of the 2 bikes I'm thinking about right now. The formatting got wonky and I couldn't fix it nor do I have the motivation to sort it out now. So. It wasn't a total loss, though. Putting thoughts down in cyber ink made the choice clearer.

I'm gonna ride. I ain't gone cry, no.

The last trip through Coe (aboard the full squish) was a driver. What with my swellbow tendonitis being like it is- better...better and better but still nagging and since August?!- I needed the ease of the flat barred squish versus the earlier trip aboard the full rigid. The Surly NeckRomancer still looms large in my 'magination, and it will mine (oh yes), but longer tours and those with significant road sections demand a rollier wheel. This has led me to decide I will redact my current Salsa Fargo (1st generation is not sus corrected) in favor of something with potential to spring the front end.

Looking at my options as they stand, I am wavering between the next generation Fargo (with it's man sized head tube) and the Surly Ogre (with it's little baby house cat head tube). I've nit-picked my way through the specs, and I am leaning to the Ogre. It has horizontal drop outs (offering a happy multiplicity of set ups...), frame/fork is ~2 full cans of beer lighter, it's green colored, and is cheaper. I reckon having the frame bag will negate the water bottle mount issues. The Fargo would still offer more (in a rigid configuration) and I really like having bottles on the backs of the fork legs, but running a sus fork would put paid to that anyhow. And a bottle underneath the down tube is not so great.

I guess it's unimportant given that this all clown fun.