take your thrills unashamed

This is a notice: Summer has snuck right up on Central Collyfornya. What last week was lush and green is, as of this writing, now drying fast and browning quickly. You thought it would last.



Stop fooling around.



Go get some before it is gone. We were riding the trails (#where is Big Sur?) last week, when it was green, and the lupines were so exploded it was all you could do to keep breathing. Every breath a headful of floral. Just so nice. To that end, I'm slipping away tomorrow evening after work to attempt to catch some of the floral glory in Henry Coe. You should put off your busy work for a couple days and meet me at the usual spot. Supposedly in the 90s next week, so that will be the last chance for green in 2014.



Spent some time seeding the party spots out at the Ord yesterday after work. I could get used to this extra daylight. Checked on the beers stash over on 49, and it remains well hidden 4 inches from the singletrack. That trail is busted down the back side, though. All the corners are blown out and brake bumped and sandy/getting sandier. Bummer time sand pits.



To answer your question, it is a "wake". Also, a committee, a venue (?), a kettle, or a volt.




 (It's as though I'm a dangerously balanced eccentric, taking photos of birds while styling, profiling, lounging in my leather seat? )

What else is there to do on a Friday night after boozing it up on the trails? The ShadowBox is on the way home after all. I truly enjoy that bar. The Glen Thompson Band was set up by the shuffleboard table, and the keyboardist was really something else. I received an extensive amount of heckling from the older gentleman to my right for paying for my beer with coins. It was all I had left by then, after high rollering it at the in-the process-of-remodeling Terrace Liquors (no one likes change) to stock all them hidey holes (aside: if you need help finding your flat-backed position on the bike, you should practice by hauling 18packs in a musette. It'll get you there.). After apologizing to the barmaid, I admitted it was ridiculous and he just kept telling me "that's your Life". He is right, and it is a fine one. And after this ribbing he went to hit on the mature ladies with a ring on every finger (yes, thumbs too). He was one of those guys who sits at the bar with all their $1s fanned out in front of them, and I don't get that. Maybe it's just to differentiate him from the lowlifes who scrounge for change. It is also worth noting the 600lb guy in the bowling shirt on my other right, who was surprised and pleased (if an impromptu fist bump is an indicator) when I sincerely thanked him for smoking, like in a real bar. He was one of several. This is California in the 21st century and the ShadowBox has ashtrays on the bar. I hope it never changes.

You know what to do. Do it.

we shut em up and then we shut em down

...some guys they just give up living
and start dying little by little, piece by piece.
Some guys come home from work and wash up
and go racing in the streets.

Obviously, the car-centric focus is misguided but you get the idea. I've been given a break in this rain and I'm going riding. Even though none ya from lame Monterey can be bothered.

I can be bothered.

change your Life in a safe retreat

3 hour tour style trip to Santa Cruz for a quick sampling of some Westernest ridge aspects under a well shaded Redwood canopy. Dirt road climb to the serpentine ribbon of all downhill from here. Only one way to get to the top...and that is to climb.

The FNG, M___, wanted to see some new riding. He was in waaaaay over his head fitness-wise (big talk for a slow guy here) going up, and at the very most edge of his technical abilities coming down. There was a lot of waiting. There was a lot of waiting.

I looked at the trail in a different light considering his present limits. That is a hard trail. You forget some of that, knowing it so well. It is exposed side-hill skibbly water bars, there is the pedal biting stump, here is the off-camber root ball, coming up is the fast section into the L-bend with an overhanging limb, etc.

It was still a healthful Good Time (riding hecka tight, buffed singletrack is great- if you're into that kind of thing), but faster is funner.

a dissolute man in fashionable society

And by now it's looking kinda shaky.


Not least because I recently strapped these All City double toe straps onto my fixed wheel bicycle in an attempt to be on the sharpest of cutting edges. It's humbling fumbling with these.
Full Strawberry Moon has not disappointed! 2 nights running of hottt moon on trail action. You wouldn't know about that. (Johann, I had some Ali Farka Toure going on the jukebox at the Caprock Bar and poured some beer out for you and the African posse)


Night #1: Tuesday night, the night before Full. I missed the birfday fun ride in Santa Cruz because we were super busy in the bike shop so I was unable to take off early to make the ride. Which led to local solo perfection. Cloudless sky, BRIGHT Moon. When I'm all by me onesie, I am hesitant to take certain trails. Call me chicken, but that's how it breaks down. Some trails are too closed in for me to feel comfortable rolling down potentially mountain lion laden alleys of poison oak. I know it's unlikely, but people do act funny when the wolfs bane blooms and the Autumn moon is bright. So...I stuck to the fire roads until Mudhen Express, which is too swoopy to be denied (and plus, it's wide open). Spent some time lounging under the moon, drinking beers ( which helped the closed-in, dark singletrack trails seem a lot more inviting on the return trip... so I hit them riding out to Eucalyptus), eating peanuts, listening to the wind or my musical phone. Good times.
On my way back down Military, I came across this kook:



What caught my eye was the (full suspension?!) Bob trailer on the roof. Then I noticed the rubbish laying around the car, the entry-level commuter bike, and the sleeping person wearing a surgical mask (?) amidst the detritus piled window level in every seat but the driver's. I desperately wanted to interact with this obviously unique bicycle enthusiast, but the possibility for a Lynchian vignette was not enough to offset the probable angry craziness...

So I enjoy a detour through the cemetery. It's dark, quiet, and offers an alternative to roads. As I was rolling through at 11pm, I saw shadowy figures standing at a grave...and candles at the headstone. I looked again, and they were still there. I rolled over there and it was your standard 3 young adults memorializing "Grandma" at 11pm. I can't help but think it was weirder than that. But these grave site squares were not talking, so I kept moving.


Night #2: Local yokels ride trails for fun. We took those trails. While malingering, this guy rolled up out of the semi-darkness and asked if one of us was named "___..._____?" And it turned out he was the fellow the kids and I had met out there weeks ago, and to whom I had mentioned our moonlight proclivities. So there he was, and he'd toted his own beers. Speaks well of him. Meeting new people can be hard. Fast trail riding out left my front wheel looking like this


the next morning. Looks like I rolled it sideways a little. That happens. 2 nights local loop has left my legs feeling real tired...More riding the trails tonight. We'll see how it goes. I sure do like milking these moons for all the fullness thereof.

Ride yo bike!

smut pictures

I was going to talk about my bike ride and how it was and what that meant to me, but listen to this:




It's apparent why I had to stop.


Well, it was drizzly and I needed some coffee.


The Big Dummy in "HUFFY" livery...to "keep the tweakers away".


Fuji branded saddle from the 70s, with a second layer of leather underlying the main piece in a sneaky hammock manner. Never treated with anything.

I know damn well he polishes those rivets with a special vinegar paste he's concocted.


Conduit epoxied in place to prevent (further) deformation of the boom tube. The kickstand is authorized Surly/Xtracycle parts, but this guy runs a heavy load.


Custom.


This is how he does it.



I went in and got my coffee. This guy was not hard to pick out as the rider,

and was more than happy to talk about his rig. It was a very (long) inneresting conversation. He's been running an 8speed Alfine for the past year and a half. Says it's going strong. The straight chainline alone is convincing me. His load is 362lbs. That's a solid recommendation.

8 years of touring. He started in Boston and headed to Seattle in an attempt to get happy, realized it was the greatest time of his whole life and kept on. He's only a little bit crazier than you, but look at the time he's having.

see if you qualify

It's coming along. Waiting on that rear caliper, but all parts present and accounted for save that. And maybe bar tape. I have a drawerful, so it'll either be magnificent or hideous, depending. I was going at it hammer and tongs, but I got called away to play Monster Match (memory building card game) and after that alls I wanna do is drink beers and watch the internet.

Actually, I am aware that is a workspace only Johnny H__s could love. You try my shoes on for size and you'll just wanna drink beers and watch the internet, too.

dribs and drabs

Controlled burn day#2.

When I left the house, the smoke and ash were swirling all down the street. I got some interested looks as I climbed that hill swathed in a bandanna, like a workin' cowboy. Though, maybe it was on account of I had a musette full of velocache!


The smoke was not an issue on top.


Long time listeners will recall the diverse findings along that one trail, and how I'd seen similar the year before. Well, this was the day I had wits/time enough to go see what was what and now you see, too.
That effing does it. Next year I'm making sure this gets shut down by the cops. I'm all for _____________, but I am in no way now how down with this.


I kept riding and ended up in the Ord, under the banner of smoke and all. It was blowing East real good by then (how'd you like that, Salinas?).


All stretched out along the trail we'd been taking to seek them out, was another rattler. It's the same coloring as the underneath snake, so that's reason enough for me to emphatically say it's the same snake.
Of course I bumped it (gently!) with the front wheel. It immediately and without incident slithered into the underbrush,
but since it hadn't rattled I bumped it again (gently!) and it obliged with some booty shaking.


So, if you're riding to Freedom and beyond, watch out for snakes! They are fragile and awesome.

The burn continues...



And in a separate but better kind of burn, I used that one sage bundle to smudge Comanche's Grave and my bicycle. To remove any lingering angry ghosts which may have reason to haunt certain people. And on account of I'm a fucking shaman.




Send $12.50 now.



mmmmmmm. Looks like about 35miles.

me oh my oh

My _uckin keyboard is giving me a little trouble...I don't wanna talk about that now.

I wanna talk about SSWC09, which is coming up quick, like Michael Jackson's restless plastic-encased zombie self being summoned by elementary aged devil worshipers. (too soon?) What are your plans? Make them known in the comments.

Regarding my own best laid plans...I have feelers out. If I have tried to feel you, and you have not responded...best do so quick. The quicker the better, or it'll get worse. Much, much worse. You know this in your heart. Don't make it harder than it has to be.

I will begin training to winnnnnnnnnnn....now!

what the falafel?!?!

I keep crashing my bike. And it hurts!

I crashed today climbing out of the saddle, one handed while trying to hitch up my pants. I know, but they all seem like Good Ideas at the time. Right hand on the bars, hitching with the left= no problem, if a little jerkier than I'd anticipated. Left hand on the bars, I tugged with my right hand= one stroke OK, next stroke dowwwwwwwwwwn. In the roadbed, in traffic, because I am an idiot.

And because my screwy, bum left shoulder leaves me open to this kind of thing. You laugh, but that is because you are an insensitive jerk, and you have not tried that recently. Really, go out and try climbing whilst standing, one handed. It is harder than you think. I took it mostly on the left knee, so good thing I had on pants.

In any event, I need to get it together. This kind of one sided lop-sidedness is unacceptable. I need to "get in shape."There. I said it. Now I must do it.

As an aside, Arnica works very well to reduce inflammation.

shoot his right profile

So D_____ is watching all my old westerns. I found out about this when I walked into the "playroom" (the drywalled and carpeted garage, half of which is kid play and half bike room for papa play) and he was watching Red River.

"Are you watching Red River?", I said.
"Yeah.", said the boy.
"Why?", I said. Now, this is not as foolish a question as it may appear- because how did he know about Red River? and it is in black and white, and there're no spaceship chases or lasers or flying wizards or animated whatevers, etc. It is a kickass western from 1948! Howard Hawks' 1st western starring John Wayne, Montgomery Clift (in his 1st movie role), Walter Brennan...
"Because it's cool.", said the boy.

And that was true.

He has since watched The Searchers (my personal favorite, and which I warned him was sad and which he later thought was "not so sad. Everbody dies though. And those indians were not very nice.") and True Grit ( he said he recognized the guy who played Rooster Cogburn), but The Cowboys is out of it's case and presumed lost. He will be starting on Hang 'em High, A Fistful of Dollars, etc. soon.

That's one apple that landed pretty close.

Caught! In the midst of a self destructive rage spiral...

Someone is wrong on the internet!

from xkcd.com

You have by now seen lots of blog write-ups about how to behave in traffic. Too _ucking many. And they all share the same conceit- that "cagers" actually pay attention to what you are doing. Leaving aside for now the bullshi_ name-calling from internet bike riders posing as self sufficient heroes who never use a car nor have any use for motorized transport of any kind, this is wack. As has been pointed out by Fxdwhl- to any passing motorist, a cyclist is either a kook forgotten as soon as passed or "that guy" (the one who lost his license due to DWI) forgotten as soon as passed. Full stop.

When I read some (I'll be generous) enthusiast write something about how they are going to ride and "smile all the time, so the 'cagers' will see how happy I am to be riding" and that will change the minds of the motorists and convince them to give cyclists 3 feet of space and drive right to the recycling plant to ditch their car for good, and probably plant a garden too...it makes me hotter than global warming caused by all of you/not me.

Oh, for the love of ___________.

Either just ride your bike, or don't. That's all there is to it. You are not an "example" or an "early adaptor" or anything else catchy...you are some kook on a bike. Just ride.

I lik to ride, and that's why I'm doing it. Some days I can commute, some days I can haul some stuff, some days I can zip around in fancy pants, some days go camping by bike. It's pretty much all fun- lucky for me. At no time am I an example, nor do I expect to be. If there is a red light and it's clear, I'm running that bitch. No waiting so as to maintain cyclists position as legitimate vehicles, etc. If the street is one way and I want to go the other (and it is not suicidal to do so) I am riding the wrong damn way. I try and ride predictably in traffic for the sole reason that cars outweigh me and I will lose in any confrontation- it's common sense. I don't expect them to be careful around me, and I ride to reflect that. I'll take the dirt option if there is one. I also don't expect special treatment. I paid my nickel...

That's the world, cyclists. Shut the fuck up and ride in it.


Well, there is always this:

Cause they's a fat man in the snowbank

I said Lance...What are you up to?

So, I saw on DC how this yellow devil attempted to upstage the show...

and it did not work out.
I love the smiles in the peloton. I am happy for everyone in these photos for various reasons.

humps gotten and gotten over?

Due to the screwy conditions all around- the prescribed burn, people's misplaced invitations (I heard K___ invited some gal he's internet friendly with, and then jumped ship...and she and friends of hers may or may not be showing up at) the now closed yellow tanker area, other people's morale, or work ethic....

We may or may not be riding anyway. Obviously, for a number of reasons, parking at the water tanker would not be wise. Call me on my remote control phone or something.



Group rides are the best!

You say it's your Birfday?

Well, happy to you. Any birfday worth having involves a loooong bike ride. I decided several years ago that I would have a 100miler as my birfday goal. I ain't gettin any younger, and a century is not something I do so often that it can be looked at as anything other than kickass. Really. When was the last time you rode one? Ezzackly. It's a good goal.

So on my last ill fated birfday ride, the goal was considerably less (~75 or so), and there ended up being cheating (friends like these...) and at one point there was an hour or so long beer stop (unplanned, as the SC crew was supposed to be ready and waiting- when really they were only waiting for 9 minutes and ready only to give us a lot of shi_ about being "late" and then they lollygagged around for some time before kitting up) during which this goal was related to one famously grumpy bike industry type who then said how it was a lame goal, and unrealistic, and how his goal was 8 hours on the bike, as that's so much more attainable,etc. Yeah yeah yeah.

So Happy Birfday Senior Sr. Mr. D____ G___! 43 and sleazy as the day was short.

Poor planning was the word of the day. I awoke to the ringing of my phone. It was the birfday boy calling to set up ride times. This after drunkenly claiming the prior Sunday that this ride would be going on and would be "fun" but refusing to give details and then remaining incommunicado throughout the week. I was sleeping in, because I figured it was not going to happen.

Up at 8, out the door at 9. Errands along the way included picking up my still-broken framed tandem (T___, do you read this?) and talking shi_. Rumor has it that there will be some epic mistake of a countywide circumnavigation for this year's County Line, but sources are notoriously unreliable. Liable to lie. I just hope they skip the beach.

So. Meet in Santa Cruz at S___'s house. I arrived. Then G____ S_____, whom I had only met once previously- and then he was shirtless and wearing a large gold "SEX" medallion. He is not shy, conversation was not a problem. Then the birfday manchild showed up with some very special soy milk. Finally, B______ met us as we rolled out. I have a vague memory of meeting him several years ago roadside in Big Sur during the Tour of California- he was holding a fork (to eat with) and the kids and I were spray painting slogans of encouragement for Ekimov onto HWY 1.

The ride started promisingly, heading immediately uphill and onto trails. Rainslick roots are my most-feared obstacle in biking. I have effed myself so badly on rainslick roots so many times that they have grown large in my imagination, terrifying me all out of proportion to their individual circumstance. The redwood forest is pretty dank this time of year, and the roots are slick. I was scared alot of times as we climbed. The dirt was nice and tacky, though. It made for inneresting contrast. To the boys (and Ladies) of Santa Cruz, I say:


in the hopes that they will NEVER take for granted the World Class awesomeness of their trail system. Those narrow and swooping ribbons of Goodness make me laugh out loud with Joy. Even the connector trails are kickass.

And so on singletrack (mostly) up through University, with a beer stop at the water tanks under a 3speed nailed high in a tree I had not known was there, and then onto Empire Grade. We then hopped onto another trail (Poison Oak Trail?) and wound down to some more lonely asphalt climbing out to a secret compound in the redwoods where, contrary to rumor, there was not a fridge full of beer. No small oversight. Things could be better with that addition, _ick. So up and back to Empire and up some more to a different secret compound, where there was a fridge full of cold beer. Out came the now infamous globe of scotch, and sandwiches all around.

That place is a tarbaby.

We pried the birfday-ite out of his cabin, and clad in a new and ghastly Coors Lite thermal jersey (circa 1990?) he led us down to the secret entrance of a trail whose name I've forgotten. This descent was the very same we'd ridden on my own birfday ride. Only this time, we did not spend 2 hours at the tarbaby shack and crack open every bottle in the joint to start Suntory Time and the trail in the dark. It was still light and there were no crashes.

Apparently this trail goes nowhere except to Monty's Log Cabin Bar, and some dark railroad tracks. Thanks D___, it was a Good Time.

D_____ the Purto Rican.

Duke Ellington's orchestra is featured playing Juan Tizol's Caravan. Juan Tizol, valve trombone player is from PR, just like my boy D. No really. I know it looks like we're trying over here to populate the world according to Aryan ideals, but that don't change the fact.


D wove his way to 4th place in the 6-10 category in the Manzanita Park CCCX race today. The same kid as usual took 1st with a substantial gap. Several of the 6 and Unders had cut the course with their chaperones to avoid the upper section, placing them in the lead at the final section before the (cruel and sweet) wickedly steep and rutted/loose run up. J and I ran back and forth across the course to cheer and bell ring at different spots, and I saw the 1st place kid 's expression when he noticed there were kids on the course ahead of him. It was ferocious- that kid wants to crush the enemy, to see them driven before him, and to hear the lamentation of their women.

To this race, D brought his friend M______, (which is a whole other can of worms; I want the boy to have friends and all, I just wish I could pick them...) who brought as his knife at this gunfight a beat on Target bought bmx (no, it should NOT be capitalized) which required a headset adjust and air in the tires. Done.

We surveyed the (known) course, and spotted the tricky sections post registration. I could see the wheels turning in M_______'s head after a few of these, and offered him a graceful out if he wanted. I have to admit, he said he was ready and had no complaints. To his credit. It's a daunting course, particularly on a bike which is 1/3 of your weight.

A couple last minute words to D (mark the fast guys and stay with them, don't go crazy with the speed and crash- like he's done several times charging straight into corners, keep it in until the steep downhill and then turn it on, etc) and they were off. 26 kids all told.



Looked like a Good Time was had by all. M______ came in laaaaaaaaaast, but he rode the entire course (after several hard though fruitless efforts, he allowed me to carry his heavy bike up the cruel runup) and his medal says 1st on it, and you cannot argue with that. All the kids received a gimme water bottle full of strawberries (CalGiant is a sponsor), a medal, and a drink of their choice. Well, some of them tried for the Monster Energy Drinks and were denied, but in the appropriate choices they were given free reign.

On the way to get their picture taken on the podium, Rod (the promoter) was encouraging the kids. I overheard some sour guy say to another snickering back of the bus type, "Yeah ,Rod, get 'em started early so you can hook 'em and get their money! Heeheehee" This is so fucking lame. It is still bugging me. I was walking with 3 kids and it wasn't the time or venue for the kind of confrontation for which remarks like that call. But I would like to have pointed out (real politely) that 26 kids all received kickass prizes, medals (yes, every kid got a medal?!?) and recognition for the effort they clocked, at no charge.



Yes, those kids all race free. I'm not racing because I cannot at this time justify the $30 fee to ride in (admittedly fun) circles when there's free trails to be had, but. Free.

There is no future in cycling (of any stripe) without youth involvement. If you're a cynical, jaded-because it is the hip thing, world-weary drag, you can look at it as a sleazy business proposition, sure. Or, you can see what a Great Time these kids are having, and celebrate it.

All photos from Rick Rasmussen, who graciously allows downloads.

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.

This is a notice to all y'all bike riders and beer raisers

There's a new sheriff in town.

The secret vegan police are out in force.

Fxdwhl and I are collaborating in this new and narrow- make that laser-focused post hole. Look and see, it might be something you lik.

The plight of the tipsy vegan. Here.

Heyhey Heyhey

..................................................LAST MINUTE ADVISORY.............................................

You know how people tell you things, but then things do or don't happen? Frequently this relationship has to do with the ability of said person to come through in the clutch, if you will. Like email you the flyer for a bike related event in a format you can use? And then, your wife reminds you that you have committed to attend this event (say it is coming up tomorrow) after you'd totally forgotten? Well, that aside:

Meet at Wharf #2 tomorrow, Saturday, November 8th, at 9am in order that you ride your bicycle of choice -dangerous beater recommended- from there to the dive bar of your choice in Santa Cruz.

There will be lots of stopping for supplies and such along the route, which will be as little trafficked as ingenuity and stupidity combined can make it.

Return to what you were doing.

Lessons from Navin R. Johnson

1) Lord Loves a Workin Man

2) Don't Trust Whitey

3) See a Doctor, get Rid of it.

Get the latest news satire and funny videos at 236.com.

feel great ALL the time! ask me how...

I'll tell you.

I been thinking. Friend J__ had mentioned that she would be working in Big Sur on/off throughout the week and would I be innerested in riding down and catching a ride in her truck back home. Or, I could ride down, camp, and catch a ride back the next day...That sounded like a Good Idea, but the requisite meshing of schedules didn't happen.

I had been making plans and revising them for a couple days by that point. It was Monday evening when this all came down. Then my lovely wife suggested I ride down and camp, and she and the kids would drive down to pick me up Wednesday. See why I married her? Thank you, Boba Fet.

The plan was to ride the Condor Tour route, and camp along Indians Road somewheres; wherever dark found me. I drove D to school (no walking right now in the morning for him) and dropped J off at preschool, and returned home to frantically pack. You know how that goes. Rode out at the crack of noon.



Heading out the valley, it was ~60 degrees and overcast. Significant rain the night before, but the forecast called for increasing sun.


The sun shines on all bike touring endeavors...




Carmel Valley Road was cold and dank on the upper reaches. You remember how that gradual climb goes on and on? Well, it's longer than you remember.




Running to beat the timer. Story of my life on top of the incline.





Yes, that is what it looks like. I considered leaving this out of the post, but it makes you feel better about yourself. My story is: while frantically packing and experimenting with rack sets for this bike (which I really wanted to ride because I just put it together in this incarnation, and in spite of the fact that I had a perfectly set-up and tuned Long Haul Trucker with racks mounted, in the same room...), I pulled the Nitto canti-mount rack off the LHT, and attempted to mount it on the KM. No go- suspension corrected fork. But I'd already removed the brake mounting bolts, and even though I put them back on the LHT ( so's not to lose them, you know) I neglected to remount them here. I found this out here, at the top of the incline (6-12% grade), roughly 35 miles into the tour. Just happened to walk away from the bike and the gaping post holes caught my eye...

Yeah. I know.

All's I know is: Thank God for zip ties! and always carry plenty with you on tour... I considered whether to swap the bolts from the rear brakes to the front to avoid possible issue with the front brakes getting pulled off the post by the forward rotation of the wheel, but it was cold and you know how I do. I kept my eye on it. Really.


I saw a huge group of hogs on the way down. Maybe 14? Lots of little football sized babies. They were scared by my incredibly dangerous brake set up and ran off. Lots and lots and lots of deer. Hawks. I noticed in passing the Forest access was closed heading out the end of the valley, but did not think anything of it.




Looking south rounding the turn to G17 for Arroyo Seco you see the evidence of the Indians fire.


Upon arriving at Arroy Seco, I approached the gate to Indians Road only to see dozens of sandwich board signs regarding the closure of the Los Padres National Forest due to the fire damage. They were all dated August, so I pushed on a little. It became very clear this was not a workable plan. Ask me about it in person and I'll tell you the story.

The water in the Arroyo Seco River runs the color of espresso. The ground is black.

Suffice to say here that I was denied and ended up camping in Arroyo Seco. Yeah yeah yeah- you would have checked before heading out and all. The camping cost me $20 of the $21 (total) I had. I spent my other $1 in quarters for the (HOT!) shower.



Camp and cooking dinner. I had: 1 can pinto beans, 1 small can Tomatillo Salsa Verde (with the pop top lid...), 1 avocado, 1 heirloom tomato, 1 ziploc bag of dehydrated corn/peas/carrots/tomatoes+added oregano/cumin/chile powder/salt, 1 bag Have'a corn chips.

You know I don't like to camp without forgetting a utensil. Since there was only one utensil I needed, I forgot that: a spork. That's where the pop top lid came in. I crimped the sides and extended the tab, and that was my tool. It worked ok.

I found the weak spot(s) in my Esbit. The tabs leave a thick and sticky residue on the bottom of the pot which really needs to be scrubbed or it'll make a mess in your mess kit when packed. You really need a lot of water for this, and a scrubby. Luckily, I had both. Also, the tabs don't burn that long- one is not enough to boil 16oz. You need 2. Or twigs, which I've used with good success in the past. But everthing was damp that night, and the twigs took a looong time to catch. I used all my fuel on the dinner and coffee the next morning, which meant that I had none left to make the grits I'd planned for breakfast. Well, the coffee is more important, and I had an "extra" PBJ, so it worked out. Lesson to me: always bring 2x the fuel "needed".




With the sun came coffee and clearer thinking. I realized I didn't have to turn back, but that I could (potentially) access Ft. Hunter Ligget via King city/Jolon Road. This meant a fair detour further inland (to the tune of 20 miles extra) but it meant I could still reach Prewitt Ridge and hopefully ride singletrack down to the coast! And if the point were to arrive, I could have just driven. No, the point is to travel well, and that means the bicycle. All day, the bicycle.

Lloyd, the conspiracy minded camp host, came by to tell me that Obama had won. Works for me. If I needed another reason to despise the Mormon Church, I got it with their funding and pimping of the (lamentably) passed Yes on 8 campaign.

If 2 people love and commit to one another for life, where is the harm?

Shame on us, California.





Yep. The same jury rig as last time down this path...




Lowered center of mass with this arrangement of tarp and pad.





2nd day's load arrangement. Smartened up (a bit) and strapped the tent and poles along side the rack, taking them out of my small pack and off my back. Muuuuch nicer. Loaded the solar powered lantern/water bottle on the seatbag for charging and to keep weight off my back.

I was not sure about the water situation ahead, so I loaded up all I had here. My bladder leaked and I had to toss it. Bummer!that was 100 oz of water. Yay!that was so much less weight on my back.



This is such a perfect little vineyard tucked into the foothills. And I lik their water tower.




Looking at the perfectly spaced oaks along the road into Ft Hunter Ligget. That place should be a park. Instead it's full of tanks. At least they let you through (with an ID-don't forget that) to access the backside of Prewitt Ridge.




Spend more than a day on your tour, and you will look like a hobo. Gear strapped everwhere, dirty clothes in odd arrangement, etc. I was trying to keep the sun off my ears/neck. I had my shirt rolled up to my armpits for cooling, exposing my undershirt along with this getup when I rolled up to the gate at the military base...





Climbing, looking at the remains of the Cone Peak foothills. The stream along the lower sections of the eastern flanks is running clear (even with the rains of this past weekend), but the hillsides are pretty torn up. Not as bad as the Indians fire, I guess...though the smell of wet charcoal was so pervasive it made me a little nauseous on the climb. Not that I feel super on that climb, anyway, but you know.




There will be a terrible problem with slides this winter. Those hills are ruined.





This is looking down a drainage on the Pacific side of the ridge. I see why the mountain lion decided to move into Carmel looking at all this. That is a lot of ruin.




Looking eastward, descending with the last of the light. Time was tight by the time I reached the top, so I took the road instead of the punishing climb to Prewitt and it's always elusive trail...




Cold. Sunflower seeds. Got some grey hairs in my moustache.



West.






This is a truer feel for the light conditions. Looking south down the Nacimiento-Ferguson Road to the Pacific and the finish. Pampas Grass is going crazy right now...





Done. Nothing for it but to eat my remaining PBJ, potato chips, apple, and drink whiskey in the sleeping bag until pick up several hours later...

Thank you L___ for the motivation and support! You are good to me.