wanna see something gross?

Well, who doesn't? That's hardly a fair question. I didn't take any photos you understand, but after yesterday's totally kick ass dirt commute (dirt both ways, mind you- and it is dark in the woods at night right now) I found a tick on my rhymes-with-tick.
Yep.
I know.
You know you're a mountain biker when...?

Well, I threw him in the toilet and pissed on him. Sorry you had to hear about this.



And, Mysterious B___ S_____ is, I'm sure, disappointed with me for not being punk enough to leave it there.

STOP THE HATE

STOP THE HATE


Just quit.

Here to follow is my summation of 4 days/3 nights of bikecamping (or as the kids are slanging: "Bikepacking") in Henry Coe State Park.

Hottt climbing with bugs.




Oh yeah, and it was sooooooooper fun.


During the course of this event, we fell into the sleepy yet herky rhythm of bumbling Frenchified cyclotouristes from the 40s. It was easier to just go with it. A True Adventure will demand it's due, I suppose. So, don't judge- marvel...

Parking lot shakedown. Pack your stuff, lament the things you left behind, forget to pay the entrance fees, hide beers in the creek for your triumphant return, etc.


What became my accustomed view. T___ riding away from me on singletrack. As the trip progressed it became more and more apparent that he had no idea what he was doing. That all (ALL!) of the trails we took had been stitched together from various internet chat rooms and boastful forums. At this time, however, I was being led by the nose and thinking we were in for nothing but smoooth music.



I have come to the personal conclusion that I lik to wear what I lik on the bike. All of my fast guy lycra is blown out (have I been mining this cycling vein too long? My equipment is really taking the beatings) and plus, my commutes have learned me that wool underwear is plenty comfortable and dries faster to boot.
So.
Skin out: wool underwear (long under wear bottoms cut off), silk t-shirt (long under wear top, cut off), super light poplin (all cotton) trousers (rolled up for pedaling, rolled down for bug protection, occasionally tucked into socks for tick proofedness), super light poplin (all cotton) western wear long sleeved shirt (for stylishly rugged good looks and to keep sun/pokey brush/ticks at bay), cool water soaked bandana around neck (a la the Lone Ranger) around my neck for temperature regulation and extra rugged Western flair/French tourist on Holiday swishy style, further bandana draped over my neck/ears for more sun/bug mitigation, deadly earnest Livestrong cycling cap, and helmet with headlamp. Also, gloves and shoe covers (to keep off the cheat grass, ticks, and posers.)
To those of y'all that were excited about the top tube Thermarest placement: me, too. But from the parking lot up the road, it was just too bulky. I moved it behind the saddle and it was much better.

Lots of nice climbs. The singletrack is AWESOME! Henry Coe has moved into my imagination in a very big way.

I believe this is Los Cruzeros, but things are fuzzy. I decline to reveal the route, as it is not mine to give, and things change seasonally quite a bit with overgrowth/maintenance/etc. Anyhow, there is still lots of water to be had, which is a very good thing. This rainy Spring really paid off. The holes were full and flowing, though dropping fast; when we got back to the parking lot, the beers we'd stashed under a foot of water were just resting half in/out of the creek. All planetary ducks had aligned just so to afford us the perfect window of the Sweet Ride. Ahhhh.

Push.
Push.
Push.
1st night camp view.

Apparently all party balloons that decline to head out over the Pacific blow into Henry Coe. This is one I found, and it became a motto of sorts.




Food. If I may: be really thoughtful about your food choices. I made several costly mistakes regarding my food choices. My guiding light in packing was "Oh, shit. The trip is tomorrow and I have to use whatever we have at hand." This is a poor way to go about planning. Rushy rush menus leave much to be desired, and cloud thinking. To wit: I forewent the Tabasco in favor of Taco Bell hot sauce packets. They were lighter! And easier, and actually not bad- but I was tired of them quick. My snacks were WOEFULLY meager. I grabbed a ziploc full of Starburst, which normally I do not eat but there they were- easy and sugary- so I packed them. And truth be told, the 4th day when stumbling my bike up Coit Road in the hot hottt sun I ate the hell out of them, one after another. But. T___ had honey mustard pretzels (Oh! how I wanted them) and cashews (which-yuck. In day to day are too sweet for me, but 3 days in looked fatty and creamy and made my mouth water) and peanut butter filled pretzels, and...you see.

I packed just so much, and everthing in it's place, and what I had, and I did not go hungry...but the choices- my avocados? Well, I realized upon cutting into the 1st that I'd have to eat the whole thing right then as it was not going to keep (I packed them so cleverly, too) and the 2nd gyroscoped it's way loose from it's skin and turned to a strange, cracked shell surrounding a mush coated central core of harder stuff clinging to the pit. And this had been gonna be my lunches. On days 3 and 4 I was eating a powder sandwich: Taco Bell hot sauce and miso soup powder (begged from T___. I tried, very consciously, to not be covetous), nori, and Seitan jerky (which I'd made in our dehydrator, and which pretty much sucked...but it was a light and at hand way to bulk up my protein supply). Miso soup was a real fine call, by the way.

A powder sandwich.

Food. It matters. Don't blow it.

Although- yes those ARE toasted pumpkin seeds freshly prepared, trailside. So take that.


I can't find my trusty Esbit. I stopped by REI, thinking I could just pick up a replacement at the ridiculously stupid value of $15.99 for stove PLUS tabs...but they don't sell them anymore because (they aren't exciting and explodery enough) no one buys them. We had been gonna rely on T___'s MSR, but I stopped at the creepy white supremacist surplus store and found an $8.99 knock off that was 1/3 again bigger (and painted?!? the paint began burning away at 1st use, of course) so we used it to Great Success. For reals- you cannot eff this stove up. It can't not work. If the at hand fuel is soaked, use tabs. If the at hand fuel is dry, use it. Simple. Win.


Drink coffee.


Drink coffee with a view.

















Hoover Lake was so lovely. There were 4 jackrabbits that we saw, just relaxing in the lush grass. It smelled great, it was shady (in the morning anyhow), I lost my Leatherman there, etc.


We put our stuff here, thinking we would camp, but the ground was overrun by large black ants. Lots of folks have camped there, sure, but we moved. That night (and the following) we slept up on the shoulder of Kaiser Aetna road. It was flat and bug-free.


Pedaling circle after circle will gift you with many things; a raging appetite to be sure, a level-headed platform from which to review your life, purple spots crowding your vision, and (in my case) the opportunity to listen to your drivetrain creakity click pop pop. OMG I need a new: pedals, BB, crankset, chainrings, chain, cassette, freehub. For reals.

You've seen my rig. Here is T___'s. He builds bikes and stuff, so it's real nice. Custom. Black Cat custom front rack y stem. Soulcraft custom (chainstays!) rear rack. 2x10 using a 38x26 by 12-36. A suspension fork of some kind. He rode away from me up and down. I think I wanted his bike even more than his snacks, and that's a lot.

Black Cat Bicycles

Kooks.

Don't go without a map.






We hung out in the culvert. Quote:" No one is gonna believe us how nice this is."


We spent 2 nights here. The 3rd day was a loop ride from/to here, for which we removed bags and just rode. Rad. We spent the latter part of those days here:

What's this?


A popular spot...

This, Friends, is SUMMERTIME. I, for one, welcome our Summer overlords.


Your Thermarest will serve as sweet sweet nap raft.

I will now state, unequivocally: This Hole in the Rock is the finest swimming hole I have ever been to, bar none. Whattayougot?




How it was on the 4th day. How was it? HOTTT. Climbing. Hott climbing. Henry Coe is well crenelated. Ridges and valleys.


Hottt as it was, no cramps. I packed my Tumm's, and used electrolyte tabs. Charmed, I'm sure.

It being as dry as it was, the ticks were waaaaaaaaaay less of a presence/problem than anticipated. Something like 14 total for me. Quite the change from last time.




That's it.

jazzed up hoodlums

In which our merry band continues on the Birfday Tour 2010. Day 2:





Woke up quick. The sun is a long time getting down in the valley where we'd camped, but the change in light was enough to bring me around. Thankfully, though it was chilly and some middling dew had visited, there was no fog.


I like to have my morning constitutional 1st thing, so it was off into the underbrush for me, right away. Then I took creepy pictures of everone's sleeping set-ups. For future reference.


The Skipper:
I've had passing interest in bivy set ups. Looking at how wet C____ seems to be, my interest is passed. I'd sooner use a tarp in any one of several configurations.



N___ and K____. Peacefully slumbering unawares. Bet y'all feel different, now.



Travelling light really pays off. KB was extra crabby upon the early wake up. If I had not been gonna be out for the 2nd night alone, I'd have skipped the weight of a tent my ownself. But sleeping in the woods alone is too scary for me to go tentless if I have a choice.

I'm chicken.



Folks got up and at it well. We had a lot of ground to cover that day. Much of it on the uphill.






I was able to cook on the fire, both the previous evening's dinner and this breakfast. You know how that pleases me.

There was a lot of overlap in people's coffee set ups. This worked both for and against me. I contributed grounds to the general fund, and this earned me several cups with no effort on my part...but ended with someone packing my grounds away with their own and leaving me (gah!) without coffee on my 3rd Day. You know how that affects me. I was not to know this until I'd set up my little ritualized outdoor kitchen the following morning. It took several (increasingly) frantic searches of (all) my gear before this really sunk into my dim bulb. I got angry then.






Back on the road.

Back on the climb.



Big country. Clowns to the left of me.


Looking at the road bed dead ahead. See it? Indians Road is like that all day.



Looking over my shoulder, riding sweep.


Looking down. I saw a lot of this.


And jokers to the right. Ventana Wilderness.




The Spring is just before this slide.


It is a welcome sight. Sure beats the last time I did this, and it was running much better.


You really have to pick your way across that.


No pictures from Hanging Valley. It's not spectacular and I was going way too fast to trifle with documentation. They would have been blurry photos, what with all that speed.



You're looking at me, I'm looking at you.



Around the corner and down to the water again.



Look!
People's touring bikes!

N___. He's a freeborn man. His home is on his back. He knows ever inch of highway, ever foot of backroad, ever mile of singletrack. I tried to convince N___ that he'd have more fun stashing the trailer near the campsite and retrieving it later so he could ride unencumbered by gear he no longer needed, but he wouldn't crack.

The Skipper*. Notice how his bag of HQ is gone? That thing must have weighed pounds. All of his "achievements" are now void because he opted to stash his bag near the campsite to be retrieved later. Asterisk for you.

The incredible lightness of J__. What the?! Did T___ carry all your stuff? I mean, aside from my pillow and my notebook, I had only essentials. I even left the rope swang and BB guns at home.


K____. Seemingly demure, yet filled with __________s.


KB. Now check the suicide front shifter.




Picnic lunch at Indians Campground proper.




Then miles of pedaling through the thankfully mild Fort Hunter Ligget.

Gratuitous water crossing action shots.

SPLASH! POW!! SOckO!



More miles. Picture rolling oaks. Picture oddly burned patches.

Brief stops at the turns.

Miles and miles of this. Kind of hot miles.

We're headed for the back side of that, at roughly the same elevation as the far light blue peak. Now put your head back down and pedal ragged circles, alone.


Penultimately, we passed out of the military's joint (the checkpoint was unmanned for the 1st time in my experience) and began to climb up into some cool continuously contoured climbs. I abandoned my party when it became clear none of them had any more beers in their gears, and thus it was not a party but a loose grouping holding me down. I totally soloed that climb.

That's the only photo I got of that. There are 2 points of false hope on that climb- but I know them for what they are now, and so these days they just encourage me.



The top.
I had stashed the cooler and bag of snacks in semi-hiding when I dropped the racevan off, on Friday night. They were fairly easy to spot, because it was dark and cold and there may have been monsters around when I was there by myself in the dark cold. And also because there really is no good cover at that point. Anyhow, the USFS had found them and left them along with a nice note requesting we remove all our party trash.
Excellent. I have to trust that the majority of folks who make it to places like that are cool enough that they will not wreck our stashes. It's worked so far.

Beers were so cold they hurt your hand. And, plus K____ was handing them up before people could put a foot down.

Solid.


All too soon it was time for the little doggies to get along. Sun don't wait.


They had to get down the pave, as there was not enough day left for them to attempt the planned (Ha! plan.) trail. There's still 5ish miles of no joke fire road from that saddle to even reach the trail head. The racevan awaited them at the base for to take them back home, while I would stay the night on the ridge and ride back the following day.

My plan (Ha! plan.) had been to ride part way down a technical trail, all things working out, and camp at one of the sweet spots. I had been rethinking that one from the start of the day's climb. At this point there was no question of doing that given the light, even if I had still wanted to do it. Honestly, it would have sucked. I could have gotten badly hurt riding that gnarly trail loaded (even with fresh legs), and with no buddy around it would have been foolish in the extreme. I'm not smart but I am dumb, so I decided to find a spot a little ways up the dirt road and hunker down for the night in the trees. By the time full dark had fallen I was relatively comfortable on a small rise, tucked in for the night. I hung my food bag from the center pole, so as to discourage mice from chewing their way into the tent/bag, and went to sleep.