secrets and lies

Welcome, Friends. It's been Spring Break over here on the W-izeye-izeye-est Coast this week, and we have been making bike tour while the sun shines. Some of you know how this is done. Salud! Some of you do not. Sad face. Clench your _____ and prepare for a know-how explosion:

You get your game face on.

You lay out the map and plan your route.

 You find a sucker to haul (most of) your stuff.

 You gather at the trailhead for a group photo, and you begin to pedal. If it is Henry Coe, you begin to pedal uphill.

 The 1st few switchbacks are a shake down. Gear will shift. Straps will slacken. Loads will reveal themselves to have been unbalanced. Etc.

 Strong riders come to the front.

Water carriers will head-down pedal to support their stars. It is the way of things.

There will be struggles.

 This post could be filled entirely with photos of us climbing. Climbing climbing climbing. My children know things many children do not. They know how to suffer, but that is common knowledge among the youth. They know the value of suffering.

...though I suspect they will not own up to this knowledge for some time. It is there.

 I can see it in their eyes.




My daughter brought a friend along to share the misery. We had another child in the line-up, but there was a sprained thumb. This would not have mixed well with some of the riding to be found along our route- which is the easiest approach to Kelly Lake that can be devised! It is a selective process, vetting children for a tour of this scope. The kids have more fun with a buddy, undeniably, but it is a small section of today's youngsters that will handle so much effort for "just" the pay-off of a backcountry lake and no other people around. And, having been through similar situations viz a viz other people's kids before, I'm damned if I'm allowing a bail-out for any reason other than serious medical. Full stop. My children know this, and bear it in mind when they are trying to recruit their victims companions.

My own dear wife informed me that this would be the one and only time I would have the joy of her company on a bike tour in Henry Coe. It was a sad-making blow, but not unexpected. The relentless climbing (and the wind was no small factor...) alone would have been enough to put her off, as she has no innate love for the bikes. Throw Kelly Lake Trail in and it is decided. I myself went over the bars headfirst there, flipped, and slid on my back head-downhill before executing a smart reverse sommersault and coming to my feet with a few choice words. Once you get the freight train of a Big Dummy loaded for 6 moving, it can be hard to maneuver rapid changes of direction. All of the kids rallied it.

We made it to Kelly Lake as the evening drew on and set up our camp. With L___ along, the food choices are both more and better than when I am solo parenting a trip. Everybody sat right down and snacked it up until it was time for dinner, s'mores, and bed.

Perfect.

we all went up there

In which our merry band had disbanded, leaving our hero bereft of drinking companions and the solace of friendly company. Day 3:


I awoke with the sun, as you will out of doors. It took a while to clear the ridge East of me. I used the time to realize my lack of coffee, to curse the entire group I'd been camping with, and to really freak out. I'd been surprisingly (to me) sorry to see them go the night before, but that changed in an instant. I checked every nook and cranny in my bag(s) multiple times. I vowed to henceforth be even more rigidly accountable with my camping coffee preparedness.

It's a Big Deal.

Then I noticed that I'd been pouring my pee bottle (don't drink out of the clear Joselyn's bottle) just up hill of my shifter in the night. So that really helped my temper.

Then I made a bleak, coffee-less breakfast.



Packed and up the road.







The ridge.

Looking down slope. It was at that point that I realized how J__ had made such a long term wizened choice of rig.

Mid-slope.




This is the spot where I came off. I hadn't really given much thought to crashing (it happens) until I landed down slope with the (heavilyish) loaded rig on top. If those chainrings had been several inches down...that's a lot of potential ugliness. Technical touring is best done with a partner.

This is one of several nice potential camping spots.



Looking back up to the knob. It's a lot of steep drop right away.


Real singletrack.



As you progress, it gets more shaded and Redwooded in the narrower canyons.

Back out into the oaks, and Maritime Chaparral.



Highway 1 and the Pacific.


The whiskey ran out with the final bubble at the trail head.





Whooooooooole lotta this. Highway 1 North.


51 miles to go...


Then those rotten hippies at Esalen wouldn't let me in on account of my super secret squirrel contact wasn't working that day. I was so charming and pleasant- nope. Next time I'm just barging the back gate, and the hippies can try and throw me out if they think they can.


It quickly passed the point of whooping and hollering, at which I settled in to pedaling and pedaling. Just past Andrew Molera State Park, The Wind began in earnest. Pedaling as hard as you can to go downhill type earnestness.
I truly dislike riding in the wind.
Your ass will eventually go numb and then it stops hurting.

By Carmel Highlands I no longer cared about anything but food and being off the bike. I texted my Sweetie and she came and rescued me and had spring rolls and a chimichanga, too!

Good Times.

it is an ill win that blows no good

The wind!



How I loathe riding in the wind. How do I loathe it? With loathesome loathing. I'd much sooner ride uphill all week with no coasting or leveling than ride a day in the wind.

What happened to Spring? It is here, but it is not here. Looks like Santa and that bunny are still at it.

A quick local loop on the fixed Crosscheck was enough to let me know I really have let those early season miles of fitness slip through my fingers.

Again.

The wind was ever present. I stashed some easter eggs in the woods, checked on that tarped over situation (looks to be moving forward slowly, and- yes- the jackass has left plenty of empty halves of plastic water containers littering up the joint. I am going to extract a hefty toll this year-is my decision on what to do about it), climbed a couple hills, and was generally blown about.

Did I mention there's a troll living in the woods? Several, in point of fact. But I hadn't seen this one before the other day while velocaching with the kids. He'd pitched his tent on that one connector up top, right in the trail. He also was lying in his tent with his pants off. That's classy. I got the kids turned around (thankfully they were well behind me) and we took an alternate route. When I rode this trail yesterday, I caught a flash of turqoise off to my right and sure enough there he was. He was scrambling to make himself scarce, and then tried to pretend he was not there at all. At least he had pants, had removed his tent and the area was devoid of litter. I told him to "keep it clean!" and rode on by. I feel sure that will have the desired effect.

Here's hoping the wind dies out by this weekend.