what's this?

What's this? There's something in the air...



Quick loop in the local hills today.


Stopped for an easter egg, but took it down trail a ways to crack that egg in a drier and more open spot. As I sat there, I wondered about that one faint trail behind the sunny rocks on the ridge (as I have before, idly). Today I walked that trail, and a flash of white caught my eye. Contrasting the drab scrub was an old/tattered bedspread. I saw an open flat spot about 8 feet in diameter through the brush from the bedspread and I thought, "Aha! Potential stealth camp site..."

These were tucked against the scrub at the edge. Which struck me as odd. They are full of some faintly vegetable smelling liquid- almost like Rice Dream. Weird. That's a lot of work, hauling those up there full. So I looked around a little more, and I saw

this, which freaked me out. A little, because Chris and Snoop be making zombies, yo.

But I got over it, and pulled back the cover to reveal

Yes. That is what it looks like. I covered it up like it had been and continued on my ride.
This is the 2nd time I've come upon this type of situation in that area. Last time, I left it all alone, and ended up cleaning up lots of trash left behind. Of course I went back to check! Like you wouldn't? This time, I am debating other options.


What would you do? Come on now, everbody... weigh in. You can be anonymous if you lik.

caught!

Can I get a witness?

It is, of course, the Full Snow moon tonight. Y'all knew that. I do not even care.

Here's hoping somebody somewheres gets a ride in....

It is good to have friends!

alternately, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers...

Ridiculous.




Hello, enthusiastic person! How was your County Line? Mine was outstanding.

14 starters at the 5am rollout from Watsonville. Several of us were cheating already, riding geared bikes. There were murmurs about this. Talk your little talk. It is strange to me that some people would rather have my absence on a SS than my prescence on a geared bike, but. Couldn't have dreamed up more perfect conditions weatherwise.

Rolled up to the base of Old Mt. Madonna, where there was frantic flipflopping from the "single"speeders. That climb was like nothing. We floated up in the pitch dark. I guess it was not being able to see the climbs looming. It had lightened enough for me to see the cue sheet at the turn onto Summit, which was nice. So I didn't miss it. The sun rose for real on dirt Summit, and it was glorious. No pictures (which I regret, esp. in light of what came next) as we were rolling so nicely along. Sun on high, clouds down below.

What came next was my 1st flat. I bid farewell to my riding partners, Punk Ass C__, and A___ from Ft. Collins, CO.

I replaced the tube, patched the old one, and rolled on.


After 10minutes or so, I got my 2nd flat. Ripped at the valve stem. DANG! Swapped back in the patched tube and rolled on.


After about 10minutes or so, I got my 3rd flat. I felt a weird hop in the rear, and then the tire blew with a loud bang. I was well and truly effed.

I called my friend J__, and told her my plight and my plan to try and make it to her place before they all left for Watsonville. She was originally going to drive my van from there out to the start. My van, which held my fixed wheel crossbike for the short course section, and my secret weapon, with it's fat 40mm tires.

I booted the tear with a gel pack, and used my last extralarge patch (which I put into my patch kit the night before in anticipation of an epic ride with all kinds of possibilities, haha).


Rolled on. Bumpbumpbump. Dropped the pressure, bumpbumpbump. Stopped, ate another astronaut food bag, and booted the outside of the tire.

This worked for a disappointingly short time. The wrapper wore poorly.



So, I stopped shortly and diassembled my front fender, which was attached with zip ties. I folded up the Esge fender (indestructable!)and strapped it to the pack and put the stays inside. Then I used the zip ties to reinforce the external boot.





This required loosening the rear brakes waaaaay up. And remembering not to use them!


This worked well enough for ~45minutes. It blew out at the top of Eureka Canyon and Buzzard Lagoon Rd.

Where I called J__ again, and the plan became that I would try and meet them at the shawshage market in Corralitos. And then I waited ~45minutes to hitch a ride down the hill. A real nice couple allowed me and my bike into their car. Cars are ok in my book.



Met KB at the store, and found that J__, M______, and S______ had driven up the hill to get me. Bummer. So I bought a tallboy, and we waited.

Turns out, KB was due to emcee the start, and my little wrench in the works would possibly prevent him from making it. He said he knew something was going to happen to eff it up as soon as he'd been told "we're counting on you", but he didn't know it would be something so farfetched as this. The lengths to which the man will go in order that he really fail to come through are impressive.

Ladies back, we changed the plan again and headed straight outta town to the start. This put me in the position of continuing on my geared bike, but what am I gonna say? J__ had brought a tire for me (thanks, J__!), but I figured I would be screwed because that's how my ride was going. The clearance on that bike is low; low enough that anything over a 32mm will rub, and even some 32s rub. We got to the start in time.

It was good to see you all!

Yes, the tire was a 35mm Panaracer TServ. I put it on, pumped it up, and it would not roll. Air out, would not roll. More air out, rolled. Man, that tire pressure was low. I was freaked out and flustered, and I figured I'd pinch flat right away once I got to the railroad tracks, so I headed out ahead of the start- then I could be getting passed when I flatted and I'd be able to bum tubes.





I met here with Mr. Craig Ashcroft:
and Christopher St. John:
for some serious railroad riding.



The TServ held up super well. I could feel it bottom out with frequency, but it held. Power to the pedals and lots of wieght off the seat. On and on. Chasing those guys with S______. Some yokels were sitting along the railroad tracks, and when Christopher St. John came by they yelled, "Hey, Monterey!" They were right. Craig Ashcroft liked to sit up and straighten his sweater's drape as it was tied around his shoulders.


Then it was through some of the stinkiest stink ever stunk, which really had me reflecting on the fact that the shore is the end of the line for every foul thing washed away from somewhere else.


There were these guys manning a beer stop:


Thanks fellas.

After that it was some riding and stopping at a couple bars for drinks. Brady's was a timed in/out 5 minute mission to get tequila shots.

Then I got another flat. But for variety, this one was the front tire. Craig Ashcroft's swinging bachelor pad was 2 fortunate blocks away, and we headed there. For whatever reason (it is not clear to me now) we decided I should just take the 700x23 front wheel from his townie. I know. I can't explain.

Yes, it was back to the tracks, where 10-15 minutes later...pinch flat. Weird. That tire/rim combo is cursed. I pinched the tire getting it back on. Took it off, patched that hole and put it back on only to pinch it again.Took it off, patched that hole and put it back on only to pinch it again.Took it off, patched that hole and put it back on only to pinch it again.Took it off, patched that hole and put it back on only to pinch it again.Took it off, patched that hole and put it back on only to pinch it again.Took it off, patched that hole and put it back on only to pinch it again.

Down to the last patch! Christopher St. John had foolishly stayed with me, and insisted that he be given his shot.It worked! Off we rode, until...pinch flat. I cursed so much. then we rolled over to some guy's house, and stole his front wheel off his crossbike, and rolled on.

my 3rd front wheel of the day.

We got to the beach and I said,"There is no ____ing way I am putting my drivetrain through that. Nor am I riding it on these skinny tires. See ya." Christopher St. John cursed so much.

So it was the road to Watsonville and a fun party with like-minded individuals.

Good Times.

That is how my bike looked this morning. See how great it would have been on the other? I'd have totally won.


Thank you so much, people who helped me! Y'all are solid and have good attitudes.

The coming storm

Rain clouds. I am glad to see them.

It has been wonderfully warm and dry, and that is great for riding the bikes. Not so great for the local environment. I've been seeing lots and lots of wild(er)life on rides (witness the golden eagles) that do not usually show around here. It has to be the result of all the burning in Big Sur last summer, that joint is wrecked... So, bring on the rain!

I am calling the rain.

Too bad for you, though. Because this means your candy ass is gonna get soaked come Saturday. The Big Gundown will be a celebration of all that is wet and chilly. 10th Annual County Line Jamboree, at the crack of 5am in Watsonville is going to be a long hard slog in the wet slippery mud.

I see you all searching. You know it is a bad idea to do the short course at all, and a request for a humiliating kick in the tender parts to go long and hilly. You should show your support instead by lining the trails with beer and whiskey handups. Some of y'all will probably ride it anyway, so.
I recommend:
1) Have a Good Time, don't be uh crazy. It's a celebration.
2) Prepare for cold ass wet= clothes and food, people (do not forget your hands when packing your stuff...you won't be able to think about anything else when riding if they are numb and wet)
3) tune your bike! duh. Gear choice? Looooooooow and high.
4) my secret weapon? sure, I'll share. Mostly because I know you won't listen, and then I laugh: fenders, bro. Yep.
5) Cheat. Cheat well, cheat often.

Having said that, it could well be glorious and sunny up on them ridges. Still mud for sure, but you might end up riding in some personal bright and cheery Shangri La surrounded below by clouds. Taking the backroads and trails for what they can be; your own private wonderland. Then drop down from the sun into the gloomy short course and rejoin the "race".

winter with a small w

went to pick up the youngest on the Big Dummy the other day. He prefers the "trailerbike", but it's been a while since I rode the Dummy, so.


One guy on a road bike caught me on the pave climb to take the trail to the other trail to get here:

and he asked me how I lik my ride, and was cool and friendly. We had a nice chat about cargo bikes and cross bikes, and I took him for granted.

Later on, another guy on a road bike caught me on the flats out Carmel Valley Road and he snickered "Good Luck!", and I remembered what a bunch of dicks there are on road bikes.





It is true, it really does ride better when loaded. The rear end feels more. More hookup, more feedback.

That is some good cargo.

We got a flat and hung around roadside patching the tube. 2 cars stopped and asked if we needed help. 1 mom lady was very concerned. 0 problems were had. All patched up (because we roll with a pump and patch kit, yo) and we rolled on and on.

*************************************************************************************


Later on we got home to find a package from Swobo containing a cap. This is worth mentioning because I had received an email from Sr. S. Smith, a representative of that organization, exactly 2 days prior informing me that he had "somehow, some way" gotten wind that I was in possession of a defective winter cap, and asking me if I wanted a replacement free of charge. I replied that it was weird that he had that info, which was true info. And further, I had requested an RA# at minimum 4 years ago which I had received and then not acted upon for so long I just let the hat rest in my accessories drawer. A hat full of silent reproach.

So now, at least 4 years later, he wants me to have a replacement.

Heck yes!

New one on the left, old one on the right. The problem with the old one was that the brim flippy flopped down in your eyes. The new one does not do so.

So, if you wanna buy with confidence I recommend Swobo. They have good products and good people.


*************************************************************************************


The timing of this whole Swobo plug is ironic, too. Because this weekend past was the Josshole's Training Camp I rode with some new-to-me folks. One of the people involved was very pointed in noticing my Swobo knickers (c.1999). When the sag vehicle met us and (Give Thanks!) there was beer in the cooler, I opted to drink a bottle. I opened it on my Time pedals; it's like they were made for just such a purpose. One (1) of the other guys wanted a beer, but couldn't figure how to open it. He saw that I had one open and asked how I'd gotten mine open. I told him, and the same noticer said, "Oh, he's wearing Swobo pants, of course he knows!" So there is that going for them, which may or may not be nice. It is more true than not, I guess.


Anyhow, here are some pitchers:

That's my full suspension(!) rig in the foreground. Forgot about that one, huh? Me, too. It is the 2nd time I've ridden it at all since last summer's Colorado Trip. I felt squirrely all day. It saved me from a beatin though.


It was some of the same bike geekery ("you got a nice bike and you just had to go and put those bars on it and make it...") as on Friday, but Mr. Coach B______ thinks I interpret it all wrong- that it's not amazement and wonder at the fact that I ride what I do, but at how crusty and degenerate I am while still (barely, barely) hanging on to the group. I'd say that's probably as true as anything else.

Barely. Hanging on. These are up the Grind towards Laguna Seca, and we'd already put in several fast loops on the old race course by the Scout Camp and such. Fast loops.


Remember that story about the sprinting dog and thinking I could probably outsprint a predator? Same thing. I had the vaguest of notions that I had speed and could place (if not show) if I wanted...not after chasing those racers around. I cheated on Friday's Fremont Climb (taking a motor pull), skipped their ~80miles of road on Saturday in favor of work, and cheated again on Sunday and still could just keep them in sight if someone at the back waited a little. Huh.

So here is where I spent my ill-gotten time bonus. I cut out Couch Canyon in favor of riding from Laguna Seca across the saddle to a safety break, lounging in the sun, eating a nice lunch, and lying around. You see the trail down there? That's the beginning of the climb up Hurl Hill...


seen here, nearing the top.



And summitting.



The welcome sight of the sag...


We all agreed to skip the planned Toro Park addition, which by then was A-OK with me. Once we got back (by way of the tortorous 3 Bitches and Ewok) to the East Garrison side somewhere around the 45 (that's it?! felt like a LOT longer to me) mile mark, I peeled off for the secret spot and some quiet beers in the shade.
Bikes. And bike riding.