For my own musings, I need to sit back and reflect on what has happened thus far in 2008. You see, I am not a racer in any form. I am a recreational mountain biker that happens to be in good enough shape to finish upper/middle of the pack in Endurance races and last in Cross Country. “Racing” for me, really does nothing besides ensuring that I am in a particular shape at different points in the year. Prime time for me is normally fall through winter as I don’t take too well to the Southern heat wave during the summer.
In years past, most of my racing accomplishments were simply finishing races without dying. This year I am starting to realize that I can finish some races and with proper nutrition, not feel like death. This was the first PMBAR where I can say that I didn’t feel like puking coming down Black in the end. I am a desk jockey after all but for some damn reason my desk/computer never breaks. Maybe I should get one made of Aluminum or Steel. . .
Sorry about that, I got side tracked, back onto the topic here:
I have competed in the following races so far in 2008:
Icycle
FATS benefit Ride
The Most Horrible Thing Ever
Snake Creek Gap Time Trial
Race to the River
Cohutta 100
PMBAR
That’s 360 + miles and 370 or there about dollars. Damn, only a few more miles in TMHTE or PMBAR and I would have equaled out to $1.00/mile. In today’s mountain bike market, that seems to be a fair deal. The only way this happens for me is to compete in some free races like TMHTE.
That’s a lot for me already this year. I attribute most of my fitness to getting ready and competing in The Most Horrible Thing Ever. I honestly think that combined with my Tuesday night rides to Paris and back has been what put me on top of my game this year. It has been rare, that I ride more than four times a week.
I have also broken two Steel Surly frames and most recently a Bontrager handlebar. I had a comment on Monday’s race report that said I should shop for a fork. Ummmmm No, the last thing I need is more moving parts that spew oil onto the forest floors. Its not that I am some crazy maniac that thinks technology is bad, I just don’t see where putting suspension on a frame that comes with a rigid fork will alleviate any problems. It may prolong some problems but it will not alleviate them.
I do have a yearning for gears and suspension. I sometimes miss the feeling of truly flying through the woods. Big ringing downhills while floating on a cushion of air is quite nice. I haven’t felt that in almost two years now. I just can’t justify altering my UDM, I will always have a Karate Monkey (As long as SURLY always makes one) and it will always be rigid.
I have no particular plans for the rest of the year. I have not signed up for another race in 2008. The next “event” on my schedule is to accomplish a task that I have yet to complete. I will be riding the NORTH/SOUTH trail sometime during Memorial Day weekend in Land Between the Lakes (LBL). I have always wanted to complete this 65+ mile out and back but never really had the motivation nor time while I was vacationing at the Lake. This year will hopefully be different as I have met some new nut cases/friends out of TN that are likely candidates to participate in such a silly notion during “vacation.”
Something will probably come along that I want to do but for now I just plan on riding and continuing trail work and Advocacy with SORBA. I have to tally my trail hours this year but I know I am already pushing 60+ for 2008 and I can’t wait for National Trails Day but that is another topic altogether.
Peace
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Monday, May 05, 2008
What’s That Creaking? PMBAR 2008
This year’s Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race would be Team Trippin’ On Lactic Acid’s third attempt and completion at the race.
The rules are simple and go as follows. There are seven checkpoints strewn in and around Pisgah’s Ranger District. You must make it to four of the seven checkpoints to finish and most likely all seven if you want to vie for first place. There are two mandatory checkpoints that you can choose from. You must either choose Farlow Gap or Turkey Pen, two polar opposites when it comes to riding in this vast National Forest.
After head honcho Eric’s speech on how not to die in the woods, we had our passports in hand and were told to go. The passport is your guide to knowing where all the checkpoints are as you get it stamped along the way to provide proof of visitation to each of the checkpoints. After quickly glancing at the passport, I realized that most of the checkpoints were the same as 2007. This made our job of choosing Turkey Pen as our mandatory very easy as we had gone for Farlow last year.
Off we go up Black Mountain to get a quick 1,000 feet of climbing out of the way in the form of a warm-up. At the first sharp turn, there was a sign that read “Where am I?” and it had a Gnome with a blue jacket and red hat on. Why do I know all of this? I figured it was a “special test” and at the end of the race Eric was going to ask “Where was the Gnome with the X jacket and Y colored hat. Soon I saw more and more signs and I realized they were just placed there for no particular reason other than to befuddle the teams.
Joe and I stopped at Pressley for a quick once over of the passport and then I realized it was exactly the same as last year. That meant I already knew our route as long as nothing un-expected happened.
Black -> Turkey Pen -> S. Mills River -> Mullinax -> Laurel Creek (out and back) Squirrel Gap -> S. Mills River, -> Buckhorn -> Black Mountain (out and back from the gap) -> Clawhammer -> Maxwell Cove -> Black Mountain
I asked Jody and Cook if they thought it looked the same as last year and they confirmed my thoughts. So we took off with the masses headed further up Black to Turkey Pen. As we were pushing I started up a conversation with Jody about their route choice. He said something about him and Cook headed to Farlow. I said “Your going to Farlow over Black Mountain?” They would eventually change their minds on this one.
The single track was just awesome this day. The dirt was perfect and my new tire set up was really sticking nicely and sucking up most of the bumps. I had some creaking on really steep sections of trail but I chose to ignore it. I did however, inspect my downtube at every possible moment for potential cracks.
After snagging Turkey Pen we started up Mullinax to see Toby and Kenny headed back down. They had made the same mistake Joe and I made three years ago by miss-reading the passport. This wouldn’t be their only mistake of the day. Pisgah can confuse.
Up Mullinax to Laurel Creek and we had a blast once again on Laurel. This year’s PMBAR should have been called “An awesome day of single track.” It felt great to have the strength to ride the single track at a decent clip.
After nabbing our second checkpoint we took off back up Laurel. For the most part, it was obvious who was in what position in the race. I knew that if we didn’t go for five checkpoints it was going to be impossible to get in the top ten. At this point in the race, I secretly wanted to go for five but that was easy to talk about in my mind at that point.
Onto Squirrel and all I could think about was how easy this trail seems after hiking/riding it in February during TMHTE. We were 18 hours into the race at that point in February and I only wanted to die. Saturday was much different, I felt strong and Squirrel didn’t let me down, that trail is bad ass. Past Cantrell and another checkpoint is bagged. The feeling I had at TMHTE almost caused me to take Cantrell instead of Squirrel but I knew this was a mistake and talked myself out of it. While Joe ate a sandwich, I spied the map for the last time of the day. Confident with the rest of our route, Joe and I started talking “how much longer” and I knew it was going to be four and out for us.
Onto Buckhorn’s climb and I saw a yellow and black team that I wanted to pass, we passed them but got passed back just before the gap. We were off chasing them over black to Club Gap. After Club, we were headed back over the way we came toward the Buckhorn shelter. I knew the road from Avery was quicker but I thought it was off-limits for some reason.
When we got to the staircase, I saw Cook and Jody and just had to ride the staircase. It felt great and I got some compliments from Jody on our aggressive pace. I said a quick thanks and then we were off down Clawhammer as fast as we could. This was the first gravel road we had been on all day as the rest had been fine singletrack. After three or four hair raising turns down Clawhammer, I felt something weird and realized I was holding my Ergon grip in my hand but it wasn’t attached to the handlebars. HOLY SHIT, I AM GOING TO DIE, was the first thought that crossed my mind, then I realized I should probably drop the grip and grab onto something but nothing was there. My handle bars had sheared off about a half inch past the grip. With the grip and handlebar gone, I used my left hand to steady what was left of the handlebars then grabbed two fingers worth of back brake as I clenched the seat with all my butt power (go on laugh at me, this was no laughing matter at that moment).
Miraculously, I pulled it out without going down. I quickly jogged back up to retrieve my grip and went to work getting the handle-bar out of the grip, I thought maybe I could slide the grip back onto the rest of the bar but quickly realized that I was just wasting time. Time to man up and ride this race home.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be going down Clawhammer but I was worried about the descent down Black. I thought I might have to run the entire downhill. I got it in my mind that if I pedaled as hard as possible up Maxwell, I could get enough of a lead on Joe as to not hinder our progress too much on the downhill. I only had to walk once going up Maxwell due to the fact that standing and climbing is tough without a fully functional bar.
I crested the climb and took off up the hike-a-bike. Not too long into the descent and Joe was there. I was having a slow go at it but was able to ride all but the most technical parts. We had managed to ward off anyone from passing us until the turn back toward the finish. Ben and Drew went flying by and beat us by less than a minute. We ultimately ended up 17th out of 70 + teams.
A huge thanks to Eric and all the volunteers! Thanks to SMOKE BIKES for making my new CANINE frame that I won in the raffle. I will get some pictures up soon.
The rules are simple and go as follows. There are seven checkpoints strewn in and around Pisgah’s Ranger District. You must make it to four of the seven checkpoints to finish and most likely all seven if you want to vie for first place. There are two mandatory checkpoints that you can choose from. You must either choose Farlow Gap or Turkey Pen, two polar opposites when it comes to riding in this vast National Forest.
After head honcho Eric’s speech on how not to die in the woods, we had our passports in hand and were told to go. The passport is your guide to knowing where all the checkpoints are as you get it stamped along the way to provide proof of visitation to each of the checkpoints. After quickly glancing at the passport, I realized that most of the checkpoints were the same as 2007. This made our job of choosing Turkey Pen as our mandatory very easy as we had gone for Farlow last year.
Off we go up Black Mountain to get a quick 1,000 feet of climbing out of the way in the form of a warm-up. At the first sharp turn, there was a sign that read “Where am I?” and it had a Gnome with a blue jacket and red hat on. Why do I know all of this? I figured it was a “special test” and at the end of the race Eric was going to ask “Where was the Gnome with the X jacket and Y colored hat. Soon I saw more and more signs and I realized they were just placed there for no particular reason other than to befuddle the teams.
Joe and I stopped at Pressley for a quick once over of the passport and then I realized it was exactly the same as last year. That meant I already knew our route as long as nothing un-expected happened.
Black -> Turkey Pen -> S. Mills River -> Mullinax -> Laurel Creek (out and back) Squirrel Gap -> S. Mills River, -> Buckhorn -> Black Mountain (out and back from the gap) -> Clawhammer -> Maxwell Cove -> Black Mountain
I asked Jody and Cook if they thought it looked the same as last year and they confirmed my thoughts. So we took off with the masses headed further up Black to Turkey Pen. As we were pushing I started up a conversation with Jody about their route choice. He said something about him and Cook headed to Farlow. I said “Your going to Farlow over Black Mountain?” They would eventually change their minds on this one.
The single track was just awesome this day. The dirt was perfect and my new tire set up was really sticking nicely and sucking up most of the bumps. I had some creaking on really steep sections of trail but I chose to ignore it. I did however, inspect my downtube at every possible moment for potential cracks.
After snagging Turkey Pen we started up Mullinax to see Toby and Kenny headed back down. They had made the same mistake Joe and I made three years ago by miss-reading the passport. This wouldn’t be their only mistake of the day. Pisgah can confuse.
Up Mullinax to Laurel Creek and we had a blast once again on Laurel. This year’s PMBAR should have been called “An awesome day of single track.” It felt great to have the strength to ride the single track at a decent clip.
After nabbing our second checkpoint we took off back up Laurel. For the most part, it was obvious who was in what position in the race. I knew that if we didn’t go for five checkpoints it was going to be impossible to get in the top ten. At this point in the race, I secretly wanted to go for five but that was easy to talk about in my mind at that point.
Onto Squirrel and all I could think about was how easy this trail seems after hiking/riding it in February during TMHTE. We were 18 hours into the race at that point in February and I only wanted to die. Saturday was much different, I felt strong and Squirrel didn’t let me down, that trail is bad ass. Past Cantrell and another checkpoint is bagged. The feeling I had at TMHTE almost caused me to take Cantrell instead of Squirrel but I knew this was a mistake and talked myself out of it. While Joe ate a sandwich, I spied the map for the last time of the day. Confident with the rest of our route, Joe and I started talking “how much longer” and I knew it was going to be four and out for us.
Onto Buckhorn’s climb and I saw a yellow and black team that I wanted to pass, we passed them but got passed back just before the gap. We were off chasing them over black to Club Gap. After Club, we were headed back over the way we came toward the Buckhorn shelter. I knew the road from Avery was quicker but I thought it was off-limits for some reason.
When we got to the staircase, I saw Cook and Jody and just had to ride the staircase. It felt great and I got some compliments from Jody on our aggressive pace. I said a quick thanks and then we were off down Clawhammer as fast as we could. This was the first gravel road we had been on all day as the rest had been fine singletrack. After three or four hair raising turns down Clawhammer, I felt something weird and realized I was holding my Ergon grip in my hand but it wasn’t attached to the handlebars. HOLY SHIT, I AM GOING TO DIE, was the first thought that crossed my mind, then I realized I should probably drop the grip and grab onto something but nothing was there. My handle bars had sheared off about a half inch past the grip. With the grip and handlebar gone, I used my left hand to steady what was left of the handlebars then grabbed two fingers worth of back brake as I clenched the seat with all my butt power (go on laugh at me, this was no laughing matter at that moment).
Miraculously, I pulled it out without going down. I quickly jogged back up to retrieve my grip and went to work getting the handle-bar out of the grip, I thought maybe I could slide the grip back onto the rest of the bar but quickly realized that I was just wasting time. Time to man up and ride this race home.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be going down Clawhammer but I was worried about the descent down Black. I thought I might have to run the entire downhill. I got it in my mind that if I pedaled as hard as possible up Maxwell, I could get enough of a lead on Joe as to not hinder our progress too much on the downhill. I only had to walk once going up Maxwell due to the fact that standing and climbing is tough without a fully functional bar.
I crested the climb and took off up the hike-a-bike. Not too long into the descent and Joe was there. I was having a slow go at it but was able to ride all but the most technical parts. We had managed to ward off anyone from passing us until the turn back toward the finish. Ben and Drew went flying by and beat us by less than a minute. We ultimately ended up 17th out of 70 + teams.
A huge thanks to Eric and all the volunteers! Thanks to SMOKE BIKES for making my new CANINE frame that I won in the raffle. I will get some pictures up soon.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Smells Like PMBAR
My first day back on the bike after Cohutta was this past Friday. D-Kuntz, ZB and I rode my local haunt to, from and at Paris. After ejecting myself from the bike in the first 200 yards on the trail I took it easy and really suffered from lack of fitness. It was a good 27 miles to start out a weekend.Saturday involved a ton of shoving, pushing, lifting, wrestling, hernia-ting rocks. Zach and I drove up from Travlers Rest to meet a small but efficient work crew. We worked on “the DROP section” of Burnt Mountain. This is probably the most prized/well known downhill in all of Dupont. It is a pretty hairy section of trail that
previously had three decent sized drops in succession. The Appalachian Rock Armoring technique that I have been involved with so frequently as of late was brought to use. We moved some extremely large rocks into place and the work looks beautiful. When this trail opens back up, you are going to want to walk this technical section and have a “looksie” before you ride it.Sunday rolled around and Kristin wanted to take her single speed out for its first spin. We rounded up the dogs and took the following route for Kristin’s first ride in Dupont.
From Fawn Lake, Fawn Lake Trail (clockwise) -> Airstrip -> Laurel Ridge -> Shoals -> Corn Mill Shoals (river ford) -> looked at the new work on Burnt Mountain -> back across the river on Corn Mill Shoals -> Shoals -> Laurel Ridge -> Mine Mountain
I just had to “break the rules” and ride the work we had done on Burnt. So we hiked up and Kristin snapped my photo. This trail is going to have quite the pucker factor when it is complete. Nice work everyone!!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Paris Mountain Friends and Family Day
Kristin, J, Steve,
and Brad have been instrumental in helping pull this day together in a short amount of time. There will be all kinds of fun. Thanks to everyone for helping out. Thanks to SORBA main providing the kids trailer, I will not be there as I will be working on Burnt Mountain in Dupont. We have to spread the love you know.
and Brad have been instrumental in helping pull this day together in a short amount of time. There will be all kinds of fun. Thanks to everyone for helping out. Thanks to SORBA main providing the kids trailer, I will not be there as I will be working on Burnt Mountain in Dupont. We have to spread the love you know.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Rainbow Falls
The family went for a quick four mile hike yesterday. It felt good to shake out the legs but I definitely feel some sore spots from Saturday.You can see me in the left hand side of the falls for scale.
We were headed to check out the newly fashioned Rainbow Falls trail at Jones Gap. The volunteers and contractors did an excellent job with this trail. It is quite steep and huff puffing on the way up but what a sweet reward. This is the best falls I have seen in the park. Look out for this trail to be super busy on the summer weekends as it is highly accessible from the main lot.
An interesting note, Shade was running
back and forth between Kristin and I and somehow came out of the woods with what 
is in the last picture. I heard Kristin yell “Shade has a stick for you” when I turned around he dropped it about four feet from me and I was slightly shocked at first. We never saw the rest of the carcass.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The Elusive 100 – Cohutta 2008
For those of you who have busy lives and would like to skip all the gibberish, 9:45 (something close to that anyway) was my time for the 100. I felt pretty good the entire time and never hit the dirt.
Friday
In all actuality, Palmetto Solo’s late arrival at my house caused me to be more prepared for a race than I ever had been before. Kristin, Toby, Shade, Buddy and I all got to the whitewater center around 8:15pm for registration. I paid close attention to the cheat sheet BrouSSard had given me. It was an elevation profile of the 100 with the aid stations marked on it. I packed my three sag stops and realized I had forgotten my extra tube I was going to leave at the fourth aid station. I didn’t make the effort to walk back to the car (about 200 yards) for the tube, I was confident that there would be no flats for me.
Back at the cabin, I stared at the back wheel that was already on the bike and almost said the heck with setting up my new wheel. Toby had brought the newly re-built Bontrager Race Light wheel from the shop and I needed to throw my old Exiwolf on tubeless. After a little help from Cook during the pumping process and a lot of laughing we got the tire mounted on and I was good to go. I announced to Cissy that I was so confident in my set up that I wasn’t even going to test ride it and just threw the bike back on top of my car.
Lying in bed that evening, I didn’t fall asleep until the rain came pouring down.
Saturday
After Bruce let the entire Tennessee valley know who the big names were at the race we were off. A couple friends of mine had let me know that the start would be crucial. Normally in an endurance event of this magnitude I would let everyone run away and then try and catch up later after I had warmed up. Not today, I wasn’t in the red but I was damn close as I tried my best to pace line and draft off of some gearies. As we made the turn onto the forest service road I saw Luis cutting some folks off as he vied for a stronger position into the single track. I tried my best to do the same and ended up one person back from him on the dirt.
This was my first time being in a large group of skilled riders during an event of this caliber and it was awesome. I was in the perfect spot. The single track flowed so perfectly through the trees. Just barely tight enough for me not to spin the 34X22 out and nothing ever steep enough to force me off the bike. I kept pace line rolling until it got flat enough for a few to pull away. I let one person around and then had nobody behind me so I slowed and brought my heart rate way back down.
Out of the twisty single track, we were dropped down by the river onto a flat section of trail. Three or four geared riders passed me here as I was spun out. We came around one corner and there were roots everywhere. I was not prepared and nailed the roots with both wheels. I thanked my lucky stars for having the tubeless set up and hammered on.
Right before a gnarly creek crossing, I saw a photographer taking pictures and heard “on your left.” I looked up and thought “Who the hell is going to pass me in this creek.” Then heard “heads up, heads up” as the guy realized this was not the best spot to pass. There was a large bridge and I heard “slippery bridge” being called out as I spied Danielle sitting in a chair wincing in pain from an apparent fall on the bridge. My heart went out to her as nobody wants to be taken out like that. After I rounded the bridge, I saw multiple riders pulling tubes and changing flats.
I knew I was getting close to the end of the first section of single track when a huge pace line of 20 or so riders started to catch me. I put the hammer down one more time to keep from getting passed and before I knew it I was at aid station one. A quick bottle fill and I was off.
This was to start 70 or so miles of gravel. In true Zen fashion I didn’t think about it. I donned my sun glasses that I had specifically bought for the gravel and rode. Eventually Danielle caught back up to me. Casually I asked her if she was the one who had fallen on the bridge, she said “yes” and I asked her if she was alright, she said “no.”
I rolled along with multiple people as we yo-yo’d down the gravel. I talked with another fellow riding a Karate Monkey from Harrisonburg for quite a bit. Eventually I saw Stephen come along, he was pacing behind Danielle and another girl so I hopped on and we chatted for a bit. Stephen informed me that he was trying his best to stay between 10 and 11 mph. I asked how he was doing and he said “10.8”. I was surprised and secretly happy as I had internalized a sub 10 hour goal. We were headed from aid station two to three and I knew a long climb was in store.
I felt good all the way to aid station three. I grabbed a peanut butter honey sandwich and ate it as I walked the bike up the last steep pitch from the aid station. Up to this point, fifty something miles into the race, I hadn’t had any problems. My nutrition was spot on I hadn’t let my heart get out of control, I knew I was ready.
I started pushing it harder and harder up the climbs. The flat spots would cause me some pain from spinning so much but then the climbs were like magic. Every now and then I would walk but only briefly as to shake out the legs. This is a spot in the race where I thought about Kristin and my life and how incredibly lucky I am to be in a position where I could ride my bike and be happy. I thought about Harvey and how badly he would have wanted to do the race. All these things provided me extra strength and well being.
When I made it to aid station five, I saw Luis again. He said Rich (on his ultimate bad idea mission of riding fixed) had just left. Before this sentence could come out of Luis’ mouth my chain had been lubed, cleaned and I had already filled my gel flask from my zip lock drop bag. The volunteers in this race were OUTSTANDING. You would have thought every single racer that came through was royalty. I kept waiting for the red carpet to be rolled out as I headed back onto the course.
I took off ahead of Luis after I had upset him by commenting “the beer is getting closer.” There was another long flat section and then I knew a climb was coming up because everyone was talking (fearing) about it.
This was prime time for me, miles 70 – 90. I was hitting it up all the climbs and not having any problems sitting in the saddle grinding. I probably passed somewhere between 20 and 30 people during these miles. There were a lot of hurt faces. In the middle of one climb I saw Rich looking defeated. I spoke of the space time continuum trick Eric likes to use and carried on.
Those previous miles were too good to me. When I hit the last section of single track I hit the wall hard. I was still able to pedal but cramps and a weaning ability to turn over the cranks came crumbling on top of me. I knew I was getting close but I suffered. I was able to maintain composure and keep a straight line through the downhills. Any potential climb that might cause me to cramp, I walked. About 10 of those previous 20 I had passed, passed me back.
After what seemed like an eternity, I was dropped out onto the one mile flat that would take me to the finish line. I slowly spun my way down along the river, smiling from ear to ear knowing that my three year long dream of riding 100 miles on my mountain bike was coming to a close. The Undead Drunken Monkey and I shined duly with mud caked on every bit of us as we crossed the line.
Awesome organization from every aspect at this race; I would recommend it highly to anyone. Our cabin rocked it out. We had two single speed finishers in the 100, a second place for Toby in the SS 65. A second place in the women’s 65. We also had two finishers in the 35.
Did I mention that Kristin is now a fully rigid SS 29’er? Yah, she is so hip to the game.
Peace
Friday
In all actuality, Palmetto Solo’s late arrival at my house caused me to be more prepared for a race than I ever had been before. Kristin, Toby, Shade, Buddy and I all got to the whitewater center around 8:15pm for registration. I paid close attention to the cheat sheet BrouSSard had given me. It was an elevation profile of the 100 with the aid stations marked on it. I packed my three sag stops and realized I had forgotten my extra tube I was going to leave at the fourth aid station. I didn’t make the effort to walk back to the car (about 200 yards) for the tube, I was confident that there would be no flats for me.
Back at the cabin, I stared at the back wheel that was already on the bike and almost said the heck with setting up my new wheel. Toby had brought the newly re-built Bontrager Race Light wheel from the shop and I needed to throw my old Exiwolf on tubeless. After a little help from Cook during the pumping process and a lot of laughing we got the tire mounted on and I was good to go. I announced to Cissy that I was so confident in my set up that I wasn’t even going to test ride it and just threw the bike back on top of my car.
Lying in bed that evening, I didn’t fall asleep until the rain came pouring down.
Saturday
After Bruce let the entire Tennessee valley know who the big names were at the race we were off. A couple friends of mine had let me know that the start would be crucial. Normally in an endurance event of this magnitude I would let everyone run away and then try and catch up later after I had warmed up. Not today, I wasn’t in the red but I was damn close as I tried my best to pace line and draft off of some gearies. As we made the turn onto the forest service road I saw Luis cutting some folks off as he vied for a stronger position into the single track. I tried my best to do the same and ended up one person back from him on the dirt.
This was my first time being in a large group of skilled riders during an event of this caliber and it was awesome. I was in the perfect spot. The single track flowed so perfectly through the trees. Just barely tight enough for me not to spin the 34X22 out and nothing ever steep enough to force me off the bike. I kept pace line rolling until it got flat enough for a few to pull away. I let one person around and then had nobody behind me so I slowed and brought my heart rate way back down.
Out of the twisty single track, we were dropped down by the river onto a flat section of trail. Three or four geared riders passed me here as I was spun out. We came around one corner and there were roots everywhere. I was not prepared and nailed the roots with both wheels. I thanked my lucky stars for having the tubeless set up and hammered on.
Right before a gnarly creek crossing, I saw a photographer taking pictures and heard “on your left.” I looked up and thought “Who the hell is going to pass me in this creek.” Then heard “heads up, heads up” as the guy realized this was not the best spot to pass. There was a large bridge and I heard “slippery bridge” being called out as I spied Danielle sitting in a chair wincing in pain from an apparent fall on the bridge. My heart went out to her as nobody wants to be taken out like that. After I rounded the bridge, I saw multiple riders pulling tubes and changing flats.
I knew I was getting close to the end of the first section of single track when a huge pace line of 20 or so riders started to catch me. I put the hammer down one more time to keep from getting passed and before I knew it I was at aid station one. A quick bottle fill and I was off.
This was to start 70 or so miles of gravel. In true Zen fashion I didn’t think about it. I donned my sun glasses that I had specifically bought for the gravel and rode. Eventually Danielle caught back up to me. Casually I asked her if she was the one who had fallen on the bridge, she said “yes” and I asked her if she was alright, she said “no.”
I rolled along with multiple people as we yo-yo’d down the gravel. I talked with another fellow riding a Karate Monkey from Harrisonburg for quite a bit. Eventually I saw Stephen come along, he was pacing behind Danielle and another girl so I hopped on and we chatted for a bit. Stephen informed me that he was trying his best to stay between 10 and 11 mph. I asked how he was doing and he said “10.8”. I was surprised and secretly happy as I had internalized a sub 10 hour goal. We were headed from aid station two to three and I knew a long climb was in store.
I felt good all the way to aid station three. I grabbed a peanut butter honey sandwich and ate it as I walked the bike up the last steep pitch from the aid station. Up to this point, fifty something miles into the race, I hadn’t had any problems. My nutrition was spot on I hadn’t let my heart get out of control, I knew I was ready.
I started pushing it harder and harder up the climbs. The flat spots would cause me some pain from spinning so much but then the climbs were like magic. Every now and then I would walk but only briefly as to shake out the legs. This is a spot in the race where I thought about Kristin and my life and how incredibly lucky I am to be in a position where I could ride my bike and be happy. I thought about Harvey and how badly he would have wanted to do the race. All these things provided me extra strength and well being.
When I made it to aid station five, I saw Luis again. He said Rich (on his ultimate bad idea mission of riding fixed) had just left. Before this sentence could come out of Luis’ mouth my chain had been lubed, cleaned and I had already filled my gel flask from my zip lock drop bag. The volunteers in this race were OUTSTANDING. You would have thought every single racer that came through was royalty. I kept waiting for the red carpet to be rolled out as I headed back onto the course.
I took off ahead of Luis after I had upset him by commenting “the beer is getting closer.” There was another long flat section and then I knew a climb was coming up because everyone was talking (fearing) about it.
This was prime time for me, miles 70 – 90. I was hitting it up all the climbs and not having any problems sitting in the saddle grinding. I probably passed somewhere between 20 and 30 people during these miles. There were a lot of hurt faces. In the middle of one climb I saw Rich looking defeated. I spoke of the space time continuum trick Eric likes to use and carried on.
Those previous miles were too good to me. When I hit the last section of single track I hit the wall hard. I was still able to pedal but cramps and a weaning ability to turn over the cranks came crumbling on top of me. I knew I was getting close but I suffered. I was able to maintain composure and keep a straight line through the downhills. Any potential climb that might cause me to cramp, I walked. About 10 of those previous 20 I had passed, passed me back.
After what seemed like an eternity, I was dropped out onto the one mile flat that would take me to the finish line. I slowly spun my way down along the river, smiling from ear to ear knowing that my three year long dream of riding 100 miles on my mountain bike was coming to a close. The Undead Drunken Monkey and I shined duly with mud caked on every bit of us as we crossed the line.
Awesome organization from every aspect at this race; I would recommend it highly to anyone. Our cabin rocked it out. We had two single speed finishers in the 100, a second place for Toby in the SS 65. A second place in the women’s 65. We also had two finishers in the 35.
Did I mention that Kristin is now a fully rigid SS 29’er? Yah, she is so hip to the game.
Peace
Monday, April 14, 2008
Race to The River 2008
Saturday started out with an early trip to Harrell’s Bicycle World. I busted up the rear wheel on the UDM this past Wednesday and was looking for some solution to the creaking bottom bracket I was experiencing.
Luckily I had brought a spare rear wheel as my tubeless rim was shot. Hopefully it will be re-built in time for the Cohutta as I was planning on rolling tubeless.
After that, we took a trip over to Green’s for some liquid anti-inflammatory in the form of Foothill’s Seeing Double IPA.
Off to the races, I was told there was no expert class until I explained that Harrell’s would be bringing a load of experts. What no experts from Cycle Center? Hmmmmm. . .
Joe and I rolled around for a quick warm-up and then headed to the line to see if we could kick this thing off a little early as the weather was quickly rearing its ugly head in the form of wind and small drops of water. This worried Joe as the tire he had on the back wheel looked like a 26” inner tube wrapped with a “for her pleasure” Trojan. Just as Rebecca was going to get us started Joe said “I’ll be right back.”
After a minute, I went down to check on his status and rile him up a little. It looked like he had his NASCAR pit crew out there as he swapped both his wheels so he had a little more “conforming” tire. I just had to laugh when we lined up as one fellow Steven had brought his Independent Fab Cross bike with him. It made me cringe thinking about rocking that bike out at Harbison.
Finally we were off in a semi-organized fashion with an “ok. . . go” as the start. I jumped in fifth position and already knew I was in over my head but just ran with it. After the first five turns, I had let a small gap bridge between me and the rider up ahead. I heard Damon call out that I needed to hustle up and close the gap. I turned the cranks over a little harder but when I came up to a swampy section there was a short cut I didn’t see and most of the crew including Damon, Toby and Joe went around me. It was better off as I was putting out too much effort at that point.
The only person left behind me was Steven on his cross bike. Through the harder section on Stewardship I could see him looming behind me and I knew I would be caught on the 3 mile flat section. Sure enough after a mile he was around me and I was hoping to catch back up on Spider Woman.
My legs felt good but not fresh as I still had a ton of off-road miles looming in them since the past Sunday. I knew that would ultimately benefit me for next weekend and I didn’t worry as I hoped my legs would feel better the warmer they got.
Into Spiderwoman, I saw the boys along with IF Steven as I was headed up the creek and they were headed down. I was still in range with 16 or so miles left in the race so I had some hope.
Once I made it to the rock garden, I tried my best to bang my way over the rocks but after the first two turns I plowed into a rock that almost caused me to meet the ground so I just got off and mall walked as fast as my heart would let me. I once again saw Steve up ahead of me. This would be the last time I would see anyone.
Out of Spiderwoman and onto Midlands Mountain trail; I always forget how rooty the downhill is in this direction as the 18 mph descent shook me too the core and I prayed that I didn’t pinch flat as I had tubes in.
Up the steep climb on Midlands and I realized the map that was put online was wrong. We were bypassing the Bluffs, one of my favorite short sections at Harbison. It was all good though as riding that section in the direction we were headed would have been a hike a bike for me.
Onto Firebreak and Crooked Pine I noticed how green everything was. Springtime had already fallen on Columbia and it made me smile knowing everything in the mountains will be green soon. I love springtime green’s as they are so vibrant.
Through one of the fast sections I went to spin as fast as I could and dropped the chain, SHIT, I had forgotten to double check the tension after leaving the shop. The chain formed two little loops as I told myself to breath and not get frustrated while I fondled the chain like two teenagers in the back of a car. I lost about 45 – 60 seconds in the ordeal but made sure to put it back on right as to avoid another petting session.
As I rounded by the start/finish, done with my first lap, I chucked my camel bak as my back was hurting and I didn’t care if I had to hike out with a flat. I still had my gel flask in my pocket and that was all I needed along with the bottles in my cages.
Coming into the spider woman the second time I really started to feel good. I was powering up the climbs instead of struggling to the top. The 34X19 that I had on was the hardest gear ratio I had ever ran at Harbison but it felt good.
When I hit the climb up Midlands the rain came down and it felt good. It motivated me to keep on the cranks until the finish. I never saw Steven or anyone else for that matter but that was ok. I finished last but not too far behind and I felt great. The second lap was awesome and oh how I miss the twisty turns and quick ups and downs out at Harbison. It is a great place to train and ride.
On another note, Spiderwoman is still awesome but sad at the same time. I imagine that at least 70 percent of the trail needs to be re-routed as most of the downs have awful stutter bumps and the erosion on the climbs is rampant.
I had a great time racing behind my boys. Thanks to everyone who volunteered and all the Harrell’s riders for actually making a class.
Time to rest.
Luckily I had brought a spare rear wheel as my tubeless rim was shot. Hopefully it will be re-built in time for the Cohutta as I was planning on rolling tubeless.
After that, we took a trip over to Green’s for some liquid anti-inflammatory in the form of Foothill’s Seeing Double IPA.
Off to the races, I was told there was no expert class until I explained that Harrell’s would be bringing a load of experts. What no experts from Cycle Center? Hmmmmm. . .
Joe and I rolled around for a quick warm-up and then headed to the line to see if we could kick this thing off a little early as the weather was quickly rearing its ugly head in the form of wind and small drops of water. This worried Joe as the tire he had on the back wheel looked like a 26” inner tube wrapped with a “for her pleasure” Trojan. Just as Rebecca was going to get us started Joe said “I’ll be right back.”
After a minute, I went down to check on his status and rile him up a little. It looked like he had his NASCAR pit crew out there as he swapped both his wheels so he had a little more “conforming” tire. I just had to laugh when we lined up as one fellow Steven had brought his Independent Fab Cross bike with him. It made me cringe thinking about rocking that bike out at Harbison.
Finally we were off in a semi-organized fashion with an “ok. . . go” as the start. I jumped in fifth position and already knew I was in over my head but just ran with it. After the first five turns, I had let a small gap bridge between me and the rider up ahead. I heard Damon call out that I needed to hustle up and close the gap. I turned the cranks over a little harder but when I came up to a swampy section there was a short cut I didn’t see and most of the crew including Damon, Toby and Joe went around me. It was better off as I was putting out too much effort at that point.
The only person left behind me was Steven on his cross bike. Through the harder section on Stewardship I could see him looming behind me and I knew I would be caught on the 3 mile flat section. Sure enough after a mile he was around me and I was hoping to catch back up on Spider Woman.
My legs felt good but not fresh as I still had a ton of off-road miles looming in them since the past Sunday. I knew that would ultimately benefit me for next weekend and I didn’t worry as I hoped my legs would feel better the warmer they got.
Into Spiderwoman, I saw the boys along with IF Steven as I was headed up the creek and they were headed down. I was still in range with 16 or so miles left in the race so I had some hope.
Once I made it to the rock garden, I tried my best to bang my way over the rocks but after the first two turns I plowed into a rock that almost caused me to meet the ground so I just got off and mall walked as fast as my heart would let me. I once again saw Steve up ahead of me. This would be the last time I would see anyone.
Out of Spiderwoman and onto Midlands Mountain trail; I always forget how rooty the downhill is in this direction as the 18 mph descent shook me too the core and I prayed that I didn’t pinch flat as I had tubes in.
Up the steep climb on Midlands and I realized the map that was put online was wrong. We were bypassing the Bluffs, one of my favorite short sections at Harbison. It was all good though as riding that section in the direction we were headed would have been a hike a bike for me.
Onto Firebreak and Crooked Pine I noticed how green everything was. Springtime had already fallen on Columbia and it made me smile knowing everything in the mountains will be green soon. I love springtime green’s as they are so vibrant.
Through one of the fast sections I went to spin as fast as I could and dropped the chain, SHIT, I had forgotten to double check the tension after leaving the shop. The chain formed two little loops as I told myself to breath and not get frustrated while I fondled the chain like two teenagers in the back of a car. I lost about 45 – 60 seconds in the ordeal but made sure to put it back on right as to avoid another petting session.
As I rounded by the start/finish, done with my first lap, I chucked my camel bak as my back was hurting and I didn’t care if I had to hike out with a flat. I still had my gel flask in my pocket and that was all I needed along with the bottles in my cages.
Coming into the spider woman the second time I really started to feel good. I was powering up the climbs instead of struggling to the top. The 34X19 that I had on was the hardest gear ratio I had ever ran at Harbison but it felt good.
When I hit the climb up Midlands the rain came down and it felt good. It motivated me to keep on the cranks until the finish. I never saw Steven or anyone else for that matter but that was ok. I finished last but not too far behind and I felt great. The second lap was awesome and oh how I miss the twisty turns and quick ups and downs out at Harbison. It is a great place to train and ride.
On another note, Spiderwoman is still awesome but sad at the same time. I imagine that at least 70 percent of the trail needs to be re-routed as most of the downs have awful stutter bumps and the erosion on the climbs is rampant.
I had a great time racing behind my boys. Thanks to everyone who volunteered and all the Harrell’s riders for actually making a class.
Time to rest.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Are You Ready?
Wednesday’s ride put me in the hurt cave pretty bad. After close to 40 on Sunday and 30 on Tuesday the 23 on Wednesday had me screaming for my mommy.There were plans of “going easy” and “if you want to go hard, just wait for us.” Those sorts of comments don’t ever seem to fly for this group.
I tagged my second squirrel at Dupont on Wednesday. It was as we were headed down the fast section into the new ridgeline. There was going to be no swerving at upwards of 20 mph in the woods. I saw him come from my right and I tried to extend the bike to keep from hitting him but I got him with the back wheel. ZB said the little guy ran off though so I guess I didn’t help Clemson with their new project of birth control for squirrels. Death is a form of birth control is it not?
Thanks to the illustrious DG we now have pretty pictures and numbers to look at again. For those of you racing the Race to the River this weekend, I will see you there.
If you are in the NC/SC area this weekend you better go do the Save the Trails challenge this weekend. The course is pretty awesome considering I designed it myself. Let me clear my throat, eha eha.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Preperation
Pictures are from Kristin and me during a hike this past Monday. Can you believe this boy's tounge?
Last night I stopped by Sunrift on my way to Paris with UDM. I am trying to procure some children’s bikes for the Friends and Family Day at Paris mountain. UpState SORBA is participating in the day by setting up a booth and we are looking to include some activities along with children’s rides.
After talking with them I took off on my normal route to Paris. Once inside the park I took a new to me route down Firetower to Kanuga but I took a right hand turn headed toward Brissy. From there I rode all the way down Pippsessewa. Incorporating those three trails together makes for a pretty hefty downhill.
Last weekend I made the leap for some Ergon grips. I had been skeptical but after talking with some of my friends who also ride non-springy bikes I thought I would give them a shot. I took the advice of a seasoned veteran on the bike and left the grips loose on the handlebars the first few rides so I could adjust them appropriately. Up until last night, I liked them but I didn’t think I would leave them on for everyday riding.
Well last night I made a few more adjustments to the angle at which they are parked on the handlebars and wow what a difference. They even felt good through the little tech spots.
After going around the lake, I decided I would try my chances at climbing the steep section of Kanuga back up to Firetower. Holy cow this is a mother of a climb. There was one spot that I had to hoof it for about 20 yards to get around a steep muddy section but other than that I made it up no problem. Besides the fact that I sounded like I was going through labor, I was giving birth to a new climb. It felt pretty good even with the 34X21 which I think might be the magical number for Cohutta
Last night I stopped by Sunrift on my way to Paris with UDM. I am trying to procure some children’s bikes for the Friends and Family Day at Paris mountain. UpState SORBA is participating in the day by setting up a booth and we are looking to include some activities along with children’s rides.
After talking with them I took off on my normal route to Paris. Once inside the park I took a new to me route down Firetower to Kanuga but I took a right hand turn headed toward Brissy. From there I rode all the way down Pippsessewa. Incorporating those three trails together makes for a pretty hefty downhill.
Last weekend I made the leap for some Ergon grips. I had been skeptical but after talking with some of my friends who also ride non-springy bikes I thought I would give them a shot. I took the advice of a seasoned veteran on the bike and left the grips loose on the handlebars the first few rides so I could adjust them appropriately. Up until last night, I liked them but I didn’t think I would leave them on for everyday riding.
Well last night I made a few more adjustments to the angle at which they are parked on the handlebars and wow what a difference. They even felt good through the little tech spots.
After going around the lake, I decided I would try my chances at climbing the steep section of Kanuga back up to Firetower. Holy cow this is a mother of a climb. There was one spot that I had to hoof it for about 20 yards to get around a steep muddy section but other than that I made it up no problem. Besides the fact that I sounded like I was going through labor, I was giving birth to a new climb. It felt pretty good even with the 34X21 which I think might be the magical number for Cohutta
Monday, April 07, 2008
Undead Drunken Monkey
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta’
We were up and at it real early on Saturday. We were headed to Columbia to drop off SCS Monkey and Undead Drunken Monkey for the parts swap. I showed up with six chicken biscuits in hand and a suitcase of beer for the boyz. I instructed them to try and refrain from the drinking until my bike was complete.
From there, we were headed out for a long day in Charleston. Meeting up with our friends downtown for lunch and then off to a wedding reception in Summerville followed by a late night drive back to Kristin’s house in Columbia. All in all I was up for almost 19 hours straight. TMHTE prepared me for this type of day.
Up Sunday morning for an ultra-secret pick up of the UDM. Once we were home the dogs were so happy to see us I thought the world might implode around us. Shade did his “ohhhh my god every time your gone it seems like forever” dance and after throwing the ball a zillion and one times for Buddy it was time to mount my trusty stead for the first time in eight days.
Last week I started to realize that the bike gods are actually on my side. I had just failed to see the half-full cup. These broken frames that I experience seem to always happen before a major event. For example, the first time I did the ORAMM, my SUGAR 292 cracked three weeks beforehand and I ended up riding a CAKE in the race instead of my 29’er. Yes, I have been riding 29’ers for over 3 years now.
Two weeks before the SM-100 my CAKE broke and I was forced to ride a new bike in that race. I am sure there were some other incidents as well but my mind is failing me. With all of this going on you would think that would have broken a frame in a race by now but it has “yet” to happen. Its only a matter of time before it does but so far the God’s of two wheels have blessed me.
After being sick all last week and not doing anything exercise related I thought that I might suffer on this ride. I rode from the house up the Swamp Rabbit Trail, up Altamont, dropped in the park, rode firetower, Kaunga, Lake loop twice, climbed Pippsissewa, Dropped Brissy, took the backside road up to the top, rode the downhill course all the way to the bottom of Mountain creek, left the park via the front entrance, back roads to the front side of Altamont, over the king of the mountain, back to Furman on the SRT home.
I have no idea how far that is but I am guessing around 40. With that distance and climbing Paris three times I am satisfied. My legs felt great as they had their biggest break in a LONG time. My body felt like crap as my sinuses and sickness are still lingering but the mocha frappachino peanut butter cup induced sugar coma that I had climbing Paris the last time sure did help.
Nothing in particular to note about the ride besides the following:
Climbing the backside of Paris (inside the park) I heard a squirrel come running and looked up just in time to see him huck a 10 foot embankment down into a pile of leaves off the side of the road. He hit with the elegance of an extreme skier sticking a 100 foot drop into 10 feet of powder and then popped out of the leaves in an instant running across the road in front of me. It made me laugh out loud.
As I was leaving the park I realized Sunrift was having their demo day in the park and I almost stopped to ask if this poor fellow needed help loading a Kayak high on the multi-stacked trailer. As I climbed the small grunt climb to the road I heard BONNG, BONGG, dunkadunkadunka and looked back to see the kayak now lying on the ground. WHOOPS.
The crazy part is that once I passed Sunrift again on my way home I saw them unloading the same Kayaks.
Its good to have a bike again.
We were up and at it real early on Saturday. We were headed to Columbia to drop off SCS Monkey and Undead Drunken Monkey for the parts swap. I showed up with six chicken biscuits in hand and a suitcase of beer for the boyz. I instructed them to try and refrain from the drinking until my bike was complete.
From there, we were headed out for a long day in Charleston. Meeting up with our friends downtown for lunch and then off to a wedding reception in Summerville followed by a late night drive back to Kristin’s house in Columbia. All in all I was up for almost 19 hours straight. TMHTE prepared me for this type of day.
Up Sunday morning for an ultra-secret pick up of the UDM. Once we were home the dogs were so happy to see us I thought the world might implode around us. Shade did his “ohhhh my god every time your gone it seems like forever” dance and after throwing the ball a zillion and one times for Buddy it was time to mount my trusty stead for the first time in eight days.
Last week I started to realize that the bike gods are actually on my side. I had just failed to see the half-full cup. These broken frames that I experience seem to always happen before a major event. For example, the first time I did the ORAMM, my SUGAR 292 cracked three weeks beforehand and I ended up riding a CAKE in the race instead of my 29’er. Yes, I have been riding 29’ers for over 3 years now.
Two weeks before the SM-100 my CAKE broke and I was forced to ride a new bike in that race. I am sure there were some other incidents as well but my mind is failing me. With all of this going on you would think that would have broken a frame in a race by now but it has “yet” to happen. Its only a matter of time before it does but so far the God’s of two wheels have blessed me.
After being sick all last week and not doing anything exercise related I thought that I might suffer on this ride. I rode from the house up the Swamp Rabbit Trail, up Altamont, dropped in the park, rode firetower, Kaunga, Lake loop twice, climbed Pippsissewa, Dropped Brissy, took the backside road up to the top, rode the downhill course all the way to the bottom of Mountain creek, left the park via the front entrance, back roads to the front side of Altamont, over the king of the mountain, back to Furman on the SRT home.
I have no idea how far that is but I am guessing around 40. With that distance and climbing Paris three times I am satisfied. My legs felt great as they had their biggest break in a LONG time. My body felt like crap as my sinuses and sickness are still lingering but the mocha frappachino peanut butter cup induced sugar coma that I had climbing Paris the last time sure did help.
Nothing in particular to note about the ride besides the following:
Climbing the backside of Paris (inside the park) I heard a squirrel come running and looked up just in time to see him huck a 10 foot embankment down into a pile of leaves off the side of the road. He hit with the elegance of an extreme skier sticking a 100 foot drop into 10 feet of powder and then popped out of the leaves in an instant running across the road in front of me. It made me laugh out loud.
As I was leaving the park I realized Sunrift was having their demo day in the park and I almost stopped to ask if this poor fellow needed help loading a Kayak high on the multi-stacked trailer. As I climbed the small grunt climb to the road I heard BONNG, BONGG, dunkadunkadunka and looked back to see the kayak now lying on the ground. WHOOPS.
The crazy part is that once I passed Sunrift again on my way home I saw them unloading the same Kayaks.
Its good to have a bike again.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Going Back To My Roots
I am sick as a dog this week, its raining and my bike is going to get re-built real soon. So I thought I would share a story. Story time kids.
The year was 2002 and the month was June. I had just moved to Columbia and I remember coming home from work, not having anything to do. Sure I would go to the gym sometimes but that wasn’t any fun. I needed some stress relief now that I was a “professional” in the real world.
This is when I started taking my Schwinn out to Harbison State Forest in Columbia. I had a heavy rigid bike with flat pedals sans cages, no helmet, gears and rode in cotton with no water. Hell, I didn’t even know how to change a flat. However, somehow, I still fell in love.
One day my trusty steed stopped shifting altogether and all my mechanical prowess (which stops just short of using a screwdriver) couldn’t bring her back. I left her outside my apartment door knowing someone would steal it. It was stolen the night I left it out. I just hoped whoever stole it was as frustrated as I was with the shifting.
That same year my father gave me my first true mountain bike and I fell in love with the sport. Eventually I even learned how to change a flat tire and started putting a brain bucket on my head.
A year or so later I met a group of like minded folks one day while out on the trails and the next thing I knew I had friends to ride with. A lot of these guys and gals would talk about racing. I was never going to race though I told myself. Too much dedication without proper balance forces the love out of things. I had learned that at an early age.
The only reason I rode a mountain bike was for the endorphin filled downhills. Who likes that silly climbing business anyway? That is for sissies who want to look like Tom Cruise I thought. Real men went down. Where is the ski lift?
However, as I gained fitness and learned of a local Race that happened to be coming up I decided I would race. After much pondering, I thought I would bypass the beginner class and suit up with the sport riders. At this point in my riding, I was riding a Gary Fisher Sugar 292 and that fully suspended bike made me feel like I could fly.
To this day, I can still remember standing at the start line, not knowing anyone around me just wondering what was going to happen. I remember one person in particular saying “Well this is a pretty good turn out, looks like we will find out who is the fastest sport rider in Columbia.”
“Go!” and we were off. I am not sure what got in my head but I guess I figured I could slow everyone down if I got the hole shot. So I pinned it out of the gate down a rock road, right turn onto another gravel road and a quick right into the single track. I was in the lead!! Holy crap I thought how in the hell did this happen? After a few minutes I realized that this was like any other riding I had done. You just mash the pedals and hope nobody comes up from behind. I did it for two laps that totaled something like 15 miles. I never saw a soul in that race and finished numero uno about a minute ahead of second place. This mountain bike racing is easy cheese I thought. Never again have I ever even seen the podium at a race. There wasn’t a podium at this race either so even at the one race that I won I got gypped.
This race was a series at Harbison called The Race to the River put on by the local shops in the area. I can’t even begin to explain how this race and the 24 hours of Southern Lights changed my life. It made me realize that I have the potential to fail at so much more in my life than just life itself. (sorry for those of you who are not in the know and would not get this joke, just “ha ha” a little anyway)
This is why I am looking forward to this year’s Race to the River on April 12th. Kristin and I have to be in Columbia anyway so why not race? This year I will be doing the exact opposite from that year so long ago. I will be entering the expert class with one gear and no suspension and I will have the full expectation of coming in last. I have found over the years that this is the best way to get the most bang for your buck. I might put on a big tall gear so I can sprint and talk smack to the riders for the first mile or so but then I will settle into my own slow pace and just relish in the fact that I am back in the roots.
If you are able to ride, be happy.
Peace
The year was 2002 and the month was June. I had just moved to Columbia and I remember coming home from work, not having anything to do. Sure I would go to the gym sometimes but that wasn’t any fun. I needed some stress relief now that I was a “professional” in the real world.
This is when I started taking my Schwinn out to Harbison State Forest in Columbia. I had a heavy rigid bike with flat pedals sans cages, no helmet, gears and rode in cotton with no water. Hell, I didn’t even know how to change a flat. However, somehow, I still fell in love.
One day my trusty steed stopped shifting altogether and all my mechanical prowess (which stops just short of using a screwdriver) couldn’t bring her back. I left her outside my apartment door knowing someone would steal it. It was stolen the night I left it out. I just hoped whoever stole it was as frustrated as I was with the shifting.
That same year my father gave me my first true mountain bike and I fell in love with the sport. Eventually I even learned how to change a flat tire and started putting a brain bucket on my head.
A year or so later I met a group of like minded folks one day while out on the trails and the next thing I knew I had friends to ride with. A lot of these guys and gals would talk about racing. I was never going to race though I told myself. Too much dedication without proper balance forces the love out of things. I had learned that at an early age.
The only reason I rode a mountain bike was for the endorphin filled downhills. Who likes that silly climbing business anyway? That is for sissies who want to look like Tom Cruise I thought. Real men went down. Where is the ski lift?
However, as I gained fitness and learned of a local Race that happened to be coming up I decided I would race. After much pondering, I thought I would bypass the beginner class and suit up with the sport riders. At this point in my riding, I was riding a Gary Fisher Sugar 292 and that fully suspended bike made me feel like I could fly.
To this day, I can still remember standing at the start line, not knowing anyone around me just wondering what was going to happen. I remember one person in particular saying “Well this is a pretty good turn out, looks like we will find out who is the fastest sport rider in Columbia.”
“Go!” and we were off. I am not sure what got in my head but I guess I figured I could slow everyone down if I got the hole shot. So I pinned it out of the gate down a rock road, right turn onto another gravel road and a quick right into the single track. I was in the lead!! Holy crap I thought how in the hell did this happen? After a few minutes I realized that this was like any other riding I had done. You just mash the pedals and hope nobody comes up from behind. I did it for two laps that totaled something like 15 miles. I never saw a soul in that race and finished numero uno about a minute ahead of second place. This mountain bike racing is easy cheese I thought. Never again have I ever even seen the podium at a race. There wasn’t a podium at this race either so even at the one race that I won I got gypped.
This race was a series at Harbison called The Race to the River put on by the local shops in the area. I can’t even begin to explain how this race and the 24 hours of Southern Lights changed my life. It made me realize that I have the potential to fail at so much more in my life than just life itself. (sorry for those of you who are not in the know and would not get this joke, just “ha ha” a little anyway)
This is why I am looking forward to this year’s Race to the River on April 12th. Kristin and I have to be in Columbia anyway so why not race? This year I will be doing the exact opposite from that year so long ago. I will be entering the expert class with one gear and no suspension and I will have the full expectation of coming in last. I have found over the years that this is the best way to get the most bang for your buck. I might put on a big tall gear so I can sprint and talk smack to the riders for the first mile or so but then I will settle into my own slow pace and just relish in the fact that I am back in the roots.
If you are able to ride, be happy.
Peace
Monday, March 31, 2008
Stone Cold Sober; Never Again
Of all the holy cows in the universe, a couple of us must have really pissed off the holiest of them all.
This weekend had it all, I will try and reiterate what I can but words will hardly do justice.
I took Friday off so that I could enjoy the weekend in earnest. So Shade and I took off on our mission to make it to the campground before dark on Thursday evening. We were successful and I was surprised to see so many people already looming and awaiting some big rides.
Friday morning I was up pretty early and we had a big group interested in going to do a common Fish Hatchery loop. I had intended on leading Bruce and Cleveland Robert on a ride over at Dupont but it just wasn’t in the cards for me since I had Shade.
So after getting some sixteen riders and one dog (Shade) together we took off headed up the gravel to the middle of Long Branch. A couple of the out-of-towners sighed when they saw what we were riding up next but they all took it in stride. At the top of Long Branch, we decided that it would be best to head straight up Kissee Creek Road for Farlow. I could here the beast crying out to be ridden hard.
However, as we crested the hill toward Gloucester Gap, I realized that we might not be able to make it to the top of Farlow as the road going up was closed. Prescribed burns were the theme of the day and henceforth we headed to the top of Butter. Foreshadowing to Saturday, maybe the Holy Cow was actually looking out for me on this day, causing me to forgo what could have been catastrophic bicycle failure on Pisgah’s most deadly trail. Mooooooooooooooooooooo.
Once we were at the top of Butter, we re-grouped and suited up our helmet camera and goggles. Someone started talking about downhill pecking order so I quickly chimed in that Dennis should head things up followed by me, after that I didn’t care. A couple of the guys that were concerned with the order dropped in behind me. I took the upper section as fast and hard as I could, I watched Dennis pull away pretty quick after that so I pulled up and let three guys go around as I knew I had no chance. From there, it was just a great cruise all they way down to the Long Branch intersection. I stopped to wait for Shade. I heard something about broken shifty bits on one bike. Crap, Shade likes to have sympathy pains so I rode back up Butter until I found Shade and Mr. Broken-shifty-bits walking along the trail. I made sure all was well besides having to walk and called for Shade to make haste.
Back at the bottom, I realized I didn’t have my leash for Shade so we had to make our way around the chaos at the Hatchery and head back to camp via Davidson River Trail. Shade was pooped big time as this was his first Pisgah ride since being on the Disabled List.
We all took time out for lunch and then re-grouped for the following:
Cove Creek -> 225 -> 475B -> 276 -> 477 -> Club Gap -> Buckwheat -> Bennett -> Coontree -> 276 -> 475 -> Davidson River
This time the group was smaller but we still had a good group including Erol who would be filming once again. The climbs weren’t bad but Club Gap hurt a little. I got some “we went the wrong way’s” after that climb. Everyone kept waiting for when I would tell Erol to dawn his HID camera, then they would know that we were headed down.
Dennis and I got to be on camera some coming down Bennett and Buckwheat. I crashed once by hesitating slightly trying to cross a log but it was a soft landing. I once again didn’t have the cojones to try the Q-bert step and tried the move on the devil’s staircase twice but realized I should probably quit while I was ahead.
I came bombing down the last few steps before the Coontree turn off when I took a small ledge at the bottom to hear SSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssssssSSSSsssssssssssssssssssss. Damn, there goes the tubeless. After wrestling with my tire for about 30 days and 29 nights, Erol finally helped me give her the last push over the rim. Whew I was spent.
We made it back to camp safely and proceeded to “get our party on.”
Saturday dawn I awoke to an ever increasing urge to relieve myself. I let myself and the dogs out of the tent. While the dogs ran around waking everyone up in the campground I fell back to sleep.
I should have stayed in bed because the poltergeist was out in earnest on Saturday. Dicky brought the rain so we all convened in Cook’s Taj-ma-beefcake until it let up. While we were all outside playing Frisbee with Buddy, Shade and Juda we heard a rumor that someone had stuck their car in the creek. Jody was not having a good day.
I guess it was lunchtime when we finally had our shit together enough for a ride. There was something like sixteen of us again, so I thought. Luis, Dicky, Dennis and I all waited above the staircase on Cove wondering why we didn’t have any friends. After Dicky double checked and reassured us that we really don’t have any friends, we took off headed to 276. I kept wondering what the hell was going on with my bike as it sounded like my headset was creaking badly.
As we headed out onto the Pink Beds I was in total disarray with what this sound must be coming from my bike. I stopped and adjusted everything. Nothing seemed a miss and I just hoped the bike wouldn’t fall apart because it sure sounded like it would. Oh just ignore it and all will be good I thought. It will get me through this ride and then I will have to get a new head set.
As we got to the good singletrack section of Pink Beds I started to feel some play in the bike. I got off and tugged and tugged on the cranks thinking that the creak might now be coming from the bottom bracket. I could see that the frame was flexing slightly so I inspected the chain stays. All seemed to be good so I hopped back on and two pedal revolutions later I heard the infamous crack of steel and ripping of paint. Come on everybody let’s sing-a-long, “Another one bites the dust, and another one down, another one down, another one bites the dust.”
The down tube sheered in half, slightly further from the steer tube than last time but the same flaw none the less. My thoughts immediately ran to bombing the trails I had yesterday, this could have easily happened on Butter, Buckwheat, Bennett or Coontree. Those thoughts give me the willies.
I ran to find my rag tag of three up ahead. I finally caught up and explained my predicament. I knew what fate was in store for me so I told them all to go on with their rides.
I had a very peaceful walk out to 276, I doodled around in the Pink Bed’s parking area for a minute and then decided to head down 276. I figured it was Saturday and some nice mountain bike folk would see me in distress (walking my bike by pavement in Pisgah is distressed in my book) and have pity on me. If not, it was going to be a long walk back to Cove Creek.
A bunch of cars passed and no luck, then one car slowed down but they were just making sure that I wasn’t bleeding. Just past 475B, another group pulled up and they had room. SWEET!! Dave from Raleigh drove me back to the entrance of Cove, it was his first time to Pisgah so we talked Pisgah a bit and I thanked him profusely for taking me to the beer faster.
Buddha came to me in my dreams and let me know that all bikes break and that my bikes break faster. Buddha emphasized that I work on my finesse. I didn’t argue, arguing with Buddha is bad.
Sunday morning I am up at 7:30 calculating how I can possibly get all my wet stuff together and out of Cove Creek in time to make Crew Leader training at 10:00 am with Mr. Blitch. Miraculously, I was able to make it by 10:15 after I literally shoved all of my camping stuff into the car juxtaposed style.
Next was the picking up, moving and then placing of a bunch of rock. I do now understand Appalachian armoring even better. My Tetris skills are growing rapidly with the help of a trained eye. Hopefully I am learnt enough to lead a trail crew to success on Green’s Lick in June. We worked hard and efficiently yesterday, I have now spent as many work days in Bent Creek as I have ride days.
What has this weekend taught me? Well the Drunken Monkey lasted about 15 months before she met her end. This time the Stone Cold Sober Monkey lasted about 3 months. This makes me realize that Stone Cold Sober is no way to go through life. It could possibly even shorten your life span but that is still up for debate.
Anyone care to hedge bets on how long Undead Drunken Monkey will last? Maybe I should coddle her until the Cohutta. Can a frame fit in one of those zip lock bags they give us for the sag stops?
Peace
This weekend had it all, I will try and reiterate what I can but words will hardly do justice.
I took Friday off so that I could enjoy the weekend in earnest. So Shade and I took off on our mission to make it to the campground before dark on Thursday evening. We were successful and I was surprised to see so many people already looming and awaiting some big rides.
Friday morning I was up pretty early and we had a big group interested in going to do a common Fish Hatchery loop. I had intended on leading Bruce and Cleveland Robert on a ride over at Dupont but it just wasn’t in the cards for me since I had Shade.
So after getting some sixteen riders and one dog (Shade) together we took off headed up the gravel to the middle of Long Branch. A couple of the out-of-towners sighed when they saw what we were riding up next but they all took it in stride. At the top of Long Branch, we decided that it would be best to head straight up Kissee Creek Road for Farlow. I could here the beast crying out to be ridden hard.
However, as we crested the hill toward Gloucester Gap, I realized that we might not be able to make it to the top of Farlow as the road going up was closed. Prescribed burns were the theme of the day and henceforth we headed to the top of Butter. Foreshadowing to Saturday, maybe the Holy Cow was actually looking out for me on this day, causing me to forgo what could have been catastrophic bicycle failure on Pisgah’s most deadly trail. Mooooooooooooooooooooo.
Once we were at the top of Butter, we re-grouped and suited up our helmet camera and goggles. Someone started talking about downhill pecking order so I quickly chimed in that Dennis should head things up followed by me, after that I didn’t care. A couple of the guys that were concerned with the order dropped in behind me. I took the upper section as fast and hard as I could, I watched Dennis pull away pretty quick after that so I pulled up and let three guys go around as I knew I had no chance. From there, it was just a great cruise all they way down to the Long Branch intersection. I stopped to wait for Shade. I heard something about broken shifty bits on one bike. Crap, Shade likes to have sympathy pains so I rode back up Butter until I found Shade and Mr. Broken-shifty-bits walking along the trail. I made sure all was well besides having to walk and called for Shade to make haste.
Back at the bottom, I realized I didn’t have my leash for Shade so we had to make our way around the chaos at the Hatchery and head back to camp via Davidson River Trail. Shade was pooped big time as this was his first Pisgah ride since being on the Disabled List.
We all took time out for lunch and then re-grouped for the following:
Cove Creek -> 225 -> 475B -> 276 -> 477 -> Club Gap -> Buckwheat -> Bennett -> Coontree -> 276 -> 475 -> Davidson River
This time the group was smaller but we still had a good group including Erol who would be filming once again. The climbs weren’t bad but Club Gap hurt a little. I got some “we went the wrong way’s” after that climb. Everyone kept waiting for when I would tell Erol to dawn his HID camera, then they would know that we were headed down.
Dennis and I got to be on camera some coming down Bennett and Buckwheat. I crashed once by hesitating slightly trying to cross a log but it was a soft landing. I once again didn’t have the cojones to try the Q-bert step and tried the move on the devil’s staircase twice but realized I should probably quit while I was ahead.
I came bombing down the last few steps before the Coontree turn off when I took a small ledge at the bottom to hear SSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssssssSSSSsssssssssssssssssssss. Damn, there goes the tubeless. After wrestling with my tire for about 30 days and 29 nights, Erol finally helped me give her the last push over the rim. Whew I was spent.
We made it back to camp safely and proceeded to “get our party on.”
Saturday dawn I awoke to an ever increasing urge to relieve myself. I let myself and the dogs out of the tent. While the dogs ran around waking everyone up in the campground I fell back to sleep.
I should have stayed in bed because the poltergeist was out in earnest on Saturday. Dicky brought the rain so we all convened in Cook’s Taj-ma-beefcake until it let up. While we were all outside playing Frisbee with Buddy, Shade and Juda we heard a rumor that someone had stuck their car in the creek. Jody was not having a good day.
I guess it was lunchtime when we finally had our shit together enough for a ride. There was something like sixteen of us again, so I thought. Luis, Dicky, Dennis and I all waited above the staircase on Cove wondering why we didn’t have any friends. After Dicky double checked and reassured us that we really don’t have any friends, we took off headed to 276. I kept wondering what the hell was going on with my bike as it sounded like my headset was creaking badly.
As we headed out onto the Pink Beds I was in total disarray with what this sound must be coming from my bike. I stopped and adjusted everything. Nothing seemed a miss and I just hoped the bike wouldn’t fall apart because it sure sounded like it would. Oh just ignore it and all will be good I thought. It will get me through this ride and then I will have to get a new head set.
As we got to the good singletrack section of Pink Beds I started to feel some play in the bike. I got off and tugged and tugged on the cranks thinking that the creak might now be coming from the bottom bracket. I could see that the frame was flexing slightly so I inspected the chain stays. All seemed to be good so I hopped back on and two pedal revolutions later I heard the infamous crack of steel and ripping of paint. Come on everybody let’s sing-a-long, “Another one bites the dust, and another one down, another one down, another one bites the dust.”
The down tube sheered in half, slightly further from the steer tube than last time but the same flaw none the less. My thoughts immediately ran to bombing the trails I had yesterday, this could have easily happened on Butter, Buckwheat, Bennett or Coontree. Those thoughts give me the willies.
I ran to find my rag tag of three up ahead. I finally caught up and explained my predicament. I knew what fate was in store for me so I told them all to go on with their rides.
I had a very peaceful walk out to 276, I doodled around in the Pink Bed’s parking area for a minute and then decided to head down 276. I figured it was Saturday and some nice mountain bike folk would see me in distress (walking my bike by pavement in Pisgah is distressed in my book) and have pity on me. If not, it was going to be a long walk back to Cove Creek.
A bunch of cars passed and no luck, then one car slowed down but they were just making sure that I wasn’t bleeding. Just past 475B, another group pulled up and they had room. SWEET!! Dave from Raleigh drove me back to the entrance of Cove, it was his first time to Pisgah so we talked Pisgah a bit and I thanked him profusely for taking me to the beer faster.
Buddha came to me in my dreams and let me know that all bikes break and that my bikes break faster. Buddha emphasized that I work on my finesse. I didn’t argue, arguing with Buddha is bad.
Sunday morning I am up at 7:30 calculating how I can possibly get all my wet stuff together and out of Cove Creek in time to make Crew Leader training at 10:00 am with Mr. Blitch. Miraculously, I was able to make it by 10:15 after I literally shoved all of my camping stuff into the car juxtaposed style.
Next was the picking up, moving and then placing of a bunch of rock. I do now understand Appalachian armoring even better. My Tetris skills are growing rapidly with the help of a trained eye. Hopefully I am learnt enough to lead a trail crew to success on Green’s Lick in June. We worked hard and efficiently yesterday, I have now spent as many work days in Bent Creek as I have ride days.
What has this weekend taught me? Well the Drunken Monkey lasted about 15 months before she met her end. This time the Stone Cold Sober Monkey lasted about 3 months. This makes me realize that Stone Cold Sober is no way to go through life. It could possibly even shorten your life span but that is still up for debate.
Anyone care to hedge bets on how long Undead Drunken Monkey will last? Maybe I should coddle her until the Cohutta. Can a frame fit in one of those zip lock bags they give us for the sag stops?
Peace
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Meet My New Friend; Kanuga
There must have been some Belgians running around in my house yesterday afternoon because I was seriously waffling on my ride. I forced myself to think about the sweet dirt I would encounter if I could only force myself out of the door.
After much deliberation between my hundreds of personalities, I was able to force myself on the bike. I took my newly normalized route to the top of Paris and dropped in on the dirt. As soon as I was in the park I saw Brownie’s crew and chatted with them for a minute.
I recently slapped a new Conti Mountain King 2.4 on the front and I was interested to see how it would hook up in the dirt. I don’t know what my problem is but this tire just looks skinny. CAN SOMONE MAKE A FATTY 29 INCH TIRE THAT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE RIDDEN IN THE SNOW? I mean hello, I am riding rigid here and I could give a rat’s ass about rolling resistance. Rant over.
So after we chatted it up I thought I would go see if my fruits of labor on Kanuga (am I spelling this right?) were ready to be received. HOLY COW! I had to stop and take in the view a couple times, the second time I saw a fellow climbing so I waited for him to huff by and took off. This trail is sweet. Not technical, not steep but it travels over some really steep terrain. To know what that section of the mountain looked like before and see a trail running through it is awesome. Kudos to Deno and his trail crew along with all the General Electric and SORBA volunteers that helped make this possible.
I will say that even though the Conti lacked in visual size it hooked up fantastically in the dirt. I am a little worried that it might be a mud slinger though, only one way to find out.
I am so glad the Belgians didn’t hold me back. This should be a big week for me if everything pans out I will ride every day of the week until Sunday. YEAH BABY YEAH.
After much deliberation between my hundreds of personalities, I was able to force myself on the bike. I took my newly normalized route to the top of Paris and dropped in on the dirt. As soon as I was in the park I saw Brownie’s crew and chatted with them for a minute.
I recently slapped a new Conti Mountain King 2.4 on the front and I was interested to see how it would hook up in the dirt. I don’t know what my problem is but this tire just looks skinny. CAN SOMONE MAKE A FATTY 29 INCH TIRE THAT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE RIDDEN IN THE SNOW? I mean hello, I am riding rigid here and I could give a rat’s ass about rolling resistance. Rant over.
So after we chatted it up I thought I would go see if my fruits of labor on Kanuga (am I spelling this right?) were ready to be received. HOLY COW! I had to stop and take in the view a couple times, the second time I saw a fellow climbing so I waited for him to huff by and took off. This trail is sweet. Not technical, not steep but it travels over some really steep terrain. To know what that section of the mountain looked like before and see a trail running through it is awesome. Kudos to Deno and his trail crew along with all the General Electric and SORBA volunteers that helped make this possible.
I will say that even though the Conti lacked in visual size it hooked up fantastically in the dirt. I am a little worried that it might be a mud slinger though, only one way to find out.
I am so glad the Belgians didn’t hold me back. This should be a big week for me if everything pans out I will ride every day of the week until Sunday. YEAH BABY YEAH.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Burnt Afro
Saturday night was a sad and momentous occasion all in one. I was gathering wood and sticks for a BBQ Travelers Rest style when it happened. The wind was blowing pretty hard and I had already lit the initial load of sticks that would fuel the coals for a more substantial set of sticks. I leaned in way too close to the barrel while offloading some wood when I distinctly heard SSSSSSsssssssssssss and that my friends, is the day the Fro died. See you next winter old friend.
Friday night found Kristin and I out with Krista and Danny. A note to one’s self, do NOT go out with Danny before a big ride. Pre-cocktails and two bottles of premium saki had us fueled for some Karaoke Travelers Rest style. The BARN was on this night’s agenda and we were excited. How can you go wrong with a place that still allows copious amounts of smoking and is rigged to bring a huge redneck fan base their music in the form of amateurs every night of the week? You can’t, it is as simple as that.
As it would happen, I didn’t really notice which song Mr. Mayberry had picked until after the fact since I was wallowing in my own self pity from not seeing the songs I wanted to vocalize to the world. I have NEVER seen a better Karaoke performed as I did this night. As Big Balls by AC/DC was performed, I laughed and cried. The crying was in the form of “oh this tequila shot is going to hurt tomorrow. . .” Ahhhhhhhh good times.
WaaaaaBooooom goes two dogs in the morning when they are left too long in the doggie sleep room and ready to play some doggie wrestling. This was promptly at 8:00 am and per my instructions, I was meeting a group at 9:00 at smoker’s cove. CRAP, I got out of bed and almost immediately hit the ground from the four liquor two sake night. I called BrouSSard and informed him that I might still be caught for DUI eight hours after my last drink. I would be ½ hour late I said, see you then, then.
Kristin was up actually helping me mismatch socks and create my Extreme Tomato suit for the day. Maybe she had mal intent but I wasn’t worried as it sped my process to the trails that we call Pisgah.
Arriving at exactly 9:30, I was greeted by Zach, Valerie, Clay, Palmetto Solo and David George. They were kind enough to just “chat it up” until I got there. As soon as I arrived I exclaimed that “We’ve got, the BIGGEST BALLS OF THEM ALL” and I think it was understood why I was late. Sorry people.
A route was discussed; nothing was for certain so we headed out for the “classic warm-up” of Grassy Roads -> Sycamore Cove -> North Slope.
Toby was out front on his newly re-painted rig and I tagged along behind noticing he wasn’t as Porter-ish as normal. He could normally school me while blind folded. I yelled at him to pedal as he clearly wasn’t warmed up from the bobbling back and forth through the Rhodo tunnels. After my musing, he knocked the cobwebs out of his head and started pulling a small gap on me. We cleaned the entire trail and congratulated each other as we waited for the rest of our train.
As we rolled our way to North Slope Zach said “You have to check this out, we will catch up.” It was a bumper sticker that read “Keep South Carolina Safe. Promote Prescribed Burns.” All this with a palmetto tree engulfed in flames on both sides.
Zach and I noticed that there were zero signs of our group out in front of us and I figured they had gone in by the amphitheater and would soon catch up or we would run into them loop style.
Re-associated at the top, I rallied for a leader. David George said he was up for the task and said “I don’t mind holding everyone up.” Next in line was myself followed by Zach. DG, was killing it. I had to spin like a mad man to keep up and was doing fine until one of the rocky corners had me off my line slightly. I had to bail hard to the left and prayed I didn’t mess Zach up as I looked behind and saw him exit bike OTB fashion. For some reason, (maybe because I am a jerk) I didn’t ask if he was ok and just made chase after DG. He was only caught because we politely re-grouped and passed a group of hikers en masse. DG, almost created a show for the hikers as he was trying some sort of Zorro re-mount and just barely saved himself from plunging down the steeps. It looked like he had crushed his child bearing abilities but he said he was fine and took off.
Next up was PMBAR style riding by heading up the beast that is Black Mountain. Most people choose to descend this seductress but we aren’t most people. At the Thrift Cove junction a mutiny started up, I knew if I didn’t intervene, we would all be back at the cars and drunk before noon. We still lost two, in the form of DG and Valerie. Zach thanked DG for the half of sandwich he let Zach and I eat as me (the jerk) plodded forward, not yet feeling the full onslaught of the prior night’s festivities.
****It must be noted that I have been relying heavily upon my friends lately in the form of but not limited to CO2, pumps, food, re-assurance and most importantly ego. Thanks for this. . . If you don’t drink beer, I am still looking for a way to repay you. ****
At Presley gap the decision was made to descend Maxwell and start up Clawhammer. Zach and I railed it down Maxwell whilst spotting some race Nazi’s. We came to the consensus that if going down a gravel road can be that fun, we must really love mountain biking.
Zach used his power to impeach the ride leader and enforce the Buckhorn law. Surprisingly, I had never actually been down Buckhorn before and what a treat. There was a waterfall rock garden ditch that I flubbed up on the first attempt but nailed the second time. The only other feature I remember is the coolest descent/ascent transition I have ever seen in Pisgah. A quick little downhill that flowed right into a steep uphill grunt followed by a sea of roots from one tree; it is un-imaginable, just go ride it.
After this we descended Avery under Clay’s decision but somehow got turned around in a part of the forest that I should know well but always get turned around in. Somehow, we ended up hiking up a trail that spit us back out on Clawhammer just above the Maxwell junction. Strange, luckily it was too steep to bike because it was a “no bicycle” trail.
At this point, many ideas were presented but only one made sense. Back up Clawhammer to ascend and descend Black Mountian proper. It would only make sense to touch on this trail twice while out for PMBAR style riding.
Ascending Black was my downfall. The hangover came rushing in like a freight train with no breaks. Any time I got my heart rate up even close to threshold (many times I was able to achieve this while pushing the bike) I would have to stop and lay down to stop the spinning. Needless to say, I was odd man out at this point just struggling to stay alive.
The views at the top coupled with the mighty wind that would soon blow in another cold front were magical. You can’t tire of this view, ever. We discussed this ridge and that trail, oh look there is that gap and this rock. Hey is that Tennessee?
The descent down was slow but fun, I just did my best to keep my muscles intact so I could lift twelve ounces of freedom back down at the cars.
Peace
Friday night found Kristin and I out with Krista and Danny. A note to one’s self, do NOT go out with Danny before a big ride. Pre-cocktails and two bottles of premium saki had us fueled for some Karaoke Travelers Rest style. The BARN was on this night’s agenda and we were excited. How can you go wrong with a place that still allows copious amounts of smoking and is rigged to bring a huge redneck fan base their music in the form of amateurs every night of the week? You can’t, it is as simple as that.
As it would happen, I didn’t really notice which song Mr. Mayberry had picked until after the fact since I was wallowing in my own self pity from not seeing the songs I wanted to vocalize to the world. I have NEVER seen a better Karaoke performed as I did this night. As Big Balls by AC/DC was performed, I laughed and cried. The crying was in the form of “oh this tequila shot is going to hurt tomorrow. . .” Ahhhhhhhh good times.
WaaaaaBooooom goes two dogs in the morning when they are left too long in the doggie sleep room and ready to play some doggie wrestling. This was promptly at 8:00 am and per my instructions, I was meeting a group at 9:00 at smoker’s cove. CRAP, I got out of bed and almost immediately hit the ground from the four liquor two sake night. I called BrouSSard and informed him that I might still be caught for DUI eight hours after my last drink. I would be ½ hour late I said, see you then, then.
Kristin was up actually helping me mismatch socks and create my Extreme Tomato suit for the day. Maybe she had mal intent but I wasn’t worried as it sped my process to the trails that we call Pisgah.
Arriving at exactly 9:30, I was greeted by Zach, Valerie, Clay, Palmetto Solo and David George. They were kind enough to just “chat it up” until I got there. As soon as I arrived I exclaimed that “We’ve got, the BIGGEST BALLS OF THEM ALL” and I think it was understood why I was late. Sorry people.
A route was discussed; nothing was for certain so we headed out for the “classic warm-up” of Grassy Roads -> Sycamore Cove -> North Slope.
Toby was out front on his newly re-painted rig and I tagged along behind noticing he wasn’t as Porter-ish as normal. He could normally school me while blind folded. I yelled at him to pedal as he clearly wasn’t warmed up from the bobbling back and forth through the Rhodo tunnels. After my musing, he knocked the cobwebs out of his head and started pulling a small gap on me. We cleaned the entire trail and congratulated each other as we waited for the rest of our train.
As we rolled our way to North Slope Zach said “You have to check this out, we will catch up.” It was a bumper sticker that read “Keep South Carolina Safe. Promote Prescribed Burns.” All this with a palmetto tree engulfed in flames on both sides.
Zach and I noticed that there were zero signs of our group out in front of us and I figured they had gone in by the amphitheater and would soon catch up or we would run into them loop style.
Re-associated at the top, I rallied for a leader. David George said he was up for the task and said “I don’t mind holding everyone up.” Next in line was myself followed by Zach. DG, was killing it. I had to spin like a mad man to keep up and was doing fine until one of the rocky corners had me off my line slightly. I had to bail hard to the left and prayed I didn’t mess Zach up as I looked behind and saw him exit bike OTB fashion. For some reason, (maybe because I am a jerk) I didn’t ask if he was ok and just made chase after DG. He was only caught because we politely re-grouped and passed a group of hikers en masse. DG, almost created a show for the hikers as he was trying some sort of Zorro re-mount and just barely saved himself from plunging down the steeps. It looked like he had crushed his child bearing abilities but he said he was fine and took off.
Next up was PMBAR style riding by heading up the beast that is Black Mountain. Most people choose to descend this seductress but we aren’t most people. At the Thrift Cove junction a mutiny started up, I knew if I didn’t intervene, we would all be back at the cars and drunk before noon. We still lost two, in the form of DG and Valerie. Zach thanked DG for the half of sandwich he let Zach and I eat as me (the jerk) plodded forward, not yet feeling the full onslaught of the prior night’s festivities.
****It must be noted that I have been relying heavily upon my friends lately in the form of but not limited to CO2, pumps, food, re-assurance and most importantly ego. Thanks for this. . . If you don’t drink beer, I am still looking for a way to repay you. ****
At Presley gap the decision was made to descend Maxwell and start up Clawhammer. Zach and I railed it down Maxwell whilst spotting some race Nazi’s. We came to the consensus that if going down a gravel road can be that fun, we must really love mountain biking.
Zach used his power to impeach the ride leader and enforce the Buckhorn law. Surprisingly, I had never actually been down Buckhorn before and what a treat. There was a waterfall rock garden ditch that I flubbed up on the first attempt but nailed the second time. The only other feature I remember is the coolest descent/ascent transition I have ever seen in Pisgah. A quick little downhill that flowed right into a steep uphill grunt followed by a sea of roots from one tree; it is un-imaginable, just go ride it.
After this we descended Avery under Clay’s decision but somehow got turned around in a part of the forest that I should know well but always get turned around in. Somehow, we ended up hiking up a trail that spit us back out on Clawhammer just above the Maxwell junction. Strange, luckily it was too steep to bike because it was a “no bicycle” trail.
At this point, many ideas were presented but only one made sense. Back up Clawhammer to ascend and descend Black Mountian proper. It would only make sense to touch on this trail twice while out for PMBAR style riding.
Ascending Black was my downfall. The hangover came rushing in like a freight train with no breaks. Any time I got my heart rate up even close to threshold (many times I was able to achieve this while pushing the bike) I would have to stop and lay down to stop the spinning. Needless to say, I was odd man out at this point just struggling to stay alive.
The views at the top coupled with the mighty wind that would soon blow in another cold front were magical. You can’t tire of this view, ever. We discussed this ridge and that trail, oh look there is that gap and this rock. Hey is that Tennessee?
The descent down was slow but fun, I just did my best to keep my muscles intact so I could lift twelve ounces of freedom back down at the cars.
Peace
Friday, March 21, 2008
Oh Crap
I had procrastinated on entering the Cohutta 100. When I finally decided to bite the bullet it had already sold out. I knew that someone would eventually give a spot away and I would have to suck it up. Somehow I knew this would happen because I watch MTBR like a hawk. Eleven minutes after Harvey posted up that he had to give away his spot, I snagged the ticket in the form of an email.
For you that have followed my ramblings, you know that I have never completed a century on a bike. I don’t own a road bike and have only ridden one twice so I am not going to nab it that way. I tried two years ago at the SM-100 but failed at the 75 mile mark. If you would like to ride along for that one, here you go. The crazy part is that as I read over my own experience, I can still feel all the emotions from that day. I was younger, much less experienced and I rode a bike that I had never ridden before. I had a habit back then of breaking my bike right before a big event. Now I just break them whenever they feel like it.
I am also reminded of my biggest demon while riding, continuous calories. I must eat regularly to keep the pistons firing all day. Luckily the April time frame actually helps out with that as I have a much easier time eating when it is cool.
I like so many others out there, have a full time job so how do you train? There is no such thing as training. I will just ride as much as I can between now and then and hope that the other events I have done this year will have prepared me.
Wait a second, what I meant to say was LOOK OUT LANDIS, a Tomato is coming for you and I am telling you to catsup. Gosh, I amuse myself.
Peace
For you that have followed my ramblings, you know that I have never completed a century on a bike. I don’t own a road bike and have only ridden one twice so I am not going to nab it that way. I tried two years ago at the SM-100 but failed at the 75 mile mark. If you would like to ride along for that one, here you go. The crazy part is that as I read over my own experience, I can still feel all the emotions from that day. I was younger, much less experienced and I rode a bike that I had never ridden before. I had a habit back then of breaking my bike right before a big event. Now I just break them whenever they feel like it.
I am also reminded of my biggest demon while riding, continuous calories. I must eat regularly to keep the pistons firing all day. Luckily the April time frame actually helps out with that as I have a much easier time eating when it is cool.
I like so many others out there, have a full time job so how do you train? There is no such thing as training. I will just ride as much as I can between now and then and hope that the other events I have done this year will have prepared me.
Wait a second, what I meant to say was LOOK OUT LANDIS, a Tomato is coming for you and I am telling you to catsup. Gosh, I amuse myself.
Peace
Thursday, March 20, 2008
More Than Meets the Eye
Our Wednesday night ride last night was a no go as it rained and rained here in the south. However, I will take this chance to relay some thoughts I have been having lately. Wednesday nights are my night of the week to let out all the stress of life while on my bike. A while back when I first moved to Greenville, I would visit Dupont regularly by myself for night rides. Dupont can be a pretty creepy place at night by your lonesome so I started posting my rides on MTBR and with my friends in hopes of bringing out like minded folks.
Now I have been “leading” the Wednesday night ride for quite some time and I am proud of the group we have become. Not only do we have a great time but now most of us involved in the group really help to give back to the forest through volunteer efforts and supporting groups such as SORBA. We have a wide range of riders in our group on most nights and it is great to get out and see who does what best. Some are fast, some are technical, some are neither or both but it really doesn’t matter does it?
I like how our group operates, no one worries about routes, heart-rates, logging miles, doing sprints or any of that jazz. Except for when Zach whizzed by me the other night, was that a wind sprint or was their a beer up there somewhere? We just ride and if someone starts front wheeling another on a climb, those two go fight it out just like we did when we were kids. The fastest to the top gets nothing but a longer break at the top.
I have always been a person who learned more from doing than analyzing. If you want to become better at what you do, surround yourself with people who are better than you. I can tell you that from my perspective, I see myself and the group growing and improving. I am proud to say the second place in The Most Horrible Thing Ever is a Wednesday night rider. I am proud to say that somebody in our group had a great showing at Heritage Park this past weekend. I am proud to say that my meager skills on a bike are improving due to the quality of riders that come out.
I am not really here to make a point or to get a pep rally going, I just wanted to put to words what it is that I love about mountain biking. There is nothing more positive then negotiating a line, climb, corner, rock, fell tree, berm, descent, ascent better than you ever have; especially when it is in front of your peers who might have seen you struggle with that obstacle (but he said we wouldn’t climb Johanna due to our Ob-Stackles) before.
I made a toast to SURLY earlier this week for helping me get the Drunken Monkey back into my stable of bikes. Now I lift my glass high to all of those who have helped the Wednesday night rides be what they are, a FREAKING BLAST!!
I would also like to thank those who work hard at Dupont! Here is the supervisor’s report for 2008; it details the work done by those who help keep the forest in tip top shape. Thanks everybody.
Now I have been “leading” the Wednesday night ride for quite some time and I am proud of the group we have become. Not only do we have a great time but now most of us involved in the group really help to give back to the forest through volunteer efforts and supporting groups such as SORBA. We have a wide range of riders in our group on most nights and it is great to get out and see who does what best. Some are fast, some are technical, some are neither or both but it really doesn’t matter does it?
I like how our group operates, no one worries about routes, heart-rates, logging miles, doing sprints or any of that jazz. Except for when Zach whizzed by me the other night, was that a wind sprint or was their a beer up there somewhere? We just ride and if someone starts front wheeling another on a climb, those two go fight it out just like we did when we were kids. The fastest to the top gets nothing but a longer break at the top.
I have always been a person who learned more from doing than analyzing. If you want to become better at what you do, surround yourself with people who are better than you. I can tell you that from my perspective, I see myself and the group growing and improving. I am proud to say the second place in The Most Horrible Thing Ever is a Wednesday night rider. I am proud to say that somebody in our group had a great showing at Heritage Park this past weekend. I am proud to say that my meager skills on a bike are improving due to the quality of riders that come out.
I am not really here to make a point or to get a pep rally going, I just wanted to put to words what it is that I love about mountain biking. There is nothing more positive then negotiating a line, climb, corner, rock, fell tree, berm, descent, ascent better than you ever have; especially when it is in front of your peers who might have seen you struggle with that obstacle (but he said we wouldn’t climb Johanna due to our Ob-Stackles) before.
I made a toast to SURLY earlier this week for helping me get the Drunken Monkey back into my stable of bikes. Now I lift my glass high to all of those who have helped the Wednesday night rides be what they are, a FREAKING BLAST!!
I would also like to thank those who work hard at Dupont! Here is the supervisor’s report for 2008; it details the work done by those who help keep the forest in tip top shape. Thanks everybody.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Brissy Did You Miss Me?
After reading Thad’s blog yesterday, I was in a conundrum. How could I possibly justify not wearing wool socks?
On my way home from work yesterday, I picked up Kristin’s birthday present which was the same bike she already owns with new shifty bits and a new seat post clamp. She may not have fat tires yet but at least she can now shift and maintain a level seat.
I quickly threw my stuff together and started pounding the pavement to get to Paris. I realized right away that I had completely forgotten the fact that I had flatted this past Sunday very near the end of the ride. So my tire was still on crooked without the bead set. I turned around and went back to the house so I could fix things with the floor pump. I knew that the Nevegal that I have up front was wearing thin but it was looking real bad even with a tube. Oh well, no time for crying over sidewalls.
It took a little longer to get to the base of the climb as I had swapped the 19 in the back for a 22 this past Sunday. All the roadies were out haunting up and down Altamont and I saw more bikers headed up and down than I did cars. Its too bad for those roadies as I was headed up to get some dust in my eyes in place of the exhaust.
I made it to the top in time and was rewarded with riding one of the new trails UpState SORBA has worked on in conjunction with contractors. On my way down to the lake I just wasn’t feeling the trail at all and got stuck on a bad outside line headed for a tree. I had to bail and thought I was going to pull out a standing bail until my feet got tangled and I went down. Immediately I heard voices, so I popped up real fast and watched six guys pass me headed back up. One said “you all right?” I responded “Yes, don’t worry I was completely under control.”
After completing a lake loop I just had to go down the bottom of Brissy. I had heard her mocking me when I went by earlier in the ride. The trail was sticking nicely and I was starting to feel the ebbs and flows again.
I felt pretty sluggish up the road back to Firetower but then once I was back on the dirt it felt like I was flying up Firetower. I think that gear just pushes the Firetower grade perfectly.
After flying back Down Altamont, I was preparing to cross 25 when I saw the light turn green. I took off and too my horror I saw that I had to pass right in front of a Semi who's engine was pouring smoke out of the hood. This guy was sitting at the red light waiting to keep on truckin’ down 25. If that wasn’t enough, as I was spinning furiously through the light just praying the engine didn’t blow up in my face, I glanced at the container, he was carrying gas.
I have a vivid imagination and as I passed through the light I envisioned the engine blowing causing the gas to ignite inside the container. In my mind the now ensuing explosion sends me flying through oncoming traffic’s windshields only to be spit out the back windshield in a flaming pile of rubble and glass.
Luckily none of that happened and I just went through the light and ventured my way home via the Swamp Rabbit Trail.
Peace
On my way home from work yesterday, I picked up Kristin’s birthday present which was the same bike she already owns with new shifty bits and a new seat post clamp. She may not have fat tires yet but at least she can now shift and maintain a level seat.
I quickly threw my stuff together and started pounding the pavement to get to Paris. I realized right away that I had completely forgotten the fact that I had flatted this past Sunday very near the end of the ride. So my tire was still on crooked without the bead set. I turned around and went back to the house so I could fix things with the floor pump. I knew that the Nevegal that I have up front was wearing thin but it was looking real bad even with a tube. Oh well, no time for crying over sidewalls.
It took a little longer to get to the base of the climb as I had swapped the 19 in the back for a 22 this past Sunday. All the roadies were out haunting up and down Altamont and I saw more bikers headed up and down than I did cars. Its too bad for those roadies as I was headed up to get some dust in my eyes in place of the exhaust.
I made it to the top in time and was rewarded with riding one of the new trails UpState SORBA has worked on in conjunction with contractors. On my way down to the lake I just wasn’t feeling the trail at all and got stuck on a bad outside line headed for a tree. I had to bail and thought I was going to pull out a standing bail until my feet got tangled and I went down. Immediately I heard voices, so I popped up real fast and watched six guys pass me headed back up. One said “you all right?” I responded “Yes, don’t worry I was completely under control.”
After completing a lake loop I just had to go down the bottom of Brissy. I had heard her mocking me when I went by earlier in the ride. The trail was sticking nicely and I was starting to feel the ebbs and flows again.
I felt pretty sluggish up the road back to Firetower but then once I was back on the dirt it felt like I was flying up Firetower. I think that gear just pushes the Firetower grade perfectly.
After flying back Down Altamont, I was preparing to cross 25 when I saw the light turn green. I took off and too my horror I saw that I had to pass right in front of a Semi who's engine was pouring smoke out of the hood. This guy was sitting at the red light waiting to keep on truckin’ down 25. If that wasn’t enough, as I was spinning furiously through the light just praying the engine didn’t blow up in my face, I glanced at the container, he was carrying gas.
I have a vivid imagination and as I passed through the light I envisioned the engine blowing causing the gas to ignite inside the container. In my mind the now ensuing explosion sends me flying through oncoming traffic’s windshields only to be spit out the back windshield in a flaming pile of rubble and glass.
Luckily none of that happened and I just went through the light and ventured my way home via the Swamp Rabbit Trail.
Peace
Monday, March 17, 2008
Back From the Undead
Last Wednesday night was the only time I was able to ride last week, so I thought. Dennis, Zach, David George and I got in 20 miles averaging over 10 mph in Dupont.
Friday came rolling around and I watched the weather like a madman waiting to plan an excursion into the unknown. It was going to be me and the dogs, so I wanted a ride to fit the bill.
It started pouring when I got home so I drank twenty four ounces of steel and watched the weather while swinging on the front porch swing with the dogs vying for “best petting” position. Then out of nowhere the rain stopped and the clouds looked slightly less ominous so I suited up and hit the road on the Stone Cold Sober Monkey. I was still pushing 34X19 as I am lazy to change the gear.
I ended up pushing my luck by riding all the way to the top of Paris but I didn’t drop in on the dirt since it had been raining. Instead I made my way to the very top and reflected on life as the fog briskly blew over the top of the mountain all around me. With vertigo from the clouds completely enveloping me I decided it was time to head back down.
Its good to know the local BP owner won’t even flinch when a blue and white flowered mountain biker walks into the store for 40 oz's of 211. All he said as he took my $2.00 was “Great night for a ride huh?” I replied “yes” ecstatic with my purchase.
Fast forward to Saturday, it is freaking Christmas in March. I got a call from the boys in blue to let me know SURLY had ponied up and resurrected the Drunken Monkey. So here is it is, a time to reflect. I raise my glass of hoppy goodness high into the air and toast this great company that makes awesome two wheeled rolling machines. Way to stand behind your warranty. I will be buying more bikes from SURLY in the future.
Did I mention I painted two walls on Saturday? All the while, the two dogs were playing “escape from columbia-trez.” Kristin and I are working on fixing up her house in Columbia so we can get it on the market. While we were out running errands Shade and Buddy dug a hole under the fence and went on a great adventure. Thank god we found them before they made it to the main roads. I am sure they were running towards the mountains.
Sunday I found myself driving to David George’s house so we could go on our great adventure. It consisted of 40 miles of pavement, dirt, gravel and singletrack to surmount 4,000 feet of elevation gain. It was a perfect afternoon with a cool breeze at the top of Pinnacle Mountain and a warm feeling in the woods.
Climbing up to the top of Pinnacle was one of the hardest climbs I have seen in all of Dupont or Pisgah. At the top you are rewarded this view taken from the hang gliders ramp, the idea of jumping off that ramp with some synthetic fabric manufactured to make someone fly gives me the willies down deep.
We hit two the last two marked trails I had never been on in Dupont. They were both gems. One with two small rock hucks that made me go back for more. It was a big day and we finished just before dusk, the perfect end to Christmas in March.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Route Finding
Early Saturday morning I awoke to darkness and the sound of wind and rain howling all around the house, I promptly fell back asleep and figured trail riding was out of the question for now.
Some people and animals have an innate sense of direction and can navigate routes through the harshest of environments without giving it a second thought. However, first a mental map of any given region must be formed in the brain so navigation is possible.
The second time I awoke, there was a faint glow of light coming through the bedroom window, the rain had stopped but the cabin still creaked from the wind. I was worried the trails at Issaqueena would be too wet to ride so I suited up and hit the SRT to Furman, Paris and back. I thought I would have some roadie carrots to chase up the mountain but didn’t see a soul all the way up the backside of Altamont. When I reached the King of the Mountain spot I was still on the sheltered side of the mountain and the wind coming over the top had the energy of a 400 car freight train with no brakes. I had to take a look so I rode the SCDOT access road to the very top of the mountain and was astonished. Just as I crested the top of the mountain, downtown Greenville was haloed in a circle of sunlight while the rest of the region was clouded over with fast moving clouds.
As I turned to head back the way I had came, two riders came rolling up. Being proper, I commented on the weather and one guy said “nice bike.” Then when I rolled back to the KOM spot, the shop roadies were lurking. I revealed in the sweet bliss of beating all the roadies to the top of the mountain as I freewheeled my way back to the bottom.
Kristin and I headed out to watch the downhill race at Clemson, but since I forgot my phone and any sort of directions to the venue, I was at a loss. I have definitely not formed a proper mental map of Issaqueena. Darwinian Theory could have bested me on this day.
In terms of making the best of the situation, Kristin got to ride her bike and Buddy got to run so we were a happy family. Kristin impresses me rolling her five speed Favorit Rapido down gravel/dirt roads without a second thought. Some day we will have to get her a proper dirt bike so she can enjoy fat tire bliss.
Sunday called for me to meet up with Royalty. I had agreed to give my thoughts on what might be a good loop at Dupont for PAS’ Save The Trails ride challenge. I was limited slightly due to logistic problems but in the end I think this route incorporates the best riding Dupont has to offer.
Peace
Some people and animals have an innate sense of direction and can navigate routes through the harshest of environments without giving it a second thought. However, first a mental map of any given region must be formed in the brain so navigation is possible.
The second time I awoke, there was a faint glow of light coming through the bedroom window, the rain had stopped but the cabin still creaked from the wind. I was worried the trails at Issaqueena would be too wet to ride so I suited up and hit the SRT to Furman, Paris and back. I thought I would have some roadie carrots to chase up the mountain but didn’t see a soul all the way up the backside of Altamont. When I reached the King of the Mountain spot I was still on the sheltered side of the mountain and the wind coming over the top had the energy of a 400 car freight train with no brakes. I had to take a look so I rode the SCDOT access road to the very top of the mountain and was astonished. Just as I crested the top of the mountain, downtown Greenville was haloed in a circle of sunlight while the rest of the region was clouded over with fast moving clouds.
As I turned to head back the way I had came, two riders came rolling up. Being proper, I commented on the weather and one guy said “nice bike.” Then when I rolled back to the KOM spot, the shop roadies were lurking. I revealed in the sweet bliss of beating all the roadies to the top of the mountain as I freewheeled my way back to the bottom.
Kristin and I headed out to watch the downhill race at Clemson, but since I forgot my phone and any sort of directions to the venue, I was at a loss. I have definitely not formed a proper mental map of Issaqueena. Darwinian Theory could have bested me on this day.
In terms of making the best of the situation, Kristin got to ride her bike and Buddy got to run so we were a happy family. Kristin impresses me rolling her five speed Favorit Rapido down gravel/dirt roads without a second thought. Some day we will have to get her a proper dirt bike so she can enjoy fat tire bliss.
Sunday called for me to meet up with Royalty. I had agreed to give my thoughts on what might be a good loop at Dupont for PAS’ Save The Trails ride challenge. I was limited slightly due to logistic problems but in the end I think this route incorporates the best riding Dupont has to offer.
Peace
Friday, March 07, 2008
Case 624X9: Re-appearing Nuts
A picture I snapped during the storms this week.With two dogs roaming my property at all given times, there can be quite the mysteries. It is a constant DSI (Doggie Scene Investigation) with Buddy hiding everything he can get his mouth on. If you hadn’t noticed, the dog that is so quizzically looking at me in the picture from my last post is the newest edition to our household. He is a rescued St. Bernard/Aussie Sheppard mix. He came from the Greenville Humane Society.
Last night I was planning to go to Dupont as this week has been a roller coaster of work, Mountain Bike Advocacy and zero riding. Well the man held me back and I didn’t get out of work quite soon enough to make a Dupont trip worth it. Plus from the reports I had, trail riding was probably out of the question. So my mind started churning though the possibilities. I realized that I hadn’t yet made the ride from my house down the not-quite-ready Swamp Rabbit trail to Furman. It would be flat and probably not much of a work out but at least it would help ease the demons.
When I pulled up to the house, Buddy came trotting up to greet me as usual. Shade is currently out on the DL (Disabled List) and therefore has to stay in the house during the day. When I got out of the car Buddy rolled over so I could get some good rubbin’ on his tummy. When reached down to pet him I saw something that blew me away. There before me were two protrusions that looked an awful lot like balls.
The day Kristin rescued Buddy, his nuts were chopped. So this was quite unusual that he would mysteriously grow balls again. I wrote it off as anxiety from not biking and went to get my stuff ready.
I swapped the 23 out for the 19 and took off down the road. After two miles of 30 mph back country roads, I hop on the Swamp Rabbit Trail (SRT) very close to Sunrift. The SRT has been graded and most of the old railroad ties removed but it is also no where near finished. The riding is quite pleasurable though as it is mostly flat and once you get through Travelers Rest, it often feels remote with one towering rock garden.
In what seemed no time at all I noticed a trail to my left and realized I was already at my destination which was Furman. I rode the dirt trails out there a couple times and asked myself “Self, what would the Extreme Tomato do for some X-tra E?” E being endurance here folks, so I crossed the road and climbed Altamont to the top of the King of the Mountain. Once at the top, I phoned Kristin to let her know I would be home for dinner shortly. I also told her to take a look at Buddy’s underside. She asked why but I didn’t clue her in, I just told her to look.
I bombed back down the mountain as the sun dipped below the horizon with the more westerly mountains shinning brightly pink eventually fading to a deep blue in the north. It made my soul glow.
Back across the highway to Furman so I could re-trace my steps home. I made it home just after dark and when I walked inside Kristin informed me that she couldn’t notice anything different about Buddy’s underside. I said “here come with me” as I took her outside. I called buddy and promptly flipped him on his back. The nuts were gone, just like that. I think Case 624X9 is going to be one for the books and the vets.
Peace
Monday, March 03, 2008
Once Bitten . . .
Late Edition: I had as much luck pulling this tree out on Sunday as I did with the race on Saturday. Thanks for the picture Brad!!
OUCH, is the main word that comes in mind from this past weekend’s Snake Creek Gap Time Trial. I would say that I could have used a “spinier” gear on the back but in all reality I would have taken a motor had someone handed me one 25 miles into the course.First and foremost I must say that the organization of 297 racers, with no lines anywhere, an early leave time for the shuttle was organized to a “T.” I will be back for more pain in the future. Nice work to everyone involved.
The single track is amazing. Really good smile inducing ridgeline riding, the last ten or there about miles were insane. Imagine taking a Stegosaurus and implanting another thousand or so rocks in his back. I would imagine that if you power washed the granite on the ridge during these miles you would have a spectacle of rock.
On the way to the race venue, David George and I were speaking the “bike speak.” One of the things I commented on was how important looking ahead and eyesight is to riding.
Eight miles into the race I had to ditch a contact that I couldn’t get back in my eye. Drunk vision commenced at that point as I was riding minimalist style and didn’t have a spare. The mud in the first few miles was pretty tough and when you would gather speed back up all the caked mud and pea gravel would fly in your face. I thought maybe I would lose an eye on this day as I have sworn off wearing glasses while I ride.
After the halfway checkpoint it really didn’t matter that I couldn’t see perfectly, I was ecstatic when I had the bike moving greater than five miles per hour. Miles 17 – 25 were still “ok” for me and I still felt like I was semi-pushing the pace. However on the last few miles I wondered if I would make it back before dark. When you see the city of Dalton from the ridge, don’t get your hopes up that you might be having a beer anytime soon.
Reflecting on the race really doesn’t do much for me, reflecting on the smack talk, church bus talk, music, festival atmosphere, sic trials move I saw from the top of a trailer to the bed of a truck, Yazoo friendliness, sweet singletrack, fast racers (not me), Kentucky Waterfall mullet and a general good time leaves a sweet honey nectar taste in my mouth.
Yazoo beer is good, thanks for the sixer Thad. I also acquired a nice new piece of wool but that is deserving of another post for another time.
Trail Karma is reaching a new all time high as I was somehow able to drag my butt and Buddy’s up to Paris yesterday for the second trail work day in two weeks. Thanks to everyone who came out yesterday!!
Peace
Pictures courtesy of David George.
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