Team Velveeta™

My 2011

2012-01-16T07:57:00.004-07:00

What the heck happened to Tom in 2011?

I was absent from the blogosphere this year, and I'm going to try to re-enter to some extent in 2012.

So what about 2011? Well, three things seemed to set a theme for the year for me:

work
bought a house
adopted two cats, and got more than I bargained for

Anybody who's ever bought a house, especially one that has flaws (or opportunities for improvement as the corporates say), knows that the first year is going to see spare time impacted.

Here are some pictures that cover two of those things, and a few nice days I spent outside.

Absurd and Futile Gesture

2012-01-08T07:05:00.003-07:00

I went to a trails meeting Thursday night where I heard from two or three people who had gone to Hartman Rocks to ride that day. They talked about how crazy it was that the trails were dry. They had a bluebird day. I was green with envy. Of course I had to work Friday, but I hatched a plan to go over there Saturday and get me some.

I pulled up the weather report for Saturday and it showed that a front was coming. It called for rain/snow in Salida after 5 PM and snow starting as early as 11 AM for Gunny, and sharply colder temperatures for Sunday. Looked doubtful to be a bluebird day, but I called it "game on".

I rarely have any energy on evenings after work days, so I left all the preparation for Saturday morning and planned for an early start to beat that 11 AM snow forecast. Saturday morning, the cloud line in Salida out my back door was about 8000 feet. Looked to me like the front had showed up early. Weather reports didn't show that it had snowed yet in Gunnison, and still showed a forecasted high of 40. The likelihood of snow had gone up from 30% to 40%, but they were still calling for arrival after 11 AM. The camera on Monarch Pass showed that the road was covered with snow up there already. No surprise.

I took out the big pack and focused on having a full complement of warm stuff, including shell, wind pants, extra baselayer, gloves, and the like. The weather in Salida looked like it was degrading as it approached 7:00 AM and I had the 'is this stupid?' question rolling around in my head. I figured I better just load the car and leave before I thought about it too much.

View from The Ridge trail, picture taken with numb fingers

The drive over Monarch was not awful, not much traffic and just snowy. The car's thermometer showed 19° F. No surprise. The flats all the way into Gunny were dry, standard 72 mph. As I got closer the temperature reading went up into the low 20's.

I drove straight to the lot. Thermometer read 24° F at about 10 minutes to 9. The sky was high overcast.

How goofy is this? Here I am getting ready to ride a bicycle off into the sage on January 7 at 9 in the morning, hoping that it doesn't snow on me before I can have a decent ride and get out. Better not to think about it too much. Just suit up and get going. I got out, peeled my upper half down to skin and put on my magic Sugoi hoody and a wool jersey over that. That hoody has magical properties; the warmest single layer I have other than a down coat. Then I reached for my shorts and leg warmers.

Immediately a shock of realization went through me. "Holy crap! I forgot to bring any shorts!" I had everything else; shoes, socks, helmet, leg warmers, copious warm clothing, but nothing with a chamois. For just a moment I thought, "well, I guess that tears it. This truly was a futile gesture."

Then I looked down at my faded Carhartts. I laughed out loud and decided on the spot, I'll just stuff the cuffs of those pants into my socks and roll. Fsck it. An absurd mission; why not wear an absurd biking costume? It meant I didn't have to bear my butt in the cold parking lot.

This section was about as snowy as any I saw, totally rideable.

I rolled out of the lot and started climbing to the top of kill hill. I chose to ride backwards on the 2009 Growler course which I had loaded on my GPS. It was the start of the 2010 course, but I didn't have a track for that one. By the time I got 10 minutes away from the car my hands were painfully numb even in my winter Pearl Izumi gloves. I currently have about the same fitness as your typical Green Bay Packers fan, and the cold air burned my lungs. I wondered how long I was going to be able to handle this as I pedaled along under an indifferent winter sky.

From the top of Skyline.

But as I climbed Top of the World, my hands thawed and I started feeling that calm peace that singletrack brings me. I was going to have a ride. Whatever the barriers, I was going to ride.

I wound up out there in the sage until almost 1 PM. When I drove out of the lot toward The Bean Coffee House the thermometer showed 33° F. I had just had a ride, an Absurd Success.

The One-Post-Per-Year blog

2012-01-05T09:53:00.004-07:00

This blog is pretty much dead. I sometimes think about getting back into the swing, but obviously don't follow through. I have some pictures accumulating that are nice, some ride stories that are tell-able, but my focus is obviously elsewhere. I may get back to it this year. We shall see.

Today I am posting based on the wildly optimistic assumption that anybody still sees this blog or is notified in an automated fashion about new content. I have a problem and I need to get the word out using any and all channels:

Last spring I adopted two neutered male cats from an animal shelter that screwed up by mistaking an intact female for a neutered male. So "George" got pregnant last summer. She had 5 kittens October 7th, 2011. Four have homes. One is left and I desperately need to find a home for him.

I call him Tigg. He's a beautiful, affectionate gray tiger. He's had first shots, is completely box trained, the best possible nutrition, and a safe stable environment to grow up in.

Adopting from shelters is moral, but often we bring home pets with baggage. Tigg has no baggage. He's perfectly socialized, he wasn't weaned early, he's had a rich social life with both siblings and adult cats. He was 12 weeks old December 30, 2011.

He needs and deserves a good home as much as any cat. He could easily become a shelter cat, but for now I simply can't turn him over to a shelter. I cannot stand the image of him in a stainless steel cubbyhole with a wire door.

If you know of a good home, please let me know. tom dot purvis at gmail dot com.

January?

2011-01-22T14:57:00.002-07:00

It's been the busiest I've been in 8 or 9 years, and coincidentally the best riding fall and winter in Salida since the first couple years I lived here, 2001, 2002, 2003.

And, Salida Mountain Trails kicked out some incredible new trail miles this year. The North Backbone, which I had a role in conceiving of about 6 years ago, turned into 3 miles of incredible trail. Started by a Volunteers for Outdoor Colorado project in June, finished in October. The Little Rainbow, also part of a plan that I helped write in March of 2005, was built by machine in September. Boom, 7 miles of beginner/intermediate singletrack. Also a re-route of the Sand Dunes Trail, finished this past Spring, and new routes up Pauli Trail to our double-black trail, Unkle Nazty. I'm counting something like 12 miles of new trail in 2010.

Here are a few shots (all shot this month):

2010 Vapor Trail 125

2010-09-13T16:41:00.013-06:00

We had a dandy this year. The weather was clear, classic rocky mountain late summer perfection. It was chilly overnight, I think more than normal. But the stars were brilliant, the dawn was bright and beautiful, and it was dry.

I had a camera with me, but it never cleared leather. I've included three money shots from the most dramatic place on the course, taken last year on a recreational ride. And a couple shots Shawn got from Aid Station 1.

But first, the story.

There was probably the largest field we've ever had. I believe it was 47 starters. The stretch of F Street from the bridge to our turn right at 2nd was a bit crowded with cars and pedestrians as a large peloton of mountain bikers rolled through.

A Salida City cop car pulled in front of us just as we started crossing Sackett to do the neutral start. We've always made plans with the City Police Department to have this, but I can't remember any of the prior races where we actually had a cop with lights flashing leading the group.

It isn't easy to be a driver leading an actual neutral start. To be completely neutral, the car has to stay between 8-10 mph on flat or slightly uphill ground. It isn't easy to drive that slow actually, but if the lead car goes much faster, some riders have to hustle to stay with the group. After we got past the airport, my friend Kent Davidson and I dropped off the back of the group. I didn't have any desire to go anaerobic just to stay with the neutral start. To finish the Vapor Trail 125 I need to ride my pace. Period. So we were probably more than a quarter mile back from the 3rd-to-last rider when the lead car pulled aside. No biggie. Neither of us were in it to win it.

The dirt grind up to Blanks Cabin and the Colorado Trail trailhead always seems to take longer than it should, and we didn't get there until just before midnight. I was the last rider to get there, since Kent usually climbs a bit faster than I do. But I was feeling pretty good. I'd been staying on my own pace. Happy to be to singletrack and the peace and quiet that comes with being away from the lights of the sweep vehicle (being driven by Scot, which means there was a certain amount of ribaldry and shenanigans going on behind me).

I always enjoy riding the Blanks to Chalk Creek section of the Colorado Trail, especially at night--technical, beautiful, quiet. I came off the trail 3rd to last; I had stayed ahead of Kent after he stopped at the trailhead, and I caught and passed Todd Schweitzer halfway through. That was encouraging, because Todd is a veteran of the Vapor Trail 125. When he starts it, he finishes it. If I'm with Todd I'm on a finisher's pace!

Here I am filling a bottle with HEED, that's Kent over my shoulder

I rode into the Cascade Aid where there was a fire, warm breakfast burritos and lots of friends. I had a burrito filled with scrambled eggs, potatoes, and an impressive blob of mayonnaise. I didn't want to get too comfortable there. I ate, put on my warmest long tights, and headed back out into the night on my way to the Continental Divide at Alpine Tunnel. I expected Kent to catch me and pass pretty quickly.

This climb into the wee hours always seems endless. The part from Aid 1 to St Elmo seems especially long. I was riding with just a meager helmet mounted headlamp, conserving battery for my main bar-mounted light, so I seemed to be missing some of the landmarks that help me gauge my progress. I was surprised and delighted when I noticed just in time that I was about to miss the left turn to Hancock and the Alpine Tunnel and ride into St Elmo. More than halfway from the Aid Station to the divide crossing! Neither Kent nor Todd have caught me, I must be climbing well!

I continued toward the divide in good spirits as it got to be around 3:00 AM. Shortly after I made the turn I noticed that it was getting colder, so I stopped to put on my jacket and took the opportunity to eat one of the mini-croissants stuffed with egg and potatoes that I brought. One of my instructions from Kathy (AKA Coach): eat much and eat often through the night! I should know that, but I don't very often do that. (Other key instruction: When in doubt, chill out.)

Sometime between that stop and my arrival at the Alpine Tunnel hike-a-bike over the divide, I started getting that 4:00 AM feeling. Tired, time starting to become oddly abstracted, darkness seeming very dark. I turned my main headlight on just for the company, so I'd have a little more to look at. Almost immediately the light's indicator went from blue to red--limited battery time left. I had an extra charged battery, but didn't want to bother digging it out. But the red-ness bugged me, adding to the 4:00 AM feeling of vague foreboding.

Just as the section from the aid station to St Elmo felt shorter than usual, the section from St Elmo to Hancock felt unreasonably long. There's an old mining building that leans out over the road just near Hancock. I kept watching for it to appear out of the darkness. Then, after what seemed like a really long time, I rode into Hancock and saw the tail lights of the Vapor staff motos waiting to watch the last riders pass through Hancock and up the railroad grade toward the tunnel trail. Never saw the building, but finally made it to Hancock.

The old mine building, obviously in daylight...

There's an odd thing that happens up in the mountains as you travel at night. You pass through temperature pockets. I had put on the jacket near St Elmo, but somewhere between there and Hancock it seemed to have gotten just a little warmer. I was perspiring, just a bit. I felt comfortable, and not so warm that I needed to strip off the jacket.

I was starting to feel pretty tired, and tired of the steady, relentless grade to the tunnel. I'd been on that same grade for 3 or so hours. Hiking sounded better than grinding along. The trail from Hancock to the Alpine Tunnel is 2 or 3 miles long, not really singletrack, but not graded gravel either. There are still railroad ties visible here and there from the narrow guage line that was abandoned before the turn of the last century, and there is close tree cover and some shallow water in a few places. The railroad ties were reflecting tiny crystals of frost. I had ridden back into a cold place. There were thin coatings of ice on standing water near the trail. But I was still climbing, and had a jacket on. I felt reasonably comfortable.

Arriving at the singletrack hike-a-bike over Altman Pass (the ridge under which the Alpine Tunnel crossed the divide before it collapsed for that last time over 100 years ago), I simply climbed off my bike and started pushing it without even a pause. I wanted to be over the top before first light. I knew I needed to be if I was on a finisher's pace, and it was a symbolic goal for me to be up there on the divide while it was still dark. I looked down after I'd been hiking for a while and saw the light of one of the two riders I knew were behind me, Kent and Todd. I marched on, pausing for breath periodically. Later I saw another lamp down there. All three of us were hiking to the divide.

I reached the divide under an icy blanket of brilliant stars. The very first bit of gray light was appearing on the southwestern horizon. I was at once in awe of where I was and what I was doing, and also in the strange funk that comes from being deprived of oxygen, sleep, light and calories. I only paused briefly to take in the moment. Surreal and beautiful. Even though I didn't dwell long, the vivid memory of that moment was stored deeply.

As soon as I began my descent to the Alpine Tunnel West Portal, I was seized with the coldness of the air. I was no longer working, and was acutely aware of the moisture under my thin jacket.

I met Tracy Smith, Shawn's brother-in-law and the lead support moto rider for each of the Vapor Trail 125's that has happened, after passing the old railroad infrastructure at the west portal. He was waiting there to watch the three of us, the last riders, to be sure we were on our way to Tomichi Pass. Tracy was with the Search and Rescue crew from Western State in Gunnison who Dave Wiens had arranged to help out. They had a fire going.

I was in a state of grave concern about my body temp, and knew I needed to peel off everything I was wearing above the waist and replace it with the dry base and mid-layer clothes I had in my pack. If I had not had those dry things, my ride would have been over right then and there. I should probably have accepted Tracy's invitation to come over by the fire, but I was afraid of getting too comfortable.

I hurriedly peeled off my moist jacket and wet jersey. The frigid air hitting my moist skin was painful and I shivered as I pulled on my dry stuff and put the moist jacket back on over it. While I was doing that Kent rode up. I'm afraid I must have seemed rude, but I was just hurting with cold. He told me later that I wasn't but I doubt I was very nice. He rode on. Now I was 2nd to last.

I got out my winter gloves, put a beanie on my head and pulled a hood over that. I had dry stuff on, but I was shivering. It was time to eat. I didn't really feel like it, but the words of my coach rang in my head. I pulled out my chilly food and stuffed it in my mouth, shivering as I chewed. While I was doing that, Todd rolled up, talked to Tracy and I for a minute or so, and went on his way down to the bottom of Brittle Silver Basin and the beginning of the slog up to Tomichi Pass. I was DFL again, for the first time since we got to Blanks Cabin, 5 or 6 hours earlier.

Eventually I stiffly climbed back onto my bike. There was now enough dawn twilight to turn off my lights. The descent was only 10 or 15 minutes, but it was agony. Moving through the cold, cold air, my hands went painfully numb even through the thick gloves. I was worried about being able to brake properly, but even with my deep discomfort and strange negative mood, I was deeply moved by the stark beauty of the surroundings in that soft pre-dawn light. Through chattering teeth I whispered to myself "man, is this beautiful".

Then got to the bottom and jumped off the bike to start pushing it up the hill. Even though I knew I was starting one of the big challenges of the whole event, I was happy to be off the bike so that I could stamp my feet, flex my fingers, and begin working again to bring warmth back to my body.

The first time I attempted the Vapor Trail 125, I named the climb to Tomichi Quit Hill. It's a long, steep slope covered in bowling ball-sized rocks. Marching on the relatively clear sections, staggering through the steeper and looser ones, I made slow progress toward the top. I could see Kent in front of me. Todd was way up there, and eventually gone from my site. Todd is a closer. If I was with him I knew I'd finish, but as I fell back I was beset with the thoughts of failing. I started thinking about scenarios for how I would abandon.

I eventually made it to the pass. Of course. There were Tracy and Chad, moto support. They had passed me as I staggered darkly along. We saw Kent a few hundred feet below us at the Canyon Creek Trailhead, sitting down to eat. I talked to Tracy and Chad for a while, then rolled on down the quarter of a mile south to the trailhead and sat down next to Kent. I pulled out my food and started eating it. We were in similar moods, talking about how we really wanted to finish, but how it was starting to seem unlikely that we could. We talked about how the field all seemed so much faster then we were this year. They had just ridden away from us from the start. Gone. We talked about how badly the hike-a-bike climb to the top of Canyon Creek was going to suck.

Kent went, after a while I got up and trudged off after him. Shortly I needed to stop to peel off my jacket and switch my clear glasses to sunglasses. The sun was streaming down on me. There was certainly relief in that!

But that climb is heinous. A deeply trenched trail, sometimes hip deep or more, with huge loose rocks. And sickeningly steep. And it's way up high in the thin air, baby. All the way up to 12,600 feet. I had to stop fairly often to catch my breath. But again, it was such a rich experience. Suffering, struggling--yet passing into a place of such splendor, and being warmed by the daylight and effort after being so cold.

Earl hikes the last bit to top of Canyon Creek. (these pictures were taken during a different time of day, in a different month and year from the 2010 Vapor Trail 125, but they are what I have to show you about where it was and what it looks like)

I made the top. Kent wasn't anywhere to be seen, already on his way down. Earl Walker (shown in the picture above), also riding support moto was up there with Chad. He had manhandled his big KTM motorcycle up this gnarly trail, which had probably been at least as big an effort as it had been for me to push a bicycle up. I drank in the view for a minute or two, talked to Earl and Chad for a minute, then climbed back on the bike and started the most dramatic singletrack descent in this part of Colorado.

Top of Canyon Creek looking back toward Alpine Tunnel, the way I had come.

Looking down onto Tomichi Pass. See where the trail starts, down by those trees? It's way down there!

A few minutes after I started my descent I looked at my watch. It was just after 8:00. Wow. I realized that maybe it wasn't hopeless. Maybe I was still on a finisher's pace. One of the miracles of the ultra-endurance effort, turning from dark pessimism to giddy optimism on a dime. Started finding the flow of the trail, and truly enjoying myself.

I caught Kent about halfway down. He climbs just a little better than I do and I descend just a little faster than he does. We talked for just a bit as he let me by and then I opened it up and let the bike go again.

Only a half a mile or so later I heard my bike start making some wrong noises. When I hit bumps it kind of made a snapping sound. I wondered if I might have broken my frame. I stopped and looked down at it without getting off, and saw nothing wrong. As I got started again I noticed that the suspension didn't really seem to be working in the back, then I hit a bump before I was going very fast and it made the noise and then the suspension actuated. Lockout on, and the big bumps hitting the blowpast threshold?

My StumpJumper29 has a Fox Triad. The selection lever points back and to the right for ProPedal, back and to the left for free travel, and anywhere else with no detent keeping it in place is locked out. I glanced down and saw that it was facing forward. Lockout. It had been in free travel mode (of course) and I couldn't imagine how it had moved. I tried to put it back into free mode but the detent was gone. It was just spinning freely around the whole circle. Ah, I see. Blown.

Would this thing fully fail, keeping me from finishing? Or would it just stay in lockout mode, leaving me with a stiff ride and a nasty noise every time I hit a significant bump? Seemed to be holding air...

So now I was in a mode of travel where I wanted to make good progress while the course was pointing down hill, but my mind was busy mulling over the details. What time could I conceivably make it to Monarch Pass? The climb back up to the Divide is one of the two major obstacles to finishing--how will it go? Will I feel too crappy to make it up in time? Will the shock hold out? I bet Kathy's already at the Aid Station, looking forward to seeing her...

Then it happened. I came whizzing into a little meadow on a sandy section of trail in dappled sunlight. A large log blocked the trail. I was distracted and didn't see it right away. Then when I did see it, several beats passed before I realized that I needed to decide what to do about it. When I finally got around to reacting I spazzed and grabbed the brakes hard. I was in deep soft sand, and the front wheel buried. I was instantly going over the bars. I don't think I even took my hands off the grips. Wham!

Then I was laying on the ground on my back. My head hurt, I had smacked it down. At first it seemed like I was really busted up, as in, Search and Rescue busted up. Slowly I picked myself up, carefully checking to see if anything was broken. After a while Kent Davidson rode up. He's an M.D. and he asked me how I was. Slowly it became clear to me that I was OK. Certainly OK to get out the mile or so left to the 2nd aid station. The sweep motos, Tracy and Chad, rolled up and Chad checked my eyes (he's an EMT/Ski Patroller). After a while Kent and Chad rolled on and Tracy followed me.

I was able to move, and after a while able to move pretty easily. I was rattled, so I wasn't going very fast, but I was able to function. When I first crashed I was certain that I was done, dropping. But as I got back underway I was thinking about it. My major concern was with the lack of focus that had led to my crash. There was lots more ground to cover, much more dangerous descending than the smooth, open bit of trail I'd crashed on. I wanted to talk to Kathy about it, but my rational mind got me thinking about grownup values. How important to finish? Worth risking long term health? Why couldn't I consider the rich experience I'd already had a success? Why force myself to accept only a true finish, even under the circumstances?

It was great to see Kathy when I rolled off the trail. She was standing right at the end of the trail, taking pictures of me as I approached. I knew pretty much completely that I was going to abandon when I saw her.

We walked over to the aid station where Dave Wiens and the crew were cleaning bikes, making pancakes and generally helping riders do what they needed to do. An old friend from Buena Vista, Ron Gillingham, took my bike and asked if it needed any attention. I told him about the shock. He looked at it and we saw that it was barfing oil all over the downtube. I started eating a pancake wrapped around a sausage, and then told Tracy that I was dropping. He cut off my wrist band and my Vapor Trail 125 for 2010 was over.

It was a great experience. Maybe I'll never finish one. Maybe I will. Maybe I'll go out sometime with a few friends and do the loop without the structure of the event and finish it as a big ride. Either way, I can celebrate the event as a success. It'll always be part of me, no matter what happens next year or in years to follow.

Weather and Moon Phase for 6th Vapor Trail 125

2010-09-09T06:43:00.000-06:00

Checkit here:

http://blog.vaportrail125.com/2010/09/weather-and-what-all-for-this-years.html

Vapor Trail 125, 2010 Edition

2010-09-07T13:11:00.006-06:00

Here it comes.

If you're wondering what got me thinking about blogging again, wonder no more.

As I approach this year's biggest riding milestone, working to make myself train enough and to keep my mind in the right place I've been thinking much about limitations, and the acceptance of them.

Team Velveeta™, the ongoing story of an athlete of limited talent. And now, one whose time and energy for training is constrained in addition to his physical limits.

For a goofball like myself, finishing the Vapor Trail 125 is a problem to be solved with the brain as much as it is a problem at which to throw brute force endurance. If I set an expression of grim determination on my face and grind away like satan is chasing me, I will almost certainly fail. I've learned and forgotten this lesson several times. But I really want to solve this one. I've got to keep that lesson up there, even when things get weird with pain, oxygen debt, and low blood sugar.

Stay loose. Eat enough. Keep your head. Keep moving, but don't move in desperation. Be appreciative of the fact that you can do this stuff at all. It's a miracle--as are the surroundings.

The start of this trail marks the last 15 minutes of the first climb to the Continental Divide. On this year's course, with the 10 PM start, if I'm on the pace I need to finish I'll be mounting this climb in complete darkness.

Watch the action of the 2010 Vapor Trail 125 from a satellite's-eye view at trackleaders.com. Starts at 10 PM Saturday, Mountain Daylight Time. 11 PM Central.

My Summer Weekends

2010-09-05T07:59:00.003-06:00

The summer has been quite full for me really. What I've done during most of it is to retrace my steps through local haunts. I haven't taken many pictures this year, because most of the places I've been riding and hiking are places I've been before on a routine basis, and of which I have stupid numbers of pics already.

One day in July I rode Starvation Creek and took I think some decent pictures:

Just before I hauled out the camera that day, I was up on the ridge before dropping into the Starvation Creek canyon when a bull elk in velvet trotted across the road in front of me. I thought, "those guys hang out together during summer before the rut starts." I could have gotten the camera out then in anticipation of seeing this guy's buds. Sure enough 45 seconds later two bulls in velvet came from the same area the first one was, and one was a whopper. Opportunity lost.

I had many great days like this, and one very memorable day hiking and gawking near Crested Butte (Schofield Townsite) with Kathy and her folks. Here from the summit of West Maroon Pass:

Looking toward Schofield from West Maroon Pass

Looking toward Snowmass from West Maroon Pass

It's been a good summer. Now on to ushering it out by finishing the Vapor Trail 125.

Bless me readers for I have slacked.

2010-09-04T10:19:00.012-06:00

It has been 6 months since my last posting.

(This is a picture of a confession booth in a Catholic church, in case you don't recognize it)

I've been not blogging for the last half a year. You might have noticed, or not. That happens sometimes. Since I started this thing I have often let it go for a month or so, but this has been kind of a fundamental shift. Those of you who know me at all have heard me explain (in nauseating and repetitive detail) about how my lifestyle has changed.

It has.

I spent most of this decade living a life of copious freedom in a little Colorado mountain town. I worked from my house or I worked at a bike shop. It wasn't what you call regular work, and I didn't have to show up anywhere at 8 AM 5 days/week. It was really flexible, and quite often really seldom.

When I moved to Salida it was to be a telecommuter. I was really busy in my little home office at first, then things changed at my company. My workload started wandering off to the Far East. My deadlines began to be more like critically ill-lines. Then out of the woods-lines. Then completely cured-lines. Finally I got laid off. Freedom to do whatever became my lifestyle.

After I became a divorced guy several years ago my freedom and independence increased even more, as amazing as it is that that's even possible.

Lots of you have heard this shite before, so let me fast forward to my point: I got really really spoiled during this decade, the one that's hard to name (the oughts?). I got used to the idea that work is something that happens in no particular place, without any set schedule. Sure, I also got used to spending into my savings account almost every month, but I took for granted that work really didn't interfere with My Life™ to a very significant extent.

Then, almost by accident, I got offered a good job. The kind that pays enough that you can actually SAVE money. But here's the hitch: 8 to 5, 5 days per week. Holy Crap!

It was a dramatic, sometimes painful adjustment. But I've adjusted for the most part. I have a routine that involves heading up to Buena Vista, CO every day, getting there around 8 and leaving around 5. Every two weeks a paycheck lands in my account. The same amount every time. Magic.

So that brings me back to this blog. It started out as Team Velveeta™, the story of a man of modest natural athletic ability who would seek the limits of his physical capabilities and write about what it's like to do things on a bicycle that the actual elite riders do, only much more slowly. I did big underground races like the Rim Ride Moab and various NMES and AZES rides. I rode in 24 Hour races, and mainstream hundies like the Cascade Creampuff, the Crested Butte Classic 100, and the Leadville 100, finishing among the last and slowest. But doing it! Finishing all of it. And I did big solo efforts, like my midnight ride down Agate Creek under a full moon, and several circumnavigations of the White Rim. I took pictures and I wrote. And I rode a TON. I was fit. I had time to be fit. For a while there, fitness and this blog were what I really had going.

So now what? What's up with Team Velveeta™? Well, now I guess I'm really everyman. Now I still want to do those big things but I really only have two days per week to train. And often I am so dead tired in the brain that I just don't feel like going when the door is open!

So maybe now Team Velveeta is really about Velveeta more than Team. I'll be doing what I can, a man with not much natural athletic ability and constrained time to train. I'll be fighting weight gain more than budget problems. I'll have days where I ride way out there only to find out that I'm too tired to ride home--finding that I wasn't really fit enough to be doing it at all.

Maybe I'll be writing about the after work rides. Riding on rollers during lunch hour in the warehouse at work. And probably, commenting about what others are doing. Voyeurism. Yikes.

But seriously, thanks for actually keeping tabs on this silly blog to a point where you notice a posting after 6 months of none. I'll try to put something interesting here once in a while as time rolls forward.

Making a deal with Mother Nature

2010-03-05T07:47:00.011-07:00

There's been a bit of a conflict going on between me and Mother Nature. She messed with my Vapor Trail. She locked down my local trails at least a month early this past fall. And she's been giving me an in yo' face winter to deal with.

On February 22nd I knew that I would be starting my new 40 hour/week gig, so I had two weeks to enjoy my weekday freedom. I wanted to take a day trip to Pueblo to ride the Lake Pueblo Trails. Not terribly ambitious, just a day riding singletrack without needing to make a drive all the way to St. George or southern Arizona. I had things that I needed to wrap up for the shop, so all I really wanted to do was enjoy some of the ordinary things about having time flexibility on weekdays.

Turns out there was a layer of wet snow about 3" deep all over the Lake Pueblo Trails that had been left behind by the weekend's weather. So I started watching the melt and dryout process through the interweb.

Mother Nature kept things cool, she kept her sun behind her clouds. She clearly did this to slow down the drying of the trails because she wanted to frustrate me. I tried to hide my resentment and avoided shaking my fist at her. But I think she knew she was getting to me.

Yesterday I went down there, ready to take my chances. A little mud? Fine. Hopefully not fields and fields of mud.

Turns out that there was some goo, but it was mostly no problem.

I rode The Duke to Rodeo/Rodeo Ridge. On Rodeo I encountered my first mud, on a short hike-a-bike. Not sticking. Good. Then I rode Cuatro Sinko. A couple pretty nasty bogs, splattering but not sticking (of course I rode through the middle of them, because it's the right thing to do).

I encountered a minor mud bog on Outer Limits, just past Pedro's Point. No biggie.

About mid-way through Outer Limits I saw a pair of bald eagles over the reservoir inlet between the Outer Limits and Voodoo peninsulas. There was ice on the water up in the inlet, and it looked like one of the eagles had picked something off the ice and was flying it to a probable nest in a cliff face over there. I stopped and pulled off my backpack, got my camera out, turned it on and looked for the eagles.

Gone. Can't see them anywhere. OK, I'll try to get them from over on the Voodoo side.

Looked like everything was going to be just fine, mud-wise. I was having fun. It wasn't terribly warm, but it was warm enough. Warmer than Salida! And it was the singletrack I craved desperately.

Then way out on Voodoo I rolled into a pretty bad mud bog, then another. I was going through the middle of each bog. Then I hit one that had the sticky mud, and it started to snowball onto the bike. I hate that; when the stays, fork and front derailleur all get clogged up with adobe clay.

Hate it.

At least it was short. I used a stick to carve the mud out of the fork arch, the stays, and off the tires to the extent possible. After I got under way I encountered several other bogs. Some had standing water in them. I started getting off the bike and carrying it around the bogs, trying to walk on rocks and not disturb vegetation. Eventually I cleared the thick juniper, which was keeping the trail shaded and therefore muddy, and continued on. Once I past out of those junipers I never again encountered mud so bad. Some of the bogs I'd passed on the way in were clearly dryer on the way out just a few hours later.

As I got to the edge of the cliffs over the inlet where I'd seen the eagles, I kept my eyes and ears open. I peeked over the edge a few times looking to see if there was a nest. Nope. So I just enjoyed the singletrack.

Then, as I rounded a corner, I heard a startle noise. I looked toward the noise and saw a huge bald eagle trying to hurriedly get into the air off the top of a juniper bush he had been perched on. It was perhaps 75 feet from me. I jumped off the bike, clawed the backpack off my back, yanked out the camera and spun around as I turned it on. I saw the eagle for just an instant as it flew below the cliff edge, out of site. Gah!

Oh well. I put the camera away, again, and got back on the bike.

I was starting to get tired as I finished up Voodoo. I'd been out for quite a while.

As I climbed out of the Voodoo trail toward the highway, I ran into Cannon and a friend both wearing the distinctive green of the Tennessee Pass Cookhouse Team jerseys. We chatted for a while, I warned them about the adobe mud, we talked about the last of the Leadville Winter Mountain Bike Race Series, the Mineral Belt Mayhem. Then we headed our separate ways.

Cannon and his friend riding out onto Voodoo

As I rode back onto Outer Limits for the return journey, I saw my eagle sitting on the ice. Haha! I will photograph him, yes I will!

He was probably 300 yards away, but I knew I could get a pretty clear shot with my camera's zoom. He was far enough away that I hoped he wouldn't be spooked by my movement. Once again, I leaped off my bike, peeled off my backpack, pulled out the camera, stood and looked--he was gone! Where? I looked left, I looked right. I could not believe it really, how could he get out of site so quickly?

Mother Nature! Has to be--it's her doing. She realizes that I'd like to get a harmless photo of this creature, and she's messing with me by using magic to make an eagle disappear repeatedly! What did I ever do to piss her off like this??

As for Mr Eagle, I'm thinking I'll vote for the Wild Turkey next time it comes up for a vote.

I made my way a little farther up Outer Limits, and after about 10 minutes, guess what I saw? The fuggin' eagle! Standing on the ice again.

I did the whole Houdini routine with my backpack, this time keeping one eye on the eagle. He immediately jumped into the air and started flying up into the head of the inlet. With little bits of spittle forming in the corners of my mouth and veins bulging, I pointed my camera at the fleeing bird and got the following grainy photo:

Ha! I think you'll agree, I won this little skirmish with Mother N. Maybe next time she'll know better than to mess with me.

Life Taking a Turn

2010-03-02T17:11:00.006-07:00

I've got a new job. I start Monday.

Lots of reasons--other than just paychecks.

It's been just shy of 10 years since I got away from working a 40 hour week in an office. At first it was telecommuting. Full time, but at home. And a home up in a little mountain town.

Then came the great outsourcing plague of the early aughts. In 2003 I was set free from full time work, and freed from the tyranny of regular paychecks.

I started to work for Absolute Bikes, the best job you'll ever love. And I house-sat. And started a web programming business that brought in a tiny trickle of income once in a while. I tried returning to the food service industry for the first time since the late 80's (huge failure).

Now I'm going back to white collar IT. Salary. Five 8 hour days per week of clean office work (no bike shop dust or the smell of rubber--god I'll miss that!).

But it's up here, in the upper Arkansas Valley! Where going to work usually means making espresso!

I've gotten used to being able to pick a weekday to take an all day ride in the mountains. Or leave town for a week or three to travel the southwest.

And I've gotten used to living in a state of frugality even as I nibbled away at my savings.

But the lack of structure, order, regularity--this has been one of the greatest downsides of my life after the layoff, as ironic as that seems even to me. I'm going back to a job that uses my education and training. I'm going to be an IT problem-solver again. Not just now and then when a project comes my way, but as a staff programmer. And that feels good.

I can still go to the shop and smell the rubber, talk bikes, hang with my peeps (as Kathy would say). And I'll wake up here in Salida every morning. I can take big rides, but now it will call for a bit of planning.

It's a big change for me, and that makes me nervous. But it's a damned good thing.

2010 Leadville Winter Series #2

2010-02-21T22:01:00.002-07:00

My camera was set on the wrong setting, but it looks like I was trying to do something arty with this shot from the balcony. You decide, screw-up or art.

The race thumped me good and hard. I did not win. I did not vomit. Somewhere between those two.

Always fun to be part of these races.

Tour de Palm Spring 2010

2010-02-13T19:30:00.003-07:00

I've done this thing a bunch of times. It used to be kind of a "normal" century ride. Now it's 10,000 rolling bikes. It's an amazing number of riders.

After all the riding I did in the 10 days leading up to this year's tour, I was quite mortal. I finished in a little under 7 hours.

Art Smith Trail

2010-02-12T19:30:00.002-07:00

I wasn't necessarily planning to ride my mountain bike two days during my visit to my folks. I was going to probably take the day to rest up a bit, hang with the 'rents, maybe buff up my road bike...

But yesterday's ride whetted my appetite. And furthermore, when I looked at the map I could see where Hopalong Cassidy intersects the Art Smith Trail (the plan for Friday). I had trouble following Hopalong that far--it ran into a new housing development. There was a sign that said the trail continued, but it looked like it could have gone any of a number of ways. And I was ready to turn around anyway. But I wanted to explore to see what things look like from Art Smith.

The trailhead was easy to find, I got rolling. More accurately, I should say I got pushing. The beginning of this ride had me thinking I had made an unfortunate choice. Some was rideable, but much elevation was being gained in a compressed area.

Then, just past where I met the intersection with Hopalong Cassidy (yes!) things started to level off. And then it became kind of spectacular:

Nice ride. Really nice ride. For lots of it, there was no way to tell that a big urban area was just right nearby.

Looping: a guy could start down at the bottom of Art Smith, ride it to where it hits highway 111, ride along the highway for what looks like a mile or less, then climb back up Hopalong to the intersection with Art, back down to the starting line.

Nice find. Hope I get a chance to do this again soon.

Hopalong Cassidy Trail

2010-02-11T19:30:00.000-07:00

My folks are snowbirds who spend their winters in the Coachella Valley Sprawl-o-plex. It's pretty much a classic southern California suburban landscape, but it's surrounded by lots of interesting natural landscapes. The San Jacinto Mountains loom above the valley to the west. Joshua Tree National Park is pretty close to the north.

I had heard that there were some good mountain biking trails, but after many years of visiting my parents there, I had never found one that I thought was worth going to back to see again.

My dad gave me a guidebook for cycling routes in the Palm Springs area last year. I cracked the book open Thursday morning, picked a promising-looking trail, and then used mapquest to figure out how to get to the trailhead.

Guess what? It was pretty damned good:

Lots of people up there, all of them on foot. I saw exactly zero other mountain bikers. But that's OK, there isn't anything wrong with walking. People seemed pretty OK with the idea that I was riding, though some were kind of incredulous.

The best news about this trail, I now know how to use it to make a nice fat loop with the ride that I did Friday.

Soft landing at Sweetwater

2010-02-09T19:30:00.004-07:00

The morning after the Ripsey ride I woke up feeling like I'd been beaten with a garden hose full of sand. Gary and I had ridden four days in a row, and all four riding days were either long or anaerobic or both--at least for me and my mid-winter fitness. Then on the fifth day we did Ripsey.

At the end of the Ripsey day I had crawled into my sleeping bag shivering and with a belly bulging with food. It took me a while to fall asleep with my heart beating fast. I woke up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth and with a full bladder.

In the morning I felt worked. Legs stiff and tired, eyes puffy, brain thick and foggy. We loaded up and rolled back down the Freeman Road, crossed back over the San Pedro River and hit highway 77 back toward Oracle.

On the way back south, I called AdventureLee because we had been talking about making another attempt to ride together Tuesday. Gary and I had already agreed that neither of us felt strong enough to do anything remotely epic, but we were into doing something light, and wanted Lee to be there if he could. He told me that he really had some important work that he could do, and the 2 hour round trip just for a short ride didn't seem like a great bargain. He told us to call and let him know what we decided to do, but that he'd probably stay home and work. Then he told me about a good restaurant in Oracle. I had eaten some cold cereal before we left, but a real hot breakfast sounded heavenly.

After breakfast we went to my friend Jake's house in Oro Valley. Jake and his wife Tracy live in Salida during the months when our weather is good, and Tucson when their weather is good. Doesn't that sound like a good idea?

I had brought Jake's singlespeed from Salida, and it had ridden on the rack on the back of the tPOD through two significant wet weather systems. I delivered the bike, and Gary and I accepted an invitation to stay for the night. Then we got in touch with Scott Morris and worked out a plan to go ride a fun place, Sweetwater, which is a Pima County resource designed by Mark Flint (yep, there's that name again).

Gary and I rode over there with Jake, met Scott, and had a blast. It was just about exactly as much as my legs had energy for. And it was really fun. The weather was sweet, but just like Saturday night, that didn't mean that there wasn't crappy weather on the way.

The Wednesday rain system made itself known at dawn. It wasn't raining exactly, but the sky was gray and the smell of rain was there. Gary talked to Scott, and he suggested that we could ride, Starr Pass being mentioned as a good idea. But I was feeling even more worked over than Tuesday morning. As most of us endurance ride junkies know, the morning after the morning after is when the real extent of one's tiredness and pain is felt. Riding, especially a ride that might be interrupted by a big 'ol rain storm, just didn't sound good to me.

My next destination was southern California to visit my parents and do a century ride on Saturday. I had promised them that I would be there by nightfall (5 hour drive from Tucson). Gary was going to head home as soon as we wrapped up our riding.

So that was that. Jake fed us one tasty waffle after another, then Gary headed out, east on I-10. I yakked with Jake for a few hours, then headed out, west on I-10. 25 miles out of Tucson I rode into torrential rain. It was the 3rd big, wet weather system I'd been subjected to in the last 7 days.

I made the folks place by dinnertime. Road Trip Part II began.

Big Adventure Out North

2010-02-08T19:30:00.007-07:00

As we at dinner at the picnic table in our campsite in Catalina State Park Sunday, Gary and I discussed strategy. Weather was our nemesis. We clearly had a blue chip weather day coming for Monday, and Tuesday also looked promising. Wednesday's weather was a question mark.

The ride that we had been planning to do with AdventureLee, the Ripsey Section of the Arizona Trail, was the must-do ride that neither of us wanted to miss on this visit to southern AZ. We were hoping to ride Tuesday with Lee, and ideally we would have gone together up to Kelvin, AZ that day. But Lee told me that he really couldn't afford the time to go all the way up there again.

We decided that we really should go up there and ride it. We should get up in the morning, load up our stuff, and then drive up there. We would ride the ride then camp where we finish. We figured that we would drive up to Kelvin, where we were going to meet Lee, and do the loop he was going to lead us around.

Lee was going to send us the GPX for that loop. And I also had a GPS track from the AES site for the Antelope Peak Challenge, where a new option for the 2010 ride went north from Antelope Peak to the Ripsey Section, then looped back using the Florence-Kelvin Highway, a graded gravel road. Chad called me that night and I told him what we had planned. When I asked him how we should do the ride, he said we should just go out to Antelope Peak on the Freeman Road and do the ride as a lollipop just as the APC had done in January. So in the morning, that was the idea I pitched to Gary.

We stopped at the Catalina, AZ library on our way north, got some GPX info, looked at Mapquest to see how we wanted to get up there, and then got going. Chad had recommended that we just take the Willow Springs Road north to the Freeman Road, but we saw that following highway 77 north to a place called Dudleyville could get up pretty close on pavement, then we could pick up the Freeman Road and head west to Antelope Peak. We stopped in Oracle, AZ to drop off Valentine's Day cards for our sweeties at the postoffice.

It was a pretty short drive to Dudleyville, and when we got close we started slowing down for each possible left turn to look for a sign saying "Freeman Road". Lots of the intersections were not marked, and none were what we wanted, so after we started leaving Dudleyville behind, we went back to the only gas station/convenience store there to ask directions.

Inside there was only one employee, a woman probably in her mid-3o's. I asked her if she could tell me how to get to the Freeman Road. Her eyebrows went up and her expression became strained. She blew out a deep breath and said something like, "Oh boy, I don't know exactly what to tell you. This is going to be kinda hard."

"You don't know where it is?" I asked.

"Well, it's hard to find, and they're trying to close it. It's them conservationists. They want to close it down to us. Guess there's some kind of bird up there."

"But there are people up there all the time, ranchers and gas line workers, aren't there?" I asked.

"Well yeah, there's people that live up there, and they probably don't want you up there either. Be careful if you go, you might find stuff in the road."

I pictured things like sharpened rebar. "So there might be pieces of metal or something?" I asked.

"Or road closed signs." She said knowingly.

"Well, I think we'll take our chances if you'll tell us how to find it."

She blew out another breath and then gave us directions, turn at the old crusher, cross the San Pedro River (about a foot deep, no bridge) then follow the railroad tracks...

We headed out, saw a road crew working across the river from our crossing, and Gary got some more complete directions from them. And we were on our way.

The conversation with the woman at the convenience store was a bit of amusement, but in retrospect I regret not following Chad's advice. I think it would have been a more direct way to just get there without all the farting around.

We drove south on the side road that goes to the foot of Antelope Peak and found a place to car camp. Then we set about starting on our journey. We had burned a fair amount of the day. It was getting close to noon. Chad had said the lollipop was a 7 hour trip. And those are 7 Chad hours. Gary is faster than I am, but he would probably be forced by good manners to take as long as I would take to finish. And that would most likely be more than 7 hours, assuming no mechanicals or vomiting from too much exertion.

Basically, it was pretty much a sure thing that we would finish in darkness. We attached lights. I looked for my Oakley M-Frame clear lenses. I have prescription lenses. As I like to tell people "I don't really need these glasses. Unless I want to be able to see." I looked and looked. I started looking in places where I had already looked. After half a week of living out of the truck, things were a little cluttered. I burned too much time looking for the damn things, and finally took a spare set of regular inside glasses I keep in the truck that stay on my face fairly well. Food, warm clothes, plenty of water. I had some trouble getting my hydration pack to zip closed.

At something like 12:30 we rolled. Gary had his GPS bar mounted (my bar mount sucks a$$ so my GPS was in a backpack side pocket). Gary was new to GPS navigation, so this was a pretty good exercise for him.

I've ridden the Boulders section of the AZT several times. It's fun and flowy, and it rolls out into desert that is more and more remote. The Freeman Road travels through some pretty remote country, but once you head north from there you're really getting out into it.

Very soon, the feeling of being rushed to get going passed and we were just out there. Yep, it was going to get dark before we finished. We had enough food, clothing, etc. Might as well stop and take some pictures.

My camera, did I pack it in the stuffed "no room for anything more" backpack?? I looked. Nope. All the pictures would have to come from Gary's camera.

We progressed through the Boulders section, past the namesake boulders, then beyond any of this AZT section I had ever seen. New frontier. There were a couple sections of powerline service road, with the standard man-eater erosion ruts and v-bottom crossings. Then there were some sections of singletrack that were completely faint, mixed in with cowpaths. I told Gary, in some of those places I think trailbuilding was really just a process of gathering rocks to stack into cairns. The recent rainfall had obliterated most of any tracks other than a horseback rider. Gary and I made note of this, and both wanted to be through this bit before it got dark enough to make route-finding tough. Turns out that we did do that, make it past this area while there was still ambient light, but just barely.

At some point we passed a sign that said "Ripsey Hill Section of the Arizona Trail". As we continued, things got pretty damned cool. There was so much. The single word that I think both of us agreed summed it up: spectacular. I'll let the pictures tell some of this:

We dropped off the high ridge down a series of tight switchbacks. It was really an elevator ride down. Then the trail dumped us out onto a jeep road. We gave up another couple hundred feet of elevation and then arrived at the intersection with the Florence-Kelvin Highway. If there had been more time, it might have been fun to go check out the Gila River just a little way down the road to the north. But we were burning daylight, and it was time to make the return.

From here, the GPX file became more than valuable. We used Gary's GPS to find the right turn off the dirt road onto a doubletrack, and we used it actually to select the correct doubletrack of the two that branched off from that turn. There were countless forks in the doubletrack after that, and we were not on the AZT so there was no expectation of signage. When we did rejoin the AZT, we encountered forks that were not signed as well. Some we remembered because by then we were tracing our track back. But some were a mystery. A map would not have been helpful. There was simply too much detail, and it would have taken too much map-reading time.

The sun went below the horizon about the time that we got back onto the AZT and our outbound route. The sky was beautiful, but we were both anxious to get past the hard-to-follow sections while we were still in twilight.

By the time full darkness fell, we were pretty much back to singletrack AZT. Now it was just time to plug away at the miles to get back to camp where we could eat and go to sleep.

The Boulders section just feels really flowy on your way to the north from the Freeman Road. And that's because it's just slightly downhill all the way. On the way back to the Freeman Road, it's slightly uphill all the way. That's just how this stuff works.

Our starting point was actually the highest point on the whole ride, as you can see from the elevation profile:

It seemed like it took forever. My legs were really getting tired. I love night riding, but it's a lot more fun when you aren't feeling trashed.

But we got done. And we ate food, and with almost no conversation or sitting around, we went off to sleep.

Stats

53.25 miles

A little over 7 hours moving time

A little over 8.5 hours elapsed time

Total Climbing: 6643 ft (is that all?!?)

Sunday Brings a Change

2010-02-07T19:30:00.000-07:00

Saturday afternoon and evening treated us with classic southern Arizona fair winter weather. The air was calm and warm but not hot. There were some high clouds, but nothing that looked threatening in the least. I wore shorts and sandals even as darkness slowly settled on the desert.

We had been watching an NWS forecast for rain showers Sunday since before we left home. But we simply could not believe that it would happen. After dinner I spoke to AdventureLee and confirmed plans to meet him along the Florence-Kelvin Highway near the Gila River around 8 AM in the morning. We all agreed that rain seemed unlikely. Gary and I set alarms and went to sleep assuming that we would get up, break camp, and go have an adventure in the remote desert way north of Tucson.

Between 4 and 5 AM rain suddenly started hammering on the roof of the tPOD. I stayed in bed until my alarm went off but didn't really sleep, it was too loud. After my alarm went off I went looking for Gary. He was up, making coffee on the tailgate of his little Toyota pickup, bustling about in a rain jacket.

I called Lee who was way out north, 30 miles down a dirt road. We agreed quickly that our large planned ride was not a good idea for that Sunday. I invited Gary into the camper and we sat drinking coffee for a while, then decided to head out to find a coffee shop, hopefully with WiFi, to get some breakfast and information.

We broke camp and headed east into Tucson. It was early, and we flailed around for a while trying to find a place to go. Finally we found a restaurant in Oro Valley, north and west of Tucson proper. Turned out it did not have WiFi (what?!?), so we ordered a hot breakfast and then made our way to a library. We did not expect to find it open, but hoped it wouldn't be long. Libraries are a great place for a traveler to hang out when there's down time. Turned out that the only Pima County libraries that would open on Sunday opened at 1 PM. We learned this by accessing the network from the parking lot. We also reviewed the most up-to-date forecast, which said that Monday should be fine but that Wednesday could be another rain day. Damn!

After a while, we started wandering around in the very light rain and saw that west of us there was a break in the clouds. Blue sky. And as time went by, it seemed to be getting closer. Maybe we would get to ride. I was thinking about where to camp when the ground is really wet. Out on State Trust Land somewhere in the remote desert seemed a bit risky, since we could have trouble with roads and could have trouble finding a spot that wasn't a mud bog. Catalina State Park seemed like a really prudent choice since you don't need to leave pavement to get to a camp site, the 50 Year Trail heads right out of the park, and there are amenities like showers. A shower sounded really good. And Catalina State Park is just a really nice place, and not expensive either.

As we discussed this, the rain stopped altogether. So we decided not to waste any time and just get on with it.

We got in there, got a nice site, and started kitting up for a ride. We looked at the map they gave us and saw the option to take the Sutherland Trail back to the park rather than a simple out-and-back on 50 Year. I had seen the option before, but never had ridden that trail. So we decided to take that option on our return if it worked out.

At the start, I looked off to the west and saw a dark cloud headed our way. The rain started again just as soon as we started climbing out of the park on 50 Year. It's pretty sandy, so the trail condition wasn't a problem for the most part, but my wool jersey was quickly getting soaked. I grumbled, than stopped to put on my jacket. When I stopped, I noticed that the landscape had been made dramatically beautiful by the rain and mixed light of a localized rain squall.

I did not take many pictures on the Arizona Trail near Colossal Cave because I have photographed it so many times before. Some of the photos I included were actually archive photos from years past. And I didn't take many in the Tucson Mountains because I was busy. But I took quite a few on this ride. Check 'em:

The Sutherland Trail option turned out to be quite a bit more interesting than I had expected. It started with a pretty long, steep climb on bowling balls. Reminded me of home ;)

When we encountered the singletrack, we found a very technical, very interesting trail. The huge sweeping views were amazing.

Even though I've ridden 50 Year quite a few times in the past, and I wanted to see new and interesting trails on this visit to AZ, I found Sunday's ride to be fresh, challenging, and quite interesting. And as Gary pointed out, it was a bonus. We woke up in the morning assuming that we would have to wait out the rain all day, but we wound up getting a really good ride in.

And then we got showers.

Tucson Mountain Park and Brown Mountain

2010-02-06T19:30:00.003-07:00

After we thoroughly examined the Arizona Trail both north and south of Colossal Cave Park east of Tucson, we headed west. We had a map and we had a couple trails that we wanted to ride: Brown Mountain and Golden Gate.

We got a campsite at Gilbert Ray Campground just west of Gates Pass. Then we ate some lunch and went about finding Brown Mountain.

It wasn't far, but right away we found signage to be spotty. After just one or two wrong turns, we found what certainly seemed to be the Brown Mountain Trail. We traversed along the base of a rocky ridge, encountering lots of technical features and tight switchbacks. Then we reached the end of the ridge, and the trail went up and up. It was the warmest day of our trip so far, and I broke a true and enthusiastic sweat.

It was up and down, and it was technical.

Truly beautiful trail.

Which reminded me of my pretty little Kathy, who couldn't come with me on this trip because of the limits of her vacation time.

Here is Gary on a rare smooth bit.

The conclusion of the Brown Mountain loop took us pretty much back to Gilbert Ray. So from there we headed south, seeking the Golden Gate Trail. There are a combination of singletrack and doubletrack links that we used to get south. We took the Campground Trail to the Sego Trail to the Gates Pass Trail to the Mariposa Trail to the Avery Bryce Trail to the Kerr Jar Trail to the Golden Gate Trail. Or at least that's what we assumed, because non of them had signs. We just went by what it looked like our map was showing us. And for the most part it made sense.

Then we climbed up what we assume was Golden Gate. And it was really nice. It was a fairly gradual climb with the occasional technical feature--a climbing ledge or narrow rock gap. Then it seemed to just go back out to the Gates Pass Road. There was an option that went right, in the direction we assumed we needed to go, but it looked like a faint hiking trail.

We opted to bag it and try to find the Orcut Trail. By our map it looked like this could be accomplished either by riding right down the Gates Pass Road or by taking the Ironwood Trail to the Chaparral Trail. There was a sign for Ironwood, and we took the trail behind the sign. But then it got confusing. There were branches and braids and intersections appearing constantly. Some were marked with cairns. We tried to stick with what looked like the "main trail" but it was hard to tell most of the time.

Eventually we just looked for trails that seemed to be going out to the road. We took a couple that seemed to go the right way, then turned to go either back where we came from or in the other direction. I think it's just too easy to make a trail in that environment. You really don't need any tools, you just start riding something.

But of course, it all worked out. We got out to the road, we found the start of the Orcut Trail, and we were on our way. Orcut had some moments. There were parts of it that were doubletrack, but even some of that was technical enough to be fun.

Verdict on Tucson Mountain Park:

It's incredibly beautiful.
You need a guide or something better than the crappy map we printed out at the library from the internet.
I want to see the portion to the southeast, Starr Pass and all that.

But tomorrow, elsewhere. We had plans to meet up with AdventureLee way up north to see a remote and rare section of the AZT. Alarms were set for O Dark Thirty.

AZT south toward the Santa Ritas

2010-02-05T19:30:00.000-07:00

In the morning I suggested that we ride the AZT south out of Colossal Cave past I-10 and as far as we could. Lots of good singletrack has been built out that way in the last couple years, and Gary is an AZT enthusiast, so he was all for it.

I'll just let pictures talk:

Here are some that I took many years ago from inside Colossal Cave:

It was an excellent Day 2. But I was ready to see some Tucson riding I'd never seen before. So that was next on the agenda. Tucson Mountain Park.

Pilgrimage Begins

2010-02-04T19:30:00.003-07:00

Over the years I have taken many mid-winter road trips to the south and the west to satisfy my cravings: Singletrack, cactus, mexican food, sunsets and warmth! Often, actually very often, weather puts up obstacles to my pilgrimage.

My schedule was suitably clear of commitments to allow me to leave Tuesday, February 2. But Mother Nature, as interpreted by the National Weather Service, told me not to bother showing up until Thursday since she was planning to pour water all over Pima County on Wednesday.

So I left Wednesday morning. The weather that was working overtime in Tucson smacked me in the face right on the south side of Española, NM. I was in heavy snow on very slick roads as I climbed past the opera toward Santa Fe. The wintery weather was hardcore until I got about halfway between Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Past there it was rain. Just rain. Buckets of rain.

I had planned to pull off somewhere near Deming, NM to pop up the tPOD and sleep. Everyplace I looked off the road, I saw mud. I didn't want to wake up stuck, and wondered if the sound of hard rain drumming on the camper would be very restful. So I got dinner at Irma's in Deming and then I was back onto I-10 to drive into the evening with my wipers running the whole time.

I finally drove more or less out of the rain as I neared Tucson. I went up onto Pistol Hill and found a fairly quiet place to crash in the tPOD.

I woke up in a moist desert under clear skies on Thursday morning. My travelling companion Gary from Del Norte, CO, was due to arrive in Tucson a bit after lunchtime. So I decided to suit up and take a ride. I went on into Colossal Cave Park to get a camp spot. Then I suited up and headed north out of La Sevilla to Rincon Creek. That section is about 8 miles long, and it's just fun. Fast and swoopy, with lots of stickery cactus and scrubby trees to keep you honest.

Smooth and fast singletrack

One of many beautiful Mark Flint turns

After I rode it, I ate some lunch, met Gary, and rode it again with him.

Ah yes, the journey has begun to bear fruit.

2010 Leadville Winter Series #1

2010-01-27T13:54:00.003-07:00

Went up with Shawn to roll around in the snow this past Saturday, trying to avoid vomiting. (I know, it's kind of ancient history now that days have past).

But now I have pictures! First, a falling down action set:

What is that, some ice under there?

Hmm, yep, I think that was ice.

It was a good time. Lots of fresh, fluffy snow on top of everything. It was tough going, but it's always fun to hang out with those Leadville peeps.

First 2010 visit to Lake Pueblo State Park

2010-01-13T07:23:00.009-07:00

In winter, a Colorado mountain biker craving a singlestrack fix can visit a state park on the southwest side of Pueblo and almost always find it dry. And it's fun there.

Yesterday I headed down there primarily because I needed to do some things that are not available in Salida. I had planned a bike ride into the trip.

I got up yesterday morning and looked at my email, as is my habit. There it was, a reminder that I had a meeting at 3:30 back here in Salida. Dang! I considered re-scheduling, then decided that there was one time-consuming task that could happen some other time, and that I could make it work even with a bike ride, though it might have to be time-limited. But making that happen meant leaving the house earlier than I'd planned. Like, as soon as I could get going.

So I hurriedly got my stuff, loaded the singlespeed, started up the cold, cold truck (it's been plus or minus 0° F every morning since Christmas) and rolled east on highway 50 down the Arkansas River canyon.

I got stuff done quickly and methodically, and then made my way to the trailhead.

By my calculations, I had about two hours to ride before I needed to head back. The weather was idyllic. Not a breath of wind. Not a cloud. Right around 60° F. Ah, lovely. I looked at the trail snaking off into the canyons and had a giddy little flutter in my heart. Other riders were embarking.

I put my bike together. "OK, need to do the parking lot superman routine. There are my shorts. Oh yes, I should have the sidis handy so I can step right into them. Wait, my shoes? Did I bring them?"

The reality washed over me. I never put them in the truck. In my rush to leave the house, I left probably the most necessary part of my riding kit. I could ride with whatever shirt I was wearing, and even could ride with my carhartts. Gloves, sunglasses, not necessary. Helmet is pretty damned important.

But shoes are a show-stopper.

I gazed sadly out at the singletrack, a rider happily rolling down a gradual hill at the beginning of his ride. I kept my temper in check. For a long minute I stood looking out there. Then I decided to just make the best of it. I put my bike away, locked the truck, and strode off down the trail. I took a walk.

Sometimes the day just doesn't go the way you want. Sanity comes from learning how to deal.

We don't need no Steenking Thule Racks

2010-01-08T07:13:00.004-07:00

Think you need a fancy rack for your light, tiny mountain bike, think again.

This photo courtesy of my friend Wes (click it for the big size).

His email read:

My cousin snapped this pic while traveling through the panhandle

We have much to learn from our friends to the south.

Summer memory

2010-01-06T08:07:00.002-07:00

I was trolling through my photos yesterday looking for some images for a project when I stumbled across this one from a post last summer:

It was an early morning shot taken while descending the Silver Creek Trail with Lee Blackwell.

As I ride around dodging patches of glare ice here in central Colorado, this image takes me to a warmer, greener place.

Tarmac Daddy, Daddy Tarmac

2010-01-04T07:14:00.004-07:00

I struggled, but now I have relented. As often happens this time of year, I have begun to enjoy road riding.

I put on warm stuff and I try to choose the warmest time of the day. Sometimes, like yesterday, it seems as if it will never warm up enough to be enjoyable. Then I go outside for something mid-afternoon and discover that, yes, even though the thermometer shows a temperature south of 30° F, the sun and still air make it feel fine for a ride.

My Roubaix

Yesterday I scrambled, leaving the house at 3:40 PM to do a 1+ hour loop. The sun sets around 4:30 here since we have such a formidable ridge of mountains to the southwest. And when the sun sets, things start getting really cold right quick-like. I rode like a crazed wildebeest. Got back about 10 minutes after sunset, feet numb with cold. But I had a good ride.

I've had my red Roubaix for two and a half years now. It's the perfect road bike for me. Nice mix of performance and comfort/stability. It has a SRAM Rival group. It's a good solid group; very good value. Like all SRAM drivetrain gear, the shifts are direct and the shifters feel like high-quality, robust equipment. But I don't think I'll ever really like the idea of double-tap. Since you have to push the trigger harder past the click for an upshift to get a downshift, every once in a while when I'm going for a downshift and don't give it enough shove, or if my finger slips, I get an upshift.

But I don't race. I don't even ride it much other than in winter.

Also the cranks have too narrow a q-factor for me by far. I have pedal extenders on them, which are steel and quite heavy.

I sometimes consider getting a new set of 105 or Ultegra cranks for it, or even getting a whole 105 group.

But I don't race road! And I don't use it much other than in winter!

Ah but it's good to be enjoying the smooth, quiet serenity of riding through crisp, clear winter air. And I'm arresting my slide into sloth and obesity.

Now, what time is it? Does the thermometer read 25° F yet?

2009 is being dropped, Purvis ATTACKS!!

2010-01-01T18:00:00.002-07:00

The new year finds me OK. For me, 2009 was medium. Strikes and Gutters. But lots of really good stuff.

There were some really good things, like finishing the Vapor Trail 125, and seeing my silly little business (ArkansasValley.Net) make as much in one year as in the combined six prior years it's been in existence. And Salida Mountain Trails had a great year. We built more than two miles of new singletrack since last January.

And of course spending the whole year with Kathy, my pretty little sweetie.

The not so good stuff? Well it's bound to happen. Might as well figure out how to deal. I'm turning 46 this month, and I'm still learning.

Today I rode as long as I have in a while. It was around 30° F and sunny. A bit breezy, but not too bad. I bundled up and took to the pavement. I decided to take a self-portrait in the Kerkovian tradition, as practiced by the master:

The legend, Jeff Kerkove, in a characteristic self-portrait

Then there's yours truly, the goober of Chaffee County:

My kerkovian portrait just does not have the same pop. Gotta work on this. And geez, wipe yer nose for Christ sake.

It really was a pretty day. I think 2010 might just work out to be pretty decent. We make our own good fortune, and disasters are disasters when we allow them to take on that role.

Good luck to everyone out there. Hope you all find the goods.

Back toward the lighter side

2009-12-22T07:07:00.003-07:00

Today the northern hemisphere stops getting shorter days and longer nights, and moves in the other direction.

I always note the passing of the winter solstice with approval. The dark part of the year isn't good for me. And this year autumn came with some really wintery weather.

Yeah, we have several dark months ahead, but it's only up from here.

I haven't posted for a while. Generally I don't post when I'm bitchy. Kathy and I did get back from an Arizona trip Sunday night.

Kathy riding on some signature Mark Flint singletrack on the AZ Trail in the Rincons

It was a good trip. Kathy had not really seen southern AZ, and we spent most of the time just out away from things, charging the tPOD battery off the generator and eating out of the cooler.

The change of scenery was helpful. The passing of the solstice is helpful. The planet's wobble up is done for this year. Let the wobble down begin.

Me too.

2009-12-01T11:01:00.006-07:00

It's all the rage. I can download free software and type with the best of them. Here's my contribution to the world's dumb-ass video humor:

Sovereign Smackdown - The Rest of the Story

2009-11-23T15:48:00.004-07:00

In the warm, safe space in front of my computer I downloaded the tracks from my GPS and had a chance to try to figure out what the H-E-Double Toothpicks was going on Friday on the Sovereign Trail when I had a conniption fit trying to follow the Rim Ride Moab track.

Here's the deal:

The green line is the track from Rim Ride Moab '07 that I was following. The red line is my tracklog from the ride Friday.

The arrow at the bottom points to the place where I briefly left the track rather than following a wash that did not seem to have a trail in it. I think there must have been a re-route. And it was a good one. A bit more distance, but I remember liking that bit of trail.

The other arrow points to where I stopped and turned around, and where I had probably come to within about 100 yards of joining back onto the track having taken a climbier and more difficult link (Link 5 it looks like from my photo).

Point is, I was damned close to already back on track (literally and figuratively). I was actually on something of a shortcut. But almost there. And furthermore, I was probably closer to finishing out the Sovereign to 191 by following the track I had been following than I was turning around and going back to 191 the way I came. If not closer sticking with Plan A, the options were at least close to even money.

What can you say? Sometimes perception is reality (well, it always is actually). I perceived that I was getting hopelessly lost and facing the danger of spending the night out there, and my anxiety caused me to take the safe route, so I turned back. Five more minutes and I would have been back on the track I was following and breathing easy.

Ah well. So many chances to gain wisdom in this life. So few actually work out that way.

Koko Catalog

2009-11-23T07:29:00.003-07:00

For Sunday I decided to just go ride some known killer singletrack, not exploring just having fun while always knowing where I was and what was ahead. I went to the Loma Exit Trailhead to ride what I call the Mack Ridge Trails, but most know as the Kokopelli's Trailhead.

For the first time I rode Rustlers, just to see it from a trail system designer's standpoint. What a cool resource!

Then it was off to ride from Mary's to Horsethief, then Steve's to Lion's Loop to Troy Built to Mack Ridge...

Images (click on these if you have a big resolution display and want to see them in the full bigness that doesn't show on Team Velveeta™):

From Horsethief Bench

Another from Horsethief

Down onto Steves from the last big of Steves up on the bench

The big picture from Lion's loop looking back toward Mary's and upriver

When I finished up Troy Built I was suitably tired, and time was getting late since I wanted to drive home that night. So I just took the frontage road back to the TH.

Those trails are my favorite of Fruita. I don't really get tired of them. 18 Road is fun, but not near as pretty, and not as techical and complex.

Good trip. Roughly 200 miles of dirt in 4 days of riding. Tired legs, but a good departure from the rapidly closing winter in Salida.

Dirty Onion

2009-11-22T10:02:00.001-07:00

I camped at the Onion Creek Campground, less than a mile south from highway 128 about half way to Cisco from Moab.

In the morning I wanted a ride, but a truly mellow ride. The Onion Creek road goes up to Fisher Valley, and it looked to be graded gravel all the way up. No complicated route-finding. No anaerobic short climbs. Sounded like a deal. And I'd never explored the Castle Valley area, so it seemed like a good fit.

I'll just let this series of panorama shots tell the story. Other than one thing: this is a good ride to take somebody else's bike on. You cross Onion Creek 22 times, only once on a bridge. I've heard that it's called Onion Creek because it's so laced with salts and arsenic that it tastes more or less like an onion. Up near the entry to the Fisher Valley, it smells like sulfur, not so much below.

But all those shallow crossings and then the sandy exits spraying wet sand onto the drivetrain make a sloppy mess of grinding paste. My bike was a fugly mess when I finished.

Now, on to the photos:

I came to just the verge of the Fisher Valley. It's the flat platform visible in the middle left.

Parting shot of the Castle Valley as I headed back toward Colorado with my dirty bike loaded up to travel

Sovereign Smackdown

2009-11-21T09:59:00.001-07:00

Friday, the day after my WRIAD, which had me on the bike for just shy of 12 hours, much of that time operating at a fairly non-casual pace, I broke camp in the Green River Canyon and drove into Moab. I went to the library primarily to check on a web application I wrote that went into production this month. There had been some fairly major SNAFUs, so I needed to be sure that my customers were not twisting in the wind with another showstopper, wondering why I wasn't answering email.

There were no issues (woo hoo!) so I took a moment to upload my WRIAD photos and post them to Team Velveeta™. Then I ate some lunch and headed to the intersection of 191 and 128 to embark on a Sovereign ride. I had the track log from the Rim Ride Moab loaded on my GPS, and I wanted to ride it on my own without flagging to try to learn a bit more about the layout of Sovereign. During the two trips out there for the Rim Ride, I had just followed flags and other riders without putting much effort into knowing where the hell I was. The other time I rode there, Kathy and I just did a simple out and back following signs. Fun, but not much learning about where to go and how to do a nice big loop out there.

I rode from Moab starting at noon, thinking of a maybe 3 hour ride. I was intending to keep it light. I rode from town largely to have a nice spin to warm up my tired legs before hitting the technical singletrack. It took me a bit under an hour to get to the start of the Bar-M loop. Nice cool day.

From there I started following the GPS. It was a bit disruptive, since there are lots of intersections out there. But it was working well. I saw where I was going without issue, making some surprising and non-intuitive turns.

I got across the big wash and started on the real Sovereign. It was good, but lots of anaerobic efforts that made my legs complain. Such a cool trail--lots of challenging but do-able up ledges, technical drops, great flow.

My GPS was becoming a fairly critical tool. It's a bit of a maze out there. And I was starting to worry about time a little. It was getting close to 3:00 PM and this time of year the danged sunset is around 4:30. Ambient light stays for another hour, but still, I was getting close to the time I had intended to be out there. Also I wanted to be able to find a decent campsite out toward the Castle Valley with at least a bit of light left. And most importantly I hadn't really packed clothing, food, or lights that would allow me to be out there past dark when with hope of getting myself out. The temps drop rapidly after dark, and it was only about 50Â° F to start with.

Then I came to an intersection. I consulted the GPS, and it showed that I was off the course. Not by much, but off. I backtracked and found that it appeared I should be following a was down. But it was fairly overgrown, and did not look like it had been ridden, maybe ever. Harumph. My track was from the '07 Rim Ride, so I considered that perhaps the trail had been rerouted. I went back to the intersection and took the fork that headed in the general direction that my track line went. Before long, it appeared that I was back on the line, but it took several disruptive stops to confirm that.

Shortly I came to another intersection. I referred to the GPS and it looked like I should go left rather than continuing straight. This made sense too because the straight option appeared to take me right back toward town and I knew that I needed to head farther north. So I took the fork. The following pictures were the only ones I took, and they came from that intersection.

After about 15 minutes I looked at the GPS and I was off the line. Way off. I seemed to be heading left of where the line went. But it was confusing. I did not have much perspective. I was trying to zoom the map in and out, and suddenly my GPS rebooted itself. Grrr!

No real choice but to backtrack. It took longer than I remembered to get back to that intersection, and I saw at least one place that looked to me to be exactly where the intersection was, but no intersection. I started not having fun. Then I came to the intersection where I went wrong, and the GPS was no longer showing my track except for the backtrack. When it rebooted it seemed to have shit the bed in terms of giving me my breadcrumb line back. My temper spiked. Now it was almost 3:30. I looked west toward highway 191, and got into touch with how panicked, disoriented people could commit the worst possible desert country mistake, heading cross country toward where you know you want to be.

I started hurriedly backtracking from memory. The GPS stayed in the backpack pocket. I didn't waste time. I was not smiling. I felt tired and wanted to be back to the tPOD.

It took actually very little time to get back to the big wash. I had been mostly climbing outbound, so I was able to rock along pretty fast back out. Then I got back out to the old highway that parallels 191. I had about 20 minutes of flat to get to the long downhill back into town.

I got back into Moab at about 4:30. Bummer that the ride turned into a bummer. And I was tired. Not what I wanted for a recovery day. I called Kathy and then headed upriver on 128 to find my campsite.

The day ended well. I got a good, private place to set up the tPOD and got a good dinner and good night's sleep.

WRIAD Nov 19, 2009

2009-11-20T10:28:00.003-07:00

Vision quest.

I camped (in the tPOD) near the bottom of Horsethief Bench. Got started at about 5:30 AM under a clear starry sky, frost on the rocks and sage. I was going clockwise, so I started out climbing Horsethief and then the long grind up the Mineral Bottom Road. I got to highway 313 around 7:45 AM. Dropped in to Shaffer about half an hour later. The view down toward the Rim in the early light was spectacular.

Once I got to about Musselman Arch, I was more or less committed. No easy way back to the camper, either by continuing on or turning back. And it was mostly deserted on the Rim. Saw one pair of dudes driving back toward Shaffer with bikes on their truck, and a Park Ranger patrolling on his bicycle between Gooseberry and White Crack. From there I was solitary until I saw some goobers on 4-wheelers (AKA Lawn Tractors) just before returning to near the bottom of Horsethief.

The thing I dislike about my Osprey T22 is that I don't seem to be ever able to wear it without it bulging with volume and heavy. I had extra water, and of course all the clothing I needed to start out in 28° F temps. And food... in short I needed to have lots of stuff to be out there. One major mechanical and I might need to spend the night out there walking. But needless to say I got tired of that pack.

Here's where I had my lunch burrito. First glimpse of the Green River (upper left) which I must say I was happy to see.

Finally a shot of pack and bike with Green River in background taken from Hardscrabble. I was worked by this point, and considering with obsessive focus the full description of what I would eat when I returned to camp.

Finished up at about 5:25 PM. I was pushing hard through the gathering cold and darkness. Just avoided needing to stop to put on clear glasses and more clothing.

The food tasted good.

Hunting is Hard

2009-11-12T20:03:00.002-07:00

I got an elk tag for the 4th autumn in a row. Nice reminder of how damned hard it is to hunt without horses or other helpers.

My tag was for the Saguache/Bonanza area southwest of Salida. I chose the Cochetopa Hills over by North Pass--farthest place in the game area from the Front Range.

It's really pretty over there but I got skunked. Again. All I left were footprints, all I took were photos. All I came home with was a body sore from walking.

Pretty little park up near 10K elevation ringed by bare aspen

Dawn in the Cochetopa Hills, as seen from my feet after getting an early start

Looking east from up high in the late afternoon twilight, the Sangre de Cristo faintly visible on the far horizon

The sad fact I came home with is that I really don't know much about hunting big game. I kind of think I'm like a flycaster throwing dries in the winter--too ignorant to know how futile my efforts even are.

Oh well, nice hikes in the mountains. Lots of looking and listening.

Fruitah Getaway

2009-11-09T19:59:00.002-07:00

Finally found an available weekend with acceptable weather to scoot over to the Utah border to sample some red sand.

Visiting the desert country feeds me.

The girl riding a rim.

Single photo taken from an on-the-way home ride on Mary's Loop

Pueblo State Park sanctuary

2009-11-05T19:51:00.003-07:00

Took a weekday to just go ride where there wouldn't be any snow or ice. The curvy trails at Pueblo Lake State Park.

Went with Brendan, and we both rode singlespeeds, throttle at about 90% for about 4 hours. We went to ride and that's what we did.

Shivery Shake-out

2009-10-27T08:31:00.005-07:00

I've been kitting up and planning for bikepacking for a while now--roughly since I ordered my Hunter Cycles frame and fork way back in July of 2008. What's that 15 months? Good grief.

Better late than never, but colder late than never in this case. My bud Brendan and I had been talking about doing a shake-out trip for both of us to try out new gear since really late summer. Maybe longer. We waited out all the decent weather, then when some clear weather following a little winter blast last week came through on Friday, we did it.

Of course it took me all damned day between disorganization and distraction to load the stuff onto the damned bike and leave. We actually finally rolled up Ute Trail out of Salida starting at about 4:45 PM. We didn't want to just ride an hour until dark, we really wanted (for largely symbolic reasons) to cross west over the summit into the upper Badger Creek drainage near South Park and camp over there. So we wound up riding up and over on snowy, sometimes icy, often muddy doubletrack with lamps blazing.

Over there in the open snow on the ground was over 6 inches deep. Neither of us really wanted to make camp in that much snow. As we rode along in the dark, we saw some trees near the road where there was a little less snow. We plugged along in the dark and increasing cold until we saw a shadowy grove of pine trees back a bit further from the narrow doubletrack I took us up (lots of wide open over there and not so much wooded).

This is camp, morning after. We set up with headlamps in the dark, squatted in the crusty snow heating up some soup, then sacked out after 9.

Herring Park, mid-morning Saturday

Smarter people might have just said, yep, we spent a night shivering, rolling around on crunchy snow with barely adequate sleeping bags and, well, spotty knowledge after riding almost 20 miles into the night. Good for us. Now let's just go home and get warm.

Not us though, we decided to take a little tour of the Arkansas Hills. So we headed north into Herring Park, bound for Bassam Park.

You can see some mud on my rear bag. Let me tell you, it got muddier. The bluebird day sun warmed things up enough to really slop things out in some places.

Bassam Park between Salida and BV, but north and east, is big, remote, and beautiful. The back drop of the Sawatch Range with fresh snow was awesome.

As we headed back toward home, we first had to summit Aspen Ridge, taking on a 1,000 ft climb to 10,300 ft. This stretch on the north-facing side had not melted at all. But the climb to the summit was mostly climbable, at least where we didn't sink and slip in greasy half-frozen mud.

Aspen Ridge summit view to Sangre de Cristo range--fresh autumn snow gleams white

The way down off this summit was un-godly muddy. Our bikes and our selves got totally spattered and slathered. Grindey drivetrains. Clogging chainstays.

It was tough. But it served a purpose. I came home with many assertions about areas where I am under prepared. If we hadn't had gnarly conditions, we might have learned less. Of course we might have shivered less too, but what are you going to do? Colorado didn't give us much autumn this year. Winter has been too enthusiastic about showing up early.

We survived, we learned, and we wound up riding a 50-mile lollipop loop. It was an adventure.

Damn, but did that hot shower feel good when I got back into my nice, comfy house.

Bear Creek Color Tour

2009-10-09T15:02:00.004-06:00

So it's been chilly. And windy. Putting a finger outside this morning made me think about finding work to do around the house. But I have a big trailwork day scheduled tomorrow, and of course weather has been a dice roll...

So I rolled out late in the morning with plenty of clothing to ride the Bear Creek section of the Rainbow.

I didn't wind up needing any clothing other than the leg warmers and long-sleeved wool I wore from the house. It was nice. Crisp. There was wind, but it served mostly to swirl leaves around--aesthetically pleasing autumn sights and sounds.

There were some newly downed trees. This scraper was a thrilling surpise. STOP! I missed thumping into it by inches. In the foreground and you can see the skid on the trail.

Most of the gambel oak was already yucky brown or stripped, but this clump was still a lovely maroon with tinges of yellowy-green. Nice.

Good ride.

Whether weather makes me a wether

2009-10-08T19:23:00.000-06:00

Catchup post, with references to the spotty damned good weather during the time when the Rockies should be having idyllic fall weather. I used all three forms, the pronoun indicating a question of alternative possibilities, the damned weather, and a castrated goat.

Kathy and I decided at the drop of a hat late Saturday morning to shoot over to Fruita for a bit of desert riding, and to introduce her to the riding that is there. She had been hearing about it for years, and mostly about 18 Road. I had seen some dodgy reports about weather, but we both had complicated work weeks and just felt like a mini road trip. So we went.

Finding a spot to camp up on 18 Road on a Saturday late afternoon was a challenge, but we got one. We ate dinner than went for a ride. We lost the light after half an hour (darkness at 7:15!). I got her a riding lamp this late summer, but forgot to bring them. That's the kind of thing that happens when you decide to go then hurriedly get ready and leave after one hour of prep. Would have been a perfect evening for a night ride. Harrumph!

It rained on and off all night, and at dawn the sky looked gnarly and a wet wind was blowing. During a break between rain squalls, we suited up and rolled. Kessler run to the trailhead, up Prime Cut, across Frontside, down West Zippity, back to trailhead, back up Kessler. We rode for ~3 hours, then it started to sprinkle (and the wind had become fierce) as we ate lunch and loaded up.

Pano shot from top of Prime Cut, foreboding weather seen over CO National Monument in background

My plan was to camp us out at Rabbit Valley for the 2nd night, then ride the Mack Ridge trails Monday before heading home. We got back to Fruita, went to the CO Welcome Center (where you find some of the nicest people in Colorado) and looked at low gray clouds apparently hammering rain all over the western horizon. Rumor had it that Monday was going to dawn clear, but we had visions of a night spent listening to the wind making the camper's superstructure creak and groan. We decided to scrub the mission and bolt back to Salida being that we had time to get home before nightfall, expecting to drive in iffy weather (weather!).

We did not regret the trip, it was some good together time and we did get to break the routine. And we got in a really decent ride at 18 Road. But I really wanted her to see more of Fruita. And it would have been nice to be able to ride in shorts and short sleeves. Isn't that what you're supposed to do in Fruita in early October?!

Now all week it's been unsettled. Yes, I got in a killer singlespeed Cottonwood ride with Scot on Wednesday. Yes, I did an hour in cold wind yesterday afternoon (it's been all about the Dambala lately).

But where the hell is our nice autumn weather?! The Crest got locked down in the last 10 days of on and off high country snow. CDOT actually plowed highway 50 over the pass one of those days! Will the damned weather stabilize for just a little while so that we can get at least a few more tastes of classic fall riding, so necessary for preparing my sanity to endure winter? Or will it be one desert trip after another?

I prefer to be like Pan during this time of year, dancing about in the woods and celebrating the season. But so far Pan has been kicked in the junk this fall. Damned weather! Harrumph!

Kottonwood Kolerz

2009-09-30T14:30:00.003-06:00

Last day of September, honored with my first singlespeed Cottonwood loop of the fall.

Cottonwood (trees) have I think a more beautiful color than aspen, and they stay bright for much longer. They generally start a little later and keep their leaves quite a bit later. What better place to watch them start to turn than Cottonwood Gulch?

OK, now I'm going to digress a bit from bikey subject matter. I know that it is often unpopular among readers of recreation blogs to get political rants, so if you have no tolerance for that sort of thing, click away my friend...

The health care debate is making me ill (pun intended). Why must Americans insist on sticking with a cost-management approach to health care? Why can't we expand our minds to see health care as a health management issue?

All the debate in Congress and the press is about whether it should be mandatory private insurance with some new regulation, or whether there should be a so-called public option. This public option would be government provided insurance.

Why does there have to be an insurance layer between the sick person and the health care system? Because we are still seeing health care as a cost problem.

In countries that have successful health care systems like Britain, France, and Canada, health care is not seen as a cost, it's seen as a vital component of the well-being of citizens. In those countries, a public health care infrastructure is maintained by the government. Not run by the government, it's run by health care experts. They don't worry about cost, they worry about treating health issues. And through some magic, it all costs less!

They pay more tax to support the system, but they don't have to cough up huge amounts of income to pay for insurance. The insurance that is emptying Americans' wallets is often worthless. The insurance companies charge huge premiums, fight claims and often force the sick person to spend hours on the phone trying to get the care they need. Often those hours on the phone are wasted, and the insured American goes bankrupt because they got sick and their insurance turns out to be worthless.

Perhaps countries that have public health care pay less because there isn't a whole wing of every hospital full of administrative staff who spend their days trying to get money out of insurance companies to pay for their patients' treatment? How does that overhead really help sick people get treatment?

Sometimes, profit motive does not produce the best solution. Sometimes the public sector is the only viable provider of services.

Marshall Starvation

2009-09-27T18:57:00.005-06:00

Perfect autumn day. Clear blue sky, warm without being too warm. I had to make a trip up to Marshall to be part of it.

Mount Ouray. The monolith that towers over my favorite bit of the Rocky Mountains.

The vast aspen stands that line the Marshall Pass Road are only starting to turn. The colorful ones light up their surroundings as the sunlight passes through. Love the climb up this old railroad grade to the pass...

Starvation Creek Trail

Perhaps Starvation Creek should be known as Satiation Creek. To a human being passing through on foot or on a bike, it's got quite a bit to offer. I'm sure there's a story behind the name, probably not a happy one.

Here's a picture of Mt Antora from the Starvation Creek Trailhead

The trail is so sweet down this less-traveled drainage. Sometimes passing through grassy aspen stands, sometimes through sagebrush, sometimes through thick undergrowth of young fir, willow, and down trees.

When I was almost down to the bottom, I scared up a yearling elk. It bolted across the trail in front of me from where it had been standing down in the creek bottom. The creek was on my right. This elk and another, a mature cow, crashed up onto the slope to my left. I slowed and was just going to pass through when I heard bugling from the right across the creek. I stopped and carefully pulled my pack off and quietly took out my camera. There was one animal directly across from me bugling, and then I heard another slightly upstream across the creek. Then I heard another behind me where the cow and yearling had gone.

I peered through the thick vegetation across the creek and saw the huge antlers of the first bull I had heard. I turned on the camera and moved around trying to get a clearer view. Then he got a clear view of me--our eyes made brief contact, and he turned and thrashed through the brush making a path for his antlers. But he didn't run up the slope. He just got out of sight, then kept up his grunting and whistling. The other bulls kept making noises.

I looked back up the other slope and saw a cow, perhaps the one I had flushed, standing on the slope and looking not toward me, but across the creek toward the sound of the bulls.

I wondered if I might see a fight if I hung out long enough. But I did not really have time to linger there into the evening. I put the camera back, never getting a shot worth taking. Just the memories of an autumn experience in a quiet corner of the Rockies.

Magic Carpet Completion

2009-09-23T14:01:00.003-06:00

Rick Hunter sent me the custom stem he made to go with my Hunter Cycles frame and fork. She's all built up, and ready to load and go. Today's test flight had my mind full of ideas about where and when.

Ain't that stem purty?

Of course, the season change is making it seem futile to make plans to ride and camp overnight in the mountains. But it's only September, I'm sure October will bring us some nice weather again.

And there's always the desert.

Aspen Ridge

2009-09-20T16:16:00.002-06:00

Vapor Trail is finally over. Weeks of preparation, both for the event and for my own ride, went by quickly. Then the event happened, and I woke up Monday morning and it was past. That's OK, I'm wistful but relieved.

Probably the most distinct and lasting images that stay with me from the ride are of the golden aspen that I could see with my lamp as I passed by St Elmo in darkness. Then the dusting of snow on the high peaks around the upper Chalk Creek canyon visible in the pre-dawn light. I remember being somewhat startled by the glowing yellow aspen--it's Fall?!? I'd been so busy for the first two weeks of September that it hadn't really occurred to me that the trees would be changing.

Well, they are. Even more this weekend. Autumn doesn't really start until Tuesday, but the trees are turning.

Yesterday (Saturday) I got to show Kathy the Silver Creek section of the Rainbow Trail for the first time. There were some colorful trees up there, but they were still green for the most part. Today we headed up to Aspen Ridge, north and east of Salida.

The official "gateway" to Aspen Ridge. Framed shot of Mt Antero.

Autumn seems to be coming in kicking and screaming. Another gnarly weather thing is on the way. This shot was taken at about 12:30. Looks like a moist afternoon coming.

The farther up I go, the more turning trees.

This one was from the summit.

Also from the summit, this time with the Sangre de Christo Range framed with Aspen.

Looking off to the north, the Buffalo Peaks.

Another Shavano-Antero shot

And of course, it only makes sense to take the Cottonwood Trail back to town. Just in time to miss the rain.

My Vapor Trail 110

2009-09-15T15:31:00.011-06:00

The story is out there about this year's Vapor Trail 125. Weather.

We moved the event into September from August in 2007. We had little choice--the bike shop runs the event, and August is go time. Things are often still jumping in September, but after Labor Day is just plain better. And usually the weather is great.

But sometimes you get a little taste of Fall/Winter in September. A nasty little system decided to appear with perfect timing to mess with the 2009 VT. And I mean it was perfect timing. The storm peaked, at least in town, right between 9 and 10 PM when we were supposed to be rolling. The rain was hammering down, lightning, was flashing and the thunder was loud because that lightning was close. At about 9:15 I was at home putting stuff in a backback. Kathy was looking at me, incredulous, asking me if I was really going to go out there if it was still doing this at 10 PM. I shrugged and said, "yeah, I guess so." I could not give her a coherent reason why I would do something so, well, stupid. But I kept putting stuff in the pack.

I went outside to leave for the start and two riders, including Ed rode up to tell me that the start had been pushed back to midnight. I realized that my cell phone had been off, since I'd wrapped it up in plastic to take into no-cell-service country for the whole night, just in case it proved to be needed and useful at some point. As the supposed Event Director, I realized that I had been quite absent at a critical time in the execution of said event.

Yep, it was happening. I rode the several blocks to Absolute Bikes and asked Shawn what was up. Weather. That's what. There were concerns not only because of the threat of hypothermia, but even that the route might be difficult to travel on. The delay meant shortening the route. That's really the only way it could happen. The longer route was made possible by the 10 PM start. Without it, none but the truly fast would be able to finish before nightfall. And the obvious part of the course to cut was the one that took us up way high above treeline, where the snow would be deepest if there was snow. And where it would be hardest to rescue the hypothermic.

Crap.

Ultimately, we agreed that it had to be Canyon Creek, and Starvation Creek as well. Time and likely trail conditions drove those decisions. It would be a 110 mile course. Not the whole banana.

So we stood around looking at high tech radar images on the internet, speculated about whether indeed it showed that a break was coming, and further speculated about whether the big cell that was over the San Juans near Montrose was headed our way.

Then somebody noticed that it wasn't raining outside anymore. By about 11 PM there were some stars showing faintly through the clouds. It was breaking up.

We did roll at midnight. I was wearing way too much clothing. I was still dressed for the 10 PM conditions. Even during the moderate neutral start, I began to swim in my own sweat. But I did not want to get out of the pack, because I knew that we wanted to be together at least for the crossing of Highway 285, and really all the way to the end of the neutral part. Didn't really matter, by 285 I was already soaked.

When the pace car pulled out of the way and the riders found their own pace, I pulled over to finally peel off my jacket. And then I was all alone. Bye bye pack.

I started the dirt climb, DFL, and watching silent lightning above the Sawatch Range ahead of me. Thoughts about that cell--how likely it was that our weather was not done being crappy, filled my head. It was too chilly for my wet clothing to dry, so I just rolled. At least I wasn't so hot anymore.

Then I saw a few drops of rain fall into my headlamp light. Then more. Then, by golly, it was raining again. Criminy. I stopped again, and put the jacket back on. I thought about whether this thing should even happen, and whether I should stick with it even if it did. Short course. It wasn't going to be like finishing a real Vapor Trail even if I did. And that's what I really wanted, to finish the big one. To redeem myself after abandoning in 2007 when I was so close to a finish.

And now it was raining again. Crap.

Well, I wasn't uncomfortable. Yet. I wasn't cold, just sopping wet. Might as well keep going until I became uncomfortable.

Then I saw some lights, and a group of riders putting on jackets. Golly, I'm not DFL anymore. Probably only temporary, but it felt pretty damned good to not be off the back. Then I saw some lights on moving bikes, headed back toward me. Riders abandoning already? Are they uncomfortable or just psyched out? It was quite the mind game, between the waiting around in the shop, the speculation about how much more bad weather, how cold up high...

I kept going. I was still bummed. I thought to myself, and then said aloud to JJ when we rode together for a little while, "this is not the vapor trail I expected, and it is not the vapor trail I wanted". But I kept going.

Then I got to the Colorado Trail. There was a little crowd gathered around Shawn who was recording times. None of them were really heading up to the CT. I assumed they were just changing clothes but it turned out that many of them, for a variety of reasons, were calling it.

I saw several people on the CT at the start of my travels there including Earl, but then I rode off into the darkness pretty much on my own. Later I played leap frog with John for a while, and passed Todd on his singlespeed in Raspberry Gulch, where a big ring comes in real handy.

When I made Aid Station #1, I was still utterly soaked. But I had removed my jacket, and never got really cold or uncomfortable. I had sent a dry, warm, Sugoi hoodie with the Aid #1 staff. When I got there I peeled off my wet stuff and dropped it with a mighty plop onto Jon and Rickie's tailgate. I pulled on my hoodie, put a good Pearl Izumi shell over it (one that I had kept pristine in my pack), ate some good aid station food and headed on up the road to the Alpine Tunnel. I was good, I was going to ride this vapor trail and enjoy it. It was going to be a good vapor trail even if it wasn't "the vapor trail I wanted".

The night was lovely, dark and deep. I was by myself the entire rest of the night. I marvelled at the beauty of groves of aspen turned golden that I saw by my lamplight. When the first faint light of dawn flooded into the upper Chalk Creek Canyon, I was mesmerized by the beauty of the snow-sprinkled peaks above. When I stopped just before the Hancock townsite, John caught me and we both commented on what an uncommonly beautiful dawn we were being treated with.

It was cold. My feet were cold, but not to the point of pain. Not comfy, but livable. The rest of me was fine. I was grinding away, and I was making warmth. And I felt good. The place, the air, the view--I was exhilerated.

On the other side of the Alpine Tunnel, it was quite a bit colder. But isn't it always cold anywhere in the Gunnison drainage? I had to descend for about 20 minutes before starting the grim hike-a-bike up to Tomichi Pass, and I got cold. But then it was time to hike, and I was comfy again. And I was fine with the hike. It's long and hard, but it ends.

And then I was at Aid Station #2, Chatting with Dave Wiens while Jefe Branham worked on my bike. Those Gunnison guys are a class act. Their Aid Station was top notch.

Many kudos to the man in the middle of this photo, Rick Garcia, owner of The Tuneup, Gunnison's Legendary bike shop. Rick really worked to make this Aid Station great.

I left Aid #2 feeling good, well fed, dry clothing, great-working bike. Kathy took this shot of me as I approached the bottom of the Old Monarch Pass climb. It's good to feel good at the bottom of this climb, because it's probably better than you will feel at the top. It seems endless. Ah, but it does end.

I arrived at Aid #3 quite tired, but again, we had some top notch aid station people there. And Kathy. I refueled, filled up my hydration pack, and left knowing that I was going to finish. I had done the last of the big climbs. Sure, I wasn't doing the toughest obstacle to finishing the full Vapor Trail 125 course, the climb back up to Marshall Pass from the bottom of Starvation Creek, but it was still a ride that had taken some grit to finish. The mind game that the start played on us was not trivial. And as we all know, 50% of this game is half mental.

The rest of the ride is a Chaffee County Classic. Crest Trail, Silver Creek, Rainbow. Know it like the back of my hand. Love it like a brother.

What more to say? I felt happy for the whole danged thing after the first two hours. I rode well, I finished feeling strong. And then I joined a great barbecue already in progress. Great day. Thanks to all the other riders, the volunteers, and mostly to Shawn for making this all happen for 5 years in a row.

Vapor jitters

2009-09-12T12:34:00.003-06:00

Sitting here in Salida gathering up clothing and deciding what to put in my pack, watching it begin to rain outside.

Maybe it'll just be a crappy afternoon and then be merely cold and clammy through the night.

Either way, adventure beckons.

Slouching toward Vapor Trail 125

2009-09-10T07:00:00.008-06:00

I've been really busy, especially in the last week or so. Kathy and I got away from town for the holiday weekend, then I got back. Yesterday I got a request from one of the folks on the VT Roster to offer a decent source for a reliable local weather forecast. I told him that we don't really have such a thing, since the county is so varied in terms of elevation--we have lots of microclimates just within Chaffee County. The outlook is generally good. Doesn't look like a major cold front is headed our way. Normal pattern for this time of year, not too volatile, and not looking to be more so on Sunday.

Edit: Looks like my web weather info talents are lacking--a cold front DOES appear to be headed our way. Ah well, on with the post.

But in looking at the forecast from good ol' whitebread weather.com, I saw an illustration that gave me pause. It's just three days away!

Omygosh.

Am I ready? What will that 24 hours of pain be like for me? Finish or not? Stay in control of my head or lose perspective, rationality, emotional control?

I've been training, I've been getting my head together. I think that the taper I started 10 days ago will serve me. I have practiced eating a wider variety of food when I'm out in it.

I am committed to getting all the planning tasks and setup done where my race director duties are concerned so that on Saturday I'll be able to rest, and get my head together rather than being wrapped up in the stress of last-minute problem solving.

But there's the nagging concern that settled into my thinking after my near-finish in 2007; that I may simply be incapable of finishing the big loop between 10 PM and the cut-off. That I won't be able to maintain a finisher's pace, even if I do everything right.

Gonna try. All you can do is try.

Of course as Yoda said, "There is no try, there is only do or not do."

But honestly, what the hell does that sawed off little plush toy know about the Vapor Trail?

You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll kiss four hours goodbye

2009-08-30T16:15:00.001-06:00

Go ride the Canyon Creek Trail.

Confrontation and a good deed

2009-08-30T06:37:00.003-06:00

Two weeks from Vapor Trail. My coach (me) tells me that I should do some final large training efforts this weekend, then not more than 2-3 hours of medium effort starting Monday until it's time to line up at 10 PM on Saturday the 12th.

Plan was to climb to Old Monarch Pass via the (mostly) dirt route that roughly parallels Highway 50. Then ride the portion of the Vapor Trail 125 route that continues from there. The big test I had in mind was the confrontation of the climb from the bottom of the Starvation Creek Trail back up to Marshall via the Poncha Creek Road. I had never climbed that road in all the years I've been living and riding around here. It always seemed like a dumb idea. Why do that when the railroad grade-based Marshall Pass Road is right there?

Well, why this time was because I'll be dealing with it, while tired, in two weeks. And it has a reputation among last year's riders as being the worst obstacle to finishing. I have been dreading it and wondering if I'll have the stones to deal with it after more than 15 hours in the saddle.

I left the house at o'dark thirty. At sun-up I was climbing in the chill. Always nice to see dawn happen from the saddle. Took me a long time to warm up. But of course it was not warm... That does seem to be a theme with me this season--it takes often almost 2 hours before I feel ready to step up the pace.

At Old Monarch I got onto singletrack, heading south first to (new) Monarch Pass, then on down the Crest. It was crowded. We get spoiled living in Salida, most of us arrange to ride the Crest on weekdays or very early in order to avoid the crowds. But it's hard to pull that off when you climb from town. I was relieved to make Marshall, and unceremoniously headed down the upper Poncha Road to the fork over to Starvation Creek. I was passed by a train of lawn tractors and it was almost windless. The thick dust they raised hung in the air and I had to breath it for way too long.

I was tired, especially after staying on the throttle passing huge herds of Crest Riders when I saw them stopped. I made my way down Starvation slowly because I felt tired. When I hit the bottom I did the un-thinkable, I turned left to climb back up.

Ugh. It felt yucky. For the first 30 minutes or so, it felt endless and I really wondered. Would I be up to this? Ugh. Seemed unlikely.

Then I got to where it was OK. I got off and walked a few sections that either seemed especially steep, or when I just felt like walking. After a while, I got up to the intersection with Starvation, and then to the top. I was tired, but it was doable.

After that I felt much better. It is doable. It will not be fun, but it won't beat me unless I let it.

I got to Silver Creek and descended it again in the company of the herds of Saturday Crest riders. Then I got to the Rainbow, feeling good and ready to finish out the last couple hours of my self-inflicted trial.

Less than a mile down the Rainbow, in the first fast and flowy section, I came around a curve and saw a rider sitting on the ground below the trail. I asked him, "are you OK". He had his back to me and did not turn around, and he said in a shaky voice, "No, I'm hurt". Then I saw his bike, hung up in a small tree, back wheel up. I laid my bike down and made my way down off the trail to where he was. As I passed his bike I saw that the front wheel was heavily taco'd.

When I got close, I saw that he was holding his right arm with his left, and he said he thought it might be broken. I was the first one there, so I started asking him questions, and carefully feeling his arm, and asking him if it hurts here, or here, etc. Some other riders came along presently and they stopped and asked more questions. Then his buddy came back from up the trail. He came down to where the guys was (David?) and got involved. Then a group of riders that included two male nurses came along. The cavalry.

Then another of his friends came back, got truck keys and headed down to fetch a truck to pick up the down rider. Unfortuneatly it did not occur to me until after he was gone that he should have gone back and down the Silver Creek Road rather than continuing on the Rainbow.

We all hung with him getting the situation under control. When he tried to stand, his arm spasmed, and he yelled. We slinged the arm with a tube, then a rider came along who had a triangle bandage, so one of the nurses slinged it better. We got him on his feet, and then his thigh cramped hard.

It took a while, but we finally got him up onto the trail, shaky but under control. I jumped on his taco'd wheel to get it straight enough to at least rotate in the fork without binding up. Three riders walked out with him back to the Silver Creek trailhead, and I jetted back down the Silver Creek road to try to catch the guy going for the truck to confirm that he knew exactly where to go with the truck. I got down there 5 or 10 minutes before he did, made sure he knew the way back up, and then left to go back to town.

I didn't get to finish the whole 2nd half of the course, but big deal. I had the priveledge of being able to help a fellow rider who needed help. It's gratifying to see how the community of riders come together to help one of our own.

Good day. Today it's Canyon Creek!

See, I was having fun!

2009-08-19T10:41:00.002-06:00

The event photos from Saturday-Sunday 24 Sage came out. I now have proof that I was doing the right thing; having fun.

Hartman is such a gas.

nocturnal e-mistakes

2009-08-18T07:02:00.006-06:00

Four of the last 5 weekends I've strapped a light onto my handlebars and spent a good portion of the time when I should be sleeping out on a bike. It's been about preparing for the Vapor Trail 125. Only one of those nights was pretty much completely fun.

I've been getting lots of good advice about this strategy--that it's well-intentioned yet dumb. Nothing that's un-fun is good for preparing for an event.

This past Saturday I decided to line up at the 24 Hours in the Sage, my third year at that kick-butt event at Hartman Rocks in Gunnison.

I was determined to take the good advice seriously; I kept a smile on my face and a happy thought in my heart. And it worked. I was having fun and I was having a good race. The late afternoon was tough just because of a gnarly wind blowing, but I stayed positive. I established a more or less sane 24 hour pace, and I plugged away. At midnight I had completed 7 laps.

My eighth lap was looking good. I had put down some food during a pit stop at midnight and it was agreeing with me. My pace was settled and I was just getting down to the business of keeping up the pace all night.

The finale of the 24 Sage course is The Gap. It's a series of slanted granite slabs punctuated by granite curbs. After many laps on this course, I felt completely comfortable dropping through it. I had no trepidation at all. But on that 8th lap, it got me. As I entered it, I saw two other racers. One was working on his bike--he'd apparently broken something on the way through. The other was just finishing walking the toughest part. The good line was more or less open, but for some (stupid) reason I decided to experiment with a line to the left that looked OK. My front wheel dropped into a deep V and I landed on my head. I picked myself up, the front wheel of my Voodoo spun all the way backwards. My head had a mild pain sensation from the shock of impact. Of course I was thinking about closed head injury. It wouldn't be a bad one because I wasn't going fast enough, but a concussion is still a concussion. And I had the achey feeling that you get when you're body gets slammed around.

I rode back to the tPOD carefully, committed to taking some time to be sure that I didn't start getting goofy.

Long story made short: after sitting around for half an hour I lost interest in going back out. I laid down for a while trying to sleep, then went to the shower at about 4:00 AM. When I got back I put on street clothes, carried my transponder to the start/finish tent and volunteered to help with timing.

There I had the distinct pleasure to meet and witness the energy of Dave Taylor, who operates the KOA in Gunnison where the event is headquartered.

I've stayed at a few KOA's over the years, and a few nice ones. Dave's outfit is top notch. And he is a hoot. At 5 AM he was the life of the party. He could just support this event as a businessman and sponsor, but he goes way beyond that. He dances, he howls, he gives incoming solo racers man-hugs at 5 AM. I mentioned that I was hungry and he rushed off and came back with food. He's just one of those people who exudes positive energy.

Then of course there is Mitch, the man behind the 24 Hours in the Sage. God I wish I had a picture of him wearing the mullet wig, but alas, I had no camera.

It's a great event. It was a positive experience, which is what I needed to put in the bank. I regret my bad judgement, which got me into a crash that could have been much, much worse. But it was fine.

I'm not going to ride at night again until September 12-13. I'm going to continue to train, but I'm keeping it in perspective. I'll finish the Vapor Trail 125 or I won't. Life will go on either way.

The VT125 is going to be a killer event this year, and I get to be a big part of it. But it's not make or break. I have a wonderful girlfriend, lots of good friends, I'm fit and healthy--things are good. Why create a big drama around a physical accomplishment that may be beyond me even if the stars align? Fine line between too much motivation (worry) and not enough (apathy). But I'm going to try to walk it.

And I'm going to get a little more sleep between now and then.

Hard day's night

2009-08-13T09:09:00.003-06:00

Last Saturday night I rolled a little after 9 PM on another Vapor Trail 125 toughening ride. (To call it a training ride doesn't really cover it. Finishing the VT125 takes more than fitness.)

My plan was to ride the first half (a bit more than half by distance) of the VT125 course. For those who've reviewed the course on the website, sections 1 through 5.

I rolled up to Blank's Cabin to start the Colorado Trail and everything was going fine. I was on schedule with race pace more or less, even with a stop to oil my chain. (Hopefully before the actual race I will have remembered to do that prior to the 10 PM start.) An orange waning gibbous moon rose behind me soon after I left town. Must have been a fire somewhere, since the sky was also hazy and there was a faint wood smoke scent in the air.

I ran the singletrack in roughly normal time and arrived at the old railroad grade above Chalk Creek to appreciate a spooky, hazy moonlit view of the Chalk Cliffs across the valley on the slopes of Mt Princeton.

That's when things started going downhill for me. Around 3 AM, as I started the grind up toward the Alpine Tunnel, I began to feel that weak, fatigued feeling I've been getting in the last month or so on long rides.

It took an eternity to reach St Elmo. I actually got off and walked the bike a couple times before I got there. Before even a glimmer of dawn, I downed the 2nd of the two Red Bulls I had brought. My eyes felt heavy and I was yawning and swaying, so I knocked down the wonder cure. It had almost no effect.

It took an eternity plus 5 to get to the base of the tunnel. Dawn greeted me on the approach.

Back toward where I came from, east toward the rising sun

Normally the coming of dawn gives me a kick in the ass when I've ridden all night. This time I just felt like my ass had been kicked.

Soft dawn light

I sat at the base of the hike-a-bike up to the divide in despair. The idea that I have a chance of finishing this year's Vapor Trail 125 sounded like a pipe dream. I ate some cold oatmeal and stared east down the glorious valley but my head was full of negative.

As Shawn pointed out, I should have turned around long before and gone back to bed. But I didn't do that.

After a while, I heaved a heavy sigh and put my pack back on. I pulled the bike upright. I trudged up the trail.

The rest of the story is what you might expect. Joyless pain. I made Tomichi Pass. It hurt. I decided to skip Canyon Creek, which should have been the funnest part of the whole ride. I was way behind schedule, and was worried that I wouldn't be able to contact Kathy until after she started worrying.

Climbing to Old Monarch was a nightmare. If I could have gotten cell service I would have called Kathy to come get me with the truck.

I'm discouraged. I don't know if there's any way that I'll have the fitness to do it. I wish I knew why. It certainly isn't overtraining. But I'm not sure it's undertraining either. I've done some nice big rides this summer, and thanks to my schedule I've done lots of recovering from them.

I'm not done preparing. But my confidence is a bit challenged.

But it's important for me to remember, 50% of this game is half mental. I've got to overcome this negativity. Working on it. Working.

Adventure Tour Lite

2009-08-04T17:11:00.002-06:00

Kathy and I drove a wheel truck behind the 35+ Open hot rods at the Salida Omnium road race on Saturday morning. It's a great way to watch a road race, let me tell you. Those skinny tire guys who race have motors.

Saturday afternoon Kathy loaded up the tPOD and headed down to the east slope of the Sangre de Cristo range southwest of Westcliffe, CO to meet up with her family for a little camping. I had a plan hatching to ride down and meet them on Sunday, so I stayed behind.

At about 2:15 AM Sunday, after pretending to sleep for a while, I staggered to my feet and groped in the fridge for a cold Red Bull. Nothing like swigging a Red Bull in the middle of the friggin' night, then pulling on lycra and sidis, switching on your headlamp and rolling up into the mountains.

My plan was to avoid riding down highway 50 east, where there are too many blind corners and drowsy truckers, by climbing up over the Ute Trail divide to the north of Salida. It's South Park country over there, but where I went wasn't officially South Park since I never rode over any creeks that drain into the South Platte. South Park is the high valley basin of the South Platte headwaters. I crossed through the upper Badger Creek basin, which drains back down to the Arkansas.

But it feels like South Park over there. Wide open.

Everything was sleeping when I rolled out of Salida a few minutes after 3 AM. Dogs were not barking, no cars were on the road--nothing but moths were moving around. The sky was clear and the stars were brilliant, even more so as I climbed up and away from Salida's street lights.

The night was warm. I left with my leg and arm warmers packed and did not need them until I crested the 10,000 foot divide and started rolling down the other side at around 4:30. A mouse ran out into the road in front of me just before I got to the top. It was the first mammal I saw during the trip. I startled a couple deer just as I headed down. Even though my gaze was not directed up at the sky, I saw 4 or 5 meteors streaking down toward earth.

I had wrapped up some scrambled eggs and cheese in a tortilla the night before, and at about 6 I hauled it out and chowed it. I had just found the one key turn I needed to make to start heading back south toward Cotopaxi, CO. I was just leaving the wide open high prairie of the upper Badger Creek basin and entering mixed aspen and open space. The pink dawn made for a really nice breakfast mood.

The country up there north of Salida really has some pretty places. And you usually share them only with cows and people who work with cows. The morning was all mine.

This is the magic carpet that carried me on this ride. It's my adventure touring bike, but this is the most adventurous trip we've had together yet. The front rack is the real start of getting the Hunter ready to tour.

The sun slants through a stand of aspen as I crest one of a series of climbs on the way to the long descent into Cotopaxi on the Arkansas River.

In the shot above you can see that I've got some descending to do, but in the background you can see the Sangre de Cristo range to the right and a hint of the Wet Mountain Valley (where I'm headed) to the left. It was about 8 AM when I took this photo. Shortly after, I saw my first human of the day, a dude with cowboy hat passing me in his Dodge pickup.

The day was pretty much going (among normal people) once I passed over the Arkansas and through Cotopaxi and started climbing south toward Westcliffe. The sun was getting hot and people were out driving around. I had 8 or 10 pavement miles to the town of Hillside, to a turn-off that would get me off the highway onto ranch roads. The Sangre de Cristo rise pretty dramatically up from flat hayfields and pastures. Long, straight dirt roads.

I zig-zagged up the valley, forced to ride on the highway again for a couple miles, then out climbing false flats toward the base of the mountains. The dirt route that I had scouted, that would go through, wasn't saving me from any climbing. I would climb up the west-bound zig, then descend the south-bound zag, only needing to climb again when it was time to zig.

I had planned an option for near the end of my trip. Maybe 15 years ago I saw the Rainbow Trail heading south from the Hermit Pass Road. I remembered it being pretty nice, and it looked like mostly a traverse on the topo map. But I knew that I might either be running late or too smoked to make the climb up to the 10,000 foot trailhead, so I had a direct route to the Alvarado Campground mapped.

When I got to the fork in that road, I was moderately smoked. But I had time, I could do the climb and the singletrack if I wanted to. Vapor Trail is coming. I felt like it might not be a bad idea to expose my tired butt to a little hot, mid-day climb up a dusty jeep road. So that's what I did.

This is what a pretty peice of singletrack looks like if we let our guard down and allow the lawn tractors to run amok. This was classic Colorado singletrack at one time. It was moto singletrack, but it was legendary for being "a trail". Now it's a 60" mini-road. Sad.

It was fun though. I rode about 4 miles of this pygmy road. I enjoyed it. Then I rode down into camp to join my sweetie and her nice family, arriving a little after 1 PM.

Eighty miles, 11,570 feet of climbing. Two Red Bulls. That's a good Sunday morning.

Staying up all night

2009-07-17T18:33:00.004-06:00

A couple years ago, I did a crazy all night thing involving a mountain bike. I have fond memories of that night. After last night, I'm wondering if I'm really remembering it clearly.

The 2009 Vapor Trail 125 is coming. I'm planning to do it this year, avenging my failed attempt to finish the beast in 2007.

Seems like crazy, all night things involving mountain bikes need a bit of practice. So I decided to re-experience that night in late July, 2007. Leave from town after the sun goes down on my bike with my lights, climb to Marshall Pass, climb to the top of the Agate Creek Trail, descend Agate, climb to Old Monarch, ride the Crest-Silver Creek-Rainbow Trail.

I decided to invite a friend to join me this time, since I really expected it to be lots of fun!

Lee Blackwell was my victom. He does crazy things like this sometimes. And he's also signed up for the Vapor Trail 125. And, well, he was willing to go with me.

Look how fresh and excited we are!

Now look at this blank, vacant, character pointing out a public service announcement. Does he look like he gives a hoot?

Here's a bit of the night-time story:

We left Salida at around 9:30. As my memory (which is suspect) serves, we were sitting on our butts in the gravel at the top of Marshall Pass eating and talking about clothing and perspiration at around 1:30 AM. I was feeling really crappy. I climb to Marshall all the time. I've done it more than half a dozen times this year. Why did it work me over so badly last night? Lee and I have theories, but lets just say that I was slow, and Lee got cold waiting for my slow ass to make it to the pass.

Then it was time to climb south from Marshall up onto the Crest Trail to get to the top of Agate. During this time, I wished I could feel a little better so that I could just feel like crap. I was getting dopey from no sleep, and I just felt tired and worked over. I was eating, I was drinking, I wasn't too cold. Just not feeling good. And I was riding poorly too--I felt very clumsy.

And Lee spent time waiting on my slow ass. And got cold.

When I finally caught up to Lee at the top of the Agate Creek Trail, he was talking about how reluctant he was to get his shoes soaked in cold, cold Agate Creek in the middle of the night. I had been thinking that A) I was a total clod, and should probably not be trying to descend Agate in that state, and B) it would really be lots of work to get down there and then get back up to Old Monarch.

It was unanimous. Neither of us wanted to go down there. So we decided to just ride the Crest on to Monarch and then see from there. I drank a Red Bull. That was a good idea.

It was really, really dark. I know--nighttime is like that. But there was no moon until after 3:30 AM. The stars were exhileratingly beautiful, and we saw several dramatic meteorites streaking across the sky. But it was kind of like being in a sensory deprivation experiment. It was working on both our brains.

As 4:00 AM approached, I started actually feeling a little better. And Lee started talking about naps. We made our way to the beginning of the singletrack, a couple miles from Monarch Pass, and Lee found himself a comfy bit of knick knick and laid down to rest. I sipped on another Red Bull and took a picture of myself pointing at a "Give a Hoot, Don't Pollute" sign on the trailhead kiosk.

At around 4:30, we headed back to the south, back toward Marshall. And the pink glow became visible in the east. Once that started happening, both of us perked up.

At first light, Lee makes some clothing changes.

Pre-sunrise twilight on the Crest.

Sunrise at Marshall Pass (Lee takes a 2nd brief nap here).

We make our way to the top of Silver Creek, where the light was magic.

Similarly, the light in the Silver Creek drainage was something else.

Riding all night is always a trip. Last night's experience definitely supports that assertion.

Sixth of July Ride

2009-07-07T07:21:00.005-06:00

Every year in Salida, for a very long time by Mountain Bike History standards, a crowd has left town on bikes at roughly 4:30 AM on the Fourth of July to climb up to Monarch Pass. From there they ride the whole classic Crest route, then cross highway 285 to ride the Rainbow Trail across Salida's southern backdrop to Bear Creek and down back into town. In Salida it's known as The Fourth of July Ride, or occasionally The Big Lap.

I've done it with them, and it's a big day. But it's been a while. That last bit east of 285 isn't really "enjoyable". It's lots of hike-a-bike after a whole day of relatively fabulous riding. And I often have more pressing matters on the 4th. Last year it was manning the sales floor at Absolute. This year it was hanging with Kathy's family and doing all the 4th of July small-town stuff.

But the Crest is clear and almost dry, and it's a shame not to get up there as soon in the summer as it can be done. And furthermore, it's a shame not to take the dirt route up to Monarch and do it under one's own power, at least once every season.

So that's what I did on the Monday after the crowds went back to work; back to the Front Range, back to wherever they need to be on Monday morning. I had my own celebration of the Crest's season opener. A Sixth of July ride.

I left the house at 6:30 AM. Three hours and forty-five to Old Monarch, four hours to the Crest Trail sign-in just south of new Monarch. At 12:30 I was at the top of the Silver Creek Trail. Rolled up to the house back in Salida a little before 3:00.

Mostly uneventful day, other than wildflowers, singing robins in the woods near Monarch Park, gentle breezes, blue skies with puffy clouds sailing past, singletrack, and the music of Silver Creek as it grew in size and volume while I followed it down.

Saw a dozen others all day when I was back off the roads. Four hikers, 8 riders. Quite a nice day really.

Summer Divide

2009-06-29T06:33:00.004-06:00

Who could this character be?

Is it possible that he had something to do with the mysterious death of Michael Jackson?!

Sunday I followed a very non-creative strategy and rode pretty much the same ride I did last Sunday. I threw in one little wrinkle though, when I got to Marshall Pass I turned right and rode up the Monarch Crest Trail for a few miles to see what the snow-in-the-woods situaton was like up there.

The Marshall Pass area is my favorite local hangout, and I really only see it for 5-6 months out of the year. All these scenes are woven into my life in Salida, and I do not really get tired of riding up there to look around.

So there was some snow in the woods. I stamped and dug riding channels through a couple of mushy piles until my shoes and gloves were wet just to encourage people to stay on the trail. Then found some very muddy sections that people have been riding around anyway--nothing I could really do about that.

I went to the point where I could take the above photo, then turned around and rode back to Marshall and on to the Silver Creek Trail. I found this season's first pair of kind-of-lost out of town riders. They were carrying the inaccurate and vague freebie map that comes with the local mountain bike guide.

That stupid map--it's just amazing that after years of being told that the Rainbow Trail does not start at the CDT/Colorado Trail intersection they simply cannot figure out how to get it right. I've showed them, I've marked notes on the map and explained...

People have trouble finding the CDT/CT south from Marshall (the forest service has had confusing signs there since I first saw the Crest in the early 90's--also cannot get it right) then continue looking for "The Rainbow Trail". They come to a sign that says "Silver Creek Trail", pull out their crappy maps and say, "Jeez, this can't be it." Some continue on south, others give up and turn around, but many figure it out because at least the map shows that the trail they are looking for goes along next to Silver Creek.

If only these folks would spend $11.95 for a map that makes it all clear, they would be able to just focus on the ride without spending time trying to figure out the route.

It's a rich summertime tradition, finding groups of confused riders and explaining the way to them. I sometimes get riders who argue with me. I tell them, "I live here, I've been riding this for decades" and still they argue that the map doesn't show it that way.

Ah well, life is always interesting. At least I (usually) get to meet and assist some nice people during my trips up to the Divide.

The Silver Creek Trail is a beautiful thing, then there's 11 miles of Rainbow. After decades of riding in this area, I do not get tired of that 1-2 punch.

Snow and blow-downs

2009-06-21T19:22:00.003-06:00

Got up to Marshall Pass for another recon, having heard that rumors that people have been soldiering through the melting snow and blow-down trees to get to the top of the Silver Creek Trail and ride that down to the Rainbow.

I felt that I deserved to share that experience.

Climbing to Marshall this morning was a challenge and a privilege. Nice brisk headwind up 285 toward Poncha Pass had me working it on the pavement. Then I hit the dirt Marshall Pass Road which was beautiful, cool, and green. It rained almost all day yesterday--so it was also mashed-potato mushy. It was work, but so nice to be up there!

I got to Marshall at about 10:30 AM. I headed south on the CDT, following some fresh dirtbike tracks. The dirt bikers came out to meet me as I was heading in. They seemed to have figured out that they were not supposed to be on the non-motorized trail. I didn't really say anything to them, I was just in too good a mood to bitch at them. They were heading back to the trailhead anyway, no biggy.

I got up into the trees and started seeing drifts.

This was the biggest one--mandatory walkover pretty much.

But most were on the decline. And unlike my last exploration, they were soft and melty. I took some time to stamp rideable lines into some of the ones that people were still going around.

Then I started encountering blow-down trees on the trail. No problem, I have my hand saw. I just cleared them as I went. I expected to find something that I needed a chainsaw for, but it never materialized.

Antora, south of the headwaters of Silver Creek. Still plenty of snow on it...

I stopped at the spot overlooking Silver Creek that I call the lunch spot and chowed down on some phewd, a Pro Bar, which I enjoyed thanks to the courtesy of a passing rep at the bike shop who left a whole box of them for us shop flunkies. They are pretty tasty! But free food always tastes the best.

Silver Creek Trail was really in hard shape. Very rutted, very rocky. It did NOT winter over very well. It's a really pretty trail, but man is it routed badly in many places. It's just too susceptable to erosion. Gonna be a rough ride this summer.

I kept up the tree clearing, though it wasn't nearly as big a deal as it was back in '07 when I cleared it. Just one log was chainsaw-worthy, but I got creative with the hand saw and got it out.

Pretty big aspen log for my little folding hand saw (see the little darling perched on top of my nemesis?

Afterwords, nice and clear.

The Rainbow was fast and tacky thanks to yesterday's rain. I was tired though. I was out there a long time with all the stopping to cut trees and all the free-Pro-Bar eating.

Great day. Consider Marshall Pass to Silver Creek open folks. By next weekend it should be pretty much dry.

Colo Trail out and back to Salida

2009-06-14T18:45:00.003-06:00

Took a ride from town up the start of the Vapor Trail to Blank's Cabin then north on the Colorado Trail. It's rugged and pretty, and has lots of good technical riding. And it's always snow-free early. When I got to Chalk Creek I got off the VT course and climbed up to the Mt Princeton Trailhead intending to go on to Cottonwood Creek then down to BV and home.

Canzo leaned on stump

Typical Colo Trail scene on east slope of Sawatch

As I got out onto the really nice section above BV, I started running low on calories, and thought the better of signing up for 35 miles of pavement to get home. My other option was to pick someplace to turn around, ride the CT back to the TH and then head back down to Chalk Creek and have only 20 pavement miles home. Sounds like a deal.

View from turnaround point

Late spring is heaven in the upper Arkansas Valley.

Up to the divide

2009-06-12T15:58:00.002-06:00

I've been needing this. A long solo grind up to Marshall Pass, to look over to the Western Slope after getting to The Ridge under my own power. I've been honing in on bike fit setup on my new Hunter Cycles rigid "Adventure Touring" bike.

Close-up of the bike

Detail pictures of it clean can be seen at this prior post.

It took me a while to get there, well, like it always does. It's 3 hours if I'm really hittin' on all sixes. I've done it in 2:50, but I'm just not in that kind of fitness right now.

Also, I decided to set the Hunter up with thumbies, for the sake of total simplicity and reliability. But that kind of means 8-speed. I know, it can be done with 9-speed if you don't mind friction, which I don't. But I also like the durability of 8-speed.

Why does that have anything to do with how long it took me to get up there?

Gosh, it's kind of embarrassing...

I was between the gearing that I normally have going when I climb that. With 9-speed I get a 12-34 cluster (well, maybe 11-34, but that's not important). With the 34 I have mid-ring 1st gear 32:34, 2nd gear 32:30, 3rd gear 32:26. With a 12-32 block, it's 32:32, 32:28, 32:24.

I usually climb the first half in 3rd, 32:26 then slip to 2nd when the air gets thinner and my legs get tired. Well, 32:24 was too high and I couldn't really stay on top of it. But 32:28 was too low. Until I got tired and it was too high. I know, whining is unacceptable.

But I do know that with a load, 22:32 is going to be a not low enough granny. I wanted to use 20-30-42 chainrings on this bike, but I also wanted a Shimano crank with external bearings. I see Mr Whirly crankarms in my future.

I was really hoping to discover that the snow melt had happened enough that I could ride down the Silver Creek Trail. I headed south on the CDT to check it out.

Nope.

Those drifts were not soft. They were hard. I hit that section of trail at about 10 AM, and those suckers were hard as rock. Not much melt probably happened today. It just hasn't been getting very warm.

I went down the Poncha Creek road. Haven't done that kind of rock gauntlet on a fully rigid bike in many years. Ouch. How do you do that Ed? Pinch flatted, which was a good excuse to let my wrists and hands recover.

It's almost summer. Time for high country riding, snow or no.

Western Slope late spring weekend

2009-05-30T07:01:00.003-06:00

Just some pictures from a rambling trip on a long weekend to Durango, Hermosa, Hartman:

Kathy riding the Colo Trail down from Gudy's in early evening

Me all blurry on the Hermosa Creek Trail

Horny Toad who crossed the Hermosa Creek Trail in front of us

Moist Hartman in early evening

New magic carpet

2009-05-22T16:09:00.001-06:00

Last summer I decided that I wanted to get a bike especially for getting way out there, with enough stuff along to stay out there, at least overnight.

I met Rick Hunter when he was in Salida during his 2007 Great Divide Race attempt. He wrote a really cool article about the GDR (can't find it on the interweb, sorry). Of course he was riding one of his own classic hand-built bikes.

I decided I wanted one, so I asked him to make me a "flat-bar dirt tourer".

Customs take a while. That's just how it goes. The better the builder, the longer the waitlist normally. But this spring, I got my frame and fork. I have a stem coming whenever I decided exactly the length and rise I want. Here you go, pictures from when it was still sleek and clean:

Trademark Hunter Cycles seatstays

Trademark Hunter Cycles Supercrown fork

Standard side shot (note the angus bull visible through the frame)

I went for the new Chris King BB

Closeup of BB

Utah Fix

2009-04-24T08:53:00.004-06:00

So, my blog has started to be a perfect example of what Team Dicky refers to in this post. Some pretty funny examples of lame blog posts. Like the "Sorry it's been so long since I've posted" post. That sounds like me! Except for the part about the iMac.

OK, enought lament for how lame my blog has become. On to a bit of actual content. Utah!

My sweetie and I took off Saturday, made it into the Mineral Bottom/Mineral Canyon junction by evening. The next morning we rode out toward Candlestick camp.

So nice to be back in the tall, vertical country. Soothing. Puny, small humans among big land.

We did some riding and some hiking. Lots of long views out over the maze of canyons and mesas with the Henry Mountains in the background.

Grandview Point on Monday.

Green River Overlook just after sunrise Tuesday.

Me happily riding the Sovereign Trail later on Tuesday.

Looking up from a canyon bottom on a hike Wednesday morning before driving back to Salida.

Nice trip. Perfect weather. Wish we'd had longer.

On and Beyond

2009-04-08T09:35:00.010-06:00

I rode into the Rourke Ranch Site, expecting to find a closed and locked gate, even though the topo showed a road continuing upriver. There was a gate, but it was open wide. So I rode on through. I expected to find in short order a fence, probably announcing that the Piñon Canyon Maneuver Site did not welcome my exploration.

But this did not happen. After winding along in the canyon bottom, the road I was riding curved right and headed up into a little side canyon:

Hmm, purty. Might as well keep going--you never know until you know.

I climbed a windey little ranch road until I reached the top, where the road sloped back down toward the river again:

My heart began to pound, just slightly. Oh my goodness. Look at this. And no locked gates, no private property signs. Goody goody goody! So obviously I continued.

It just got prettier and prettier. And no locked gates, no trespassing or private property signs, no evidence that I was on the maneuver site.

Oh dear, the time. It started getting close to 3 PM. I left the tPOD at around 8:30. Sure, I had stopped to take many pictures and check out many features. But still, I was out there. And the cold wind was still blowing good and hard. And I had been traveling mostly with that damned wind all day. I know the pictures make it look like it was a nice day, but I doubt it ever got much warmer than low 40s, and the warmest part of the day was over. I had a good light with me, and lots of clothes and food. But it just did not seem to be a great idea to get farther on out there. So I reluctantly turned around.

This is how far I got according to my gps (the little yellow diamond is the ranch site, I continued south and west from there):

Check out that little place just across the river from where I stopped; Parmeña Gap. That could be the way to get across the river, then up into the Chacuaco Canyon, a major side canyon that goes and goes south. And the OV Mesa, which is a beautiful red thing. Topo maps show a dotted jeep road skirting all the way around, just above the sheer red rock. And you can see that road with Google Earth.

But the day was cooked. It was time to get going if I was going to get back to the tPOD by dark.

On the way back, just as I approached the Rourke Ranch, there in the middle of the road appeared a very large, brown bull. His neck was twice the thickness of his head. When I saw him he was probably a little over 100 feet from me. His head was low. He was making a very odd low kind of moaning moo. Total and complete eye contact. I stopped. We stared at each other for several tense beats.

Perhaps this guy was just feeling a little lonely, and wondered if he and I might make some beautiful music together. But I'm thinking his motives were a bit darker. I think he wanted to stomp on me like I might stomp on a grape. Squish.

Finally I moved about two steps to my right. This prompted him to begin walking toward me.

There was a long shed, what would around here be known as a "loafing shed", open on one side. An old dilapidated corral was on the side of it not visible in the picture. The bull was in the road to the right of the shed (as pictured). I needed to get past him, but did not want to get squished. So I did the bravest thing I could think of: I picked up my bike and ran away, stepping through a gap in the corral fence, jumping on my bike and riding quickly through the corral where I was hidden from his view, then I rode around the far end and headed for the road as fast as I could. I looked back and saw that he had followed me around the other end of the shed. When I appeared at the other end, he looked back at me. Thank goodness for adrenaline. I used it to come up with some power and I headed for safety as quickly as I could pedal to it.

Yes, I lived. I did not get stomped. My large brain triumphed. Sweet.

I emerged from the Withers Canyon Trailhead at about 5 PM. I was greeted by wind. Oh my God cold friggin' wind. I put more clothing on and prepared myself for a slog upwind and uphill to where I had left the tPOD.

To summarize the next two hours: it sucked. I was tired, the cold wind roared in my ears, and I had nothing to do but deal.

It was a big day, big adventure, great exploring. My first 9+ hour day of the season, first long day on the Voodoo. Gotta go back and figure out the rest of that thing...

Up the Canyon

2009-04-08T08:23:00.005-06:00

The Picketwire Canyon has three levels of history. Some of the most distinct dinosaur tracks in Colorado (paleohistory), the history of indigenous Americans in the form of pictographs, and 19th Century western history in the form of homestead ruins, stagecoach stations, telegraph wires, a cemetery, and an historic ranch site. Wouldn't it be a shame to let the Army bomb it to rubble?

The current Piñon Canyon Maneuver Site is north of the Picketwire Canyon Rec Area, and stays north of the river, stretching west for some 20-30 miles. It's currently 235,000 acres. One map of the proposed expansion would make the site 415,000 acres.

The Commanche National Grasslands publish this map showing their managed rec area and the maneuver site to the north:

As I explored for epic loops, I assumed that anywhere north of the river, I might encounter fences marked no trespassing by order of the government. So I was watching for places where I could get across the river and head south. Down there it looks like this:

So as I headed on upstream to check out some of the other cool things, I kept my eyes peeled for a way to ford the river and go south into some of the side canyons up there.

Bury me not on the lone Prairee...

Plant me in this nifty canyon instead.

The dinosaur tracks are pretty cool. You can see where individual animals walked across some fudgy gumbo clay which then got dried and covered, and turned into stone:

Apatosaurus Tracks

Allosaurus Track

The rock formation in which these tracks are laid just crumbles away at the downstream end:

The Army could help that process along with just a couple bunker busters. Kewl.

As I head upriver, I find no promising places to ford the river and head south into the maze of canyons. I check out a few faint doubletracks, but there isn't anything I'd follow into the unknown.

So I keep going on the road toward the historic Rourke Ranche site.

Sweeping view of the upper canyon, the ranch site visible in the distance.

Rourke Ranch Site.

From here, by the Commanche National Grassland map (above) it looks like I'm at the end of the line.

Exploration Begins

2009-04-08T07:11:00.003-06:00

I had elected to set up at the Vogel Canyon picnic area. It's OK to stay overnight there, and it has a dry toilet. Vogel is a small side canyon of the Picketwire Canyon. I've visited it before, so I knew that there were some short trail loops and ancient pictographs. This trip, I was hoping to find a way to get directly down into the Picketwire Canyon so that I could ride up into the part of the canyon that has other attractions such as dinosaur tracks, stage line stations, and a historic ranchsite. The normal way to access that part of the canyon, upstream about 10 miles, is through the Withers Canyon Trailhead. See the map below:

The red arrows show the way I was hoping to find. The green shows the normal way.

Vogel Canyon was pretty in the morning light. I dropped in there and checked out the pictographs.

Bunny rabbit?

Clearly rattlesnake. Note the dumbass graffiti in chalk below.

After I stopped to check out the cool evidence of early residents, I headed down canyon to see if there was a way through. I quickly encountered a barbed wire fence. I decided that I wasn't going to start crawling over fences this early in the day. I decided to ride the normal way down to the Withers Canyon Trailhead. This involved taking to a wide open prairie dirt road. The cold crosswind worked me over for 7 or 8 miles, then became a tailwind as I headed south on Otero County Road 25.

I reached the trailhead a little over 2 hours after I left the tPOD. I dropped down into Withers Canyon then rode into the Picketwire Canyon:

The old stage road in the Picketwire Canyon. Note the telegraph pole to the right of the roadbed.

Breaking the Wind

2009-04-08T06:54:00.002-06:00

I left Saturday after working with the trail crew, mostly busting up rocks that the machine couldn't pry out of the ground.

It was my fourth day in a row of doing trail work. My back was tired, and I was ready to get my legs a little tired for some balance.

There was supposed to be a spring blizzard moving into Colorado Saturday. But as is often the case, the blizzard that the NWS predicted turned out to be wind. I drove east from Salida, hit some intermittent snow squalls as I emerged from the canyon of the Arkansas into Canon City. Then as I headed out onto the prairie toward Pueblo the snow cleared off and I drove into the wind. It was roaring out of the north, rocking my truck and camper as I drove east on highway 50.

Out east between Pueblo and La Junta I saw a pair of Kestrels, one sitting on barbed wire the other on a rigid weed stem. They were leaning their bullet-shaped bodies straight into the wind--horizontal. They looked like something out of a cartoon.

At La Junta I turned south onto Colorado Highway 109. In about 10 miles of bleak short grass prairie I came into sight of "The Cedars", the canons of the Purgatoire.

I parked the tPOD at the picnic area at Vogel Canyon. I popped it up, made some dinner, then read a book for a short while before I got sleepy. During the night, the cold and the rocking wind woke me up. I did not sleep well, and woke up thinking I had just picked a bad weekend for this adventure. Maybe I should just call it, eat some breakfast and head back to Salida. The relentless wind made that seem smart.

But then I came to my senses and decided to Harden the Fahk Up and get on with it.

Adventure Weekend

2009-04-07T08:02:00.002-06:00

There's a place east and south of Pueblo, CO that's dear to my heart. My dad grew up in Rocky Ford, CO, and his boy scout troop used to go camping "out south in The Cedars". This area is the Purgatoire River Canyon. The Purgatoire flows out of the Sangre de Cristo Range, through Trinidad near the New Mexico border, then diagonals to the southeast to join the Arkansas in Las Animas, CO. As my dad's uncle told me once "The old cowboys around here couldn't say Purgatoire so they called it the Picketwire."

The river is locally known as the Picketwire, and there's a Commanche National Grassland rec area with a really cool set of dinosaur tracks in there. There is also a vast network of red rock canyons, very similar to what you see in Utah's Canyonlands NP, between Trinidad and CO Highway 109. And almost nobody but residents of Otero and Las Animas counties know about it.

The Army, Fort Carson in Colorado Springs specifically, has had a maneuver site where they practice war-making north of the river (the Piñon Canyon Maneuver Site, aka PCMS). The Army has plans to radically expand the site to suck in some absolutely beautiful and remote canyon country. The plan would also displace many, many multi-generation ranch families, acquiring their ranches by eminent domain. See this site:

http://pinoncanyon.com/

I don't have enough time this morning to fully tell my story, but I made a scouting trip down there to possibly find a huge loop that would allow for many memories to be made and pictures to be taken. And maybe raise some awareness about what we may quietly lose.

More will be coming, but here's a teaser:

No Foolin' - diesel-powered trail building!

2009-04-01T17:12:00.002-07:00

My group, Salida Mountain Trails has been working with the City of Salida and the BLM to build a trail network for several years. The City has been very cooperative over the years. But this year they've been more than helpful--they've been buying stuff that we can use and hiring crews to help us build trail.

Here's Andrew running a brand-new Bobcat 418 mini-excavator in a driving snowstorm:

And here's a Southwest Conservation Corps crew starting a month-and-half stint of full time work on behalf of the City of Salida:

It's an exciting time here in Salida. We are going to make the most possible out of the contribution that the City is making. And it starts today, April 1. No foolin'.

Rubble of Initiation

2009-03-25T07:46:00.005-07:00

Took the new sled down Lost Trail for the 2nd time to make sure she understands Salida rubble riding. This is just above the funnel full of baby heads, the crux move in the descent of Lost Trail:

Ritual of Initiation. For Salida, that translates to chaotic descents down unpredictable chutes full of loose rock and gravel.

Yip yip yip

2009-03-20T05:50:00.002-07:00

My new Voodoo makes me feel like these guys feel about their radio:

Dialed

2009-03-19T16:08:00.004-07:00

This morning I had a pro Specialized Body Geometry 3D fit on my new Voodoo at Absolute Bikes, then in the afternoon I rode the 2,000 foot climb up Ute Trail and descended Cottonwood. Mmm. Good.

I've got shock pressures dead on. Still a little tuning and tinkering to do on the Rock Shox Monarch rear shock--it's a new gadget for me. But for the most part all is well.

This bike's handling is growing on me.

First layer of dust

2009-03-15T21:40:00.002-07:00

My Sweetie and I packed up bikes and headed to Pueblo to ride the Pueblo Lake State Park trails.

So, how does she ride?

Nice. A very different bike from full suspension 29ers that I have ridden before. The Joe-tuned geometry is evident. She's a little steeper up front than most full-suspension 29ers I'm used to, and there is a corresponding quickness that's unusual for a 29er. Longer and heavier than the Dambala (has to be--it's a fully), but the steering feels quicker.

Every new bike takes a while to get used to. I'm looking way forward to getting used to this one.

New Sled takes shape!

2009-03-15T11:27:00.000-07:00

Brown Santa showed up at Absolute Bikes with my new VooDoo Canzo29 frame on Friday. There was plenty going on and not enough mechanics doing it, so the frame got hung from a hook waiting for its chance to get built up.

On Saturday night, Banks called me offering to meet me at the shop at 8 AM Sunday, 2 hours before time to open up so that we could slap the parts on the new sled. I wasn't sure we could get done in two hours, but it sure wasn't an offer I was going to turn down.

bare frame, faced and chased and ready for the next thing.

This will be my first bike with a new flavor of King Bling:

Chris King bottom bracket? Oh yes.

There's nothing like an experienced bike mechanic doing what he does. Scot was fast. At 8:00 AM he was picking his facing tool out of the drawer. At 8:55 it was all done but for checking out shock pressure and setting my saddle height. Damn.

Banks finishing up.

Ready for the maiden voyage!

Run Through Time

2009-03-14T19:15:00.002-07:00

Saturday I helped out running an Aid Station for the 2009 Run Through Time dirty Marathon. The event is the creation of Jon and Ricky, the husband-wife team that have run the Vapor Trail 125's 1st Aid Station since the first year, 2005. So it's an honor to help out with their event.

Runners like chips, gatoraide and coke!

I rode up to the aid station at near 9,000 feet on my VooDoo Dambala SS. When the show was over I was free to make my first run down Cottonwood of the season.

Spring isn't here yet, but it's hard to tell from where I stand.

New Ride, Baby!

2009-03-11T09:09:00.005-07:00

Yep, you heard right. I've joined the 2009 VooDoo Grass Roots Team. I'll be adding a VooDoo Canzo29 to my stable, making me a 2 VooDoo family. 1 Dambala SS + 1 Canzo29 = 2 VooDoo.

Photos of the new sled will be available soon pending its arrival.

Thanks VooDoo. Honored to be there. It's easy to love rolling those Joe-designed VooDoos!

Not so much blogging lately

2009-02-24T08:06:00.002-07:00

It's been 4 weeks since my last confession.

Some would say that a blog is dead once there is no post for a month. Yeah, well. Um. Just haven't been posting anything.

I did a Leadville winter night race at 11,000 feet near Tennessee Pass. I rode in a big, silly century ride in SoCal, rollin' fast. 6 hours 10 minutes including stops. Never blogged those things. Just didn't. Shoulda coulda woulda.

I don't want to declare this blog dead, it's just in a winter dormancy. It'll be back. Promise.

Sweetwater Trail

2009-01-27T09:33:00.002-07:00

Went to ride Sweetwater, one of Mark Flint's latest contributions to Tucson singletrack art. Fast, smooth, beautiful.

Jake, my host for this last bit of Tucson visit, railing it at Sweetwater

Don't (bother) Try(ing) This at Home

2009-01-26T07:28:00.001-07:00

My shoe experiment (http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2008/12/eye-talian-loafers.html) has officially proven to be futile. As you can see, after the APC I have one toe patch and one heal patch left.

The shoe goo is sticking to the shoe for the most part, but the tire patches peeled off the shoe goo rather quickly really.

Oh well, it was a good idea anyway.

Antelope Peak Challenge

2009-01-25T20:54:00.003-07:00

Scott and Chad's Antelope Peak Challenge was a great ride. The day was the best since I've been here in AZ--sunny and upper 60's for the most part. A bit of wind in the afternoon, but no big.

I was running late and frenetic when everyone gathered at the intersection of hwy 77 and the Willow Springs Road. I was able to roll with the group at 7:15 AM, but without any time to spare.

The first 8 miles or so were neutral, so the group was all together until we reached Oracle at around 8 AM.

The first singletrack was the piece of Arizona Trail that goes from the Tiger Mine Road to the beginning of the dreaded gasline section. It's rarely used, and often challenging to follow. But it's a sweet, technical bit of trail.

One of these riders is Rob Brinkeroff--he and I played leapfrog all day until he rode past me while I was removing a hedgehog cactus thorn from my foot near the base of Antelope Peak.

The gasline was tough, but it just did not feel as long as it did the time I rode this loop solo and the other direction two years ago. The gasline bit ends in bloodsucker wash, where we rode devilish beach sand for what seemed like quite a while. Probably only 15 minutes or so. Then there was a brief bit of doubletrack over from Bloodsucker to Putnam Wash, where we rode through this old abandoned ranch site:

Then it was a short trip upstream in Putnam Wash.

This is a view south across Putnam Wash, where the AZ Trail again becomes singletrack.

This was the beginning of a section of singletrack that was fiercely overgrown because of its remoteness. The white-spine acacia, cat's claw, palo verde and other various mean and spiny flora drew plenty o' blood on my shins. Oddly, my left leg got ripped really good, but the right was mostly OK. Go figger.

Antelope Peak, seeming close but still nearly an hour away.

Just before reaching the doubletrack at the northern foot of Antelope Peak, I lost the trail completely. Tire tracks were radiating away from the small wash where the trail disappeared. I was wandering through the cactus and brush, looking at my GPS and trying to figure out which direction to go when my foot bumped a hedgehog cactus. Of course, a spine went into the side of my foot. The end was barely protruding from the shoe, so I had to sit down and take off the shoe to yank it. It's always a nice relief to get those little guys out--you really notice it when they're shoved up into your flesh.

After that little ordeal I was just feeling a bit negative about tramping through the brush, so I eliminated the idea of climbing Antelope Peak to get the 75 minute preem and the photo op. I had been planning to go up there. Kind of wish I had done it now.

Instead I got out to the Freeman Road, facing a bit of a headwind as I headed west to the intersection with the Willow Springs Road. Lee Blackwell and another dude, ~~I think probably Veeze Price~~ Andy Stevenson, caught me and we rode together for a while. I was feeling it. They rode off ahead around the intersection with Willow Springs. Not long after, I caught them as Lee stopped to eat. Andy ~~Veeze~~ came with me to ride the singletrack into the Old Pueblo venue since he had not successfully loaded the course into his GPS and he needed a guide to get him there. So we rode together for most of an hour.

When we got the the venue, he wanted to go straight to the finish, but I was intent on doing the bonus lap. So I showed him to "His" and told him how to complete the course. Then I turned back west to ride the lap. I stopped by at June and Phil's camp to see if Phil knew how things were going for June. He had not heard from her, so I went on and promised to call when I finished.

The worst part of the bonus was "the Bitches". It's another bit of gasline, the least enjoyable part of the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo course. I started riding the course at about 4:10, and rolled off the course under the Willow Springs Arch at 4:59.

Back to the finish at 5:30 on the mark. Of the 11 men who finished, I was #11 (woo hoo!)

Official results are here: http://rockyroad5050.wordpress.com/aes-results/

Good day. Thanks Scott and Chad!

blinky blinky

2009-01-24T07:28:00.001-07:00

Junebug took me for an exploring ride. We wanted to review the route (using Painter Boy) that the Antelope Peak Challenge will take to make a more direct route from the Willow Springs road to the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo venue. Then we rolled up to "the blinky light", a radio tower high above the desert, to ride down to the venue on singletrack. Stans to Stickman to Painter Boy to Bones.

Outbound on Painter Boy

It was sprinkling when we embarked. The weather stayed off in other places for the most part until about an hour in. We were stopped to work on June's dragging rear brake rotor when it began to rain a bit harder. We pulled out rain jackets and put them on. Almost immediately the rain slowed, within 5 minutes it stopped.

My theory is that the rain gods look down. They throw some rain at you, then watch to see how you react. If you're prepared and not terribly traumatized, things tend to go better. If you're wearing a hawaiian shirt, baggies with a single clif bar in the pocket, a single water bottle and no pack, you're going to see serious weather.

Painter Boy was pretty easy to follow, but the connecting "trail" to Willow Springs was mostly cow path. We made two meanders off the trail in less than half a mile, but then found the intersection of the service road up to the blinky light and Willow Springs Road.

The climb up to the blinky was not bad, at least by Colorado standards. From up top the view was splendid.

Then it was time to start riding the ridge on a faint trail known as Stans. It sometimes was hidden by overgrown bunch grass, marked by tiny cairns and sticks for the most part. But it was followable. Sometimes I had to slow to a near trackstand and look around, but only a few times had to stop to hunt around ahead for a cairn or visible bit of trail. It reminded me of the Blue Dot trail above Moab.

The views were spectacular.

Great ride. Hoping that the weekend will be dryer, especially Sunday.

Colossal Cave to Rincon Creek on the AZT

2009-01-22T14:58:00.004-07:00

Overnight some weather moved in. The NWS was saying that we had 10 days of clear warm weather. What gives?

So the rain pattered on the roof of the tPOD all night, but it was only moist. No puddles, just warm and humid and sprinkles on and off.

Things were looking a little iffy, but pretty. Love that Sonoran Desert!

The sprinkles became constant and not intermittent. But I wanted to make it to Rincon Creek. So I rocked it, brushing white spine acacia on and off. But it was fun. I made the Creek as the rain began to fall in earnest.

Got back to the tPOD just as the sky opened up. It really rained as I made lunch. Now I know, we're supposed to be in for some crappy weather through tomorrow. Clearing Saturday in plenty of time for the Antelope Peak Challenge on Sunday. Word!

Cienega AZT

2009-01-21T19:47:00.003-07:00

When I first showed up on a vision quest in the Tucson area a little over 2 years ago, the first place I lit was the Colossal Cave Mountain Park east of Tucson near the town of Vail, AZ. I discovered a section of the AZT there that really made me feel welcome. And a great place to camp.

I wound up joining a volunteer crew to work on this section of the AZT on two different Saturdays during that January of 2007. So I have a special attachment to this bit of the trail.

I went back to CCMP as soon as I got here. It was not even noon, so I decided I might as well get on my way out to see one of my favorite pieces of singletrack anywhere.

This is the bit I had the great pleasure to work on.

I headed south, out of Colossal Cave toward I-10 and the Santa Rita Mountains beyond.

This is one of the two bikes I brought on this trip, courtesy of Shawn. It's his beautiful custom Coconino. Let me tell you, Steve knows how to make them corner!

This is a little bit of twisty trail just north of the 3 Bridges.

I wound up riding more than 10 miles south after crossing the interstate. They've been working hard on this linkage to the Santa Ritas, and it is nice. There were fresh tool marks on much of it.

Nice 36 mile out-and-back.

SE AZ at dawn

2009-01-21T12:42:00.002-07:00

Getting back to SE Arizona is always a treat for me. I rolled south from Salida on Tuesday, getting do Deming, NM by about 10 PM. Here's a tip for those of you who like to Wal-Mart camp. The Walmart in Deming sits really close to I-10 and really close to the railroad tracks. It sounded like I was parked in the median of the interstate--until trains came by mind you. Then I could barely hear the big rigs howling by for the train whistle. Not. Much. Sleep.

I left early (naturally) and was rolling west on I-10 before 6 AM. The sun rose behind me at around 7.

Just as the sun was clearing the horizon, a quick coyote ran across the highway a couple hundred feet in front of me. Good omen.

CB Nordic in Sunshine

2009-01-19T14:38:00.002-07:00

Kathy's folks treated us to a really nice weekend in Crested Butte for nordic skiing. Could not have asked for better weather.

I'm not [intentionally] dancing here, I'm trying to not fall over.

A Day at the Beach

2009-01-15T06:59:00.003-07:00

It's been so much skinny-tire for me--mostly on the rollers. I needed a taste of singletrack, and a chance to shake out my ride for the Antelope Peak Challenge, a Coconino hardtail I'm borrowing from Shawn. It is a sweet ride; cruiser-style with a curved top tube, S-bend seat stays, Fox fork, crossmax 29, full XTR--pretty much full bling. I'll get photos of this blue beauty on here ASAP.

It is the perfect ride for Pueblo Lake State Park. Head tube angle is just a touch steeper than I'm accustomed to and it really likes to turn. Just think a turn and it goes there. Nice.

Gary from Del Norte and his friend Andy needed some dirt too, so we cruised over there together. Nice to ride outside and not risk frostbite.

Gary rockin' it.

Andy rockin' it.

Gary and Andy under blue skies with Pikes Peak in the background.

Good day, worth the drive.

wassup?

2009-01-09T16:30:00.002-07:00

So OK, it's been a while since I've posted. Just, uh, not much going on. I already posted a picture of myself on the rollers. I could get more of those! Also posted a pic of my ride through a winter-ish landscape. More of that has been happening. Also work is progressing on Salida Mountain Trails issues.

But my bikey news for right now is that I'm planning to roll out to Oracle, AZ for the Antelope Peak Challenge.

Arizona, here I come!

Rollers ahoy!

2008-12-20T15:06:00.003-07:00

It's harder to start this than it is once you're going. I decided that the time had come, especially since we've got rocky mountain winds blowing today. Cold, gusty. Did I say cold?

Yeah, yeah, yeah; I know I should be skiing.

Solstice tomorrow, 5:04 AM MST. First day of winter. The days start getting longer. And that's a good thing.

It isn't even that fun, is it?

2008-12-17T14:40:00.003-07:00

Last summer when the South Central Racing Omnium was going on we had a local character come into the bike shop to try to convince us to let him ride a Specialized Roubaix from our rental fleet in the road race in exchange for the privelege of having him wear our shop jersey. He was also hoping for us to foot his $50 entry. He would have thrown down for sure, but we don't really often sponsor riders who show up half an hour before the race starts looking for a ride...

Anyway, I was showing him that the Roubaix we had in rental was a nearly $3,000 bike, and we had a new one just like it in his size right there on the showroom floor. He said without hesitation and in complete honesty, "Three thousand dollars for a road bike? It isn't even that fun, is it?"

That's what was going through my mind as I pedaled out of town to get some damned riding in, facing a brutally cold headwind, periodically slowing to near walking speed as I rolled over crunchy ice where the wind was blowing snow across the road.

You have to really want it. Like, really a lot.

I got my rollers out of the garage the other day. I look at them every once in a while, but I haven't gotten desperate enough yet to wobble my way into the beginning of a trip to nowhere.

But you know, the day is coming when I will be desperate enough.

The only 2009 races I intend to pay for...

2008-12-11T17:56:00.001-07:00

...are those races that will be part of the Leadville Winter Mountainbike Series.

Eye-talian Loafers

2008-12-09T15:09:00.003-07:00

Endurance mountain bikers/mtb racers and Sidis go together like cats and cat litter. Sure, there are some paddle-footed riders who hate them for their narrowness, and there are always going to be fans of other shoes, like Lakes and Carnacs. But you see battered black Sidis on a lot of riders out there.

I got a pair of Sidi Techno Fires back in the mid-90s and I was hooked. You remember those? Black uppers and orange soles, fishline loop closure? I rode the hell out of those, stringing in new fishline from my fly reel after one of the loops broke. Then I got my first pair of Dominators. Sidis are nice and stiff, and they last and last.

But Sidis have a dark side (get it? They're black! Get it?!). Sidis are treacherously slippery and quite uncomfortable when it comes time for technical hike-a-bike. During my recent trip down to the Copper Canyon brother Phil always called them Italian Loafers, especially after somebody stumbled or fell trying to walk across bare rock on the silly, hard-bottomed little things.

I have two pairs of Dominator 5's. I had one pair that I got in 2000 or so. In the run-up to my first Leadville in Summer of 2005 I got a 2nd pair because #1 was looking really beat. Since then I've been pretty much wearing the old #1's any time it looked like things would be even remotely tough, to save "the good pair" for posterity. Hell, I pretty much wore the #1's unless I couldn't find them.

So the upshot is, they are beat. The soles are worn down to nubbins. The uppers where they join with the sole, especially near the toes, are peeled back and about to breach. I took them to an outfit that resoles hiking boots and they offered to patch things up for $75-80. Well hell, that's a third of a new pair. At retail no less. So it was obvious what I must do. DIY, baby.

Raw Materials: donor Sidis, old tire, Shoe Goo, power drill, self-tapping screws, cute little stuffed doggy (disclosure: the shoes pictured are my #2's. I had already started working on the #1's when it occurred to me that I should take a picture, so I used the ones I hadn't messed with. Yet.)

At first I considered using something like plastic milk jug material to cover over the toe patches. But then my brain kicked in. Why not use something that isn't slippery? Eureka!

So I dug out an old worn out wire-bead WTB Motoraptor (God rest its soul. Sole? Soul?). I cut a toe patch. I glued it on. I duct-taped the hell out of it so that it would stick where I had placed it.

Tough Sidis in their duct-tape cocoons, ready to emerge as tough Sidi butterflies

Then I looked at the sole (soul?) of the shoe and decided, if a little bit of mountain bike tire material is good, more is better. Slather on the shoe goo, cut a piece of tire, stick it on there, see if there's someplace where a screw can be driven in to keep it in place. Tape it up. Leave it to cure. Lather, rinse, repeat.

The final product, tough and walkable (I hope anyway)

I'll report at some point after I've had an epic day or two with lots of strolling through the rubble that I love to carry my bike over.

Winter's Icey Kiss

2008-12-09T09:31:00.003-07:00

OK, we've finally been touched with real snow.

I'd like to say I'm pleased. I guess I am for some reasons. The mile or so of new singletrack that's been built by Salida Mountain Trails this year needed some moisture really badly to help bed it in. And it's just plain been really dry here, which is good for riding (to a point) but hard on the land. And then there's the good of Monarch to think about. I guess they need to stay in business. And since they don't make any snow they kind of need to have it fall out of the sky.

But I'm bummed about how much our riding will now be limited. There are a few trails that will stay open, and of course tarmac will be open again right away. And then there are rollers.

(sigh)

Trailbuild

2008-12-07T08:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we got out there and broke ground on a new trail section. We had a publicisized volunteer day and got great turnout. As a result, 1000 ft of new trail is on the ground near Salida.

Nice!

See Tom pretend to work

Still on dirt

2008-12-03T15:17:00.000-07:00

Another clear dry day. Another ride. Thank goodness.

quite chilly, but still dry and mighty

PEE-ebluh State Park

2008-11-29T15:33:00.001-07:00

On Black Friday, even though we would have rather had a chance to trample a Wal-Mart employee, Kathy and I headed over to Pueblo (pronounced PEE-ebluh) State Park from Wetmore to ride bikes.

A cold front moved through on Thursday night, so Friday was chilly. It was clear at the foot of the Wet Mountains, but we drove under a thick cloud bank as we approached Pueblo Reservoir and the state park. The air was cold and moist as we got started, and the sun was completely obscured by thick clouds, but we bundled up to see if it would be workable as long as we were there.

Once we got moving the day's weather proved to be fine for riding for the most part. The light was completely flat, which made photos pretty interesting.

Me on the Outer Limits Trail under a gray sky

Outer Limits is a really cool trail. It traces along the rim of the bluff over Pueblo Res. Lots of flowy singletrack with little dips. Good fun, and good scenery.

Kathy on the Voodoo Trail

We started riding the Voodoo Trail, but it was getting a little late and toes were getting cold, so we cut that short and headed back.

The Wet Mountains as seen from the east

As we headed back west toward Wetmore we drove under mostly clear skies.

The day was good, and it ended quite well with a surprisingly tastey dinner at Merlino's Belvedere in Cañon City. From the billboards I've been seeing as I passed through the area for the last 20 years I just assumed that this place would have to be totally campy. But the people are completely genuine in their desire to please, and damnit, the food is good. I recommend it if you like real Italian Food. And especially if you like having Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin woo you quietly from hidden speakers as you chow down on homemade pasta.

Evening with rocks and sunset

2008-11-25T20:00:00.001-07:00

In the cooler part of each year, we Salidans ride the rocky piñon/juniper country that rings the town. Lost Trail is my favorite of these rides. It's a flawed trail, to be sure. Lots of fall-line stuff, some ridiculously technical. Ruts full of baby heads, some flowing open trail full of baby heads, sandy ruts--you know, normal Salida riding.

This evening I got up there just at sunset. Looking for that pink light. Got a little bit of it.

Rocky upper part of Lost Trail

The sky has been full of high cirrus all day. A weather thing is supposed to be here for Dead Bird Day®. This is the kind of sky we get before a weather blip. But those high clouds do make for some nice sunsets.

Sunset as seen from the middle of Lost Trail

The lower part of the trail has some really nice smooth bits. So out of character for trails near Salida.

The lower, smoother part of Lost Trail, my Voodoo taking a breather as the light turns low

Back to our regularly scheduled Indian Summer

2008-11-21T12:05:00.002-07:00

Yep, it was just the one day. The front moved through over night, and we had a chilly and clear morning. Down below 20, but up to the 40's by 9 AM. I'm going to be in Denver with Kathy this weekend for the Denver Film Festival, so I figured I better bust out a little ride.

This time of year it's always so compelling to get a ride in. There's always the feeling that the hard weather is just around the corner and we won't be on dirt much longer. But it's been feeling like that to me since early October, and moreso since we got back from Mexico.

But yeah, it's fuggin' pretty again. Go figure.

Southern Sawatch Range as seen this morning from the Arkansas Hills north of Salida. The peaks are (left to right) Ouray, Chipeta, and Pahlone. Ouray was a lendendary chief of the Ute Indians. The Ute were indiginous to this area before statehood in 1976, which was roughly when they were run out of the mountains and moved to reservations (as was the fashion at the time). Chipeta was one of Ouray's wives, and Pahlone was his son by another wife, Black Mare.

See this article from Colorado Central Magazine if you're interested in knowing a bit more.

And then it changed--maybe for only the day

2008-11-20T10:50:00.001-07:00

Glad I did a nice, long ride yesterday. Today is chilly, windy, overcast, and with the smell of snow in the air. Shiver shiver. We do need the moisture though. And the forecast for tomorrow is back to clear and dry.

So it goes.

On the horizon on the right side center of this photo is roughly where I was yesterday when I took the photo of clear, cloudless southern Chaffee County.

Clear, Dry Arkansas Valley

2008-11-19T13:20:00.001-07:00

Eight days ago I declared that our weather was supposed to become stinko for riding. Did not happen. It's been ridiculously nice. Chilly overnight, sure. Down in the teens. But that's standard for the Upper Arkansas in the months between the autumnal and vernal equinox. Clear, sunny, daytime temperatures in the upper 50's and lower 60's, but feeling warmer in the sun. Night rides comfortable until after 8 PM.

Rode the Rainbow Trail between Bear Creek and Methodist a while ago. 9,000 feet elevation and dry as a bone. Too dry I guess, but I like it. I'm selfish--I like to ride.

Glassy clear air. Utterly cloudless sky. Typical for the valley in autumn.

Sunsets and New Trails

2008-11-17T09:12:00.001-07:00

Last week one evening Kathy and I were taking a little hike and noted the compelling beauty of rose-colored light that washed over the land due to a fabulous and sublime sunset. I wanted to get some pictures of some of our new trails winding through the piñon, and I decided that I wanted them to appear in this light. So on Sunday late afternoon we set out for another evening walk, this time with camera hoping to get similarly beautiful soft light.

As we trespassed across the dormant Union Pacific railroad tracks the sun was just touching the horizon and the early evening sky was mostly steel-colored. Seemed like we might just have to settle for flat soft light.

We climbed a steep and direct route up onto Tenderfoot hill. The sun disappeared behind Mt Ouray. We arrived at the beginning of the newly completed trail we've been calling Little Rattler.

At around 4:30 PM we got this shot. The light was gray, the terrain was gray, the trail was gray, but still a pretty nice photo. Note the tire tracks. The trail already has many visitors, afoot and riding, every day. We saw a rider as we ascended.

Then it happened. The sky bloomed.

We headed back, farther north and farther up into the slope of the Arkansas Hills. We got the rose-colored pictures. Here's a sample:

Work in progress, The Backbone Trail

It got dark on us, but we had just enough light to keep from tripping on rocks, and we got a nice view of our little town with a last bit of spectacular and poignant sunset.

Late Rainbow

2008-11-11T15:27:00.000-07:00

Today I just had to take a few minutes (well, hours) to ride our local bit of lovely Rainbow Trail. The weather is supposed to get nasty this week which would be appropriate to the season. So I thought today would probably be a good day to go, rather than regret that I lost my chance to ride it one more time.

There was a bit of wintery weather visible on the tops of the Sangre de Christo peaks that we see up ahead.

Climbing toward wintertime.

Check out the wintertime visible between the trees. Pretty though.

Ah, we locals do enjoy suffering on this pretty climb. I'll miss it when it is under 5 feet of snow.

Slightly snowy singletrack.