Just another So Cal winter weekend.

The storm blew in Friday and chilled the air enough to drop the snow level to well below 2500'.  So Sat AM we headed towards the coast to get into a warmer place and to ride a section of the Backbone Trail that I had never been on before.  It was a section of trail that Walt Disney might have made...buff, swoopy, mildly graded...it danced and dipped through the chaparral and was an absolute delight.  JeffJ and Navy Mike came out to play despite the cold.  It was 32 degrees at the gas station in the early morning and 36 degrees at the trailhead at 09:00.  Brrrr.  We warmed up fast and stripped layers, but tights were good all day.

I don't think we broke 20 miles for the day, and we failed to find the trail connector at a road crossing, instead riding some pavement to a nice viewpoint anyway.  We really did not care.  The Pacific Ocean was on our left...the snow covered mountains above to our right.  Why hurry?

That was Saturday.  Sunday was a family ride day so we headed up Warm Springs Mtn and made it about 3/4s the way up the 2000' climb before snow and rocks turned us around.  Lots of loose rocks are bad on doggies feet, especially Sophie's delicate paws.

All in all, two good rides despite bike building frustrations back at home.  Too many projects going on right now with details needing sorting.

Nature works to create art with frost as the medium...car roof top as canvas.

Rain ride.

Back to the Canyon.

A while ago I was able to finally get to a semi-distant trail that promised miles of relatively unused singletrack, or at least uncrowded miles.  What we found was a great trail, limited in scope mostly by our time and leg limits.  So this time we came back with more hours in our pockets to dole out, but the same old legs to do it with.  Navy Mike on his SS Jabberwocky, FFW with his newly minted Superfly 100, and I on the Carve Pro SS.

This trail is a real stunner and is very singlespeed-able for a strong rider.  We ended up with 27 miles for the day, and we were pretty worked by the end.  In the last few climbs, I was actually cramping up in between my shoulder blades from pulling so much.  However funny that was to experience, it paled in comparison to the swoosh-fest that defined many sections of that trail.

For the beginning miles, I was struggling with line choice, bike control, mind control...flow was not happening.  But by the end, 5 hours later, the mind was well in hand and so was the bike.  Flow on!  The Carve is turning into a real contender for my heart.  The ride is very decent for an aluminum frame and the pedaling performance is top notch.  Handling is much better now with the short term Fox F100 set at 100mm, not 80mm, and it was all I could have asked for on that trail ride.

I am still fighting poor picture quality out of the iPhone 4 ever since the iOS upgrade, but that just makes me want a real camera even more.  But, here are a few shots of the day.

SS stands for Singletrack Singletrack

Three of us took off at 0-dark-Thirty and drove a couple hours North to a trail I had been told about for a couple of years now, but had never made it to.  The Kern River trail offers 20 miles of singletrack goodness as it follows the contours of the hillsides above the Kern River in the Kern Cyn.

Well, I finally dipped my toe in the stream of dirt and it was good.  We sampled about 15-16 miles of it as an out and back so we could plan a longer ride later in the Spring.  Wanna' do 40 miles of singletrack?  Wow.  That would be a good day.

We, myself, Navy Mike, and Tony the Tiger, all were riding singlespeeds.  I had a new scoot to break in, the Carve SS Pro, all 23.25 pounds of it.  Speedy, yes?  Yes.

When we began, it was in the mid thirties and frost was all on the grass.  After one hour of climbing, we caught up with the sunrise and things warmed up nicely.  The trail was really nice for singlespeeds, although the grades took a toll.  A bit of pushing took care of the real soft, steep sections....pushing, the other SS gear...and we moved along smartly.  Only one crash that I wish I had a pic of.  Navy Mike ended up upside down and mousetrapped by his bike like a big bear trap on his leg, keeping him nicely wedged into a rock pile.  I would have snapped a pic, but I though he was hurt since he was not moving and I ran back up the trail to recover the body.  Not dead...just laughing and needing a helping hand.  Oh good.  No place to land a helicopter on this trail for an airlift.

We ran into a group of riders about half way back to the truck, three of them on singlespeeds too.  One straggler rode up to us as we were talking, looked at me and said, "Hey, I watch your videos on You Tube!  You are Grannygear!".  Wow, that was kinda odd.  I declined an autograph or picture opportunity and rode on, living legend that I am. 

Great day despite the cold start and yeah, we will be back for more.  I may even sign an autograph next time. 

The grateful dead ride

Saturday was my 'rising up from the dead' ride after the plague visited my sinuses for a few days.  The drugs were working miracles and I was either going to enjoy a ride or die trying.  I sent out a few invites for a singlespeed only ride on a local trail that is a crown jewel of the forest.  The oak trees up there are not the typical Live Oak that stays green all year, but these trees turn color and drop their leaves in big drifts of clutter that gather in all the sweeping corners of the trail, or, at least they do that just as soon as they are done placing acorns on the rest of it.  So what you have then is a stratified layer of detritus that is deadly and lovely all at the same time.

The loudest thing in the forest was our tires rolling through the leaf piles and the occasional "brrrrraaaaapppp" of one stuck against the tire like a paper boy's bike laced with playing cards.  Well, that and our SS induced wheezing and breathing and panting.

It ended up just being Navy Mike and I as all the others were unable to come out and play.  It is great to ride with someone that is at the same level of ability and fitness as you and has nothing to prove.  We rode-pushed-rode-pushed-rode until we were close enough to the top to call it good.  And it was good.  Out of the wind, under the oaks, in the sun, on the grass.  We were unhurried on purpose.

Not dead...just rusting.  New steel and old steel.

 Singlespeed 29ers are just amazing beasts of conveyance.  I never tire of the challenge and the rewards they offer.  I never tire of the amazing creation I get to ride them on, this earth.  Flawed as it is, it is a special place.  Today was just a couple of old guys on simple bikes in a lovely place on a great trail, and we had the good sense to slow down and enjoy it.

Yeah, that could happen way more often than it does and it would be ok with me.  Label me alive and grateful, not dead yet....just resting.

We got mountains.

One thing we have in spades in So Cal are mountains.  Ok, not Fourteen'ers, but still, we got some pretty good hills to ride up and over.  Most of them are criss crossed with fire trails (dirt roads) that allow access for wildfire fighting or whatever.  We have singletrack too, but there are waaaayy more fire roads than true trails.

This last Sat a group of pilgrims set out on a loop up and over one of those mountains that split the boys into two partitions....a slower paced group that began at the base of a serious dirt climb and a faster group that I was in (hey, every train needs a caboose) that began 6 miles lower and connected things with a paved climb out of town first.  The idea was that we would all summit at around the same time so there would be little waiting at the top.  Good thing too as it was full on clouds up there on the ridge and likely in the high 30s for temps.  Brrrr.

But the slower group got a late start due to a late arrival of one rider (who turned around early in the ride...well thanks a lot...make us late, then leave).  So we ended up passing them not even half way up the 2 hour climb.  Not a good sign.  The fastest of the fast were long gone now and were nowhere to be found at the top of the main climb.  It turned out that one of the guys was a bit under dressed and was feeling the weather up there.  We waited for a while at the top...maybe 45 minutes, till we could not wait anymore...too cold.  We completed the ride by running 8 miles of ridgeline in the clouds and then dropped down 5-ish miles of singletrack.

A chicken burrito later at a Mex food joint, and no slow group.  I called JeffJ who was coming off a head cold and a month or so of little riding, and I got a broken reply on the phone before the call dropped:  "...halfway down Gridley...legs...locking up....feels like I might....throw-up...*click*"  Oh my.  Not good.

We were planning the rescue mission when we saw the entourage coming back into town.  JeffJ (in the blue windbreaker) looks like he is smiling in the pic.  I think it was a grimace that stuck there...kinda' like the Joker on Batman.  But it is amazing what a plate of Mexican food will fix and in the end, things worked out just fine.

We got mountains here, by George, and we ride over them on occasion.

Lift that bale...tote that barge.

Remember when we used to plan on carrying our bikes on pretty much every ride?  Or certainly push them?  This was back in the mid to late 80s and the trails were often less traveled.  Plus, we were able to go places as mtn bikers that are closed to us now and many of those back country areas were just too steep to ride up or down.  In some ways, it also reflected the tech level of bikes at the time.  Brakes, tires, suspension, etc, have all evolved to let us ride where used to carry.

So you pushed.  And, you carried.  No biggie.  Part of the deal.  There was even a name for it:  'Hike-a-Bike'.  We had padded straps (portage straps, they were called) that bridged the nose of the saddle and the top tube and provided a somewhat comfortable place to cradle your scoot on hike-a-bikes.  On high end bikes like Ritcheys, there were even braze-ons for those straps.  JAAND made (and still does make) a storage bag that sat in the corner of the TT/ST and gave you a carry spot and tool options.  Most frame shapes won't even accommodate those now.

But that is OK, because we don't push or carry much anymore.  At least, not around here.  And that is too bad.  The act of pushing/portaging typically means that you are on a bit of an adventure.  It could mean that you are so dead tired that it is your only option, but that is another thing altogether.  However, the times you need to get off the bike and move ahead anyway will bring you to places that most mtn bikers will not go.  Too steep, too remote, too hard.

We actually pushed/portaged the other day on a ride and it was interesting to see the response of the riders.  Some grimaced, some smiled.  Some questioned the entire process and others just pushed, accepting the deal.  It is what it is...whatta'ya gonna' do?  Push and carry. 

Steeper than it looks.

I cut my teeth on this type of ride experience.  My mentor was an adventurer and we just crossed off every line on the map on and off of our bikes.  A 1000' portage was just another day out on the bikes.  We got tough and we saw places that no one else we knew ever wanted to go on bikes.

I don't do that much anymore, but the other day reminded me that it is something to be dealt with, and, if not enjoyed, at least accepted as part of the experience.  We are, after all, mountain bikers and mountains cannot always be ridden on, but should still be traveled.

End of the Week Wrap-up

It has been a busy week and one full of wild weather swings.  Late last week it was in the mid eighties and this week it was snowing in the local mtns.  Still there were a few things that stood out:

Beware of snakes in the grass...and other places.  A new record of the most rattlesnakes spotted in a year was set in the last month.  Three so far, all in April.  Crazy.  It will be a bad year to be a field mouse.

I have been trying to keep up with bike reviews and I had the chance to toss a leg over this baby below.  Is it fun to ride a 22.5lb 29er hardtail?  Yes, yes it is.  Even with 1x10, it just flew up the hills.  And yes, that is a bamboo and carbon fiber bike, the bike equivalent of a Woody wagon.

JeffJ and I set aside a day to get out and and do a series of local moto trails that drop off of a high ridge in the National Forest.  The weird weather came in and changed that a bit, but we still got half of it done.  It was not without its difficulties, though.  I was stoked to be on this ride.  I had not ridden here for a while and one part of the planned big figure eight had not been ridden in years, having explored it when I was writing a MTB Trail Guide book with a friend.   We parked and began unloading the bikes and then I heard JJ utter a sound that never brings good tidings.  "Oh Nooo", said Jeff.  I froze and said, seemingly with some odd knowledge of impending doom, "you forgot your helmet, huh?"  Yep.  DUUUHHOOOH!  Jeff had done the classic 'I swear I had everything' move and left his brain bucket at home.  I had extra shoes with me, but no helmet.  I did that once too and I rode anyway, but this would be no trailride to be sans helmet. 

Emphasizing to JJ that there was NO WAY we could do this ride without that bit of armor,  I was pretty depressed, realizing that we did not have the time to go all the way back and then return, so we would once again miss out on a ride that got us out of our backyard a bit.  Then JJ remembered that, in a nearby house where he had been doing some work (belongs to a common cyclist friend),  there was a helmet sitting around.  Of course, there was always chance that no one would be home and we could not get in.

Off we went on our fools errand after reloading all the bikes and keeping our hopes up.  There was no one home, but we found a window unlocked.  OK, then!  JJ slid the window up and just looked at me.  Oh...you are suggesting I do this, eh?  Well, JJ is not a window sized guy unless it is a sliding patio door, so in I went, hoping that no po-po (or neighbors with guns, including the 'Cat Lady') were watching.  Yep, there was a helmet alright, but it looked like it belonged to a teenage girl.  Good luck, Jeff.  Out the window and back in the truck...back to our parking area with JJ adjusting the helmet to fit his decently large head.  It sat somewhat comically on top of his bean, but at least it was not a pink helmet.  Thumbs up!  We are good to go.

The climb was about an hour long and as we topped out, the wind was raging and the temps were dropping fast.  Jeff looked bundled up like an eskimo with a very petite helmet.

So, not really wanting to face the wind and storm clouds coming in, as the ride still had about 800" of elevation gain left and a long trail ride on the exposed ridge, we cut the ride short and dropped into the nearby trail.  Yeah, we could have been all manly, etc, but we were out to have fun, not be all epic and everything.  We were on some great FS bikes, JJ on the Anthem X 29er 2 and I on the FSR.  It was the second time I had taken this bike onto a trail that really was more fun on a scoot with some travel and a slacker HT angle.  Bouquet Jumps, as it is called, is a moto trail that is constructed with one big whoop after another.  They laid down interlocking concrete rails and then covered them with dirt so the motos climbing up the 1000+ foot ascent in around a mile and a half would not chew it up.  It makes for a hoot of a downhill on a bigger travel FS bike.

This was just what the doctor ordered for the FSR.  I am not really a high flyer, so I kept it close to the ground, but man you could really get in trouble on this trail with some pretty big air.

After we celebrated at the trail bottom, we brought the helmet back...once again in through the window and back out like safety minded, bike riding thieves in the night.  A post ride chicken burrito at Chronic Tacos and life was all good.

Be the windshield.

Windshield...meet bug.

You know the old adage..."sometimes you are the bug, sometimes you are the windshield"?  Yesterday morning I was trying to get ready for a morning ride with my wife and her cronies.  It is a very casual pace, so I often add some extra credit laps to the morning.  I wanted to take the SS out, but I needed to replace the torn front tire and the chain as it was pretty worn.  Neither of those things are too hard, but it seemed like everything was fighting me.  By the time I got it done, I was running late and that ruled out a pre-lap before I met with the Sunday AM Cruisers.  I headed out anyway and got a ways down the road before I found my rear tire to be a tiny bit low...forgot to check it.  Off the bike...out with the pump...etc.

Then, when I did finally get on trail I was just off my line in every corner, so-so on the climbs, and just basically living a bug's life in search of an oncoming piece of curved and tinted safety glass.

Well, that sucked.

So, about 02:00 in the PM, I was enjoying the extra time in the day after the 'Spring Ahead' time change.  I thought about an afternoon nap after the wife and I had made a car run to the local Honey House to grab some of the bee's finest work.  Instead, I suited up and pedaled out again, this time on another bike, the Epic Marathon.

I really like my SS, but the Epic is still the finest ride I have in the garage.  I always love riding that bike.  But when I have to rotate between perhaps 4-5 bikes to get the testing duties done, I never get in-sync with any one bike.  Every time I ride is a lesson in 'getting to know you' all over again and sometimes that sucks.

This time out none of that mattered.  The tired legs did not matter.  The narrow handlebars, different tires...none of that mattered.  The hills gave way one by one as I ignored the pain and when the first loose, blind corner in the singletrack rushed at me, I bent my elbows, leaned forward behind the glass and pitched the bars over, expecting any minute to meet an oncoming insect.  I shredded that trail.

Bug...meet windshield.

Do you ever ride?

One might ask that of me lately, with all the pontificatin', prognosticatin' and soap box blabbing.  So yes, yes I do and to prove it, some pics from the last few rides.

First up was a dash in between the rain storms that seemed to be hitting every weekend.  The FSR was baptized by fire on the trails of Rocky Peak in So Cal.  It worked pretty well and once I get used to all that travel, I think it will be a hoot to ride.  It was great few hours out with the gang.

The FSR gets to a trail worthy of the blue bandit....Hummingbird Trail, Simi Valley, Ca.

Hard to tell how steep and rocky this is, but it is a fairly techy trail.

Next up was a 5.5 hour mini epic with Kevin aka Superman.  He is a great guy to ride with and is one of those nuts that show up for a long ride with a jersey and two water bottles.  Me?  Pack, snacks, water, extra this and that, tools, windbreaker, leg warmers....just in case, ya know.  Never needed them.  Sigh.  Spring is coming soon, but a bit of winter still clings.

The Epic gets to get out and play for the day.

Snow up top in the shadows

Looking across two forest zones...Angeles to Los Padres

 

Yep...spring brings the critters.  This one wanted to be left alone.  I concur.

The old road bike got a bit of new parts.  New/used wheels courtesy of JeffJ, 8spd cassette (better than 7 spd freewheel stuff...yeah...I suck at road bikes), 8spd bar end shifters from an old drop bar MTB from the 90s, and a saddle from Bontrager.  A stem adapter let me use an MTB stem and dump the quill stem.  Goodbye 120mm...hello 80mm.  Yeah, it was not a great fit before.  Better now.

Handmade steel Curtlo, circa mid-nineties.

I have been enjoying some most excellent tasty bits from Clif Bar.  Lovin' the salty, nutty goodness of the Mojo Bars.

The right Mojo adds color to your world.

San Fran Ramble post mortem.

Sat was a stunning day in February.  It was the kind of weather that 3/4s of the US would like to have but does not.  And on that note, 11 brave souls struck out for the 2nd Ramble Ride, the San Fran Ramble, so named for the way it criss-crossed San Francisquito Cyn.  We staged out of Castaic.

JeffJ gearing-up.  It was a clyde friendly day.

My ride for the day...the Breezer Cloud 9 carbon 29er.

I was uncertain of the exact mileage, but I expected it to be over 30 and under 40.  I got that right...barely...sort of.  I also figured on 4-5 hours to complete.  Missed that pretty much completely, but it was a friendly pace.  I like to make Ramble Rides 'no-drop' events if possible.  The route began on the local backyard trails and roads and kept climbing for another 6 miles or so on fireroad.  That was a bit of an energy sucker as it dropped nearly as much as it gained and by the time we found our connector road to the next section, we had lost 3 riders to time constraints.

And then there were 8.

Typical So Cal ridgeline fireroad.

  A bit of pavement brought us to the next climb.  This bit of uphill was made easier by the paved surface and is a Dept of Water and Power access road.  It climbs above the site of the St Francis Dam disaster, one of the worst calamities on California history.  We were a good couple of hours into the day at this point and about a third of the way along.

Road work.

Gates in So Cal have a hard life.

At the top, we re-grouped at a small reservoir.  Everyone was still feeling pretty good, myself included, so the pace was moderate and conversation was happy.  One cool surprise was the appearance of KT the Man, and old friend and super MTB rider.  He was the pace leader for the day.

The Magnificent 7...KT the Man makes 8>>>

KT the Man is also a scoff law.  Caught in the act.

A few more miles of easy climbing into a wide valley brought us to the high point of the day and let us enjoy a motorcycle built singletrack that rolled and dipped across whoopdies and loose rock, taking us back parallel to the way we had entered.  That connected to one more section of singletrack, this one even better. It followed a ridge line and was quite fast and narrow, having taken the shape of a tiny bobsled run from years of moto use.  It really was the best part of the ride, fun wise.

JeffJ, grinning and riding.

Sometimes you really did not want to turn right.  On the edge of a biiig drop.

I was noticing that I was beginning to feel a bit tired here.  My back was getting a bit beat up from the hardtail and a very stiff seatpost.  I was out of any kind of performance drink, so I was running on just water and Elete.  Some of the group was running strong though.  I had always wondered how Kevin did it...he always looks good, always is fast, and seems, well, more than a mere mortal.  Then, as we were watching, something amazing happened.  Jeff was taking some pics as Kevin took a classic Greek pose. 

Looking very manly, but....

Then...it happened.  The clouds swirled in.  The sky darkened a bit and the true nature of the man was revealed.  Behold, Hermes the winged messenger of the gods.  Ahhhh...that explains a lot.  Kevin has a new name.

The truth is revealed.

At this point, KT the Man took us a bit off the intended path.  I asked him if he was sure that this trail converged to the main road.  "I am positively sure", said he.  He has such a trusting face.  How could I say no?

You know how sometimes you just know you are going the wrong way?  Yep.  But why does it always seem that you go the wrong way downhill!  This was a fun hill to go down.  Not so fun to go back up.

What goes down in error, sometimes goes right back up in misery.

Back in town, and back on the right path, we stopped off to re-supply at a stop-and-snack.  We were about 36 miles into it by now and had been going for over 4 hours.  JeffJ was having back issues and called for the SAG wagon.  I was not much better, having been beaten into submission by the Marquis De Sade seatpost and CF hardtail.  We pretty much took over the front of the store.  Sorry about that.

Still bravely smilin'.  The worst was yet to come.

From here, we hit a couple of miles of pavement and then turned off onto a dirt road that I knew existed, but had never been on.  It connected to the local trail network we began the day on.  I don't know what the bulldozer driver had in mind when he graded this road, but it was not providing a gentle grade for tired mountain bikers.  Man, it had me off the bike and pushing.  It was then I knew I was failing slowly but surely.  I was out of gas, flat...broken...frammeled.  My back muscles were completely peeved at me and even pushing was difficult.  I was even fighting leg cramps, something that hardly ever happens anymore.  I was very glad to have a 22/36 on this bike.  A 20/38 would have been nice. 

Finally I made it to the singletracks that we began on, but I was in so much pain, I could barely navigate the creekbed.  Every bump shot arrows through my back and I was whining like a little girl.

Finally we were back with right at 40 miles and 5 3/4 hours under our belts.  I made a couple of errors.  I have not been on any longer rides lately, mostly just after work night stuff....nothing over 3 hours.  I was thinking I could get by with basically just water and electrolytes and I really do run better on some kind of performance drink like Carborocket.  I also underestimated that last bit of ridiculously steep trail by the water tank...the Trail of Tears...The Bataan Death March...Armageddon.

Well, OK, I am sure with fresh legs it ain't no biggie, but I was waaaaay past fresh.  I was firmly on the day-old rack like a bit of stale bagels.  KT the Man rode up it like it was flat.  He rocks.  Even Hermes pushed.  I guess having wings on your helmet is not all that it is cracked up to be, huh big guy?

It was a great day on the bikes, the company was stellar...not one whiner among them...and the trails were just for us to enjoy.  We never saw another soul once we left the local loop.

What is next?  Not sure, but I am enjoying the Ramble Ride idea.  I guess it is time to get out the maps and plan Ramble #3.