Living the elevated life.

I was standing in the coffee shop behind a middle aged woman in shorts, Teva sandals, and a fleece sweater.  Her calves were killer, shaped and sculpted from years of hard efforts in one sport or another.  The couple at the near table in the Columbia jackets were reading the local rag and having a hot tea, but looked like they had just come in from a run in the morning showers.  A shaggy beard there, more fleece and down vests over in that corner, tan skin, little fat, no make up.  Helmets on the hat rack.  Organic coffee and a tip jar for the local Barrista who just may be a budding wanna be pro snowboarder waiting for the next flurries to begin.

Mountain towns.  Gotta love 'em.  Man I miss that vibe.  It is the same in many towns I have traveled through.  Any place that offers that combo of outdoor life style and elevation seems to draw in a similar class of folks.  It is hard to tell the stratum of wealth as they all seem to dress the same.  Patagonia clothing here is not just a statement of a Gold Card, it is a practical choice.  Only when the parking lot shows a Range Rover or a busted up Subaru do the layers of money show. 

In the coffee shop though, all caffeine seekers are equal.  The parking lot snobbery can wait a bit.  Fresh scones and rainforest approved beans first.

I could fit here quite nicely.  Durango.  Crested Butte.  Tahoe.  Idyllwild. 

I could live the elevated life.  I even liked the coffee.

Pedaling Uphill

After the lift assisted madness of the previous day, one of the guys I was with suggested we opt for some XC stuff instead of popping for another lift ticket fee of near 50 bucks.  Well yeah...save money, pedal uphill, ride new trails that are not part of a big, sculpted gymnasium?  I am all in.

So that idea spread and we put together a series of trails that were just perfect for what we were looking for.  Some of the boys were hurtin' for certain due to the cruel elevation that steals the power from your legs, but they made it happen anyway.

We began in sagebrush and pedaled into a lakeside camping area and waterfall.  My fav day so far.  Real mountain biking IMO, even though it was not all that epic.  It was sweet though.

After that we broke for lunch and then went back to the high desert on the other side of the highway in search of a trail that dropped into a deep canyon.  We never found the trail head, so it turned into a sand fest of desert roads that ended up pretty much nowhere.  Demoralized from all the sand and running out of time and energy, the group headed back to the cars and called it a day.  Of note was my 29er with the big 2.35 tires at 25psi.  I barely even noticed the sand and it really got me thinking about a fat bike as my next acquisition.  I really think that would be a fun scoot and would open up areas like this to biking.  Sand?  What sand?

The next day will see me pointing toward Vegas, but I plan on getting there on some back country roads.  Time to see some more new countryside.

A Ticket To Ride

It has been years since I was at Mammoth Mtn and the bike park there.  Likely the late 90s at best and more likely the mid-90s.  And I do not huck.  So, the thought of getting into the lift ticket thing had me a bit nervous.  I do not even own a set of pads (well, I do now, but that was an apres Mammoth acquisition).

So here I was, pinning a ticket to ride on my FSR, the biggest travel 29er I have at 5.5 inches F/R, and getting ready to 'session' the mountain.  I had mounted some new tires I was testing, some 2.3 Geax Sturdys, that looked burly for the pumice covered trails, and that was about as much as I had going for me.

I took the gondola up and the ground dropped from beneath me.  I am not all that crazy about those gondolas.  I actually prefer the lift chairs that are more open.  Maybe it is the enclosed feeling, but I get the impression that they would bounce and roll nicely back down the mountain if they fell off the cabling.  At least the chair would just wad up like a big lawn chair with me in it and get it over with.  More dignity but less style points I guess.

The first trail was a pretty easy run off the top of the mountain which still had snow on it and was 45 degrees and windy.  Off the backside, the trail wound down toward warmer climes but was, well, kinda boring but scenic.  I suggested that we up the ante a bit and was pointed toward another trail for the next lift run.

Oops.

I should have kept my mouth shut.  Now I am a pretty decent technical rider for an old XC guy, but this was an eye opener.  I would be pulled to the side looking at an oncoming trail feature and have two grommets pass me and cruise down it like it was flat.  Well, nuts!  So I made it and some of it was really fun, but also scary.  I was using ALL the travel the bike (and me) had and then some.  I felt kinda naked and I think a bit burlier bike and some body armour would have helped me feel better about things.  Still, it was interesting.  It was also a chance to catch up on my daily prayers.

A bit of grace here was appreciated.  Thank you.

The next run(s) were on trails that split the difference between too easy and too hard.  The Momma Bear trails were awesome and the Sturdy tires on the FSR were killer, floating and digging in.  Big wheels are such a great help in poor trail surfaces and the combo of big wheels and wide, aggressive tires was made for the day.

I know I need to get back up there and do that some more as I need to push and stretch myself a bit every so often.  Trails like this will do that for ya.  And I have to use those new pads I got.

Maybe I do huck every so often, but I would not want to earn a living that way.

Road Trip 2: Riding begins

We stopped on the doorstep of Mammoth Lakes and rode/shuttled the Lower Rock Creek trail.  8 miles of downhill trail creekside in Aspens and such.  Pretty sweet.  This trip I brought the FSR 5 incher with some new tires that I hoped would float over the pumice of Mammoth (old volcano, 'ya know).  So, it begins.  Time to pedal and go "wheeeee!".

Phil, the mad scientist organizer of the trip.

2.3 inches of crazy 29er rubber.  Geax Sturdy.

Old guy looking somewhat stunned and less than intelligent.  Pretty much normal for me.

Road Trip

Hitting the long road to adventure, then Interbike.  Hwy 395 bids me welcome.