Slick Rock and the Enchanted Forest

Snowboarding in Telluride one day and mountain biking in Moab the next. That’s how all my weekends should be. While snowboarding is fun, it doesn’t give me the same feeling that biking does. With snowboarding, I’m confined to the ski runs and dependent on lifts. If I had to buy a season lift ticket, I probably wouldn’t. On my bike, however, I can go anywhere and as far as my legs will take me.

But, I have discovered that technical skiing through the trees is a lot more fun than groomed runs. The Enchanted Forest is my favorite run on the mountain for just that reason. Most of the run is pretty mild, but my supervisor and I took a wrong turn and wound up on a short double black diamond. It was steep but manageable, just had to dodge a few exposed rocks. I think snowboarding will become more fun as my skills progress, so I’ll keep at it.

Saturday was my first trip out to Moab, just two hours from my new house! I stopped in an outdoor tour shop for some trail advice and a map, and came out with a week’s worth of trails. I ended up riding Slick Rock just because I recognized the name. The landscape was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. A massive expanse of sandstone. The “trail” was a series of strips of white paint, and would otherwise be nonexistent. It was a great ride with the biggest challenge being the steep grades. Traction was better than pavement. Lucy had a blast too, even though she ran through a cactus while chasing a coyote. Hopefully, that was enough to discourage her from harassing other wildlife. I can’t wait to spend a whole weekend there. The Moab Brewery was pretty nice too.

In other news, I got moved into my new house. I like it so far, even though it’s a ways out from Telluride, and I’m still living with the same roommates. My posts will be a little sporadic until we get Internet set up. In the meantime, Merry Christmas!

Life

Three funerals, in just over a year, are way too many. It's terrible every time, whether they're young or old.  But there's a lesson here. Life is short. You can't wait for it to come to you; you have to seek it out. I'm glad to be in Colorado, thoroughly enjoying the mountains and snow, but it's too far from the important people in my life to stay here forever.

“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.”  
- J.R.R. Tolkien

Snow Boots, Mittens, and Four Wheel Drive!

I'm officially ready for winter! No more cold, wet feet or hands for me. And, I can now drive safely in pretty much any conditions. Before the snow hit last week, I thought that my old two wheel drive Tacoma might do ok in winter, not great but ok. Usually the safety of a vehicle is determined in its ability to stop. But, I soon realized that two wheel drive is actually dangerous when you're in the delicate balance between maintaining momentum and maintaining control.

Last Friday, we got several inches of snow in a just a few hours. There was an 18 wheeler jack-knifed on the highway going into town, and there was a small truck flipped over in my neighborhood. My truck couldn't make it up the first hill at the entrance to my neighborhood, so I ended up parking by the highway and hiking about a mile to my house. It wasn't a big deal, but next time I might've gotten stuck much further from home. So, today I traded it in for another Tacoma. Oversized snow tires and four wheel drive should handle just about any situation, but there's also a rear differential lock and four-low if I ever need to plow through the deep stuff.

It's an older truck with quite a few miles, but it drives nicely and should have plenty of life left in it. Also, it might be my favorite configuration of the Tacoma. It's a V6 with a manual transmission and a manual transfer case. It feels a good bit smaller than my last truck, and there are no rear doors. Not that anyone wants to sit in the back seat anyways. The bed is actually slightly longer and wider. So my sleeping platform doesn't have that snug fit anymore, but it works. I'll miss my old truck, but there's plenty of adventures to come in this one.

Maps vs. GPS

Keeping with the travel theme, I thought I'd write about why I prefer maps over GPS. When GPS devices first became popular for use in cars, I thought they were ridiculous (and still do). They're useful on boats to find fishing wrecks, distances, etc., but roadways have plenty of signs to tell you where you are. The only time GPS is useful in cars is when one is in a big, unfamiliar city with multiple destinations. The vast majority of the time I use written directions and/or a map.

So, why use maps? State maps are free at all welcome stations. Looking for certain road signs keeps my attention. I've learned to recognize primary roads from secondary roads from tertiary roads. I can quickly glance at a map to find surrounding roads and features. The best part is that these skills are transferable when on biking and hiking trails. Recognizing a primary trails is crucial when you don't have a map and sometimes when you do. Using maps also builds a good sense of direction.

Boy Scouts are taught that a GPS is not a primary source of information due to it's vulnerability to water and dead batteries. I keep one in my truck as a back-up but haven't used it in over a year. I have a small collection of state maps organized alphabetically in the pocket of my back door, so that I can reach back and pick out the one I need. Also, it's helpful to fold the map in such a way that you only see the part in which you are travelling. I guess maps just fit in with my personality, like manual transmissions and single speeds.

Road Trip Recap

Overall, I'd say I had a pretty successful trip. I got to see more friends and family than I had intended. I rode the Womble Trail in Arkansas, Bear Creek and Pinhoti in North Georgia, Oak Mountain in Birmingham, Alabama, and Whirlpool in Oxford, Mississippi. I drove 4076 miles, spent $566 in gas, and averaged 21.1 mpg. I discovered that when facing a strong headwind, I can run in 4th gear at 70 mph and 3200 rpm and still get 19-20 mpg. That rekindled my faith in the ole 4 cylinder. However, after all that it took me about 10 tries, 2 sandbags, and a roommate in the back to get out of my driveway this morning; it was pretty iced over.

I'm glad to be done travelling for a while, but I can't say I was really excited to come back to Telluride. I've got to do some maintenance on my truck and get it registered just to trade it in for a 4x4. Also, the house I've been renting finally sold, so I've got to find a new place to live in the next month. These problems are made worse by the facts that I live in the middle of nowhere, and there's a severe housing shortage in Telluride. But, since I'm a town employee I get bumped to the top of the waiting list for the apartment complex, so hopefully that'll work out. On the upside, I'm looking forward to getting away from my roommates (one in particular). There's also smaller problems like buying various winter gear items and replacing worn out bike parts - things that can't be done in town without sacrificing a limb.

Coming back wasn't all bad though. My Rogue Hoe finally arrived after being back-ordered for a couple months; though it's kind of too late to do trail maintenance now. And, my boss found some snowboard boots in my size in the Free Box. For those that are wondering, it's exactly what it sounds like - a box of free stuff. Lucy sure was excited to get back though! Hopefully, next month, things will slow down.

Back at the Gap

I first heard of Mulberry Gap from my dad who heard about it from a Gulf Coast Bike Club friend. My dad sent me a link to it suggesting it as a cool vacation, but my first thoughts were "awesome summer job opportunity". And that's exactly what happened that summer. Now two years later it's one of four stops on my off-season road trip to The South. It's one of my favorite places of all time (Lucy probably thinks so too!) with a combination of epic trails, great food, and a friendly atmosphere.

The trails are fantastic. Challenging but rideable climbs. Long fast descents, some flowy, some technical. There's even some nice views thrown in here and there. My first time riding the gravel road to the top of Bear Creek Trail I thought I might die. I stopped fifty yards from the top and sat down. Riding it today wasn't nearly as bad but still not easy. Not only are there more miles of trail right out the gate than you want to ride in one day, but within an hour or so drive, there's several hundred miles of trails including a seven mile rock garden, machine-built groomed flow, and everything in between. A fellow rider once said, "[he] could learn more about mountain biking in a week at Mulberry Gap than a year of riding [his] home trails". Almost all the trails were built with drainage and sustainability in mind and can be ridden just a few hours after a rain shower. They're also rideable year-round; though it might get a little cold in winter.

I managed to break my pedal coming off a jump. As you can see, they've been thoroughly abused. I knew they were on their last leg, but that's not how I imagined they would go. Luckily, I was still able to clip into the other side to finish my ride.

The facilities are as equally great as the trails. "Down Home" food, cozy cabins and campsites, and the cleanest bathhouse you'll find in a campground. If I didn't like mountain biking, I'd still come for the food. Two waffles, eggs, sausage, sliced bananas and strawberries will last me at least 40 miles, and there's great recovery food for dinner. The camaraderie among guests is unmatched. Cyclists come from far and wide (including other countries), all for a common goal. There's always interesting conversation around the dinner table. It's also been called dog heaven by several guests. Lucy has woods to roam, trails to run, other dogs to play with, and people to give her scraps and attention.

It's hard to adequately describe this place, but one can see why Lucy and I and hundreds of other mountain bikers like it so much. The surrounding area is pretty cool too; maybe in the future I'll get to visit more often.

Cross Country Driving

The drive from Colorado to Mississippi is a long one. Two (or more) full days of sitting in the same spot for hours on end. I can’t say it’s fun, but it’s certainly a unique learning experience. You can’t know just how big the country is until you’ve driven it. Watching the landscape turn from mountains, to mesas, to dessert, to grasslands to forest is spectacular. Watching thunderstorms roll across the plains was pretty awesome too. I’ve learned that the Four Corners region is dominated by Native Americans. It’s sad too, because that might just be the worst land in the country. There are also a lot of reservations in Oklahoma. The Cherokee Nation even has its own car tags.

You get to see a lot of neat things on highways, but interstates are great when you need to really crank out some miles. I’ve gotten to check out places I otherwise would never go. For example, I’ve been camping out by Ouachita Lake in Arkansas for two nights, and Lucy and I rode 17ish miles on the Womble Trail, an IMBA Epic.

I’ve just now realized how little I know about my own country, but I’m slowly building up an internal map. I now have a good idea of what Colorado, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas look like in addition to the Southern states. I’m excited to explore the rest of the country, all in good time. In the book I’ve been reading, Travels with Charley, Steinbeck says that Americans are more American than they are Southern or Western or Northern. Just something I’ve been thinking about as I make my way down the road.

Camping Setup

Camping used to mean so much to me. For two or three years, I made it a goal to camp at least once a month, and for the most part, I met that goal. Eventually, I camped in my hammock for a month straight, thunderstorms and all, during my summer at Mulberry Gap. I loved the challenge of camping, the independence, the simplicity. As Thoreau put it, I was "living deliberately".

Now that I have that freedom and independence in everyday life, the meaning of camping has changed. It's no longer an end but a means to an end. I camp so that I can explore new places and ride new trails. The allure of "roughing it" has faded. I'm sure I'll still go backpacking from time to time, but most places I want to go are accessible by driving, IF you have high clearance and/or four wheel drive. So, in preparation for a two week road trip starting next weekend and for future camping excursions, I did a little work in my truck bed.

About $175.00 and half a day's work, and I've got a comfortable, functional setup. I started with a cheap 5'x7' area rug and cut it to fit the bottom of the truck bed for comfort, hopefully a little insulation, and to keep things from sliding around so much. A lot of sleeping platforms I've seen go all the way across, and are designed for two people. And, if/when I ever have another girlfriend, I'll happily add another section. For one person, however, this setup is more flexible. This way I have room for coolers, boots, bike gear, and most importantly, a place to sit. The small platform for Lucy's bed towards the front of the truck is removable, so I can sit and read when it rains. For lighting, I just used a small led flashlight with a lanyard looped around the topper frame.

The platform itself is constructed from three 1"x10"s and a sheet of 3/8" plywood cut to 30" wide. For some cushion, I folded a 1.5" queen size mattress topper in half, which comes to 29" in width, and stuffed it in a zippered fleece blanket that I already had. It was the cheapest option at Walmart.

Under the platform, is plenty more storage space. There's room for three of those plastic containers with quite a bit left over that I can't access at the moment. Maybe when I'm back on the coast with access to a jig saw, I'll cut out a front hatch and store seldom used items up there. The plastic containers will hold food, cooking equipment, clothes, and general camping gear. The furthest one has a line tied to it for easy access. The plywood seen on top of the bin is my tailgate countertop.

The only thing it lacks is insulation, which is in the works, but not a high priority. I'd also like to find a way to install a small wood stove without catching the topper on fire...probably just a dream. There's a company in Virginia that makes tiny wood stoves out of ammo cans that would be perfect though.

The downside to all this is that I'm in the market for a new four wheel drive vehicle. I'm leaning towards another Tacoma, which would be an easy swap, but 4runners and FJs are also a consideration. The sleeping platform could be adapted easily enough though.

Road Apple Rally

My trophy says 1st place, but in most races it would say 3rd. Last weekend's mountain bike race down in Farmington, NM was awesome! The Road Apple Rally is the longest running annual mountain bike race, with the first one occuring in 1981. There were even some big names there like Ned Overend - the guy who started Specialized Bikes. It was a great race with a format I've never seen.

In most cross country races, Cat 3 rides about 10 miles, Cat 2 20 miles, and Cat 1 30. But, in this race, Cat 3 road 15 miles, while everyone else road 30. Having never raced 30 miles, I was a little unsure about pacing. My normal distance of 20 miles is close to a sprint. But, in this race I went with a fast endurance pace focusing on efficiency and only pushing myself on the climbs when there was a clear benefit like passing others. The other strange thing about the format was the mass start. It was a little hectic with a couple hundred people riding so close. Fortunately, the first mile or so was a paved road, then dirt, leading to single track, so I was able to pass a good number of people right off the bat.

The single track sections were fantastic with lots of whoop-di-whoops and short steep climbs and descents. Farmington is on the edge of the desert, but luckily the temperatures were nice throughout the day. About 10 minutes before the race, I realized I had left my water bottle at home. (Along with stove fuel and a warm hat - next time I'm making a checklist.) It wasn't a huge deal though. In most 20 mile races I go without water unless it's really hot as there's usually no time to drink, and it's extra weight.

With the mass start format, I had no idea what place I was in, but it turns out over halfway through the race I was right behind the guy who got first. We hit another stretch of road, and he took off since he was running a much higher gear. After that, I got stuck behind some people, and was eventually passed by another single speeder. By the end I was just under 3 minutes behind.

In this race, they divided the single speed category into age groups, which is why my trophy says 1st. Overall, I got 3rd out of 17, which I'm happy with considering I'd never ridden the course, never raced 30 miles, and didn't know what gear to run. The real kicker is that the guy who got first is 57! I can only hope to be in that kind of shape when I'm that old.

Trail Maintenance!

Since living in Telluride, I've discovered that resort/destination trails are high maintenance. Reason being that tourists are only here for a short time and will ride them in any condition. Unfortunately, the Parks and Rec Department is too busy maintaining the bike park and pouring new concrete on the Boulevard Trail, and the Forest Service is too understaffed with too much land to maintain to worry about trail maintenance here.

So, I took it upon myself to do a little trail work yesterday and fix some of the drainage issues on the Prospect Trail. At the moment, my only trail tool is a metal rake. I quickly learned that all of the big problems will require moving more dirt than I'm willing to move with a rake, but I did manage to fix some smaller issues. For the bigger drainage problems, I ordered a Rogue Hoe online two weeks ago, but they were back ordered. Hopefully, it'll be here next week. For those wondering, a Rogue Hoe is a somewhat short handled hoe with a thick, sharp, 5 pound blade. It is, in my opinion, the best all around trail tool. I've previously used one that belonged to a coworker at Mulberry Gap. It's great for moving dirt, breaking new ground, packing down loose dirt, and cutting roots. It'll also get used for vehicle recovery on camping trips should the need arise.

On another note, cycling here is absolutely amazing, but my muscles take longer to recover at this high altitude. So, I've been expanding my hobbies. Did some rock climbing and bouldering last week and I got my fishing license and a few flies today!

Imogene Pass

Single speeds are stupid. Especially when attempting a 13,000ft 4x4 mountain pass. It's fine for designated bike trails, but riding anything else around here is just brutal. Honestly, it makes riding not fun. The premise behind single speeds is that in rolling terrain you can use your momentum from the downhill to help you up the next hill. Imogene Pass, however, is a sustained 7 mile climb.

The first 5 miles up to the ghost town of Tomboy weren't too bad. After that the road became steeper with big loose rocks. It stayed that way until the summit, a distance of about 2 miles. I walked a good bit of that, but I had come too far to give up. Along the way, I passed an old mine shaft that was partially boarded up. It renewed my interest in spelunking, but I haven't been able to find any information about caves or mines in the area. The town of Tomboy was pretty interesting too. I read that it used to contain a school and a general store. I can't imagine living in a basin at that altitude.

The top of the pass was well worth the effort; even though, it was cold with blasting winds. A shot of Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey really hit the spot. It took a few hours to get up and about 25 minutes coming down. I would've liked to continue down the other side to Ouray riding through Ridgway and back to Telluride on Last Dollar Road, a relatively mild mountain pass. That route would only be 63 miles, but it was already 5 o'clock when I reached the summit.

I started and ended the ride with about 10 miles of single track. I may attempt another pass or the route through Ouray but only with a geared bike. Regarding my previous post about cyclocross bikes, I'd like to clarify that they make great adventure bikes in most parts of the country, but out here on the western slope, I think one would be better off with a geared, full suspension 29er. That's my plan for next season, but for now I have to focus on a 4wd truck and a snowboard!

Climbing Mt Sneffels: 14150'

 

Climbing a mountain has been on my bucket list for a while, but the experience of climbing Mt Sneffels was more than I could've imagined. It was long, exhausting, exciting, and at times, terrifying. The peak lies only 4.5 miles north of Telluride, but the San Sophia Ridge blocks the way. So, we had to drive an hour to the trailhead in Ouray.

From the trailhead, the climb was around 6 miles round trip and over 2000 vertical feet. It started out like a normal hike, but after about 1.5 miles it got steeper and rockier. Soon there was no trail. I picked my own way up the scree field. In some spots there were big rocks lodged in the earth to hang on to. In other spots there was only loose gravel. My biggest fear was kicking a rock loose and having it hit someone below me, or getting hit myself by a rock from above. Once on top of the ridge we turned south and climbed up another scree field in a narrow chute.

It's strange seeing snow in the middle of August, but it was nice and cool at this altitude. At the top of the chute, we then climbed through a notch in the solid rock to get to the final approach to the peak. That might've been the scariest part. Falling there might not have meant certain death, but the chance was pretty high, if not from the fall itself, then from injuries and exposure while waiting to be rescued. After that it was a short, simple climb to the top. The view was spectacular - countless mountain ranges for seemingly endless miles to the north, east, and south. Blue alpine lakes in the valley to the south, and desert to the west. We could even see the Telluride ski area and the backside of San Sophia Ridge. It was definitely worth it, but we were only halfway through the journey. The climb down wasn't quite as demanding, but it was more difficult to tell which rocks were stable.

 

Oh yea, Lucy climbed it too! For the most part she did better than me. I had to help her up a few big rocks, and navigating the notch with her was a little tricky. Sometimes small dogs are better in the outdoors. During the climb I thought this would be my first and last one, but I'm thinking I may do another. The adrenaline, the view, and the sense of danger is addicting. This is why I came to Colorado, to get out of my comfort zone.

Valles Caldera PyroClassic

Last Sunday was the inaugural Valles (pronounced Viyez) Caldera PyroClassic mountain bike race, about 35 miles west of Santa Fe. Being about 6 hours away from Telluride, I decided to spend the weekend road tripping around New Mexico. My list of potential places to check out included Santa Fe, Taos, and Angel Fire. Someday I'd like to make it down to Roswell to check out the aliens, but that was farther than I wanted to go this weekend. As it turns out, just getting to the race was quite an adventure.

I cut out from work at 3pm on Saturday to get a head start on my trip. Swung by the house to get Lucy and load up the cooler. 2 hours to Durango, then into the desert. I find the dry landscape quite interesting, but it seems I have a primal hatred for such barren land. I'm always grateful when I get back into greenery. I passed through some tiny, poor villages and turned onto County Rd 126 in Cuba, NM. I had no clue what I was getting into. I saw signs prohibiting large trucks and trailers and warning that the road was impassable during inclement weather. I didn't think much of it, but soon the road turned to dirt. Then, I hit a stretch that was under construction, and it had apparently just rained earlier that day. Needless to say it was muddy for several miles. Fortunately the mud was only slick and not deep. My 2wd Tacoma got sideways a couple of times, but I had gone too far to turn back. I pressed on hoping to make it passed the construction. The thought of getting stuck in BFE New Mexico at night was terrifying. Finally I made it to dry rocky dirt again, then pavement. I continued on to find a campsite in the national forest near the caldera. That night we heard a large pack of coyotes howling, and I think it scared Lucy. She didn't make a sound, just sat attentively pressed against me.

The race on Sunday morning was fun, and I had a great time. But the trails could use some work as they were basically nonexistent. The route started off with an 8 mile climb up a dirt road that turned into double track. After that it was 10 miles mostly downhill, but there was no trail. There was a large bench cut in the hill where there used to be a road, but it was completely covered in grass. At the start of the race, I got the hole shot, but I couldn't hold it for long. Two riders passed me when the climb steepened. Cross country races are won and lost on the climbs, especially in the single speed class. So, when I reached the descent I was pretty sure I had 3rd place locked down. My time was 1:32. 1st and 2nd place were around 1:26 and 4th was 1:39. That's what I love and hate about the single speed class. There are no age groups or categories for ability levels.

 

It was 2pm when I hit the road again. I decided to check out the Taos-Angel Fire area as I had heard good things about it. The drive was interesting but nothing noteworthy. The New Mexican mountains are kind of unspectacular after living in the San Juans. I found a nice campsite in the Carson National Forest between the two cities. It started raining just as my brats were finishing cooking, but I didn't mind. I ate dinner, curled up in my sleeping bag under the Softopper, and read a few chapters in a book about a road trip. Coincidentally, Steinbeck was getting rained on too. The next day I rode some decent trails with Lucy around Angel Fire. I headed back to Taos to ride the South Boundary Trail, but a few minutes after I got to the trailhead, it started raining with no signs of letting up. I weighed my options and decided to drive to Pagosa Springs, CO.

On this drive I got to pass over the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge and passed by the Earthships - a neighborhood of self-sustaining homes built from recycled materials. Of course it was raining in Pagosa too. I got some camping and trail advice from a local guide shop and proceeded to find a campsite in the rain. I ended up finding a nice spot by the creek just after the road got too rough for fifth wheels. The rain took a break around dusk just long enough for Lucy and I to stretch our legs. It continued off and on all night, and I found out my Softopper isn't completely water tight. I still got a good night's sleep, but parts of my sleeping bag were wet when I woke up. This was the first night Lucy got a good sleep too with the rain and rushing water drowning out wildlife noises. After letting things dry out the next morning, we hit the trails. The ride was great, though I got lost for a little while - left the map in the truck.

 

Overall it was a great trip, but I'm glad to be showered and in a real bed. This was kind of a shakedown run in preparation for a 3 week road trip at the end of October. Next time I'll do more trail research, but still keep a loose schedule. I may be trading the Tacoma in before then for something with 4wd, but most of what I learned will carry over like the necessity of baby wipes, remembering to pack warm socks and a hat, how to find campsites, and the importance of a good book.



Ride to Rico

There's only one road here for serious riding: Hwy 145. The closest town to the south is Rico which makes for a nice 50 mile ride round trip. In my attempt to cram some training in for a race next weekend, I chose this route since the trails were still muddy from yesterday's rain. There was a good chance of rain today, but getting wet is just a risk you have to take. There's no predicting mountain weather.

The ride there was great! I rode an easy pace 10 miles up to Lizard Head Pass at 10,222ft and 15 miles down the other side. Coming back was another story. The road wasn't steep, but 5 miles into the return trip it started raining with no sign of letting up. Thankfully, there was no lightning, but it did hail for about 10 minutes. I usually don't mind riding in the rain; however, rain above 10k ft is freakin' cold. It finally backed off at the top of the pass. As I started descending soaked roads at 30mph, my tires managed sling up enough water to completely soak my underside.

As I was making this initial descent, I encountered two oncoming cars. The second driver decided that he was in too much of a hurry to wait 10 seconds for me to get by so he could pass the other car. So there I was freezing cold, doing 30mph on wet roads with a car coming straight at me. I got onto what little shoulder there was and flipped off the driver as he passed. Should've thrown a water bottle at him. It completely baffles me how normal people completely change behind the wheel. Some people have no respect for human life. They'll slow down for a deer, but not a cyclist. That's ridiculous.

The rest of the ride was fairly miserable. In fact, that might be the coldest I've ever been, definitely in the top 5. It's difficult to ride a bike when your on the verge of hypothermia. Stopping would be even worse, though. My muscles and tendons in my legs were tight. My gloves were soaked and my hands weren't getting good circulation. I had to hit the shifters with my palms because my fingers weren't strong enough. It took about 10 minutes in a hot shower before my fingers would extend all the way.

I love road riding, but I've only got one road to ride. I'm starting to think that drivers are too stupid for me to put my life in their hands. It's really only about 10% of drivers that worry me, but that's enough. I may try to employ more defensive cycling techniques, but I'm doubtful.

Debunking Myths

I've heard some pretty wild claims lately, giving me the feeling that a lot of Westerners will believe any health related thing anybody tells them. Yesterday, I saw a pamphlet for magnet therapy as an alternative to prescription drugs. Really? Magnet therapy? Also, my coworker's girlfriend bought a bracelet to help with digestive issues. Of course it came with herbal tea - like the weight loss pills that recommend diet and exercise. I've also heard that meat is bad for you, drinking warm water is better than cold water, milk is bad for you, and running is bad for you.

I'm not even going to waste my time arguing for meat. It's good. If our ancestors didn't eat it, we wouldn't be here. As for warm water vs. cold water, it's one I've heard before. The argument here is that your body can only absorb warm water, and you have to "work" to warm up that cold water. Now, I don't like ice cold water when I'm really thirsty just because I can't drink it fast, but I certainly prefer cool water to warm water. I can see how warm water may hydrate you slightly faster, but in terms of staying cool, cold water wins hands down. Your body doesn't use energy to heat the water, your stomach is already hot. Don't believe me? Read more here.

Another claim I've heard is that milk is not a good source of protein. The argument was that the protein is from another animal, and therefore, useless to humans. Unless you're a cannibal all meat is protein from another animal. We use it just fine. There was another argument against the calcium. I don't know enough about that to argue well, but I drink lots of milk and have pretty strong finger nails and bones as far as I can tell. My favorite milk myth is that it's bad to drink milk before you go work outside in the heat. In high school I drank milk everyday at lunch, then marched outside in band for an hour and a half. Never got sick. Why? Your internal temperature stays the same regardless of outside temperature, or at least it should.

I've also heard that running is bad for your joints. It's certainly a higher impact activity than cycling or swimming, but even in the peak of my running days, I was getting beat by 80 year olds in a 10k. Their joints seemed just fine. Again, if our ancestors never ran, we wouldn't be here. In any case it's better than sitting on the couch.

I'm really getting tired of hearing these things, and now that I've done a little research, maybe I can set some people straight. Most people around here are pretty fit, but it seems that some health nuts are always looking for the new thing. Personally, I think life is too short to eat healthy all the time.

A Quest for Fireworks!

My journey began about 30 minutes before sundown. Having already ridden to and from work and an hour with Lucy, my legs felt shot on the first climb. They warmed up soon enough though. Originally I had planned on going into town to catch the fireworks show, but that trip was too long and too crowded, considering I had work at 7am the next morning. Instead, I thought the top of the gondola would provide a good view, but one look at the line confirmed that it was way too long. Luckily, I was prepared with my trail lights. Finding the Village Trail in the fading light proved a little difficult having only ridden it once in the opposite direction. After a couple of detours and  over 700ft of climbing, I finally reached the top with only a minute to spare.

The show was great considering they had three years worth of fireworks stockpiled due to dry conditions previous years. The views of Telluride and Mountain Village at night were equally spectacular. There probably aren't too many places that you can view a fireworks show from above. About two minutes in, people started leaving to avoid the long line at the end. I had no issue staying the entire time, however. The ride down was awesome! I only out-ran my lights a couple times. The pain started again when I hit my neighborhood. The roads in my neighborhood were not meant to be biked, and although they've gotten easier, I doubt they will ever be easy. I got to bed a little late, but it was worth it!

My New Job

In short my new position as Groundskeeper means I do whatever it takes to keep the town looking good. My coworkers and I empty public trash and recycling cans, sweep the plazas, mow (most areas twice a week), pull weeds, plant and water flowers, and complete other random tasks. For instance, last Thursday I put on some waders and scooped algea out of a pond with a pitchfork all afternoon.

I really enjoy being outdoors, even with this crazy mountain weather. It's usually 40 degrees in the morning but quickly warms up to the 70s as the sun gets higher. But, each little rainstorm drops the temps back down to the 40s and comes with the possibility of hail and/or snow...in June! Usually I carry a fleece and a rain jacket in my backpack. Sometimes it's still not enough.

It's certainly not a glamorous job, but I'm really enjoying it. Honestly, I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing at this point in my life. It's not exhausting but still involves real work. I work 7-5:30 four days a week and get paid enough to afford good food (if I shop out of town), bike parts, and can still save a little. That's partly due to having four people living in a two bedroom house, but it's certainly big enough with a loft and a "Yoga" room (my room). I also like driving a work truck. Just feels right. Hydraulic lift gates are pretty awesome too. I think being self employed would be cool in the future, and getting paid to write and/or edit also has my interest. But for now, I'm pretty happy were I am.

First Impressions of Telluride

It's like Disney World for adults. It's a mecca for outdoor recreation whether it's hiking, climbing, mountaineering, kayaking, rafting, biking, fly fishing, off-roading, and of course skiing and snowboarding in the winter.

Some random facts:

• USPS does not come to my house; we have a PO Box in town.
• I'll most likely need 4x4-low and snow chains to get around my neighborhood in winter. Even then, I might get snowed in some days. But, it's the kind of place that you don't have to worry about locking your front door.
• It's much drier here than the Front Range, and I can now say that I prefer Aveeno over Vaseline lotion. It just feels more natural and less oily.
• Everything is uber expensive. Gas is $4.18, a 12 pack of PBR is $15, and groceries are through the roof. Sunscreen is $11 a bottle! I think I'll just wear long sleeves. Once I get paid, I plan to make a trip to the Wal-Mart in Montrose (an hour away) to stock up for a month.
• I have discovered the French Press and it is amazing, except for the last sip.
• Our fridge has a beer dispenser.
• My roommate has a Nintendo and a Super Nintendo.
• There are pretty much three types of people here. There are the tourists who are fairly well off and provide the foundation of the economy. Then there are the really rich people who own homes here and either don't have to work, work remotely, or just use this as a second home. And then there are people like me. Most in their twenties and here to play for a season or two while working backstage/operational jobs that keep this place rolling.
• There are only two radio stations. Both suck.
• Going from 5000ft to 9000ft is more difficult than going from sea level to 5000ft. There's not a whole lot of air up here, and I have a theory that smells are more intense because of it.
• It's good to have an employer that understands their employees. 4-10s and 3 days off in a row is sweet. I hardly know what to do with myself.
• It's also good to work for a small town with a lot of money. We're not lacking for equipment.

I apologize for the bullet points, but my brain couldn't put such randomness into paragraphs. I think moving here is one of the best decisions I've made. There's so much to do and so much to explore, and everyone I've met is active and adventurous. I'll try to keep the blog updated when I'm not busy playing. Upcoming trips/posts include Moab and Mesa Verde!

Stuff

A simple truth: The more stuff you have, the more difficult it is to travel.

Everything I own fits in my vehicle, but it still feels like too much. If I had a tiny car that might be saying something, but with a Tacoma with a 6ft bed, a hitch bike rack and a roof rack, it almost feels like cheating. My goal for the next few years is simply to travel, so I've made it my short term goal to condense my possessions down so that I can camp comfortably in the back of my truck.

It's difficult getting rid of some things like books, kitchen supplies, spare bike parts, but the truth is that a lot of my stuff has been packed up in boxes since last August when I left Oxford. I didn't need it at home and didn't plan on being there long. I didn't have a place for that stuff in my house in Fort Collins except for the boxes it was in, nor have I needed those things. I think I'll be ok without them. The easiest way to travel is to own only what you can carry on your back - as seen in Into the Wild. However, I'm not willing to go quite that far. Backpacking has taught me exactly how much I need though.

It's these thoughts that are pushing me to not get an apartment in Telluride. More money plus no lease agreement and fewer obligations equals easier travel. Of course if I stay for the winter, it'll be a different story, but the summer should be nice for camping. In any case this is all good training for living on a sailboat later down the road.

Softopper

I've been considering buying a new Softopper for a while now. They provide all the convenience of a hard shell without the drawbacks. Softoppers are lightweight, collapsible if you need the full use of the bed, and all the sides role up for great ventilation while camping. Also, they're made locally in Boulder. So, when I found a used one on Craigslist, it was a no-brainer.

At first I was worried about the cost, even though the asking price was only $400. But the way I see it, if I find a subleaser for my room and an affordable apartment, I'll still have enough money for rent. If it doesn't work out, I have a place to sleep and a way to keep my stuff dry during the move. That's if I can shove my mattress in there. It's an 8 inch foam queen, and I'm thinking it'll be a little flexible. A double would've fit perfectly though.

I have to admit that the idea of camping out for the summer (and not paying rent) is enticing. If I didn't have Lucy to think about, I'd plan on it for the whole summer. Although without Lucy, an apartment would be much easier to come by, but I'll save my rant about landlord discrimination for another day. And yes, she is more important to me than a solid roof. I think she'd be fine in the back with the sides of the Softopper rolled up as long as she didn't bark at people passing by. The highs in Mountain Village have only been in the upper 60s lately. The other concern is showering. I'm hoping that the employee fitness center has one. I'm not sure that a solar shower bag is a sustainable way of bathing, but it's the only alternative I can think of.

Following a dream isn't always easy. I could've easily dismissed it with the lack-of-funds excuse, but I'm pretty prepared to go off the grid if need be - wouldn't be the first time. It also helps that my paychecks won't skip a beat. Moving can get expensive, but it helps that everything fits in my truck. I just need to remember to not accumulate stuff. As a cyclist that's difficult to do.

A Cyclist's Compass

At the first mention of the word 'tattoo', most people ask why. Well, I had a bad ass design, the money, and the time. Other than that, YOLO. Maybe I wanted one because single speeders are known for having them, as are sailors, but I don't think that's it. Mostly I felt I would've regretted not getting it. It perfectly symbolizes my passions in life: cycling, sailing, travelling. Even if those passions fade and something else takes their place, it will be a reminder of a great time in my life.

I started the design with a compass rose but wanted it to be unique. This was tough to do, since there are thousands of variations of the compass rose. Eventually, I came up with the chainring idea based off the Race Face single speed ring on my mountain bike. To my surprise I could only find one other drawing with the same idea, and it didn't look even remotely close. I found the traditional north star to be plain and a little boring and came across this variation after searching around on Google Images. I played around with the shading some, but most of that credit goes to my tattoo artist. I think it came out pretty sweet.

The pain really wasn't too bad. For the most part, it was like a fingernail scratching me but sharper and hotter. It was a little worse where my shoulder blade sticks up and in the southeast corner where the skin is a little more tender. What really hurt was the last 15 minutes when he was going back over it filling in the light spots. Of course for a day or two afterwards it felt like a mix between sunburn and road rash. Then, it started to itch, and you're not allowed to scratch. That might've been the worst part.

Most likely this will be my only one. I can't think of anything else that I would want permanently on my body that's worth the pain. I can't wait to show it off though!

The Next Adventure

I'll be sad to see Fort Collins go, but I'm on to the next adventure. Last Wednesday, I applied to a job in Telluride. Friday, I received a phone interview and an offer. On Saturday, I accepted. I'm a little nervous about moving again so soon and on such short notice. I'm finally starting to feel settled here and even started to make some potential friends. But, working in Telluride is an opportunity I can't pass up. This move just might be more wreckless than the last.

The Job
I'll mostly be working in Mountain Village, which is just a short gondola ride uphill. I'll be performing landscaping duties, plaza upkeep, setting-up for special events and cleaning afterwards. I'll work 4-10s and have 3 days off to play!! The downside is that it is only for the summer season, but hopefully, I can also get hired on for the winter. If so, I'll have about a month off in-between to travel and play.

The Move
This time I'll need to squeeze a mattress in the back of my truck along with all of my other junk. My bikes will be going on a hitch rack though, so it shouldn't be too bad. Sadly the Pompino is for sale; the mountains are no place for a fixed gear bike. And, I could use some extra cash for moving. Alternatively I may part it out and keep the wheelset to use on the Centurion when the need arises. The other issue is finding housing. Apartments are ridiculously expensive, and while there is income based housing, very few of those allow pets. As of now my options are paying rent and nothing else, commuting 30-45 miles twice a day from a nearby town, or camping. I'm keeping my fingers crossed in hopes that something will become available in the next two weeks.

The Town
One downside is dating. According to Wikipedia, for every 100 females over the age of 18, there are 155 males. I don't do well with normal competition, and so I expect to be single for the duration of my employment. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. On the upside Lucy will have a lot more freedom, though I'm not sure how far she'll be able to run at +9000ft.

Before I leave I plan to ride at Lory State Park, as it's the only major trail system I have yet to ride, and see a movie at the drive-in, since those are pretty rare now'days. Hopefully I'll find a subleaser for my current room and an affordable place to live. If not, I'll be stuck with a long commute and/or living in a tent.

Self-Reliance

"Life does not come without risks. You learn to take them, or you stay home and watch life of TV."

-Jimmy Buffett

My grandpa recently reminded me of that quote. It's one of my favorites. Some people will tell you to never ride alone (or hike, camp, etc.). Like when I worked for the boy scouts - they thought it was crazy that I camped alone one night a few miles down a nearby trail. If I didn't ride alone, I would hardly ever ride.

These thoughts went through my head the other day when I rode at Soapstone Prairie Natural Area. 30 miles outside of town and I'm the only one in the parking lot. For short rides close to home on well populated trails, I usually don't bring more than a house key and a bottle of water. For longer rides outside of town, however, I go prepared. In my opinion, a good day pack should be able to keep you somewhat comfortable for a night should the need arise.

Extra clothes, extra water, food, tools, a pump, maps, and a homemade first aid kit are my usual items. For clothes I bring warmer gloves, a rain jacket/windbreaker, an extra pair of socks (or two), and a warm base layer. Tools and parts consist of a multi-tool with a chain breaker, a few spare chain links, a tube and/or sealant, a small hand pump, and of course a pocket knife. I can't stand standard store-bought first aid kits, as most of the included items are useless to me. My kit is simple: gauze, medical tape, an ace bandage, triple antibiotic ointment, betadine, some triangular bandages, a small tube of sunscreen, and anti-chafing cream. Obviously geared towards mountain bike induced injuries - the same type of injuries focused on in my Wilderness First Responder course. Anything else can wait till I get home.

Self-reliance is only half gear and preparation, the rest is knowledge and skills. Most of which I've learned through years of experience of trial and error. Other things were learned through classes, friends, and family. And, I'm still learning on almost every ride. When exploring new trails, it's also good to have high endurance to minimize the problem of tiring out and good navigation skills. I never felt very isolated in Mississippi, but the feeling comes easily in the mountains.

"I've never met a companion so companionable as solitude"

-Henry David Thoreau
(I guess he never had a dog)

Hewlett Gulch

I'd been looking forward to this trail for a while now for one reason: to let Lucy run off leash. Hewlett Gulch is located in Roosevelt National Forest, which allows dogs off leash with the exception of wilderness areas and high use trails. We got a late start due to a lazy morning of coffee and pancakes but finally made it to the trail a little after noon.

The first couple of miles were packed with a dozen or stream crossings. That, combined with the soil composition, made for a slightly muddy ride for me and a very muddy run for Lucy. Within a half mile of the trailhead, I failed to complete a crossing and was forced to submerge a foot. Fortunately, I was wearing thin socks that don't hold much water. The trail then left the gulch, entered a prairie, and climbed to the top of a (relatively) small hill. For a while it seemed as though I wasn't acclimating to the hills and elevation, but then it occurred to me that with each ride I'm going higher and farther. From the hilltop I had a 360° view of the damage from the High Park Fire of 2012. Over 87000 acres were burned, contributing to the subsequent floods of 2013 and making human environmental impact seem like a moot point. Overall, the trail was fun but unspectacular.

The ride only took a couple of hours, so I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring Poudre Canyon. I drove farther than I had previously ridden and eventually turned down an inviting gravel county road that climbed into the mountains. We spent some time eating a snack on a high point, admiring the view, then continued until we came across a 4x4 road that the Tacoma lacked the gearing and traction to climb. Naturally, I parked and broke out the mountain bike. I quickly realized, however, that at 9000ft, I lacked the lung capacity to ride more than a few hundred yards. I think Lucy agreed as she trotted along, panting like crazy.

I drove a little over 100 miles total but found loads of backcountry campsites and trails - some labelled, some not. I can't even remember the last time I went camping, but I'm looking forward to it along with exploring some mountain peaks and high elevation lakes. By the way, I've started leaving notes on the fridge explaining where I'm going - that is when I actually know my destination.

The Sweet Stuff

It's been a long time coming, but I finally went out for a nice long mountain bike ride. Somewhere around 38 miles, with God only knows how much climbing, a max elevation around 7000ft, and 6.5 hours from start to finish. I found some sweet single track, but unfortunately, most of the day I was riding all the wrong trails in all the wrong directions.

My first goal of the day was to beat the sunrise up the first climb, but at 5:20 this morning I was having second thoughts and layed in bed till 5:40. With sunrise at 6:15, I knew it would be close, but I decided to try anyways. Armed with a sandwich, some snacks, and a thermos of coffee I set out at 6. I might've had a chance with a geared bike, but with my recently regeared single speed, the roads to the trails took forever. Even though I didn't quite make it, I still had nice view to go with my coffee.

After that, I headed South around the reservoir to Horsetooth Mountain Open Space. Once there, I rode up, up, and up some more. I rode mostly uphill for 4.5 hours topping out at around 7000ft, just below Horsetooth Rock. Actually I walked quite a bit of that. The trails were mostly rideable but included lots of steep, loose, rocky, "baby head" sections (baby head sized rocks). The trails don't look very remote on paper or from across the reservoir, but once I was there, it felt like the middle of nowhere. The highest trail was a rugged black diamond route where I busted my ass twice - both times falling to the wrong side and sliding downhill. I decided to be more cautious after that. 

At 10:30 I stopped for lunch (or brunch?) at the top of the trail. Finally I got to go downhill! Some of it was fast and smooth; other parts were a test of my technical skills. Thankfully, the club rides will be held there starting in May, and I can learn the fun routes. I got home around 12:30, had a post ride beer, and took a 2 hour nap.

Project Centurion Part II

With the completion of Project Centurion, I decided to ride up Poudre Canyon for a shake down run. During the rebuild, I added some "new" old components like cranks, handlebars, and shifters, as well as some other new parts including the seatpost and brake levers. I even managed to find a randonneuring handlebar, characterized by a curved top section and extra long drops. I moved the shifters from the stem to the downtube solely for a more classic look. It also has fresh paint, cables and housing, bar tape, and brake pads. Total cost: $165.00. Of course that doesn't factor in wheels or saddle, but those would come off before a resale. It's almost ready for some high mileage. With no destination or distance in mind, I set off at 9 this morning. It was cool and sunny - perfect riding weather. While I had no major goals today, I did have a few stops in mind including Gateway Park and possibly Hewlett Gulch. I also wanted to get a feel for the bike's handling and fit.



View from bridge to Hewlett Gulch

The ride was fairly uneventful. Slightly windy but not bad. Gateway Park was partially closed due to a damaged bridge, so I didn't get to see much of it. Hewlett Gulch looked like a nice trail. I wanted to ride some of it, but alas my 23mm tires are no good off road. I knew that to be the 23 mile mark, and I was feeling just as good as when I started. So, I decided to press on. I soon came across Young Gulch and later Stove Prairie/Buckhorn Rd. I was tempted to turn here and make the route into a nice loop, but I knew I'd have to cross the stream somehow along with who knows what else (see previous post). Instead, I continued up Poudre Canyon until I reached the Narrows - a narrow section in the canyon with class IV and V rapids. I still wasn't feeling tired, but it was already after 12:30. So, I decided to turn back. I ended the day with yet another (short) ride to run Lucy and make a pitstop at Equinox Brewery for a growler fill of Orion Irish Red which may or may not have something to do with the color of my hair. Honestly, red ales are one of my favorites, but like redheads they're uncommon. So, I usually take the opportunity when I can.

 

The 30 year old bike rode quite well. It's smooth and stable. It's certainly not a light weight racer, but I can see it being a high mileage machine. After 62 miles today, I was only slightly tired. My butt was hurting on the descent, but that should get better as my saddle breaks in. I think it's the exact same size as my old Schwinn. It's a little tall, but the reach is the same as it was on the Pompino. Still, a shorter stem might be nice. The downtube shifters took some getting used to, but I like them. They give the bike a classic look and feel, and their simplicity and reliability is unmatched. I'm planning on some wider tires, so I can stray from the pavement, and home-made handlebar and saddle bags for tools, clothes, and food, etc.

 

I can't wait for some all-day rides on the Centurion. I have plans to tackle some of the nearby mountain passes with this bike once I get it dialed in. I may even rig it up for some light bikepacking. Not sure where it came from, but suddenly, I have the desire to ride long hours at high altitudes. If nothing else it'll make interesting blog material. 

Three Months in Ft Collins

It's been three months, the limit of my moving budget, and I'm not going hungry or living in a box. I haven't found my dream job yet, but I can pay the bills for now. It's been an exciting three months - exploring the area, learning the cultural differences, job searching, and lots of budget calculating.

Most of my exploring has been done by bike. In fact, I've only used a tank and a half of gas since getting here. My legs are probably stronger than they've ever been. I've ridden all over town as well as the nearby mountain roads and trails. The town is very cyclist friendly with bike lanes on almost every street and stores conveniently placed within riding distance. Most of the sensored street lights can even be triggered by bike. I've never been much of a road biker, but the mountain roads have exceeded my expectations and converted me, just a little, in that direction. The trails, however, are not as good as I imagined. While they're mostly fun, they were built for hiking, not riding - lots of rocky straight aways. They don't drain very well either due to soil composition and building technique. That said, I've only ridden about half of the nearby trails. Pretty soon I'll start driving to the ones out of riding distance. The other downside is that mountain biking is seasonal. Road biking season on the other hand depends on your gear and pain tolerance. The good news is that the bike club is in full swing now!

The culture here is on the other end of the spectrum compared to Mississippi. Liberal with a strong push towards natural foods, exercising, and sustainable living. My neighbors have solar panels on their roof, a garden in the front yard and chickens in the back. There's always people running at 6:30am. The city buses run on propane. The strangest though, was hearing my coworkers talk about smoking a bowl after work. But, pot isn't as out in the open as I thought it would be. Not like Amsterdam. The city has some strange ordinances like pet licensing, parking on the right side of the road (even in front of your own house!), and something against tall business signs (maybe obstructing the view?). That makes it kind of difficult to find places, but I've gotten used to it.

The weather is great though. Low humidity. Four seasons. Lots of sun! The wind can be annoying though, especially for a cyclist; it's worse than hills. I've been told there's lots of weather threats too- fires, floods, large hail, tornadoes, etc.

So what does my future hold? While I love Ft Collins, it's not home. I don't know where I'll go yet, but I probably won't stay here more than a year or two. My mind could change in that time, but I'd like to explore other places too. Also, I can't shake my dream of living on a sailboat and travelling a blue trail. For now, I'm planning some road trips and will just have to see where work and/or school takes me. As long as it's a cool cycling town with good beer.

Project Centurion

A randonee, or brevet, is a noncompetitive, long distance (120-800 miles) cycling event. The word is French and has no direct translation, but generally it means to wander/roam the countryside by bike. A rider in an event is a randonnuer. It's a cool word.

After discovering the high speed instability and other quirks of the Pompino, I started looking for an old bike or frame to build up as a light touring, long distance, randonnuering rig. Two months ago one of my roommates moved out leaving behind a few unwanted items including an old road bike - a Centurion Sport DLX. Nothing special, just your basic mid 80's, entry-level road bike, much like my old Schwinn Traveller. I took it off his hands for $5! Definitely my cheapest bike to date, but it's not worth much more. The tires are flat and dry rotted as are the brake shoes. The rims are warped, chain is garbage, and cable housings are shot. And, to top it off the frame was out of alignment by over half an inch!

I'm not sure if was run over by a car or maybe just backed into, but it's seen some pretty heavy forces. Nothing a 2x4 couldn't fix though. It's not perfect now, but I managed to get it within a millimeter or two. That's the great thing about steel; still, I kept waiting for something to snap. Considering this bike has no vintage value and only cost me 5 bucks, I have no moral qualms bending the frame, repainting it, replacing parts, hammering on it, etc. So, it should be a fun project. I'm trying my best not to put much money into it. So far I've bought cables, housing, a crank puller, paint, and a seat post with a modern clamp design. I'll also need new handlebars as the current ones are bent, and I expect the aluminum to snap when I try to straighten it out. I'll need a drive side crank arm too, because the current chainrings are warped and not removable.

Currently it sits torn apart on my bedroom floor waiting to be thoroughly cleaned, degreased, painted, regreased, and reassembled. If it rides nice, like I hope, I'll keep it and upgrade it a little more. If it doesn't, I'll sell it to a college kid for a commuter. If the frame turns out to be scrap metal, I'll just keep the parts and look for another old frame.

The reason for wanting an old road bike for long distances is that steel offers a more compliant ride compared to aluminum or carbon fiber. Older bikes also have clearance for bigger, more comfortable tires, mounts for fenders, and relaxed geometry. Sure, there are a few new bikes with these features, but they come at a high price. I do wish it had bottle cage mounts. I'm looking forward to the rebuild process. Updates to come!



Spring is Here!

At least what passes for Spring in Colorado. It actually got above 70 today, warmest it's been since I've been here. But, it's also supposed to snow tomorrow night. For the year-round cyclist, it's time to catch up on bike maintenance, and oh, how I've been slacking. But it's just not worth trying to clean a bike when you're riding through slush several times a week during the winter months.

Now that the slush is gone for the most part, gears are back on the Pompino as well as road wheels and skinny slick tires. After that swap, I suddenly found myself going 4mph faster for the same effort. Tires can account for 1-2mph, but 4 was too much. I knew my average speed had been slow lately, but I attributed that to high winds, long hills, and possibly over training considering I've ridden at least 12 miles everyday for the last four weeks. While those reasons may have contributed, this sudden jump in speed had my puzzled.

Turns out my front hub on my cross/winter wheel was shot. Just turning the axle by hand felt like the ball bearings had been replaced with sand. It's currently disassembled on my bedroom floor. I couldn't find any visual defects in the cups or cones, so hopefully new bearings will solve the problem. Last time I had this problem, I tried to just clean the old bearings. A month later I wound up with a permanently damaged hub. I'm hoping for better luck with new bearings and proper degreaser. Other maintenance includes cleaning/lubing or replacing chains, re-aligning brakes, re-greasing pedal spindles, and a good wash. Fortunately, I enjoy these types of things.

I can tell I've been spending too much time on the road bike. My mountain bike feels weird now with wide handlebars and upright position. Spring also means I'll be able to ride the trails more though. The first club ride is Wednesday followed by the April meeting on Thursday. Both of which I'm looking forward too!

Buckhorn Road

I set out on this ride in hopes of reaching my goal of 200 miles for the week. I had ridden 144 miles so far - commuting, running errands, and other long recreational road rides. With 20-30mph winds blowing all day, I knew this was going to be a tough one, made worse by the fact that the route I wanted to take was uphill and upwind. So I set out with a focus on distance not speed. I kept my heart rate as low as I could up the hills.

The route was more exposed than my previous canyon road rides, but the scenery was amazing. Outside the city limits, the "Old West" idea still thrives. I passed lots of big ranches with horses, cows and lots of open, well defended land. One sign I saw read, "If you can read this, you are in range. Absolutely no trespassing." Another more humorous sign read, "Trespassers will be violated." That one made me laugh. I also passed through Stout, CO population 47 1/2 - no lie.

Fourteen miles in, I learned that the road was closed 8 miles ahead. I thought about taking a different route since this would only give me 22 miles at the halfway point. I needed at least 28. Then another thought came into my head: a closed road with no traffic could be a cyclist's paradise. I was also curious as to why it was closed. The answer: there is no road. Instead, there's a river. Extensive, unrepaired damage from last fall's flood. It's amazing what water can do. Parts of the pavement were wrinkled and bent but not broken. Some chunks had floated down the road. I wanted to cross the river to check out the road on the other side. But, it was getting cold, and bike shoes and wet rocks don't mix. I especially didn't want to cross it twice, and it was too deep and/or rocky to ride across. So, I turned back.

On the way back I thought I would need 12 more miles to reach my goal. It was getting darker and colder, and my extremities were already numb. I was pretty sure I was going to call it a day at 44. Once I got closer, however, I realised I would only need 10 due to taking a slightly different route. 12 was too much, but 10 I could do. I pedalled harder to warm up, watched the sunset, and turned my light from strobe to solid. I rode 5 miles North, upwind, and 5 easy miles back downwind, just making my goal of 200.

Buckhorn Rd turns into Stove Prairie which connects to Poudre Canyon Hwy. Sometime in the near future I plan to ride the complete loop - in the vicinity of 65 miles. Before I do that, I need lower gears and a new seat. I think I've actually managed to wear out my current saddle. It's developed a "U" shape and isn't comfortable anyway I sit. I've got a Brooks B17 saddle on the way; pretty much the standard for long distance riding as the leather conforms to your rear after a short break-in period. I can't wait! I think I'll also rig up a handlebar bag for easy access to my camera, snacks, etc. Eventually, I'd like to build up a bike more suited to long distances. The Pompino has a weird fit and geometry that is NOT stable at high speeds. It's also not even meant to run multiple gears. But, it'll do for now.

The Other Cyclists are Staring At Me

And, I really don't know why. They may be wondering what Ole Miss is. Or it may be the mountain bike shorts on a road ride. Or maybe it's the steel cyclocross bike with only a rear fender. I'm not sure, but yesterday, on my 42 mile road ride, it seemed like all the other cyclists were giving me inquisitive looks. The other roadies waved, but the more casual cyclists just looked puzzled.

It was the warmest day of the year so far, and everyone was out enjoying it - 70 degrees with a blue sky. I saw tons of cyclists in and around town, but once I got passed Rist Canyon Rd, they vanished. Not a single one in Poudre Canyon; something else I don't understand. It was a great ride! No lung-busting, gut-wrenching climbs. No break-neck speeds. Just a gradual incline winding alongside the Poudre River with scenic views around every turn, most too big for my view finder. There were plenty of other recreators out hiking, fly fishing, and picnicing by the river at various parks and trails. My goal was to reach Hewlett Gulch and explore the area since it is an off-leash trail. I've heard it was damaged by fires and floods from the past few years and was wondering if it is still rideable. I didn't bring a map and didn't pinpoint it's exact location prior to setting out. I should've because as it turns out, I turned around less than 500 feet from it. That was disappointing to find out, but I'm sure I'll be back there soon.

On another note, I finally got tired of single speeding up super steep hills and into 30+ mph headwinds and put gears back on the Pompino. I'm currently running it 1x10 which is a new trend in the off road scene, but unheard of amongst tarmac riders. The low gear still gives me a challenge uphills, and the top gear is plenty fast. I'm not sure why, but my chain came off twice on the way back down. It's fine everywhere else though. My current bike plans consist of a few more upgrades to my current bikes which will then leave me with enough spare parts to build up a light weight cyclocross/long distance bike. That way, I can ride to Hewlett Gulch, ride the trail, and ride back! I'll still keep the Pompino as a winter/commuter/bar bike.

My legs rarely burn while biking anymore, but that ride did it. It was my longest ride at this altitude, and I'm still feeling it. Counting my morning commute, I got in 55 miles. Finished the day with Blackjack Pizza and a Breckenridge Brewery IPA. Then slept like a log.

Frugality

By choice, I love it. By necessity, not so much. In part I was raised to be somewhat frugal. For instance, most off-brands are exactly the same as the name brand, like raisin bran or soap. Other things you really don't want to skimp on, like toilet paper. It also comes from all of my camping and backpacking which teaches you exactly how much you need to live. The best part is that saving money on everyday things allows you to spend it on things you really enjoy, like bike parts and beer. Although, for me, bike parts are easily justified anyways as they account for transportation, exercise, entertainment, and therapy costs. When I moved to Colorado, I knew I would need to stretch my savings as far is they would go.

At first I thought I had plenty of money to last three months, but as always, it disappeared faster than I had thought. Things like my rent deposit, buying a bed, and warmer clothes really took out a chunk. I'm always fairly frugal by choice, but as time wore on, I found myself nearing the extreme end of the spectrum as my savings dwindled. I started eating lots of beans, not buying meat, and using my backpacking skills like rationing toilet paper and washing dishes with dirt. Ok, maybe not the latter, but you get the idea. For the record, I do use dirt while camping and can usually get a 1:1 ratio for wipes per square with quality tp.

It's my understanding that most people go through this in the transition to adulthood. A time where everything you own will fit in your car, and if you fill up your gas tank, you won't be able to afford next month's rent. I think it builds character, and I'm sure I'll look back on it one day with nostalgia. But right now I'm so ready for a pay check. Just one more week!

A Time for Change

In the last few months, I’ve been through LOTS of changes: transitioning from student to working professional, dependence to independence, Mississippi to Colorado, and living with roommates to living at home and back again. So, why not some more? I was debating whether I should post this as it's pretty personal. But, it should be fairly axiomatic as to why I need to. For the most part I love the way I am. I like being introverted and adventurous. I usually even like being short (except when it comes to dating). There are a few things, however, that I don’t like, such as my quiet voice, my shyness, and my passiveness. A professor once told me that people generally settle into a personality in their early twenties and stay that way for the remainder of their lives. It’s not too late for a change, but the clock is ticking.

I find I have to limit my options and really force myself into change. It's like mountain biking. When riding a geared bike, I don’t have the will power to push myself to the limit. Eventually I default to a lower, easier gear. With a single speed, however, I have no such option. If there’s a hill, I attack it with every ounce of energy to get to the top, or I walk. I hate walking.

All my life I’ve had a soft voice. Always told to speak up, asked to repeat myself. That’s part of the reason for change. The other part is that I just admire people that effortlessly project their voice. It gives the impression of confidence and strength. I like that. The difficulty here is simply reminding myself to do it. Just a day of speaking loudly and I’d probably get used to it and not even have to think about it. Still working on a solution.

I’ve just about conquered shyness, at least to a point with which I’m comfortable. I can carry on a conversation with a stranger if I want. But, I’m also comfortable with silence. I still find myself being shy occasionally, and it’s something I want to eliminate entirely. I see no benefit to shyness. Not to be confused with introversion. I love solitude at times, but I don’t want some weird emotion keeping me there. Reasons for change: I haven’t had a girlfriend in almost three years, and have only made a few friends in that time. Possibly more from a lack of trying than anything. That’s not how I want to live. Although to be fair, for the last year employment and housing have been my top priorities, but those are now taken care of. Part of this is already remedied with my move to Colorado where I have a lot more in common with people. The other fix is just getting out of the house, and again, lots of opportunities for that here: dog park, hiking, mountain biking, racing, climbing, music, beer. The list is excitingly endless.

Passiveness applies to both good and bad emotions. Such as not talking to the cute girl. Or, avoiding confrontation for the sake of peace when there’s a legitimate cause worth standing up for. For example, last weekend when another guy was all over the girl I was supposed to be “hanging out” with. Clearly she misunderstood me when I asked. I’ve never wanted to punch somebody (the other guy) so bad in my life. And, I wish I would've, or at least said something at the time. It was bullshit. She's definitely not worth fighting for, but that was way out of line.

Another thing is developing a sense of style. As it turns out, I like wearing clothes that make me look good. So, I've been expanding my wardrobe here and there and giving away things I don't wear. I'm also planning on getting a tattoo similar to the background of this blog, but I could probably write an entire post on that. All just symbols of change and self expression.

 “We’ve gotta make a decision: We leave tonight or live and die this way.” – Tracy Chapman.

It starts now. Change can’t wait and this is a perfect time in my life for it. It starts with small steps and climbs toward a permanent difference. I’m not trying to be perfect; in fact, I don’t believe in perfection. It’s an impossible, subjective standard that provides no useful comparison. But, there’s no reason not to strive for improvement.

The Leashed Trail Dog

It's a sad sight. A leash connecting a dog to a bike. For both Lucy and me, the trail is supposed to be freedom. Freedom to run and ride as fast or as slow as we want. Freedom to take the familiar path through the local woods or the new trail to unknown places. Anywhere to escape the city, and yes, harass the wildlife (they'll get over it). It's one of my main reasons for riding. But, with the strict leash laws in Fort Collins, that freedom is nowhere to be found.

While it's possible to ride single track with Lucy on a leash, it means we have to go slower to avoid accidents, and I also have to match her pace which is not always easy or safe (or fun). Occasionally, I see dogs off leash and am tempted to ignore the law. But, it's different for hikers. They'll notice when a ranger is up ahead, whereas I'm concentrated on my front wheel and what's immediately in front of it. I unleashed her for a short stretch on our last trail ride, and it was SO much better. Just yesterday, though, I saw someone getting ticketed for it. That's not something I can afford. For now, we've been riding the neighborhoods which lets us go a little faster with a lot less stress despite the traffic. We've also found some short stretches of double track in nearby Natural Areas that's manageable. There's a trail 20-30 minutes north of town that allows off leash running, but that'll have to wait for drier weather.

Leash laws were not something I researched before moving here, but I'll check the next place better. Or, just move somewhere rural where no one cares. Maybe Fort Collins will adopt a verbal command exception like Boulder, or a small, nice, harmless dog exception. Just wishful thinking.