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.