rants 'n rides

The things you learn.

2009-02-08T19:22:00.000-08:00

I've not been riding a whole lot, as of late. This is due partly to motivation, partly to circumstance, and partly to focusing on other endeavors.

The focus of the last couple weekends has been outdoor play off the bike. While others were getting rained on during mountain bike rides, putting in 4-6 hour base mile days, and winning road races, I've been tromping about in the snow-covered back-country, attending winter SAR training, and riding fresh pow.

Funny thing about getting off the bike and doing other stuff, you find yourself outside of your comfort zone, and learning new and different lessons.

I've learned several lessons in the past few weeks, which you're undoubtedly (Ok, maybe not.) eager to hear about.

Lesson #1 This is the most important lesson learned, as of late.: If I'm going to blow off the bike to go play in the mountains on the weekends, then I should probably do something during the week besides sit in front of a computer all day. This weekend-warrior shit isn't cutting it. This was painfully evident during the long slog to the Summit of San Gorgonio, and back, last weekend. That hurt way more than it had any right to.

Lesson #2: Gear is important! It may have seemed like a good idea to stuff an extra pair of boots in my pack, along with a snowboard and various other winter-back-country gear, so that I could snowboard the vertical equivalent of a measly 2 Snow Summit runs, but while crunching up an icy slope at 11,000 ft I was having serious second thoughts about all the weight on my back. Time to get back-country appropriate gear, or do some serious work on addressing lesson #1. One small problem: back-country snowboard gear starts at "OMFG are you kidding me?!", and goes up from there.

Lesson #3: Some lessons are so thoroughly ingrained that they're nearly impossible to unlearn. This can be a problem when you're snuggled into a sleeping bag tucked into a bivy sack in your snow-shelter with kidneys about to explode, trying to convince your bladder that, "Really, it's ok to let loose into the pee bottle. Seriously! I need some frickin' sleep, and my bladder is about to explode, just go already!" I gotta wonder though, is potty-training a lesson you really wanna unlearn?

Lesson #4: Some days the mountains are calling your name, and you just gotta escape the usual 8-5.

The Cocktail Project: Alexander's Sister

2009-01-13T20:52:00.000-08:00

In keeping with the recent theme of creamy cocktails, which will most likely end when the container of half 'n half in my refrigerator runs out or goes bad, I mixed up an Alexander's Sister.

Like most of the other cream based cocktails I've tried, it's not the most subtle of tastes, but makes for a sweet treat. Classified as a "digestif", this would make a nice post-meal treat in lieu of a dessert.

I like that you can actually taste the gin in this one, as it's not completely overpowered by creams and liquers as is the base alcohol in other creamy drinks. Being that a primary ingredient is creme de menthe, mint haters need not apply.

As for everyone else: Bottoms up!

Alexander's Sister

1 1/2 oz cream
1 1/2 oz gin
1/4 oz crème de menthe (green)

Shake well over ice in a shaker, strain into a cocktail glass

Balance

2009-01-13T20:47:00.001-08:00

The above is a pretty good metaphor for my life as of late -- a struggle to find balance. That sentiment is not particularly original, but neither is getting all introspective at the start of a new year. So indulge me.

For the most part I've struck a balance that I'm pretty comfortable with, but it's come with a price, as do most compromises. The price I've paid is that I'm just not as strong on the bike as I could be with a more singular focus on training and racing -- a fact which has been painfully evident on recent training rides.

Suffering goes down easier with friends though, and complain as I might about the crappy SoCal ski conditions, it's hard to complain too much when you're riding in January, in shorts and short sleeves.

To break up the monotony of winter base miles a bit, Matt and I headed down to the OC Saturday, and met up with Tom Gardner, the nicest tough-as-nails ex-marine you're ever likely to meet, for the weekly Saturday sufferfest they call the Food Park ride. Rumor has it Landis has been showing up to the ride lately and putting the hurt on the peloton. No Landis sightings this week, but there were plenty of strong guys on hand to dish out the pain.

While I didn't see much time near the front, I did manage to hang in there and not get dropped, which given my current fitness, or lack thereof, is a-ok with me.

Following the ride Matt, Tom and I put in a couple more hours riding down to the HB Pier and back up the climb a second time, before rolling back to the cars in Irvine.

I was pretty wrecked by the end of the ride, which was a wake-up call. If I'm going to get anything out of this next season, I need to fine-tune my balancing act and make sure it includes some more time on the bike.

The Cocktail Project: Knickerbocker Cocktail

2009-01-03T21:23:00.000-08:00

There's some uncertainty over whether this is the Knickerbocker cocktail, as there is another knickerbocker by the same name that is a rum drink. This is not that version. The Knickerbocker cocktail herein, is a variation on the martini. If you enjoy Martini's you will probably enjoy this cocktail.

In the place of a green olive, there is a hint of citrus tartness provided by a lemon peel. I enjoyed the hint of lemon, but found that I prefer the saltiness of the olive martini, or the tang of a cocktail onion found in the gibson.

As in all manners of taste, ymmv.

Knickerbocker Cocktail

3/4 oz dry vermouth
dashes vermouth bianco (or vermouth rosso)
1 oz gin
lemon peel

Stir well in a mixing glass filled with ice cubes, strain into a chilled martini glass, squeeze lemon twist over drink and drop into the glass.

The Cocktail Project: Angel's Delight

2009-01-03T17:14:00.000-08:00

Generally, any drink calling for cream as a primary ingredient is veering way off into girl-drink territory. But there's a rather poorly kept secret about so called "girl drinks", one that makes them very popular: they're fucking tasty.

Perhaps you don't like Kahlua and someone is hosting a Lebowski themed get-together, for which you need an appropriately creamy drink. Or, maybe you want to mix something a little different than a slurpee with booze, or some obscenely named shooter, for someone who's not into drinks with stronger spirits as their dominant flavor.

In such a case, this little number hits the spot, however I wouldn't use your best gin on this, as any character it has is going to be overpowered by the triple sec and cream.

If White Russians are, as my sister likes to say, "like drinking a candy bar", then this one is like drinking a creamsicle. Be careful though. They go down mighty easy, and a creamsicle hangover is not likely to be much fun.

Angels Delight

1 1/2 oz cream
dashes grenadine
3/4 oz triple sec
3/4 oz gin

Shake well in shaker filled with ice cubes, strain into a cocktail glass.

The Cocktail Project: Godmother & Godfather

2008-12-22T20:38:00.000-08:00

Vodka is not generally my first choice of liquors, but it seems like a good idea to have some on hand if I want to be able to concoct various cocktails. Having recently purchased a fresh supply (Said supply came in the form of a rather large, 1.75L, bottle of Stoli. The 0.75L bottle was $24, the 1.75L bottle of the same stuff was $25. Of course I bought the big bottle. WTF, Bevmo?!), I wanted to try a new Vodka cocktail. Thumbing through my book of recipes I found one that seemed interesting. More importantly, it doesn't require a whole host of obscure mixers or fresh fruit that I'm not currently in possession of. Additionally, it has a counterpart, requiring a different base alcohol, one that I'm more fond of than vodka: bourbon. I don't need much of an excuse to make a whiskey cocktail, and a two-fer blog post is as good as any.

First up is the Godmother. Vodka, being pretty much taste-free in all but the flavored varieties (Vodka fans may take exception to that, but from my vantage point the more you pay the more vodka tastes like nothing, and the less you pay the more it tastes like hairspray.), served mostly to add a slightly peppery, astringent punch to the Amaretto, which would have been overly sweet on its own, making for a rather pleasing drink. Much to my surprise, I find myself giving this one a 3.5 out of 5 stars. Seems that the vodka, in this case, nicely balances the sweetness of the Amaretto. Having said that, I still think a vodka martini is an abomination, and my generally low opinion of vodka isn't going to be entirely overturned by a single cocktail.

Next up is the Godfather. Similar recipe with bourbon in place of vodka. Not surprisingly, I find myself quite enjoying the Godfather. This is one I can see adding to my short list of standard drink orders. It's quite tasty, and simple enough to make and describe, that it could be ordered in even the diviest of dive bars and they'd have a hard time screwing it up (Assuming a dive bar has Amaretto on hand.). Instead of just tasting a punchier version of Amaretto, you get all the complexity of your favorite bourbon with a sweet almond tinge from the Amaretto. I tried this one with both Maker's Mark, and Elmer T. Lee. Both were quite enjoyable.

I'm gonna give this one 4 out of 5 stars.

Who's laughing now?

2008-11-24T16:11:00.000-08:00

Riding again, finally.

2008-11-10T19:05:00.000-08:00

While I'm nowhere near ready to race, and sadly missing out on the CX fun that everyone seems to be having, I did finally get a ride in.

After having been of the bike for nearly a month, recuperating a knee injury, I decided to revisit last month's biking & brewing exploits with Troy, as it was time to bottle our beer.

Fortunately, this time, the ride went much better. While I suffered like crazy -- Riding a singlespeed on a ride with a lot of steep climbing is no way to ease back into riding after a long hiatus, and never let anyone tell you that all the climbing, on Strawberry Peak Trail, is done after the hellish fire-road climb to the singletrack. -- I did enjoy the ride, and my knees held up.

Following the ride, Troy and I bottled up the porter we brewed last month. It should be ready to drink, in a matter of 2 - 3 weeks.

That, and other recent developments, made this weekend a bright spot in what has otherwise been a long, dark month...

Are you f*ing kidding me?

2008-10-16T13:09:00.001-07:00

This was sent out in an email and postal mailer to a local Republican organization. A little glimpse into the true nature of McCain's supporters.

According to a
Press Enterprise story, the person responsible claims that, "She said she doesn't think in racist terms, pointing out she once supported Republican Alan Keyes, an African-American who previously ran for president.", and no offense was intended.

Give me a break lady. That claim is laughable on it's face.

In who's world is that image not racist?

Why don't we ask McCain how credible those claims are.

Hmm. I thought so.

Let's just hope that picture represents McCain and his ilk, shambling off into the obscurity they've earned.

This election is pissing me off. I need to go ride my bike...

Brothers biking and brewing.

2008-09-30T13:00:00.000-07:00

This is, ostensibly, a cycling blog, but I've been on injured-reserve for the better part of a month now. Having somehow managed to screw up my knee while involved in a search, there's been precious little going on lately; hence the month-long lag between posts.

While others have been in Vegas, racing in front of thousands of spectators, I've been in a vicious cycle of sitting around waiting for my knee to get better, getting bored out of my mind, caving in and riding, and then re-injuring it so that I have to sit around some more. It's maddening.

The latest iteration in this cycle took place over the weekend. Having taken several days off since Tuesday's ride, I decided I would attempt to ride again. I drove to Alhambra Saturday morning, with the intention of joining my brother on the Montrose ride -- Pasadena's local roadie training ride. I overslept, so we missed the ride start, which turned out to be a good thing. Troy and I did our own ride, and even at a leisurely pace, with little climbing, my beleaguered knee was torturing me by the end of a mere 2 hour ride.

Frustrated, and in pain, I returned to Troy & Tracy's place to drown my sorrows in ibuprofen and beer. 5 gallons of beer!

The ride was actually a mere precursor to the real goal of the weekend, that being cooking up a batch of homebrew. Troy, Tracy, Troy's fellow chem-geek friend Pavle, and I spent the rest of the day brewing a batch of porter.

It should be ready in time for my birthday. Maybe I can also celebrate a recovered knee by then.

Sorry we missed you.

2008-08-27T07:30:00.000-07:00

I returned home the other day, from various SAR related activities, to find a flier from the yes on 8 campaign, with a handwritten note that read, "Sorry we missed you."

You know what? I'm pretty sorry I missed them too. I'm sorry I missed the opportunity to tell them to their faces that I think they are bigoted assholes, and that I stand in firm opposition to the hate that they're peddling.

According to them "61 percent of California voters said 'Yes' to marriage as a man and a woman." Well apparently I'm in the minority 39 percent; those that really don't care how other people love, figure that it's their own damn business, and that they should have the same basic rights as every other Californian. Including the right to marry whoever they damn well please.

How exactly does it hurt your marriage if two dudes, or two girls, decide they want to be married as well?

Protect families? Maybe some families have two mommies, or two daddies. How about protecting them? And just how does their existence threaten your family?

Oh, because under Proposition 8, it "just wouldn't be called marriage, and public school teachers wouldn't have to tell children it is the same as marriage."?

So basically the whole opposition to gay marriage hinges on spurious concern for "the children" -- somehow it's always about "the children"" -- and the purported fact that public school teachers wouldn't be required to parrot the bigotry that you're teaching your own children? That maybe if, horror of horrors, your child turned out to be gay, they wouldn't have to contradict the message they've received, from you, their whole lives, that they are an abomination?

I can't help but think that the Yes on 8 folks are the same type of people who, 50 years ago, would have been vigorously opposed to having their children in the same school as black kids, or, heaven forbid, having their daughters or sons date a black man or woman. Didn't the segregationists use religion as an argument in favor of anti-miscegenation laws? Even a cursory reading of the flier reveals language that sounds a whole lot like the "separate but equal" tripe trotted out 40 or 50 years ago, by those who were busy enshrining their hate into law.

So why don't we just call the "yes on 8" campaign what it really is: out and out (no pun intended) bigotry -- hate under the guise of piety. Funny how often the two are conflated, isn't it?

This campaign, in addition to the obvious Jim Crow throwback, also sounds eerily like another recently popular, ridiculous, policy plank of self-righteous zealots everywhere, once again out of concern for "the children"; that being the teaching of creationism as science. Nevermind about 150 years of peer-reviewed science, confirmed time and time again by factual observation and experimentation, the theory conflicts with our favorite fairy-tale, that has no basis in demonstrable reality, so we don't want it being taught in the classroom. Science, or in this case equal rights, be damned.

I can think of a few other countries that base their laws on two-thousand-year-old fairy tales, as opposed to the ideals of democracy and equality for all. I'm sure the Prop 8 people would love it if we simply stoned to death those who's concepts of morality don't match up their own warped mythology-based morals; just like they do in those other countries. Lets hope the CA voters are a little more enlightened.

Sadly, I'm not holding my breath.

The Cocktail Project: Abbey Cocktail

2008-08-25T20:36:00.000-07:00

A slightly higher-brow version of its ghetto cousin, Gin N' Juice; the Abbey Cocktail is composed of 1 part gin, 1 part orange juice and couple dashes of orange bitters. The orange bitters add just enough tartness to counteract what would otherwise be the cloying sweetness of orange juice.

I quite enjoyed this one. Maybe, in part, because it's in the triple-digits here today, and the refreshing combination of the sweetness of orange juice, with the pleasant tang of gin and bitters hits the spot on a hot summer evening. That Gin runs a close second to whiskey, as my personal hard-alcohol of choice, doesn't hurt matters any.

I give this one 3 1/2 stars. Short of a 4 or 5 only because of the aforementioned preference for whiskey.

Maybe Snoop was onto something...

Abbey Cocktail
1 1/4 oz orange juice
1 1/4 oz gin
dashes orange bitters

Shake over ice in a shaker and strain into a cocktail glass

SAR, SAR, and more SAR

2008-08-25T14:10:00.000-07:00

Don't remember the last time I went this long without riding a bike, but apart from a jaunt to the grocery store, I didn't even touch a bike all week.

Feels weird.

Monday night: rope rigging practice.
Tuesday night: SAR team monthly meeting.
Wednesday night: rope rigging practice.
Thursday night: BBQ at Mom & Dad's w/ Diana.
Friday night: One more, last minute, rope practice, prior to Saturday's TRBC certification test.

TRBC is the San Bernardino County Sheriff's basic level of rope rescue certification. Without a TRBC cert. a SAR team member can't participate in a rope rescue, in any capacity which requires operation or rigging of the rope rescue system.

A TRBC certified individual is expected to demonstrate competency in several aspects of a rope rescue operation, under time constraints. The skills tested include:

Anchor construction, including pre-tensioned back-ties

Construction and operation of a mechanical advantage system using rope and pulleys. (Operation includes a "hot changeover" from lower-to-raise, and raise-to-lower, and the "Arizona Progression" for pulley rigging: 3:1, 3:1 w/ change of direction, 5:1, 9:1)

Litter rigging and patient litter packaging

Saturday was the TRBC test. Thanks to a lot of practice, and the tireless assistance of some dedicated team members, who helped me prep for the test, I easily passed.

Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning was more SAR activity, as this weekend was also our team's monthly training. We ran a mock search scenario followed by an overnighter at Grinnell Camp. I opted to camp with only what I usually carry in my 3-season SAR pack, which does not include a tent, sleeping bag, stove, or sleeping pad. Instead I had a gore-tex bivy sack with a silk liner, underneath a tarp shelter pitched on a taut-line between two trees. I was plenty warm, but the lack of a sleeping pad made for a fitful night's sleep.

We hiked back out on Sunday morning, followed by an early lunch at The Oaks, in Angelus Oaks, where I happened to come across Matt, Joy, and Shelli, who apparently still ride their bikes, and were taking a break at the store, before continuing on down the hill.

I was jealous of their itinerary, in all its singletrack-laden glory. Unless some ~~fool~~ poor soul gets lost, I think I'm caught up on SAR stuff, for a little while at least. I plan to ride this week.

Breakfast at camp.

Scrambling off-trail.

Might have to come back and throw a rope over that rock...

The Cocktail Project: A & B

2008-08-18T21:44:00.000-07:00

For about 10 years now, I've had a fascination with cocktails. It was the mid 90s, and I was just barely of legal drinking age. Dot-com madness was at a fever pitch, and all the cool kids were either swing dancing in Hollywood and experiencing the revival of cocktail culture, or getting blissed on E at a desert rave.

I somehow managed to miss out on the dot-com bandwagon, that seemingly every other techie in my demographic has stories of, and I never went swing dancing at The Derby, or took E in the middle of the desert. I did, however, catch the cocktail bug; mostly due to a tech-support job with a lot of downtime, broadband internet, and wired.com, née hotwired.com's, cocktail site. On Cocktail, San Francisco bartender Paul Harrington would hold forth weekly on a classic cocktail, it's origins, maybe a pithy anecdote, and a snarky commentary on lesser mixed drinks and pale imitations of the classics.

For a 20-something non-binge-drinker, this was the holy grail of booze. "You mean people actually drink 'cause they enjoy the taste? There's more to booze than fratboys getting shitfaced?" Alas, trying to actually order any of these drinks at a local bar, in my locale, will generally garner you a blank stare at best. "Sidecar? WTF is a sidecar? Here, have a jack & coke, and shut up."

Therefore, I was restricted to the few drinks my meager budget would allow the supplies for, so my experience of the classics was limited to a few of the old standys. Martini, Manhattan, etc.

That's pretty much been the case to the present day, which brings us to "The Cocktail Project". I'm endeavoring to work my way, from A to B, through a, by no means authoritive, but at least somewhat respected, work on American Cocktails American Bar, strangely enough, by a German, Charles Schumann. I plan to blog occasional updates of my experience, from the viewpoint of a cocktail neophyte.

I will be skipping some drinks. Those that I'm already pretty certain I will not enjoy, such as anything with Pernod or Absinthe, as I find the taste of liquorice abhorrent, anything that requires expensive liquors with a short shelf-life, i.e. any champagne cocktails (I'm not going to blow a wad of cash on a bottle of champagne, to sample a single cocktail.), and anything that's a near duplicate of other cocktails. (Unless it's one that I really enjoy, such as the Rob Roy, essentially a perfect Manhattan with scotch instead of rye.)

I may also go slightly out of order, as the financial commitment required to amass the various mixers, additives and base liquors required is not a small one, especially for someone whose current liquor cabinet consists of mostly various whiskeys, and a few common cocktail modifiers.

At the end of my quest I should have experienced a wide variety of classic American cocktails, acquired a pretty well stocked liquor cabinet, and hopefully enlightened all three of the people who read this.

Which brings us to today's drink, the A & B. The A & B is Armagnac and Benedictine. I'd not had Armagnac before, but I have had Cognac and Brandy. All possess a somewhat similar taste and are made from distilling wines. I enjoy Cognac, but confess that it's not a frequent indulgence. I'd much prefer a good bourbon or scotch.

I was not displeased by the A & B, but I did find it a little sweet for my liking, as both Armagnac and Benedictine (an herbal spice liquer), are somewhat sweet, and my palate is more attuned to whiskey, or gin cocktails.

It must be a relatively popular combination though, as you can purchase a similar concoction, B&B i.e. Benedictine & Brandy, pre-bottled.

Bottom line: I'd prefer a Manhattan any day. I guess I'm just more into grain than grapes.

Overall, I'd give it about 2 1/2 stars.

A & B
1 oz. Armagnac
3/4 oz. Benedictine
Stir in an old fashioned glass over ice.

Baggin' San Jacinto - the hard way

2008-08-04T20:36:00.000-07:00

So the Mt. San Jacinto trek went off pretty much without a hitch.

Troy and I met up at my house, where after some final preparations, we rolled over to the start of this month's Red Asphalt Ride at Augie's Coffee shop. In the interest of time we skipped the ride this month, but we did hang out and socialize for a bit before hitting the road. I had more than one person ask me something along the lines of "Are you one of those crazy guy's doing that trip?", "Ummm. Yeah. I guess.". Geez, word travels fast. I guess someone must have had to explain the presence of lycra-clad dudes with big backpacks, at a social cruise-ride.

After some go-juice and conversation, we left the group ride in the capable hands of Alan,

and started rolling.

The trip up was pretty uneventful. After making our way through Redlands and Yucaipa to Banning we were at the base of the climb, and from there it was a long, steady grind to the trailhead. With a stop or two to regroup, and to top off our water at Bay Tree Spring.

Sometime around 0200 we were finally at the Marion Mtn. Campground, and preparing to start the hike. Following a bit of hunting around in the dark, to locate the trail, changing from biking to hiking clothes, a short water/food break, and finding a place to stash the bikes, it was time to start walking. A check of the gps said sunrise was at 0600. Would we make it?

As it turned out, we couldn't have timed it much better. After hiking all night, on a moonless night with clear skies; enjoying the beginnings of the annual Perseids meteor shower, I started dragging ass. We were near the summit, shortly after first light, when Troy & Keith pulled a couple minutes ahead, and I was having my doubts whether we, or at least I, would summit by sunrise. However, upon arriving at the summit, Keith informed me that it was 0559. A look to the east confirmed that the sun had not yet crested the horizon. Shortly thereafter Jonathan arrived at the summit, and we all enjoyed a sunrise at 10,834 ft.

Following the sunrise we hung out for a while, relaxed, ate some food, and enjoyed a bit of celabratory scotch and dark chocolate before starting the trip back. We stopped briefly, at the hut just below the summit, to sign the peak register.

Now it was time for the knee-punishing descent, and the ride back to Redlands. Did I mention that Marion Mtn. Trail was steep? Some 4500 ft. of elevation in ~6 mi. steep. We did get to enjoy the views, that were obscured by darkness the prior night. That helped distract from the pounding. For me, hiking downhill is always harder than climbing, but my knees were mercifully easy on me this day.

The pounding must've been bearable, as we made pretty good time back to the bikes. Keith and I arrived 15 or so minutes ahead, just enough time to unlock the bikes and retrieve them from their hiding places, before Jonathan and Troy arrived. Soon, we were back at the campground, and ready for the ride home.

The screaming descent down Hwy. 243 was interrupted by a couple climbs, and a stop at Bay Tree Springs, for more water,

before our penultimate stop at the bottom of the hill. Here, we enjoyed the world's best ice cream sandwich from a corner liquor store. After a climb and descent of ~10k ft. *any* ice cream qualifies as "world's best".

In a perfect world, we'd have been done at this point. Alas, it's not a perfect world and we still had to get home. There were no major climbs or obstacles to speak of, no one was bonking, dehydrated or otherwise out of sorts, we were just four very tired riders with another 25 or so miles between us and home, in near triple-digit heat.

Not a lot of lively conversation at this point. Just heads down, keep those pedals turning. It's at this point in a looong excursion that the visions of what you're going to consume at journey's end are motivating you to keep going. I think we all had pizzas dancing in our heads.

On the home stretch, spirits were lifted, even if the pace was not.

I'm not sure if twice counts as tradition, but we once again found ourselves at Gourmet Pizza Shoppe, at journey's end. This time with assorted family on hand.

Important Preparations

2008-07-31T22:58:00.000-07:00

As a follow-up to last summer's hike/bike trip to the summit of San Gorgonio, we're planning a trip to the summit of San Jacinto. Leaving tomorrow night, from the start of Red Asphalt Ride, we'll ride from Redlands to the Marion Mtn. trailhead. Hike to the summit, and return.

Last minute preparations are currently in motion. Those being: finalizing a route, setting waypoints in the GPS (Unlike San Gorgonio, with which we're all familiar, none of us have ever hiked San Jacinto. Therefore, route pre-planning, especially on a night hike, takes on a greater importance.), and organizing gear.

Last but not least, there's the all-important decision of what to quaff, upon reaching the summit.

That momentous decision called for an impromptu tasting. It's a toss-up between the Compass Box blend, and The Macallan 15. Think I'll put off the final decision until go-time.

Hiking with Phillip

2008-07-22T22:34:00.000-07:00

No race reports from the weekend, but I did manage to get a good couple hours of suffering in, on PCH, on Sunday morning. The real story of the weekend was Saturday's SAR training.

The majority of the team planned to drive in to East Fork Cabin, from the Raywood Flats 4WD road, and do a ~2 mi. hike to Silverwood Falls, and back.

Phillip, as is usually the case, wanted something a bit more challenging. Seeing as many of us were unfamiliar with the area he proposed hiking in -- one in which more than one lost hiker has found themselves, after taking a wrong turn coming down from San Gorgonio Peak -- he suggested a hike up to the top of the Mill Creek Jumpoff, and down the South Fork drainage to South Fork Cabin. From there we'd cut over and meet up with the rest of the team at East Fork Cabin, and catch a ride out.

He managed to talk two of us, Larry R. and myself, into going along. I'm not sure what Larry's excuse is, but I should've known better. I've been on one of Phillip's "alternate" routes to team hikes before. Last time it was up and over Dry Lake trail, and back down Vivian Creek trail. A knee-buster if there ever was one. I'm in pretty decent shape, but I was still hurting the next day, as is usually the case following a knee-punishing descent down Vivian Creek trail.

This time around things were going swimmingly, until we hit the base of the Mill Creek jumpoff. For those of you not familiar with the area, the Mill Creek Jumpoff is basically a 40 - 50 deg. scree and talus slope, leading up to a ridge line.

As none of us had done the hike before, we were uncertain as to the best route up. As it turns out, I don't think we took it. Larry had read descriptions, on the internet, that said to follow the drainage to the base of the jumpoff, and veer left. So that's what we did, heading up a narrow ravine, in the direction of the north end of the ridge line. Phillip didn't like that option, and headed up the ravine below the next ridge to the east.

Turns out neither route was optimal. Larry and I soon found ourselves topped out on a ridge, next to a 10 - 15 ft. chute, composed of crumbly rock, which we would have to down-climb to make further progress to the east, to continue up to the top of the jumpoff. The only other option was to back-track a couple hundred vertical feet, back to the bottom of the ravine and attempt a different route. Neither option was particularly desirable. The chute, while intimidating, was probably navigable sans rope, by a braver or more skilled climber, but this was a hiking trip, we didn't set out to go rock climbing, and certainly not without rope. Not to mention, that while such a chute would normally be a trivial scramble and a fall would result in little more than some scrapes and bruises, this particular chute bottomed out on a steep scree slope, so a fall would likely be followed by a tumble of potentially hundreds of feet. Not cool.

Retreating back down the slope would not only cost us about an hour's time, but wasn't exactly the safest option either, as we'd already come up some sketchy terrain that would be even more difficult to manage going downhill. So, we did the next best thing and improvised. Neither of us had a length of rope, but among the gear typically carried in a 24hr SAR pack, are some lengths of webbing, and accessory cord. Sometimes we wonder why we're required to carry all of this, seemingly random, gear. Then it comes in handy, and we no longer wonder.

We were able to rig a hand line, to assist in the down-climb, by tying a loop in one end of the webbing and looping the other end through it and around a branch from a small, gnarled tree that was growing at the top of the chute. We tied the parachute cord to the end with the loop and tossed it down the chute, along with the webbing. With the parachute cord we could retrieve our webbing once out of the chute. It worked, and we were soon back on our way, and up on the ridge.

While all this was going on, Phillip was one ridge over, navigating similarly treacherous terrain, and wishing he had the use of some rope gear.

If the big horn sheep we spotted earlier were witnessing all of this, then they were surely much amused by our two-footed clumsiness.

Fortunately, we all made it safely up to the top, only to be greeted by several hundred yards of thick manzanita and buck thorn. If I wasn't already cursing Phillip, I was now. However, he opted to wear shorts on the hike, so I figured he was already getting his.

As it turned out, the struggle to clear the jumpoff was worth the effort. Once we got into the drainage, we were rewarded with one of the prettiest hikes I've been on in the local mountains. We followed a trickling, and at times rushing, stream, surrounded by big, old growth pine, lush greenery and *no* other hikers. There are no established trails in this area, and the difficulty of accessing it makes for relatively infrequent visitors.

It wasn't a bike race, but at least it was an adventure.

Photo Map of hike

I actually raced my bike!

2008-07-14T22:25:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've raced the mountain bike, but while other people were kicking ass on their mountain bikes, on the other side of the continent, I decided to go suffer on the road bike for a change. In a criterium even!

As anyone that knows my strengths and weaknesses (mostly weaknesses) on a bike will tell you, I'm not a crit guy. Even so, I thought it'd be fun to go try my hand at new course, in Aliso Viejo on Saturday. Fortunately, this particular crit course contained a feature rarely found in crit courses in SoCal, that being a hill. Being that there was actual climbing involved, this course suited me better than most.

While I didn't have a spectacular result, it was definitely the most fun I've had in a crit, and had I rode a smarter race, I would've had an honest-to-goodness shot at finishing in the money. Burning several matches for a prime about halfway in (Hey! Free tires!), and an ill-timed, poorly thought out attack, on the climb at the beginning of the final lap, certainly didn't help matters. In the end I ended up tenth. I think I out-sprinted a single guy in the the small group that formed at the front, after the field split following a crash.

Still, 10th is better than I've done in any crit to date, so I can't really complain. If nothing else, there's nothing quite like barreling into a turn at 40 mph, while rubbing shoulders with the guy next to you and coming out of it upright, to start off the weekend on a high note.

The remainder of the weekend was was pretty tame by comparison, but in a good, relaxing sorta way. The highlight had to have been a close encounter of the aquatic kind. I opted to sleep in 'til the late hour of 7:00, and go surfing with the lovely Diana, instead of racing in another crit in Long Beach on Sunday morning. Surf turned out to be pretty unremarkable. I got a couple short rides in, which is doing good. Any time I can actually get in a wave and stand up for more than 2 seconds, I feel I'm doing good. Is there any other sport, besides surfing, that can you go at for six months and still feel like a total beginner? Or do I just suck? Am I too old to be a "grom"? Anyway, the real highlight of the morning was watching a school of 6 - 8 dolphins, including a couple baby ones, frolic and play in the water as they swam past no more than 15 feet away from us.

Much better than being harassed by moto-cops. That's for sure...

Tilting at Windmills

2008-06-30T13:00:00.000-07:00

Much to everyone's surprise, I'm sure, I actually rode my bike this weekend.

I rode up the coast, from Encinitas to Huntington, on Sunday afternoon. Now I know why most people ride north to south on the coast. Headwinds. All. Frickin. Day. I also took a wrong turn in Camp Pendleton, resulting in an unplanned ~10 mi. detour, and to top it all off I had a less than pleasant encounter with one of Newport PD's finest. The result of which, is the following complaint, emailed to Newport PD earlier this morning. I'm sure they'll pay it really close attention.

Lieutenant Morton,

I recently had an encounter with one of your department's motor officers, about which I wish to voice a complaint.

On Sunday afternoon, at approximately 4:00 p.m. I was traveling via bicycle through the congested area of downtown Newport Beach, on PCH. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper and at a near standstill. For my own safety, I was traveling between the two northbound lanes of traffic, as opposed to the right hand side next to parked cars. This avoids the hazards of being struck by a door from someone exiting a parked car, being struck by cars entering or leaving street side parking, and being struck by cars entering or leaving driveways along the roadway. In this circumstance splitting lanes is clearly the safer mode of travel.

I was operating well within the guidelines described on the CHP website, in regards to lane splitting, and was not impeding any motorcycle or other traffic. I was riding at well under 15 mph, and was not riding recklessly or unpredictably.

The officer I encountered (Sorry I do not have a name or badge number. It was a female officer with short, brown hair, approx. 50 years of age.), rudely (I believe her words were, "What the hell do you think you're doing?") ordered me to move over to the right, next to the parked cars. When I protested, and voiced my concerns that I was traveling in the safest manner possible, she claimed that CA vehicle code prohibits lane splitting by bicycles, and repeated her order that I ride on the right hand side. Not wanting to risk a citation, I complied.

Maybe you can point me to some regulation which I'm unfamiliar with, but in my own research, and my correspondence with advocates associated with the League of American Bicyclists, I can find no law prohibiting the operation of a bicycle in such a manner.

Per California Vehicle Code 21200, bicyclists have the same rights and duties of vehicle drivers: http://www.dmv.ca.gov/pubs/vctop/d11/vc21200.htm

CVC 21202 limits those rights and duties under some circumstances: http://www.dmv.ca.gov/pubs/vctop/d11/vc21202.htm

I don't believe CVC 21202 applies in this instance because I was traveling faster, not slower than, the normal flow of traffic, I was avoiding a hazard (the door zone), and I was approaching a place where a right turn is authorized (all the various side streets and driveways along the road).

I believe this officer was in error, in regards to what the law requires of a bicycle rider, and that she put me in unnecessary danger due to her ill-informed order.

If, in fact, there is such a law explicitly prohibiting lane splitting by bicycle, perhaps you could provide me with the specific CVC statute that prohibits it, so that I may become better educated on the subject. If not I'd like to respectfully request that your department's officers, who are tasked with the duty of enforcing traffic law, and ensuring the safety of all road users, be further educated as to how the law applies to bicycles and how bicycles can best travel safely on the roadway, so that they don't order cyclists to ride in a manner which endangers themselves.

Thank you for your time.

-Trevor Walton

Ended up being in the saddle for a little over 5 hours, which was on the shorter side of my 5 - 6.5 hour scheduled ride. I just didn't have it in me to fight headwinds for another hour. If the numbers of them out there were any indication, at least the kite boarders were enjoying the winds.

Back On It

2008-06-13T14:36:00.001-07:00

Been on a bit of an unplanned hiatus recently. From blogging, and riding.

Due to various unforeseen circumstances, I've had a total of about 12 hours in the saddle since Mid May. Getting back into the game this week has been a rude awakening.

The week started out with getting dropped like a bad habit, during Tuesday night's weekly sufferfest on Sunset. Followed that up by a couple more days of commute-rides and then duking it out w/ the usual crew at last night's crit practice.

I don't have much of a sprint, so my usual tactic, or lack thereof, for crit is to just go out there and use the time to get a good workout. I'll stick my nose in the wind probably more than is wise for a crit, and do my level best to help keep the pace high. I usually end up off the back while the sprinters duke it out at the end.

Last night was no different, except that I might've been a little lazy and sat in a bit more than usual.

Maybe after a couple more weeks of consistent riding I'll be closer to where I'd like to be, fitness-wise.

What've I been doing in the meantime, while off the bike? Mostly fighting off illness, oodles of training for SAR, and a little bit of just hanging around...

Be careful what you wish for.

2008-05-19T21:19:00.000-07:00

As predicted, there was much more competition present at Santa Ynez than there was at Idyllwild.

The course was really bumpy, with a couple tough climbs, and I certainly didn't feel like I held anything back, but my best was only good for 4th this time out. As also predicted, I got beat by a few experts. In fact, my time would've ranked me 4th in Pro/Semi-Pro *and* Expert classes. Funny how that works. Maybe, for such a small field, they should just combine results. I'd see even less of the podium than I do now, but at least if it happened it'd feel like I earned it. Feels kinda strange getting called up for awards (Awards were 5 deep.), in the Pro/Semi-Pro class, with the knowledge that the top 3 experts bested your time.

Not my best result, but given my current fitness (or lack thereof), and the fact that I pretty much maintained all the intensity I was capable of, I gotta be happy with that.

Once you get beyond the top 3 or so, the line between semi-pro and expert is pretty blurry, especially amongst the singlespeed class, which is generally a much smaller field. Now I just have to get on the other side of that blurry line...

A short note on software development.

2008-05-09T11:16:00.001-07:00

I don't talk about my job much on here. Mostly because it'd bore people to tears, and I do quite enough of that without resorting to arcane, technical, jabber.

However, I've had a bit of an epiphany today, regarding what my goal, as a software developer should be.

While working with a certain, unnamed state agency's data submission software, and processes, I've grown accustomed to the near-constant urge to punch someone in the face. Hence, my goal from now on, is:

Write software that doesn't make the user want to punch you in the face.

Doesn't get much more simple than that really, and that encompasses most all aspects of software development.

Security: "Dammit! All my personal information is public now, 'cause those idiots' website got hacked. I'd really like to punch those guys in the face."

Usability: "Geezus! This interface blows! I'd like to find the guy that wrote this and punch him in the face."

Reliability: "If this program crashes on me one more time, I swear I'm gonna hunt down whoever wrote it and punch them in the face!"

Insert whatever aspect of the user experience you can think of, and this adage covers it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to Sacramento and punch someone in the face.

Idyllwild Spring Challenge = Disappointing

2008-05-05T22:36:00.000-07:00

Maybe I shouldn't put "disappointing" as I certainly don't want to criticize what was in nearly all aspects an excellent race. I can't really fault the organizers for my disappointment. Nor can I legitimately complain about the course. The course is among the best in SoCal.

I gotta wonder though. Where were all the singlespeeders?!

Singlespeeders are usually lining up to take such punishment; just look at the singlespeed turnout they get at that exercise in self-abasement masquerading as a race known as Vision Quest (Which, incidentally, I've still not done.). Given my lackluster results as of late, I fully expected any number of genetic freaks who populate such races as that, to show up and start handing out one-speed beat-downs. Imagine my surprise when I won! No, not 'cause I'm a badass, but because no one else bothered to show up!

The results in the Pro/Semi-Pro singlespeed class consisted of a single name. Mine. Lame.

There were a couple expert singlespeeders, but the organizers started them in a different wave, and they rode a shorter loop, and I know of at least one in the Men's Open class age divisions, he even nabbed a spot on the podium.

They should probably do like other races and start the Pros/Semi-Pros/Experts all at once, and rank them separately, or do a Pro/Semi-Pro/Expert combined class on the long course. Wouldn't be the first time I've been beaten by expert riders, since USA Cycling decided to give me enough rope to hang myself with, and granted an upgrade. I'd rather get schooled by experts than have no one to compete with.

Santa Ynez is coming up. Better be careful what I wish for...

In other news

2008-05-01T12:55:00.000-07:00

Ran across a couple news stories today, related only in that they piqued my interest, and triggered a long-overdue blog post.

The first of which, is the fact that apparently it's a ritual in India, to toss babies off of 15 meter tall buildings.

Now to that I say, "Awesome!", but can you imagine the furor, nay, the unspeakable outrage, that would ensue if that was done here? All Micheal Jackson did -- apart from diddle some little boys, but that's a subject for an entirely different rant -- is dangle the little tyke over a balcony, and look the ruckus that ensued. A New York newspaper columnist recently wrote about letting her 9-year-old child take the subway, unsupervised, and there was a veritable chorus of indignation.

You might be wondering, "Wtf does this have to do with bikes, or riding, or anything, for that matter?" Well, bear with me a minute. It occurs to me that maybe we ("We", being Americans.) should be a bit more like India, in this respect, and a bit less like, well...a bunch of wusses.

Now, I'm not advocating the tossing of babies off buildings. We already have quite enough ridiculous rituals based on superstition and nonsense, but would it really be that hard to give the rug-rats some independence. Maybe start by letting them walk, or, horror of horrors: ride a bike to school. I'm just sayin'...

Story number two, which tickled my funny bone today, was on Wired News, and featured "urban eccentrics". It sorta got me wondering. Where are Redlands' urban eccentrics lurking, and just who are they? I've seen one guy riding around town, decked out like some garish, neon-clad version of Doc from Back to the Future.

What's his story? And, what of those two old dudes, in suits, with top hats and canes. Whatever happened to them? There's sure to be a few more oddballs and misfits that I haven't spotted, or heard of. So what say you, all five Redlands readers of my oft-neglected blog? Where are Redlands' misfits?

How many constitute a boycott?

2008-04-18T15:51:00.000-07:00

Seems a few others have come to the same conclusion I did this year concerning Sea Otter, that being "I'm just not feeling it."

The hectic, do-it-all-in-three-days-'cause-to-stay-any-longer-will-bankrupt-you pace of the weekend, the inevitable rain, the drubbing I usually take on race-day, all add up to precious little enthusiasm for Sea Otter this year.

Sure, that stuff is all part of the experience of Sea Otter, and the massive spectacle of bicycle-goodness is something every cyclist should behold, at least once. Still, after 7 consecutive years, I've become jaded in the "Been there. Done that. Got the t-shirt.₁" sense. I'm over it.

For nearly the same coin, I can spend a weekend in Mammoth. So that's what I'm doing.

Maybe if I skip a year, I'll be jonesing to go next year. This year though, I'll be riding snow instead of dirt, and loving every minute of it.

_{1 I've never actually purchased a Sea Otter t-shirt. Have you seen how much they charge for those things?!}

You lose some, you lose some.

2008-04-08T10:14:00.000-07:00

First mountain bike race of the season and my gut-feeling, that my fitness is nowhere near what it should be at this point in the season, has been confirmed.

Raced the Pro/Semi-Pro singlespeed class, in the NMBS Nationals at Fontana last weekend. I didn't feel particularly bad, apart from the usual suffering one goes through in a race. But I was going as hard as I could maintain, and just didn't have the power to keep up.

Ended up 7th out of 7 in the Pro/Semi-Pro field, and got beat by the front-runners in the expert field, who race in the same start wave.

I could come up with a litany of excuses, like maybe I shouldn't have rode hard at crit-practice, on Thursday night. Maybe I shouldn't have overslept, thus cutting my warm-up short, and maybe I shouldn't have put off building up the new frame & fork, until the last possible minute, so that I would have been able to track down the necessary parts and wouldn't have been forced to race on a fully rigid bike, instead of the new one. The plain fact is though; I'm simply not competitive, at my current fitness level, with the caliber of riders that are currently racing singlespeeds.

Gonna have to step it up, if I want to see a podium any time soon...

The race was just the start of my problems on Saturday. My Saturday evening plans of hanging out with my favorite surfer-girl in HB, followed by Sunday-morning surf, went awry, when my just-recently-apparently-not-quite-resurrected KLR 650, broke down in the carpool lane of the 91 Fwy, in Corona, leaving me stranded on the center divider. The center divider is *not* a place you want to be. Not only does it leave you vulnerable to getting smacked by cars whizzing by at 80 MPH, it leaves you indefensible to the extortionist rates of tow-companies. $173 later ($165 plus an $8 "credit card processing fee"), myself and my bike were transported 1 mile away, to the gas station at the nearest exit. Auto Aide towing of Corona should change their name, but they'd probably get a bit less business with "Highway Robbery Towing" printed in the phone directory.

Clarity

2008-03-23T13:42:00.000-07:00

I didn't much feel like being around people today, that pretty much ruled out racing in Ontario, and the Sunday morning group ride. Given that it's easter, and the majority of the locals probably had family and/or church stuff going on, I'd bet the group ride was sparsely attended anyway.

I've had a lot on my mind lately, the details of which I'm not going to air publicly. Suffice it to say I could use some clarity. "They" say suffering brings clarity. So I stuffed some headphones into my ears, and headed off to the hills today in search of some of that vaunted clarity. Well, whoever "they" are they lie. I started off with a long grind up Hwy. 38, into Forest Falls, and up to the Vivian Creek trailhead parking lot. I suffered plenty. Still no clarity. I then descended back down into Yucaipa, and climbed up to Oak Glen. Plenty more suffering to be had there. Still no clarity.

Shortly after the top of Oak Glen, my not-in-the-condition-they-should-be-at-this-point-in-the-season legs, pretty much said, "Fuck your clarity! We're done. Take us home."

Which I did.

4 hours and several thousand feet of climbing provided me with sore legs, a ravenous appetite, and the urge to take a nap. No clarity though. I still haven't figured jack-shit out. Guess that'll teach me to listen to "them".

back-marker

2008-03-18T12:46:00.000-07:00

Rough ride on Saturday.

Seems life has been intruding on training lately, and I'm not where I should be, fitness wise, at this point in the season. Saturday's ride was a rude reminder of that fact. Most of the usual suspects showed up, and a lot of guys are riding really strong right now.

After a couple pulls, I quickly realized I didn't have it in me to trade pulls at the front, so I drifted back and mostly sat in, to avoid getting spit out the back. Even sitting in, the pace was high enough that I was barely clinging on.

After the sprint finish Matt and I got in a few extra miles and a good climb, while back-tracking, to search for his missing Garmin 305. Seems it had popped off at some point during the ride. After a bit of searching we found it and headed back to Redlands. 4 1/2 hours, and 77 miles for the day. Not too shabby.

Speaking of finding stuff: My weekend plans got a bit of an unplanned adjustment on Saturday afternoon. The plan was to head down to Huntington Beach on Saturday afternoon/evening, to hang out with Diana, and either surf Sunday morning, followed by the LA Circuit race on Sunday afternoon, or ride over and do the Como St. ride on Sunday morning, and surf Sunday afternoon.

Seems chance had other plans in mind for my weekend, as I received a SAR page while I was preparing to leave. A San Diego man, and his son, were on a day-hike on San Gorgonio when the man fell down an icy slope and injured himself, and they summoned help via satellite phone and personal locater beacon. So much for Huntington Beach.

The rest of the day, and subsequent night, was spent in a snowstorm, on San Gorgonio, assisting in the rescue of the injured hiker. Fortunately for him, they encountered two other hikers, with overnight gear, who sheltered him in their tent and sleeping bag while waiting for help to arrive. We arrived at their location around 10:00, and as the weather precluded any assistance from Sheriff's aviation, had to wait for additional personnel and equipment to begin the extraction. Once additional rescuers arrived, with a rescue sled, the patient was bundled up in the litter and we began the long trek down the hill. Dragging the patient, who never uttered a single complaint, along the snow-covered trail.

No helicopter rides this time, but the snow was some help at least, as the lower portions of Vivian Creek trail were covered enough to drag, rather than carry, the litter all the way down the mountain.

We arrived back at the trailhead around 6a.m. on Sunday morning, nearly exactly 12 hours after hitting the trail. Consequently my Sunday was spent catching up on sleep, as opposed to riding, racing, surfing, or hanging out at the beach. It's a well-earned sleep though, and the prior night's activities were a good deal more rewarding than your average bike race. Besides, it's not as if I didn't get a workout.

It's been a busy month for the SAR team. I'm beginning to wonder if this is a cycling blog or a SAR blog...

Races, Rescues

2008-02-26T12:42:00.000-08:00

Finally got back out and raced my bike again this past weekend. Was unable to attend Saturday's mountain bike race at Southridge, in Fontana, as I had a SAR team training to attend. Rather than racing, I was engaged in a mock search scenario, on the Forsee Creek trail. Still managed to get a decent workout in, as snowshoeing, especially when you're dragging a litter containing a "victim" across the snow, is reasonably strenuous work.

Since I couldn't attend Saturday's mtn. bike race, I opted to brave the rain and wet streets, to compete in the Dare to Race GP #1, in Ontario, on Sunday. I probably would have skipped the race, due to the rain, but after the mishaps and complications occuring over the past month, I still needed two more starts as a Cat V to earn my Cat IV upgrade. I assumed, correctly as it turned out, that the weather would scare away enough pre-registered racers, that I could nab a spot in the already full Mens Cat IV/V field, in addition to the Mens 30+ Cat IV/V field, thereby knocking out my last two Cat V starts in one day.

My race performance was not really worthy of too much elaboration. Suffice it to say I spent too much time on the front, so I wasn't anywhere near the front, when it counted. In an unexpected twist of fate, the race that occured in the rain, the Men's 30+ IV/Vs was the safer of the two. No crashes in that one, but inexplicably there were 4 crashes in the Open Men's IV/V field, which started after the rain had cleared off and took place on dry streets. I managed to avoid the crashes, but -- yet again -- was nowhere near the front at the finish. I had a relatively good position, about 10th wheel, going into the last set of corners. That was before I got caught up in the traffic jam that occurred after one of the many crashes. I found myself off the back, and figured there wasn't much point in chasing back on to sprint for a mid-pack finish, so I sat up and rolled through the line, off the back.

I wonder where Mark Foist was?

So, all in all a pretty unremarkable weekend. The real excitement came on Monday night. I returned home from work, with plans to attend to various household chores that had been neglected over the weekend, when the following message came through on my cell phone:

FRM: Paul Franklin
SUBJ: Rescue
MSG: Need 4 people, ice-axe crampons, on San G summit.

Call Paul
(909) xxx-xxxx

It seems two day-hikers found themselves running out of daylight, at the summit, and opted for a shorter route than the one they had taken up. They headed down the southwest face of the peak, and soon found themselves in a bit of a bind. Under equipped (One of the hikers had no crampons, only snowshoes.), exhausted, and having taken a scary, though fortunately non-injury-causing fall, on the steep and icy terrain, the lesser prepared one of the party determined he was unable to go on. At this point they called for help on their cell phone, and shortly thereafter the team was summoned.

My initial reaction was, "Oh, hell yeah!", as I interpreted "on San G summit", to mean we were getting an e-ticket ride to the top, that being a Sheriff's Dept. helicopter.

Shortly thereafter, reality set in, and I was thinking something more along the lines of "Oh shit.", as this would by my first winter SAR mission. I've had practice and training on snow and ice, and feel reasonably comfortable with the basic skills, but this wasn't training. This was the real deal. Fortunately, I have enough confidence in the experience and skills of my teammates, to know I'd not be required to do anything I wasn't completely comfortable with, or capable of. With this knowledge, I pushed my fears to the back of my mind and got to work changing and gathering my gear.

A little less than an hour later, I was at the SAR Barn at Mill Creek, organizing my pack and preparing to board a helicopter to the summit of San Gorgonio.

The initial plan was to make our way down to the hikers' position, from the summit, with an extra set of crampons. Whereupon they would be escorted to the summit and airlifted off the mountain. Easy in, easy out.

Upon surveying the scene, however, plans changed. It was determined by the ranking team members, that because the hikers' condition and experience level were unknown, and the slope was treacherous, that ropes should be utilized and the hikers belayed to the summit on rope.

This required more personnel and more gear, so after a couple more helicopter flights, to ferry additional team members and gear, the work of fixing ropes, and belaying the rescuers and the rescued, to the summit, began. The use of ropes made it a long night, but a minor mishap, featuring a loose crampon and a short fall, reinforced the decision to err on the side of caution.

Both hikers were flown off the mountain and later returned safely to their car. Myself, and the team member in charge of the night's operation, were the last to be flown off the mountain. We touched down at the ranger station shortly after midnight. Not a bad night's work. It certainly beats staying home, and washing dishes (Which are still sitting in the sink.).

I've been on several calls since joining the team, some more exciting/interesting than others, but this was definitely a highlight of my SAR service thus far.

Best laid plans...

2008-01-28T13:11:00.000-08:00

I think I was recently boasting about how this was going to be the season where I get my shit together. At least in terms of preparedness and organization. To that end I have an electronic pre-race checklist on my Palm, pre-printed, electronically-filled-out USA Cycling release forms. Pre-mixed recovery drink, spare *everything*, in my race bag, "Just in case." The whole bit. No more of the usual throwing stuff into a bag at the last minute and hoping everything I need is in there, when I roll up to the venue. No way man, I'm gonna finally nail that routine down.

Sometimes though, shit just goes pear-shaped and all your preparedness is for naught.

Exhibit A: The start to my season thus far:

What was to have been a well planned and orchestrated, "running start" to the season, has instead turned into a fiasco.

The plan: Hone my early season fitness by training hard, and racing the Southern Nevada Stage Race. Kick ass at Boulevard. Nevada was to serve as both my last two required Cat V races, to get my Cat IV upgrade, and as preparation for my first Cat IV race at Boulevard.

The reality: Spend the week prior to Southern Nevada Stage Race, not training, but in Idaho, for my grandfather's funeral. Spend the following weekend, not racing in Nevada, but in bed with the flu.
Having "prepared" so well, and pre-registered for Boulevard as a IV, Boulevard is now out of the picture. That is, of course, unless I want to drive the 2 1/2 hours down there, on the off chance that I can get on a "wait list" just in case a spot opens up in the already full Cat V field.

Almost makes a guy wanna put on 20 lbs., forego the whole "racing" thing and go do "fun rides" wearing a giant camelbak and a jersey with a beer-logo on it.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Enumerating the Mundane

2007-12-27T08:23:00.000-08:00

Something about the year-end inspires lists. They're everywhere; Matt's blog, Google, The Buffalo Beast (One of my favorite year-end lists, btw.). Everywhere you care to look, you'll find a list of something to love or loathe.

Mostly, I think it's a good gimmick to come up with something to write about during a time when inspiration might be lacking. Say for example a blog where one writes mostly about bicycling, and bicycle-racing, during a season consisting mostly of time spent in the gym, on the trainer, and on 5-hour base-mile rides. Not exactly scintillating reading material...

So, in the spirit of the season a list for 2007.

Top 5 Memorable Moments of 2007

1. Finishing Kokopelli Trail Race. KTR was one of the hardest rides, much less races, I've ever done. Second only to the Great Divide in scale and grandeur, and I wasn't racing the Great Divide (maybe someday).

2. CO in August

3. Cascade Cream Puff. 100 mi., 18,000 ft. of climbing, %50+ singletrack. 'nuff said.

4. NOVA Nationals. Road-tripping with Matt, Joy, Christie, Mandy, and various other SoCal mtn. bikers. Battling it out for a podium spot in the singlespeed class. Getting my ass handed to me in my first ever nationals, semi-pro, short-track (First nationals short-track, first semi-pro race, overgeared on a singlespeed. Great idea!). Great start to the race season.

5. Red Asphalt Ride. Started on a whim, inspired by all the cool, fun, stuff that Midnight Ridazz are doing in LA. We have a small but loyal, and growing, crew who gather to ride, hang-out, and just plain have fun with our bikes. Looking forward to seeing where it leads in '08.

Runners up ('cause there's more than 5 and less than 10, and nobody does a "top 7" anything.):

San Gorgonio Epic. Jonathan, Keith, and I on a hike/bike trip to the summit of Mt. San Gorgonio. Excellent day (and night) in the mountains.

Everest Challenge. My second year doing this race. It doesn't get any easier. If it was easy it wouldn't be worth doing, would it?

That's the long & short of '07. Here's hoping '08 is even better.

Meh

2007-11-25T12:10:00.000-08:00

So much for my plans for a big-mileage holiday weekend.

Thursday: slept in, went up to the parents' house for the day. Saddle time: 0 hrs.

Friday: Went for a mtn. bike ride with Matt, Joy, Craig, and Adam. I couldn't seem to stop falling off my bike, and managed to bash my knee and elbow on a rock Saddle time: 2.5 hrs.

Saturday: Slept in, limped around, slacked off. Only riding was over to a Alan and Kellie's place, to meet up for lunch, and back home after. Even that short little ride hurt. Perhaps the no-brakes, fixed-gear wasn't the best choice of mount for post-knee-abuse cruising. Saddle time: 0.25 hrs.

Sunday: Went out with the usual suspects on the Sunday road-ride. The knee was feeling slightly closer to ok, but didn't feel like pushing my luck with a longer ride. Saddle time: 2 hrs.

Gonna have to get more hours than that in if I want Chipotlé for lunch.

Not a Good Hurt

2007-11-19T12:37:00.000-08:00

For the record: doing a 12-hour race, "just for kicks", and hoping to coast by on residual fitness gains from a season's worth of racing and training, is a baaad idea.

Maybe if the course were a little less brutal, or if I had some gears, I could have eked out another lap or two at this past weekend's 12 Hours of Temecula. Alas, it was not to be.

I knew it wasn't my day when I was cooked, and on the verge of packing it in, after only 4 laps. Sometime around lap 6 I actually felt somewhat recovered and thought I might be able to stay out there for the full 12-hours. I wasn't setting any speed records, but was still rolling. That quickly changed when, during my 7th and final lap, the cramps kicked in.

The refrain, "but it's a good hurt", is oft heard amongst runners, cyclists, and other endurance nutjobs attempting to explain away why we put ourselves through this kind of thing voluntarily. In most instances that's true. It does hurt, but it's mostly good -- a cleansing sorta pain. Cramps though, are a different story. That's a whole new world of hurt that few can endure for long, and I just didn't have it in me to deal with that variety of pain for 4 more hours.

That wasn't exactly the ending I had in mind for the season, but it'll serve as motivation to keep me on track during the upcoming winter months.

I can take some solace in the fact that the course took its toll on a lot of racers, with quite a few of us in the combined Team PossAbilities/José Olé pit area suffering mightily.

That is with the exception of Joy, who rode through the pain, like a woman possessed, to dominate the women's expert solo class in her final race as an expert.

Looks like someone brought their "A" game.

Why I Am Not a Bike Mechanic

2007-11-12T20:15:00.000-08:00

I have a new Gary Fisher Rig, which has all of about 75 miles on it. It's a fine bike, it rides quite nicely. In fact it rides even better than the Gary Fisher Rig I had prior to this one. This, I attribute to the fact that the new one fits me better, and not just to the "shiny new bike" placebo effect.

There's only one problem. The wheels don't match. You see, I had the option of upgrading the wheels, for a nominal price, but Gary Fisher does not make a singlespeed RaceXLite wheelset. So I upgraded the front only. Unbeknownst to me, they changed their singlespeed wheelset between when my prior Rig was built, and when the newer ones came out. My previous Rig had a disc wheelset with rims that were, cosmetically at least, pretty much identical to the high-end wheels. The new Rig also has a disc wheelset. However, for whatever reason, the rims on the new SS 29er wheels have a braking surface. Which means my front rim is a svelte, solid-matte-black, thing of beauty, whereas the rear has a big, flat, shiny, ugly, rim-braking surface. I could deal with this if they at least matched, but they don't. These things matter, trust me on this.

In an effort to alleviate this problem, I figured I could simply order a new RaceXLite rim, and swap the new rim over to the rear wheel. I'm not a pro mechanic but I have built a few wheels, which I haven't managed to destroy yet, so this would seem to be a simple matter. My wheels would match, the stars would align, and all would be right in my little singlespeed world.

Cut to this evening, and I'm gung-ho to use what little time I have to spare this week, to accomplish the project. Got my spoke wrench, got my nipple driver, got the new rim which has been sitting around awaiting a spare hour or two to accomplish the swap. So I get the valve-stem holes aligned, tape the rims together, and away I go. Loosening spokes like a wheel building fool. The operative word, in this case, being "fool".

Soon thereafter is when the problems begin. The spokes are all nice and loose and I'm ready to start transferring them over to the new rim. Naturally I drop the spoke nipple of the very first spoke into the space between the rim walls, and can't seem to fish it out. Mistake number one. A pro would've had one of these, but this is merely the first indication that I am clearly not a pro.

After much cursing, and pointless shaking of the rim, I finally give up, cut the tape, and separate the rims. A bit more shaking and twirling around and the nipple is free (Not nearly as exciting as it sounds. Trust me.).

Shortly thereafter the rims are realigned, taped together, and we're ready for take two. Now here's where it gets really fun. About three spokes into the transfer process I notice that the spoke holes aren't quite lining up like they should. At this point my thoughts are something along the lines of, "Hmm, that's curious.", immediately followed by a sudden realization and the resulting "Oh f*&#!"

A quick count confirms my worst fear. Original wheel: 32 spokes. Spiffy, new, RaceXLite rim: 28 holes.

There's no fixing this problem.

So now I have a detensioned and partially disassembled wheel, which I'm far too frustrated at this point to re-tension (That may turn out to be my only option, in the short term at least, but I've had enough for one night.), a useless, to me, $80 rim, and a 12 hour race this weekend which I'm thinking it would probably be good to have a rear wheel for.

I hate Mondays.

Think globally, ride locally.

2007-11-05T21:23:00.000-08:00

My sister forwarded this New York Times article today, about the booming cycling culture in Portland. While reading it I started to daydream, as I often do, about what it would be like to live somewhere where more than one or two bicycles, parked in front of anywhere but a coffee shop, isn't a rare sight. I'll fess up and admit that I've often considered moving to such a place. Boulder, Denver, Portland, Bend -- they have all reached near mythical proportions in my imagination as some far off wonderland of cycling utopia. This impression is in no way tempered by glowing newspaper articles such as the above, and the fact that what little time I've spent in these places has been in the bizarro world of vacation, where everything seems just that much nicer, and the little annoyances and frustrations of workaday existence rarely intrude.

There's something about the idea of moving away to pursue bike-culture that bothers me a little bit. It would feel like a drastic step to uproot oneself just to go someplace where the riding is a bit more pleasant. Much like the actions of Ms. Peithman, in the article. Now, I don't presume to know all of Ms. Peithman's motivations, and I'm sure there were a myriad of reasons for moving to Portland, but I still can't help but think, that if your goal is to advocate for cycling and alternative transportation, it would make sense to stay where you're already active, and needed, than to move to some place where you can't throw a stick without hitting another cycling advocate.

Despite my occasional (Perhaps frequent, during the oppressive heat and smog of the summer months.) professions of desire, to relocate to somewhere with less traffic, cleaner air, and nearby mountains with some actual snow on them, I think it makes a lot more sense to do what I can to bring a little bit of Portland to Redlands, than to pine for greener grasses. It helps to remember that in a lot of ways we've got it pretty good here; year-round cycling weather, an active local riding/racing scene, and I can't help but notice what looks like a slight increase in utility-cycling, even out here in the 'burbs.

If one were to pay a little closer attention it's hard to miss that the resurgence of cycling for transportation is reaching out from the urban centers into the suburbs and smaller towns. We just have to be a bit patient, and do what we can to help it grow. The signs are all there that cycling is growing even in our little town. In the past year or so I've noticed little signs, from regular participation in our new monthly social rides, to an expanding network of walking/riding trails, and seeing more bikes out and about. I've even noticed more recreational/racing riders consider riding as an alternate form of transportation, and not simply as a way to get a workout, all of which is heartening to see.

I'm not going to claim that I'll never relocate, but until that day comes -- when I can't stomach one more consecutive 100+ degree summer day, or another winter bereft of even a single powder-day -- I'll continue to ride as much as I can, encourage others to do the same, and make my voice heard where it relates to issues that affect cyclists. If enough riders were to do the same, maybe Redlands, too, could become a hotbed of cycling.

Then we wouldn't all have to move to Portland.

Cycle Heroes

2007-10-27T20:30:00.000-07:00

Found this one on commute by bike. Pretty cool stuff.

A New Kind of Pain

2007-10-15T12:34:00.000-07:00

I've been curiously eyeing cyclocross, with the idea that it looks like something I'd like to try, for the past couple years. Seeing Pure Sweet Hell at least summer's Bicycle Film Festival pretty much confirmed my suspicions that it was something I had to try.

This past weekend I finally got my hands on a cyclocross bike -- just in time to make the first race in the Urban Cyclocross series.

I had a blast! It's a strange kind of paradox, how something so painful can simultaneously be so much fun, but somehow it is.

Being that it was my first ever 'cross race, and I didn't have a whole lot of practice on cyclocross specific skills, the pre-race jitters were in full-effect. As is usually the case, they quickly disappeared with the start of the race, only to be replaced by pain. And boy do cross races hurt. There was a little bit of recovery on the two short downhill sections, but the rest of the time you're pretty much red-lining; either passing, hanging onto a wheel, or trying to keep from getting passed.

I started to fade toward the end, which proved to be my undoing. One guy had been on my wheel for several laps, just waiting for me to crack, and with three laps to go he made his move. He hammered past me, out of the saddle, right before a dismount and run-up. This created a gap that I couldn't close. About a lap later, another guy came around, and while his move wasn't quite as decisive, and the gap not quite as large, I still couldn't close it before the finish.

I figured that I'm probably strong enough that starting out in the beginners would be a bit too much like sandbagging, so I signed up in the intermediate class. However, didn't want to be the noob, 'causing a big pile-up at the start, so I played it conservative and started toward the back of the pack of 20 riders. So, it was a bit of a surprise when the results listed me in 5th place. I remember passing quite a few guys early in the race, but I could have sworn that in all that traffic there were at least 3 or 4 guys off the front. Apparently there were only two. I can't help but wonder if I would've been able to dig a little deeper, in those last three laps, if I'd have known I was battling for a podium spot.

Still can't complain about a top 5 the first time out.

I think I'm hooked on 'cross!

Just One More

2007-10-01T21:41:00.001-07:00

Ask a cyclist how many bikes they need, and inevitably the answer will be "just one more".

Sadly, I'm no exception, and I've been yearning for a cyclocross bike, but limited funds and garage space have thus far prevented that.

Hence, my current answer to the question of "How many frickin' bikes do you need?!", differs only slightly, in that the answer is: "4 fewer, so that I can have just one more."

If you know anyone that needs a slightly used mountain bike, or road bike, by all means point 'em my way. Because the garage is getting cleaned out.

I have a '99 Specialized Allez Comp ($650),

a '98 Specialized S-Works M2 ($650),

and an '05 Gary Fisher Rig 29er singlespeed. ($750)

Not pictured, 'cause I haven't yet finished tuning it up and prepping it for sale, is a '00 Marin Mt. Vision Pro, full-suspension mountain bike.

Yeah, it's kinda lame to pimp your bikes on your blog, but if everyone who reads this tells someone they know that's what, a whole five, maybe even TEN, more people viewing my bikes for sale.

Harden the F&%* Up!

2007-09-24T12:47:00.000-07:00

It's a complete mystery to me where the motivation to keep going, when every fiber of your being is telling you to pack it in, comes from. Fortunately, it usually manages to arrive from somewhere. It often comes from unexpected and bizarre places. On Sunday it came in the form of Australian television personality, Ronnie John's character, Chopper Reid, convincing me to "Harden the Fuck Up!".

It was day two of Everest Challenge, and I'd gone out hard on the first climb, attempting to stay close to the leaders in my category in order to salvage a decent finish after flatting at the start of day one. I hung on for the first climb, and got a bit of a gap on the subsequent descent, and while working through the flat back to the start/finish and base of the 2nd climb. About one-third of the way up the second climb we got reeled in, by a small group, and that's where things started to get ugly. I was off the back of that group in short order, and spent the rest of the seemingly interminable climb licking my wounds and nursing a "woe is me" attitude. After cresting the top we had to drop down into the valley floor below, and climb back out. This little extra was added to make up for the abbreviated final climb on day one, due to weather, and still get a total of 29,035 ft. of climbing. It's not called "Everest Challenge", for nothing.

It was this third climb that nearly did me in. I'd already been dropped and lost what, judging by my best guess at the time, and pretty much confirmed by final results, was probably close to if not inside a top-ten spot for the day. Add to that the fact that I was really suffering up the extra climb, and I was pretty demoralized and just about ready to call it quits. I had nearly convinced myself that my pickup at the base of the climb was going to be my stopping point for the day when I found my motivation in the form of Chopper Reid. The following, only slightly dramatized, scene played out in my head -- "This is Trevor, he signed up for a big long bike race with thousands of feet of climbing, and now he's out here whining that he's tiiiired, and his legs hurt, and he just wants to go home. Well, Trevor, you need to start pedaling and harden the fuck up!"

So that's pretty much what I did. I'm not going to claim that I suddenly found new legs and clawed my way back into the top ten, far from it. I got dropped near the bottom of the final, and longest climb (21 mi., 6200 ft.), by the two or three guys I'd been working with on the descent, and got passed by a couple more further up the climb. But I also caught and passed a few riders myself, and most importantly, by telling myself to keep pedaling, and "Harden the fuck up!", I got myself to the top of the hill. Hey, if it works for O'Grady and friends, who am I to judge?

As always, there is second guessing about what I could've done to finish better, but I improved on last year's result (Though, it's somewhat disappointing not to be able to compare apples to apples, time-wise, what with the course modifications.), and won a mental battle just by staying in it. I've had situations where I couldn't physically go on (severe cramps, total bonk, etc.), and while those suck, if I had simply talked my self out of finishing I think I'd feel even worse.

If the somewhat dubious results are any indication, I at least managed a top 20 this year...

Uh Oh

2007-09-19T17:54:00.000-07:00

It's gonna be a cold one for Everest Challenge this weekend.

Now where did I put that rain-gear?

How Not To Prep For a Race

2007-09-10T12:44:00.000-07:00

Due to a combination of factors, some beyond my control, most not, I rode, on Sunday, what was probably my weakest race of the season thus far. Given that I haven't raced many of the SoCal State races this season, and wasn't going into this race with any great expectations, I'm not as bummed out as I otherwise might be, but it's still disappointing to have such a poor performance.

It was mostly my own fault due to poor nutrition the day before, and day of the race, and probably not enough sleep. I stayed out a little too late on Friday, with the Red Asphalt Ride crew (my fault), and then had to get up early on Saturday to attend a search in Big Bear, where I spent most of the day hiking/scrambling around, in steep terrain (not my fault). We were looking for the remains of a suicide victim, from a year ago, who's skull was only recently discovered by a hiker's dog. Unfortunately, some 20 or so searchers, and two or three search dogs turned up nothing. Critters must have spread the remains far and wide by now.

Due to my late night on Friday, I was ill-prepared for the search, having not packed a lunch, and consumed little else all day apart from water, a clif bar, and an apple, prior to returning home to eat an actual dinner(my fault).

Combine all that with an inadequate breakfast, of Pop Tarts and 7-11 coffee, on Sunday, because I didn't realize, the night before, that I was out of breakfast food (my fault), and it didn't take long for me to crack on race day. I lost sight of the leaders about 3/4 up the first long, fire-road climb, and got passed by most of the remaining singlespeeders on the last climb. The flat, due to poor tire choice (I ran a 1.8" rear tire, when we had to descend the rocky fall-line trail to the finish. What was I thinking?), enabled the one guy who hadn't already caught me to pass, putting me dead last amongst the pro/semi-pro and expert singlespeeders. Not exactly the result I was looking for.

Matt, Joy, and Christie all had good races though, so it wasn't a total loss.

Following the race, Matt and I rode home from Big Bear, which allowed us to get a bit more climbing in, in order to not have to completely sacrifice an Everest Challenge training day to racing. The climb up to the top of Radford, after having just raced, definitely added an extra dimension of challenge to the day's riding. The only drawback being that we missed seeing Christie and Joy's podium appearances -- Christie for her first Pro XC win, and Joy being crowned the Expert Women's SoCal State Champ.

I can think of worse ways to spend a weekend.

Vacation Recap

2007-09-03T16:17:00.000-07:00

After arriving in Boulder, and getting settled in, I got my first taste of local riding. Troy wanted to burn off a little pre-thesis-defense nervous energy, so he, his friend Joe, and I embarked on a little ride up to the tiny town of Ward, via Lee Hill/Left Hand Canyon, on Friday morning. It was only about a 2 1/2 hour ride, but being a little sleep deprived, and not yet acclimated to the altitude left me dragging ass. Fun ride, but I suffered more on that climb than any during the subsequent week's worth of riding. Welcome to Colorado, flatlander...

Later that day, Troy, henceforth known as "Doc", successfully defended his Doctoral thesis in Biochem, after which we threw a party.

On Saturday the family went fishing at Rainbow Lakes, while Troy showed me around a local mtn. bike trail -- Sourdough Trail. There's a reason they're called the "Rocky" mountains, that reason was more than apparent on Sourdough Trail. I was skeptical at first, after suffering through the steep, rocky climbs, that this ride was going to turn out to be a whole lot of fun. Fortunately the return trip was quite an enjoyable ride. Maybe not so fun for Troy, as he flatted, broke his pump, then broke the valve stem on his one spare tube, and after patching the original tube, and finally getting rolling, flatted again about half a mile from the trailhead. Eventually we made it up to Rainbow Lakes to rendezvouz with the rest of the group.

Riding Sourdough Trail

Troy Tackles a Log Pile

The remainder of the week included a bunch more riding, including Monday's mountain bike ride at Hall Ranch, and a 138 mi. road ride from Boulder to the top of Trailridge Road in Rocky Mtn. National Park, on Tuesday. Wednesdays ride was a shorter, but grueling 30 mi. ride in the hills surrounding Boulder. We were going to go for the Fearsome Foursome, but we were both pretty cooked from the previous day's 138 miles, so we packed it in after the first two climbs. More of a terrible twosome, than a fearsome foursome, nonetheless 'twas a challenging ride.

Just outside of Lyons, CO, on the way to Rocky Mountain Nat'l Park.

What's left of Joe's tire, after narrowly avoiding a collision with a car that cut him off outside of Estes Park.

That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

Hanging out at the visitor center.

The locals.

Thursday was a day just to relax and cruise around town. Slept in after Wednesday night's Soulive show at The Fox, had breakfast at Dot's, ran some errands, met Troy's wife, Tracy, downtown for lunch and visited the Avery Brewing tasting room (Free, good beer!) with a couple of Troy's friends. To continue the theme of good food, good riding, and good people we then headed to Denver to have dinner with my sister, Stephanie, at Swing Thai.

Friday, being my last day in town, I wanted to to make the most of it, and Troy hadn't yet ridden Mt. Evans, so The Doc and I decided to take on North America's highest paved road. We loaded the bikes into my truck (Didn't feel the need for another 130+ mi. epic, on this particular day, so we didn't ride from Boulder.), and headed up to Idaho Springs where we parked at the base of the hill and rode to the parking lot at the top of Mount Evans. In all honesty, only very near the top. The actual summit is about a 1/4 mi. hike out of the parking lot, but I was wearing road-cleats, so we opted out of that. This was a fantastic ride, and one of the highlights of the trip. Following a ripping descent back to the parking lot, we capped off the ride with a pint, and a burger at Tommyknocker Brewery.

Echo Lake. About 13 mi. up from the start of the climb.

Some mountain goats, near the top.

Troy and I at the top.

Friday night, being my last night in town, Stephanie came down from Denver and we had dinner at The Sink, where we were joined by former riding buddy Bill, who I'd been playing phone-tag with all week, and his wife Cher.

While it's not quite the weeks-long epic of years past, and there were more rides I wanted to do, and more people I had hoped to see, a week's worth of having to worry about little else apart from riding, eating, and sleeping is pretty sweet. Made all the better by great company.

Memory Lane

2007-08-23T20:18:00.000-07:00

While droning along some long, boring stretch of I-15, last night, en-route to my brother's place in Boulder, CO, a thought occurred to me: "Hey, I should make a stop in Meeker, and ride 'The Mesa'."

I knew as soon as I thought of it, that I pretty much had to do it. I was suddenly, and inexplicably -- as I'm not usually prone to sentimentality, under the spell of nostalgia. I had no other recourse but to indulge it, besides a nice ride would be a great way to break up the monotony of the drive.

"The Mesa" harkens back to my beginnings as a cyclist, as it was the course of my first ever bike race. All of 14 miles, of pavement. Ironically, on my first mountain bike, which I didn't even ride off-road until a couple years after leaving Meeker. This was 1989(8?). Mountain biking was still a pretty new sport, though not so new that it didn't have magazines dedicated to it -- magazines which impressionable 12-year-olds could find in their local grocery store, and decide that they simply must do that. We were of pretty modest means, so a $400 mtn. bike was out of the realm of possibility as a birthday or Christmas gift, but in a town like Meeker, even people of modest means often owned horses. I wasn't all that interested in horses, so selling mine was a quick & easy route to owning a shiny, red, Trek Antelope 830.

That left one problem. Where to ride it? There were no trails that I knew of and Meeker didn't (and still doesn't) even have a bike shop, much less any mountain bikers. So, even though I was able to acquire a mountain bike, I was unable to do much more on it than I did on the beater it replaced.

Meeker did, however, have an annual bike race, as part of the town's 4th of July festivities. What better use could there be for my new bike than to race it? To add a bit of drama to the whole affair, the gauntlet had already been thrown by a rather unlikeable classmate, "You're doing the 4th of July race? I was thinking of doing the 4th of July race...".

So, I had the equipment -- a mtn. bike with knobbies, perfect for a road race, right? And I had the motivation -- "Must. Destroy. Wade. Schultz." All that was left to do was prepare.

Knowing next to nothing about any sort of training or race prep, I did what seemed perfectly natural, to my 12-year-old mind. Nearly every day, sometimes after swim-practice, sometimes later in the afternoon, I simply hopped on my bike, and went out and rode the course as fast as I could, and noted the finishing time. It worked, up to a point, in that my times steadily improved, but I could never attain the goal I had set of 45 min. or less. My best times were within a minute or less of that goal time, but I just couldn't do it in 45 minutes. This frustrated me to no end.

Come race day, I easily beat the field, in my age group (all 3 or 4 of them), and the kid who I wanted to destroy wasn't even there. "With his dad, fishing, in Alaska", was the story I got upon returning to school in the fall. However, none of that seemed to matter. I was too busy being pissed off that I still didn't break 45 minutes on race day, despite having set a new personal-best, bringing me that much closer to the elusive 45 minute mark.

All of which brings us, finally, to this morning's ride. I'm happy to announce that I totally kicked my 12-year-old-ass! 35 minutes bay-bee!

That's right, all of this was so that I could go ride my sub 17lb road bike on a mostly-flat 14 mile loop, to beat a time set by a 12-year-old, about 20 years ago, on a 30 lb. mountain bike with knobbies.

It's fun to be petty sometimes.

I did the obligatory nostalgia-cruise around town too. Checked out the house(s) we used to live in...

the old schools...

etc...

Tomorrow maybe I'll do a real ride.

Little of this, little of that...

2007-08-07T12:28:00.000-07:00

Had a pretty good weekend at the Rim Nordic stage race. I wasn't really all that enthusiastic about racing going into the weekend, but the stage race benefits the Mark Reynolds Fund, which is a great cause. I'm all for anything that gets kids, or anyone else, for that matter, on bikes, so I usually make it a point to do the stage race, even if I haven't been riding in the series.

Mark Reynolds was a mountain biker, who was attacked and killed, by a mtn. lion, while on a mountain bike ride, near his home in Orange County, several years ago. He raced regularly at Rim Nordic, and the folks there have dedicated the stage race proceeds to a charity, started in his memory, by his family. During the holidays, Mark would use his own money, and whatever he could collect from friends and family, to purchase bikes for kids who's families might not be able to afford them. His family wanted to honor Mark, and continue the tradition. Thus, the Mark Reynolds fund was born.

I feel a little bit of a personal connection to the event as well. Mark used to ride with the Rut Riders, a now mostly-defunct group of riders who used to get together for weekly, Wednesday night mountain bike rides in Mentone, weekend rides in the local mountains, and even the occasional road-trip. As anyone who knows me is well aware, I'm horrible at remembering names and connecting them to faces, so it wasn't until the first time I attended the stage race, and saw a newspaper clipping with his picture, that I realized Mark Reynolds was that Mark, from the Rut Riders rides. I didn't know him well, but instantly recognized him, and remember him as a perpetually positive and enthusiastic presence on the rides.

Turned out that I enjoyed the races, and had a pretty good result, as did Pass PT teammate, Christie. So, it was good that I didn't blow off the races to stay home and slack.

Following the race, was a BBQ, at Christie & Greg's commemorating the 5th anniversary of Greg's 29th birthday. Happy 29th, again, Greg. Here's one of the guests, Charlie, obviously enjoying himself.

Don't have too many other photos from the weekend, but there are a few race/podium pics up on Flickr.

Redlands Riders Throwin' Down

2007-07-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

I was just checking out a former co-worker's Flickr photostream, and happened across some pics of a couple of the usual suspects from the Redlands training rides.

Here they are kickin' ass in last weekend's Ontario GP.

Brian McCulloch (Pictured below, second rider back.) nabbed a 3rd in the Cat IIIs.

Meanwhile, Jon Reth was #2 in the Masters 30+.

Nice riding guys.

Feelin' the burn.

2007-07-23T20:23:00.001-07:00

I think I need a weekend to recover from my weekend.

My employer held a company retreat in Big Bear at the end of last week, which would've normally meant two days off the bike. Two days of meetings coinciding with two days without my bike = my own personal hell. So, I did what any rational cyclist would do in my situation. I sent an overnight bag up with a coworker, rode my bike up there on Thursday morning, and rode back home on Friday afternoon.

Changed up the normal Saturday routine, with the monthly SAR training, as opposed to more riding. We had a hike to Dollar Lake, on the schedule. Philip, wanting to get a longer hike in, proposed going all the way to the summit, and I was the only taker. Since we had enough drivers, we decided to recruit another team member to shuttle Philip's truck to the Vivian Creek trailhead, in Forest Falls. This enabled us to do an up-and-over, from the north side via Dollar Lake Trail, and down the south side, via Vivian Creek Trail, instead of doing the usual out-and-back hike to the summit.

Followed all that up with a ride with Adam, and Art, in Marshall Canyon, on Sunday morning, and now my legs are cooked. I haven't ridden Marshall Canyon since I lived in Rancho Cucamonga, years ago, and had never done it on a singlespeed. Somehow I'd forgotten about that last killer climb out. That pretty much did me in. Must not have hurt as bad back when I still had a granny-gear to fall back on.

Normally, a couple hard rides, prior to the usual weekend rides, would leave me a little tired and ready for a rest-day, but I'm not just ready for a rest-day today. I'm sore!

Maybe this will help.

Recovery

2007-07-16T12:54:00.000-07:00

The nice thing about having recovery time scheduled is being free to do whatever. "Whatever" this past week consisted of little more than easy riding and relaxing at home.

Took it easy on Tues. night, rather than suffering to try to stay near the front, and didn't do much else, the rest of the week, apart from cruising around town, and building up my recently upgraded beater fixed-gear.

Saturday morning's Raincross ride was my first hard ride since the Cream Puff. I felt pretty good, and managed a couple respectable pulls at the front, but didn't really hang in long enough to be a factor in the sprint finish. So, a pretty typical Saturday for me. Still need to learn where to conserve energy, where to go hard, and build some anaerobic power if I'm ever going hang in there long enough to be a factor in a sprint finish. Still, it was good to get out there and duke it out with the usual suspects. It had been a while. I'd been missing out on the usual pre/post-ride coffee shop banter that's not a part of the Tuesday night suffer-fests.

Saturday night was a campout on Morton Peak. This was Ben's idea, for which he recruited a few co-conspirators, and as I was slacking this weekend, instead of attending the San Marcos Circuit race (At this rate, I'll be a V forever.), I figured I would go along for the ride. Turned out to be a pretty good time.

I was especially stoked to see Alan enjoying his first big mountain-bike ride. It's always enjoyable to meet up with fellow riders, who already "get" mountain biking, and go out and hammer the trails together. But seeing someone new to riding get bitten by the bug is really cool too. The pace may be slower but the rewards are just as great. Alan gets big props for making the fire-road climb up to Angelus Oaks Sunday morning. That's a hell of a grind for a newbie mtn. biker. Welcome to the tribe, man.

Cascade Cream Puff

2007-07-11T21:32:00.000-07:00

The word "epic" tends to get thrown around willy-nilly by endurance athletes attempting to describe their exploits, and I'm certainly as guilty of that as any, but I'm going to use it here anyway.

The Cascade Cream Puff is definitely an "epic" race. Perhaps not compared to something like a mountaineering expedition with the very real possibility of death, the Tour De France, or an expedition-style adventure race, but for a single day mtn. bike race it certainly falls into the category of "epic" -- in all the best senses of the word.

The Cream Puff is 100 mi. long, includes 18,000 feet of climbing, and treats the racers to some of the sweetest singletrack Oregon has to offer, or so I'm told by the locals. Having not done much riding in Oregon, I don't have much of a basis for comparison, but I'm not inclined to disagree. To top it off, it has the best support of just about any mtn. bike race I've done. The organizers and volunteers were truly amazing, and I can see why the race has grown such a reputation over the years. If you're a mountain bike racer and have not done "The Puff", do it. You won't regret it, if you live. (With apologies to Mark Twain.)

I'm going to veer a bit from the typical post-race recap here, and leave out the long, drawn-out, nitty-gritty details of my own race. Suffice it to say, I suffered, I endured, I had moments where I wanted to quit, and moments where I wouldn't have rather been doing anything else in the world. All elements that make a race "epic".

In the end, I was happy with my performance, and you can't ask for a whole lot more than that. Still waiting on official results to be published, but I'm pretty certain I was 4th in the singlespeed class, and maybe even top-20 overall.

Edit: Results just posted. Looks like I was actually 5th place singlespeeder, not 4th, but just squeaked into the top 20 in 19th place with a time of 10:52. Still not too shabby for my first Cream Puff

Big thanks to Jon & Sami for their hospitality, and apologies to Blair & Carrie for the poor-timing, short notice. Next time up I'll have to make plans to hang out for a few more days.

Campsite at Westfir School

Jon & Sami

The Deaver Family

Slacker

2007-06-29T13:04:00.001-07:00

Just started this up about a month ago, and already slacking on the updates...

Not really much to report as of late. Just been going to work, and trying recover from being sick, in time for the Cascade Cream Puff.

In lieu of an actual substantive blog-post here are some random pictures, from last weekend.

Saturday was SAR Team training. We hiked up the Forsee Creek Trail, to John's Meadow. Most returned back to the trailhead from there, and a few of us took the trace-trail up to the San Bernardino peak trail, before descending back down to Angelus Oaks.

Matt & Christie, taking a break before dropping into the (not so) "Secret Trail", on Sunday morning.

Greg and Matt taking a photo-break on Jenks Lake Road. Matt was visiting from out of town and itching to ride his mountain bike. No better place to ride it than the Santa Ana River Trail. It didn't take much arm-twisting, by Greg, to talk us into going along.

Or not.

2007-06-14T21:22:00.001-07:00

Must have spoken too soon. Came down with a cold that had me sidelined in bed all day Sunday, and off the bike for all but two days so far this week, but not bad enough to keep me from work. So I still have to go to work, but haven't been riding. That's the worst kind of sick.

This is becoming an annual ritual of sorts. Nationals in Park City are this weekend. I went last year, but came down with a miserable cold days beforehand. I decided to go anyway 'cause I'd already purchased the plane ticket, made lodging arrangements, arranged for time off work, etc. Ended up spending two sleepless nights in the condo hacking away, and pulling out of the race after less than a lap. By Monday my voice was completely gone. Maybe it's better I opted out of Park City this year. Don't feel a need to repeat that experience.

On the plus side, I felt good enough to put in a couple hours after work tonight.

Sick days Rule!

2007-06-07T20:09:00.000-07:00

I had an appointment in San Diego this week, to get a new ocular prosthesis (false eye) fitted: a process which takes place over two days. That's a perfectly legitimate use of sick-time, right?

That's what I thought, but I wasn't about to waste two days away from the office, sitting on my butt in traffic and in the ocularist's office. So, rather than drive the 2+ hours, back-and-forth to San Diego, for two days in a row: an exercise in frustration and waste, I imposed upon an extremely considerate friend, at the last minute, to put me up for the night.

Wednesday's appt. was over by about 11:00, so I headed to Solana beach where my friend Dan manages a bike shop. Dan was off that day, and riding his mtn. bike. However, the guys in the shop pointed me to a good loop, that would occupy my afternoon. Following a quick lunch, next door at the Tidewater, I was off and riding. The route I took was pretty close to the same route as a local group ride only in reverse of the normal direction. I finished up in time to meet Dan for a beer, at the Tidewater Tavern (once again), before heading off to meet up with Lawrence, grab a quick dinner, learn a bit about what a pathology residency entails, watch South Park, and crash in his, generously offered, guest bedroom.

Following the next morning's appointment, I had until 3:00 before I needed to return. With some assistance from Erik, at Kolberg Ocular Prosthetics, I worked out a good route back over to Solana Beach, which, strung that together with the prior day's loop -- in reverse this time, added up to about 5 hours worth of riding. I made it back, for the afternoon appointment, shortly after 3:00. This was actually a bit late, because of a missed turn on the return trip: a missed turn that added a few miles and couple good climbs to the trip.

All told, I got about 7 1/2 hours of riding, a new eye, a visit with a couple of friends, some beers, and a tasty burrito out of the whole thing.

That, my friends, is how you take advantage of "sick" days.

A Day In the Mountains

2007-06-04T23:30:00.000-07:00

Inspired by James Williams' tale of a similar San Gorgonio bike/hike excursion a couple summers ago, my own budding endurance-itch, and the tales of Keith's pre-Postdoc ultra-endurance exploits, in comparison to which this little trip pales, I endeavored to round up a couple companions to join me on my first attempt at an adventure-race-style day in the mountains.

Having already discussed it on the drive to/from KTR, it didn't take much prodding to convince Keith, and Jonathan, to join me. Following several rounds of email back-and-forth, some last minute changes of plans due to logistical challenges -- i.e. We didn't anticipate not being able to get a wilderness permit for Vivian Creek Trail, we had ourselves a plan.

The plan: Leave Redlands on mountain bikes at or around midnight. Ride to the Poopout trail head via a combination of pavement, fire-road, and single track known to locals as the "Poop Out Loop". Once at the trailhead we would stash the bikes, change into hiking gear, summit Mt. San Gorgonio via the South Fork, Dollar Lake trails, and return via Dry Lake, South Fork.

The execution: We decided to move the start forward a bit to 10ish, as we were pretty much ready to leave around 9:00, and not likely to get much useful sleep before midnight anyway. We met at my house around 10 and were rolling by 10:30.

A short while later we were cruising up old Hwy. 38 from Loch Leven conference center.

A short while after that we were in Angelus Oaks for our first water stop, where we entertained a curious resident.

From there it was a short drop down to the Santa Ana River Trail and onto singletrack! And water crossings.

Water crossings can be somewhat challenging at night. Just ask Jonathan.

Fortunately, only feet got wet.

After an hour or two on dirt we filled up on water at Barton Flats. Went with a full-load of water from here, as it needed to get us up Poop Out, to the summit, and back down to the next available water at a stream shortly before Dry Lake. Dollar Lake was dry, and Dry Lake had water. I think someone must have mixed up the names when naming those particular bodies of water.

After watering up we hit the long climb up through Jenks Lake Trail and Jenks Lake Rd., with a brief stop to hold the first ever (annual?) Jenks Lake Dock Night-Time Crit,

(It's a really tight course.)

and arrived at the Poop Out trailhead shortly before dawn.

Stashed the bikes, changed from riding shorts to hiking shorts/pants, and hit the trail.

Summited shortly before 9:30, just about 11 hours from our start time.

After a short break, some photo op's, and visiting with the locals...

we made our way back down, via Dry Lake trail, to the trailhead and our bikes.

From here, the plans changed a bit. The original EPIC, epic plan called for a descent back down the "secret trail", to South Fork campground, and SART all the way back to Middle Control Rd. and Angelus Oaks, possibly with Lower SART, through Thomas Hunting Grounds, just for the heck of it. However, Jonathan was running low on energy by this point, and Keith was operating under time-constraints, so we opted for a slightly shorter version. We returned via the route we came up, to Barton Flats, getting water once again, where Jonathan opted for the road back to Angelus Oaks while Keith and I caught back onto SART at Glass Rd. and took that back to Middle control.

Fortunately we had enough energy in reserve to enjoy the SART singletrack, and even encountered some local riders on the way.

After a brief stop at Angelus Oaks,

it was all downhill to Redlands, where we made one last stop to enjoy some well-earned pizza and beer.

Even with the slightly abbreviated route we travelled ~84 mi. in just under 18 hours, all under our own power. Not a bad way to spend most of a weekend.

Kokopelli Trail Race

2007-05-24T16:36:00.000-07:00

I pulled it off!

142 mi. (145 if you count going off-trail, to Westwater ranger station, for water.), copious amounts of suffering, innumerable incredible vistas, and just under 19 hours all combined to make one the most incredible experiences I've had on a bicycle.

I wasn't exactly burning up the course; I was 22nd out of 38 finishers, and an unknown number of starters; probably 50 or 60. But just finishing something like KTR feels like a victory, especially considering I'm relatively new to the endurance-racing thing.

I went into KTR on a whim, after Keith, who had done it before, suggested doing it this year. I had plans to incorporate some endurance events into this season's schedule, and KTR seemed too cool to miss, so I couldn't say no.

Apart from some confusion at the start, due mostly to the
presence of "The Man", ("The Man" in this case being BLM officials who were none too happy to have a group of about 60 riders embarking on an unsupported, epic, ride sans permit.), it went off without a hitch.

Erring on the side of caution, in regards to water, resulted in carrying a much heavier load than was probably necessary, but I wasn't taking any chances in my first event of this type. No flats, no cramps, no real bonk, apart from the normal level of exhaustion that's unavoidable in an event of this magnitude, and that one must simply ride through, and pretty cooperative weather made for an excellent race.

The euphoria that one feels upon finishing something like KTR is completely worth the pain endured. I think I'm hooked on this stuff now. Next stop, Cascade Cream Puff!

Prepping for the big ride.

Cruising along, shortly after dawn.

Fiddling with something on my pack.

One of many incredible views.

Spent.

Photos: Troy Walton, Keith Richards-Dinger