Thanks go to DP for finding this

Not the Microsoft type. Or the ones on your house type. Nope. We’re talking about those of opportunity. For every action there exists a certain window of opportuntity and today I met it .

Washing the car and gettin’ it all tits took a good hour plus and I scraped bugs and sap of the Boob below blue skies and sunshine. Piddly-farted ’round for a few afterward and then suited up for a nice “anticipated” spin around Pena Adobe. 15 minutes into a not-so-gentle climb the horzion’s darkness catches up to me and starts to release a 80/20 mix of wet and ice. Novel and picturesque at first, however, these particluar first impressions wore out their welcome and I was both squinting to see through the downpour and standing to stay warm.

A quick dive beneath a recently fallen oak to tuck the Shuffle away and don my only remaining layer was enough to reinstate  high hopes and optimism that the ride wasn’t ruined. Then both lightning and thunder joined the party and got things really pumpin’. I decide to check how the descent was going to be, so about-faced.  This back-tracking was wise and I realized I had to GO, and go FAST, as the soil these trails are known for can turn to a plaster a paris and really ruin your day. Deep puddles, red clay rivers, and leaves cascaded down a soggy-slimy, dust on crust, junkshow of a trail as I mashed through it all. I ate mud, dirt, and plenty of rainwater stew to get me through until supper.

Popping out on the road I’m shaking, semi-miserable, and still in the storm’s grasp.  Not five minutes later I ascend my parent’s driveway and enter the garage.  As I peel off every gritty article of cloting like layers of a gutter cake I look out to the yard and it’s different.  The colors quickly brighten, the sound of rain stops, and instantly the climate is back to it’s bi-polar otherness.  Naked, standing there shivering, and filtering the sand through my teeth was when I realized how important these windows are.

FYI, before grabbing a extra slice of pumpkin pie, take heed to where they come from….

Sooooo, the long Holiday weekend is officially here @ 6:53pm on Wednesday the 25th.   Now there’s four whole days ahead to embrace freedom from work and share in the good times with friends and family.  I’ll definitely be giving thanks tomorrow for all the wonderful folks and events that have brought me to this point in my life.  And to show my appreciation for the ‘ol bi-cycle, gonna get in some good rides as well with a gathering of those kooky jive turkeys I call my friends.  Rockville Park on Gobble-Gobble Day @ 10:00 am in the parking lot.  Auburn on Friday for a nice long loop, and some even more epic-ness to round out the weekend on Saturday in Nevada City.  Word……  And to top it all off, perhaps a skate sesh on The Sabbath.

The Edge 305, that is.  And boy, how I dig new, techy shit.  Thought that getting one of these GPS rigs would help with the navigation aspect of epics, mapping new rides and routes, and for the sheer hell of it all.  Roughly 3 weeks into my ownership, I’m still learning the ins and outs, but it’s been nice being able to utilize as a training aid, as well as to review HRM, route, speed, and time data in a variety of ways.  The coolest has gotta be slapping a layer of trail beta over a Google Earth map and putting it all in perspective.  Actually, it makes your rides and runs look pretty meager unless you zoom in a bit.

Stats for days....

There’s a multitude of options out there for analyzing the data.  From Garmin, there was Motion Based, yet it  apparently has been swallowed up by Garmin Connect, which is their new proprietary software.  But I’ve also found other 3rd party players such as Sport Tracks, Ascent, Training Peaks, and Trail Runner.  They’ve all got their pros and cons, and for my Mac OS needs, looks like Ascent is where it’s at.  I’ll be doing my best to throw up routes and ride data on the site in the future, in hopes of shedding light on where you should be roaming with that rig of yours when trying to sniff out worthy trails in Northern California.  This long weekend should be a great opportunity to gather a collection of  Nevada City and Auburn’s finest dirt paths to two-wheeled freedom.  The more the merrier, so hit me up if you wanna rally out and work off that extra helping of apple pie.

They say we Americans make sometihng like 40,000,000 decisions a daily basis.  Well, maybe not that many, but I swear there’s at least two commas in the figure.  A lot of our decisions are meaningless, like color of underwear we grab out of the drawer or which two slices of toast we grab from the loaf.  But others impact the outcome of our days, weeks, and years ahead.  Today, I pondered my own personaldilemma that has been evolving and escalating over the past few months.  There’s a lot of great choices out there for the said dilemma.  Which fully sussed, tricked out rig I’ll soon be throwing down my hard-earned Benjamins on is no “Oh, I’ll just have mustard and heavy on the pickles” type of decision you make on the fly.  There’s criteria to fill, which in this instance is 140mm-ish travel all around, the ability to be ridden hard and put away wet, and to have a solid suspension design that eats both cross country rides and all mountain epics for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  And in these trying times of recession crises and budget trimming efforts everywhere, it has gotta have a “fo sho” bang for buck ratio.  I’m not spending more than $4,000 and hope it’s more like $2,900.  Damn, that’s a toughie.

So the contestants that have advanced to the showcase showdown are the Blur LT, the Tomac Snyper, the Ellsworth Epiphany, and the Specialized Stumpjumper FSR.  A damn fine quiver of rides and I’m sure I’ll be happy with any of those as options.  But I wanna be happiest.  For financial consideration, I can get some “good guy” pricing on all of them BUT the Blur.  I even tried the friend of the friend thing with a Santa Cruz dealer today, and it got me no where.  Guess I need more friends….that, or better connected ones.  I ride with folks that got ‘em all.  They all seem happy.  I love the VPP on the Blur, the stiffness and acceleration of the Snyper, the clean, plush ride of the Epiphany, and the well-roundedness of the Stumpy.  The saga continues…..

Well, ladies and gentlemen, fall is certainly here.  Colors are changing, darkness is overtaking the evening hours, and 2009 is on its way out.  At first I resisted the shortened days and gloomy skies, but then I relaxed and accepted it.  The rain has been great (especially for our trails and drought status) and now it’s time for exciting seat-of-your-pants night rides.  Cyclocross is here in full force with the BASP#2 this Sunday and before you know it the ski lifts will be running us up to much-anticipated powder runs.  Enjoy the change in seasons and perhaps even grab a beverage of your choice to sip in celebration of…….life, I guess.  Yes, you’ve been a resilient character in surviving the current worldwide crises’ and situations.  Indulge a little.  Unlike this guy who took it a bit too far.

Friday. 6:14 pm.  Punch out from work, hop in the car, and get on the 80 heading East.  Whaddaya know? Traffic.  Pull off the freeway at the first exit and opt for an early dinner while traffic simmers.  It’s Chipotle.  It’s only okay.  Things shape up around 7:30 or so and I am finally at cruising speed.  Three and a half hours later I’m creeping into South Lake, welcomed by the familiar scents of pine, fresh air, and nature’s nectar (not to be confused with baby batter….that smells way different).  Check into my room that’s already occupied by Mr. Mike Fine.  He’s sleeping and I’m quick to follow. Different beds.

Wake up call the next morn @ 4:50am.  A poor night’s sleep interrupted by Mr. Fine’s gas and an uncomfortable mattress was now a thing of the past and I quickly prepped my gear, lubed the chamois, and off we were to the Meyers golf course.  We dropped off our cars at this end point and hopped into Rann and Meghan’s behemoth of a truck who were waiting patiently with their toddler twins in tow.  An hour later we’re at Mount Rose Meadows.  It’s quiet, dawn-like in all respects, and as we pull up alongside another truck surrounded with men, bikes, and testosterone, I knew the show would quickly begin.

Greetings were exchanged amongst the 9 riders, poops were deposited in their respective homes, and helmets were buckled.  A quick group photo was snapped and I only hoped we wouldn’t be referring to it 5 hours from now trying to determine who was missing and what they looked like.  Anyway, we hop on the TRT and begin our epic to Meyers.  60 plus miles with a gang of climbing (AND DESCENDING!), 9 riders, and 1 SAG vehicle meeting us @ Heavenly and then finally @ Oneidas.

The route was solid with minor room for improvement (no Marlette Peak and no Chimney Beach downhill, but my legs did thank me) and the crew was two thumbs up with a consistent pace.  I arrive in position 4 at the top of the 5 mile climb to the bench near Genoa Peak and no one’s there.  Erik and I have a quick bite and then rally down to Kinsgbury.  I love that descent like Mr. Miyagi loves rice.  SAG stop @ The Fox & Hound where I put away 2 PBJ’s and have a quick safaety meeting with those not yet safe enough.  Reviewed protocols, accident prevention, and then mounted our steeds again.

Mr. Fine still has some gusto half way thru...

Now is when my body and mind became two separate entities and both were vying for control of my attention, and ultimately, my trail chi.  The loose, sandy, windy climb up the pavement, onto the dirt, and up the stair steps to Freel Pass was like a scene from Groundhog Day.  After every turn, every revolution of the pedals, each deep breath taken I had to check myself with a, “I swear I just rode this part.  WTF?”.  Summiting the pass @ 10,000+ feet I then fully embodied a tortured soul and regretted those missed training days over the past few months.

The legs were soaked in Star Lake, more food was consumed, weary glances were exchanged amongst us first 5 riders to reach this point, and then it was showtime for a ripping downhill that quickly honed in that misplaced trail chi.  At the Armstrong trail intersection, Mike, Rann, and I bailed right and opted for the Armstrong/Corral option since we had a nice 3 hour drive back home that night.  Back at the cars @ 4pm on the dot brings my estimate to 8 hours in the saddle, 1 hour of the bike, and countless memories of an epic ride, an epic route, and awesome friends.  Thanks for rallying all that made it, props to Jared and his 50 lb Ellsworth/sandal/flat pedal combo, and for those who didn’t, these words are now worth a thousand pictures.

60 lbs, 60+ miles, 24" tires, 3" width

The Solstice was yesterday.  Hope you got outside and reveled in the longest day of the year.  Hard to believe summer officially has started.  Almost was fooled with this recent bout of June Gloom.  Now, the temps are rising and it is BEE-YOU-TIFF-UL outside!  The past weekend delivered a solid journey around Skyline Park in Napa on the one speeds with Scooter “I do P90x and don’t ride anymore” Brafford (j.k. > you killed it, kid).  He flatted, changed a tube, then re-flatted on re-inflation since he didn’t check for thorns.  Double tube change in 5 minutes = no bueno.

Sunday was a nice change in pace and on this Solstice “proper”, I celebrated with a nice road ride in Marin in the fine company of Davey P..    Classic day.  This old dude attached himself to us early on, kept trying to “race” us, and after splitting off when we took an off-piste detour, “waited” for us on the far side of Nicasio Reservior in hopes of again “dropping us” after sharing his road-rage episode we apparently missed.  Really, it sounds all lame, but it was actually quite comical.  I guess we lost in the end.

Anyway, been clouded in a mist of preparations for the summer months ahead.  The plate is gettin’ pretty heavy for the remainder of June and July, then it is off to Montana for a little road trip / vacay with Jessie’s family before returning to buckle down and get my studies on.  Yeah, summer!

I’m stoked to get my Gypsy on as well!  Roamin’ trails in the future on foot and on saddle is lookin’ pretty, pretty……pretty good.  Wednesday Night Ride via Wildcat / Tilden / Redwood / Skyline on the cyclocross rig is sounding VERY appetizing.  That and a solid China Camp 20k route this Saturday morning.  Mmmm…..TRJ here I conme.

That’s a quickie update and a good excuse to get the blood flowin’ in my fingers.  And now – I leave you with this……….

Kona Bikes, USA.  Dearest friends you are.  I was introduced to you while wrenching at The Backcountry.  I was in the market looking to invest in another sustainable relationship.  Something I could both cherish and abuse, suffer with and share laughs together, and ultimately count on not leaving me dead in the water a few years into our bonding experience.  It began with the Major Jake.  How the cross affair got to the core of my existence and sparked feelings I had yet uncovered.  I begged for more out of you and that was when the Dawg Primo walked into my life.  My heart went pitter-patter as this was my first double-squisher and opened up a whole new level of riding.  It was like having a cheat code to advance to that last stage of Mario Bros. without having to deal with the first 8 levels.  Fast-tracking to burly singletracking.  I took my aggression out on the trail and not on the body.

I kept my faith consistent and never averted my eyes away from your sexy steeds, Kona.  Okay, perhaps I did, but I swear I was only looking.  I never cheated on you.  Except that one time, but I had no choice.  I was drunk….There were a bunch of people around telling me to do it…..So I swung my legs around that dingy blue beach cruiser and pedaled around town on the 4th of July. I hoped you’d understand.  And surely you did.

That’s when I chose to take our love to the next level and invest in the Unit.  It wasn’t my first single speed; in fact it made it number three.  It arrived and how quickly I adorned it with fancyness and gadgetry to make it the “BLING-lespeed of my dreams”.  Like a waifish model not wearing make-up in a kevlar suit dancing to reggae in the hot, balmy sun.  That’s what you were Unit.  #1.  Yes, #1 because #2 replaced you when you gave up on me a year and a half after our love expired .  Apparently you needed gentler treatment, mellower adventures, and caressing soft hands.  I was young, naive, forceful,  and learning your ways.  Kona, I praise you for understanding the progression of manhood and providing me with #2 in hopes that I’d learn from my mistakes.  Love hurts.  Love scars.  Love wounds and mars.  But warranty heals.

#2 was worthy.  I tried not to compare it to my relations from the past.  I wanted to invest new energy, joy, and passion into this deja vu-esque rekindled affair.  I now saw the soul of your being, Unit #2.  I respected that forgiving steel ride, your average build that had me content and happy with “what was inside that counted”.  We rode, we climbed, we crashed, we cried (okay, only like once), we lived.  And then again, out of nowhere, you died.  How could you?!?

That’s when the rough patch began.  I waited and waited and waited for a decision, Kona.  I moved to Oregon and severed my ties with your company.  A month or so passed before I heard back from you, which was in the shape of a frame box that arrived outside my door.  You tried to smooth things over by including a brown t-shirt with your logo that was 2 sizes too large.  I ignored that.  Rather, there inside was something I had never expected.  You gave me this bi-sexual of a slump-buster, the Explosif.  It went both ways and if you looked close enough you could tell.  Cable stops, a derailleur hanger, the whole nine.  But I was, as I said, in a slump with soft legs and needed to start riding something.  So it was assembled – quickly – and surprisingly my first impressions flew out the door as I rallied you around Hood River and Washington’s sweetest trails.  E #3 we’ll call her.  Not as sexy as Unit #1 or #2, but a fair companion I was hoping to spend my twentysomethings with.  Kona, you delivered, yet again, and once more taught me that it’s truly the inside that counts.

But love is a battlefield.  And cablestops or no cablestops, E #3 was just as clumsy of a dancer as its predecessors.  It failed me yet again after sharing my secret trails, epic races, and introducting her to my closest of friends.  It was in the form of a seat tube crack discovered days before a 24 hour race.  I said, “No more, dammit!  No longer will I be hung out to dry.”  But again this was a bluff and thankfully Kona, you served me up with E#4 in a relatively timely fashion.

And here I now sit with E #5.  She’s got two rides on her.  She’s got a nice dress on in the color of candy apple green. Her eyes sparkle and the shoes she wears attempt to divert my attention elsewhere.  Before she arrived a few weeks back I again had uttered the words, “No more, Kona!  You’re unreliable, you fail me in the worst of times, and you leave me with a bad taste in my mouth immeidatley after brushing.”  Yet somehow, I’m weak and desire you in my life, Mr. and Mrs. Kona Bikes USA.  So there she leans against my wall, waiting for me to say the first word after a fierce argument that beckoned silence.  I stare, she awaits, and I mumble, “Wanna ride?”

On Sunday evening as the heat began to slowly depart the North Bay, a group of 100 or so amassed at the San Rafael Community Center to partake in the 3rd annual Access 4 Bikes film festival.  There was a nice, close-knit crew that arrived, tasty free beer and wine from a handful of breweries/vineyards, and good, healthy fresh food.  I was incredibly nervous at first, someone unsure how my film’s premiere would be received by the crowd.  An hour or so after eaating, tossing a few back, and easing the tension with some nice conversation with friends, my previous anticipations dimmed on cue with the lights as the footage began to roll.

There were a few international entries from Ireland and Poland, some other local shorts about Jacquie Phelan, Forest City (to be explored in detail in another post), and grom unicyclers, and the feature Freedom Riders.

If you didn’t make it, consider attending next year.  If you’re curious how my Sixer at Six vid turned out, here you go.  Enjoy…..