Ladies…

At work we have a little inside joke about the word “ladies.” It’s based on Demetri Martin comedy bit that goes something like this:

If you want to sound like a creep, just add the word “ladies” to the end of things that you say. You could be saying harmless like, “Thanks for coming to the show….ladies.”

“Help, I’ve fallen in to a well and I’m trapped…ladies. Come on ladies, it’s like a jacuzzi with really high walls.

Watch the clip here starting at 1:38.

At work, we get a kick out of adding “ladies” to random sentences. It’s a good way to kill tension during dull or stressful meetings. It’s become a ubiquitous part of our conversation; often we fail to consider that maybe not everyone in the room is in on the joke.

Such was my luck when I went out riding the other day. I was in a great mood as we drove up the mountain and unloaded the bikes. (Being in a great mood often leads to my mouth acting before my brain gives permission.)

As I’m preparing to ride a couple of college women drove up and rolled down the window to ask a question.

Before thinking, I said, “Hi, Ladies…”

A millisecond before her eyebrow shot up in surprise I realized that she wasn’t in on the joke and, in that moment, I was the creep.

Mentally slapping my forehead, I extricated myself from the question and let my companion rider handle their query.

Happy to help, ladies…

Ergon team—Porcupine Rim

It’s kind of fun to watch after being on the trail so recently.

more about "Ergon team—Porcupine Trail", posted with vodpod

Ride The Divide Teaser

A feature length documentary about a small group of adventurous mountain bikers who set out to race the longest established mountain bike route in the world.
Traversing over 2700 miles through the Rocky Mountains from Banff, Canada to the Mexican Border.

more about “

Moab, day two

Drew and I decided we’d ride again the following day—new trails are always best explored with someone else. I told him it was his call on what he wanted to ride—I was game for whatever.

He sent a text suggesting Porcupine; his wife would shuttle.

Perfect.

We arrived on the trailhead at the dawn—the exact moment that the sun crested some distant horizon providing enough light to ride easily without direct sunlight. Weather was cool but not cold. No wind. Perfect conditions.

Porcupine is rated 3-5 technical and, for the most part, is a downhill ride when done with a shuttle. The first three miles was broken slickrock, lots of ledges and a general wheelie fest. Actually the entire route was like that.

About 300 yards from the summit I had a small mechanical that required an impromptu derailer disassembly. Soon we were back on track with a working derailer and greasy hands to show for it.

Reaching the top we were awarded an unparalleled view of Castle Valley dropping 1000 feet off the cliff rim below. Pictures don’t even come close to doing the view justice. It was jaw-dropping in every sense of the term.

Andrew and Drew at the top—Castle Valley

From there the trail turned left and down. Because of the technical nature of the trail, however, the downhill was anything but fast.

Drop-off after drop-off followed numerous stairs and ledges. If I had trained for this ride I would have done intervals up and down stadium stairs.

That might not sound like fun to those who profess a love of buff forest single track, but it was fun. Crazy fun. Despite the fact that we both have a pretty conservative riding style, both of us tackled ledges, jumps and stairs that we normally would have walked—and did it over and over and over again. By the time the ride was done, my inner thighs had been beaten pretty badly from coming off my wide seat so many times. I also had a perfect slab-serif X carved into my left calf from a sharply trimmed zip-tie on my seat stay. Other than that, we were injury-free.

Jackass Canyon, (I’m guessing the name doesn’t come from the 4-legged animal, but rather the 2-wheeled downhill animals) was fine, but many parts were just too much for us and we walked a fair portion of it. All that scrambling over rock resulted in a broken cleat, but by that time we were almost down anyway so I didn’t bother to stop to fix it.

All-in-all was a remarkable point-to-point ride with amazing views, sweet downhill and enough trickery to bring may riders to the next level. Maybe next time I’ll do it as an out-and-back starting at Jackass and going to the point.

Porcupine

Typical riding surface on Porcupine

The cliffs

Jump-off point

Moab, day one

I don’t know why, but even though I’ve been mountain biking on and off for 15 years, I’ve never taken the time to go to Moab. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve hitherto harbored no love for the desert. Or that I simply have never taken the time. Or both.

Either way, last weekend was a foray into the unknown.Despite that unknown, it was a wild success.

Originally the plan was to bring the wife and kids as well as Caren’s sister and her family. Her husband, Riley, and I often bike together and he’d been to Moab and knew his way around. But they canceled at the last minute so we forged ahead alone.

Early Friday morning I decided I’d better hit Slickrock right off the bat. You can’t go to Moab and leave Slickrock unridden. I biked the 4 miles to the trailhead. Not a bad ride, but I would have been happier with a shuttle.

Those of you who live and breathe Moab will likely chuckling inwardly at some of my descriptions, but be that as it may I still have to point out that this one crazy ride—unlike anything I’ve ever ridden.

Armed only with the trail description, I wavered while planning on whether or not my six year-old daughter could handle the two mile practice loop. Fortunately I didn’t pursue that thought any further as it would have been an unmitigated disaster. (My daughter doesn’t fall in with the crazy nut-jobs that ride rigid single speeds on purpose—it’s just that’s the only thing she has to ride.)

With Slickrock being the epicenter of desert biking, I was surprised to see that I went close to 20 minutes before I saw anyone else on the trail. The first two riders I ran into looked to be completely new to the sport as both were riding $150 Wal-Mart rides and one was even wearing jeans. I have no idea how far they made it, bless ‘em. Good on them for trying.

Just prior to the beginning of the loop and just after a particularly technical hike-a-bike I was surprised to find someone heading the opposite direction. It was, after all, only a half-hour after sunrise.

“Wow, you done already?” I asked.

“No, this is my first time on the trail and if everything is going to be like this, I’m calling it quits.”

I admitted that this was my first Slickrock ride as well, we talked for a few more minutes and I invited him to ride with me for a little while and see if we could make a go of it.

He agreed and we headed out. Turns out we had lots in common. Both Utah county citizens, both fathers of four, both work on the web (me front-end and marketing, he back-end Java coding), and both were new to Moab biking.

We had a blast. It was nice to ride with someone who has a similar outlook on riding as myself: no competition, easy riding and a healthy respect for the technical.

By the end of the ride we had both decided that, while Slickrock is fun and all, we weren’t huge fans. Forest singletrack has so much more appeal than does rock. I have since reconsidered and want another go at it.

Slickrock Sunrise

Me

One of the many canyons

Drew at the intersection of Slickrock and a jeep trail

Taking the stairs

For me, an impasse

Riding the edge

More to come…

New Frame—and a lesson in customer service

I got an email yesterday from Mad Dog Cycles telling me that my bike was done. It’s about time. As I mentioned earlier, this supposed to only take ten days—we’re now pushing three weeks.

When I arrived, an employee pulled my bike from the back and wheeled it up. I have some mixed feelings about this new frame with my old components. This isn’t the first time I’ve owned a bike for a couple of years, broken the frame and had it replaced.

A new frame is almost like getting a new bike. Except it’s not. All my old components looked woefully filthy and scratched compared to my gleaming frame. I have this urge to get the frame filthy and scratched just so it looks right. It’s a familiar feeling given that I’ve broken a frame before.

In any case I now have my ride back and am now planning a rush trip down to Moab since my much-anticipatd autumn mountain riding has now completely passed me by.

(Incidentally, I’ve never had the chance to go to Moab and have been reading up on a few of the trails I’d like to hit. Is it bad for a responsible husband and father to get a rush of adrenaline at the idea of taking the portage trail on Poison Spider Mesa trail? The answer is yes, by the way.)

via MountainBikeBill.com

And now to the customer service part of the story. The rep at the store proceeds to go behind the counter (I’m expecting to sign warranty papers or something and leave—everyone at the store told me it was a free swap out) when she suddenly announces that, “It comes to $160.”

Wait, what?

Apparently on a warranty labor isn’t included. To her credit she didn’t argue with me—she simply went and talked to a manager for a few minutes. When she came back she said the charge was waved this time.

Thank goodness. I would have been sorely put-out had they insisted on payment.

And now, I’m off to Moab.

Totally redeeming themselves

I’ve been hard on Mad Dog Cycle in the past. I haven’t always been impressed with their customer service. But in the spirit of giving them a second chance, I’ve returned to purchase a few items from them and have come away happy.

The first incident was the purchase of a GoBug Trailer to haul the kids around. Long story short, we purchased one from them, took it on a ride and later found one just up the street for a few bucks more but with more options that we were looking for. Since Trek isn’t making the trailer any longer, there was no way to upgrade short of eBay’ing it and starting anew. The return option was out since we’d just spun it around in the canyon. But the guys at Mad Dog not only returned our used trailer, but ordered one of the upgraded versions and got us set up for only a minor difference in cost. We went away smiling.

The second experience happened today. I’d brought my bike in to replace the frame and I asked for Spencer the warranty guy. He cheerfully came up, took a look at the crack and filed a claim. Then he proceeded to tell me that there’s a fair chance that Fisher will just replace the entire bike if they don’t have any frames on hand. How cool is that? The other cool thing? No paperwork. No asking for my receipts. No drilling me about not buying the bike from them in the first place. Just a quick Q&A and a “we’ll call you in a week.” (not the 3-4 they said on the phone…? Update: it did take 3 weeks) The best thing though was not making fat jokes—which is hard to do when a big, yet tame, rider comes in with a broken frame. (“Hey, hey, hey…broke your frame today-yea-yea?” would not have gone over well.)

So far, so good. I’m hopeful that the entire experience will go as smoothly. In the meantime, kudos for making a painful process less so.

Maybe, just Maybe, it's Not Meant to Be

I had planned to ride the ever-planned-never-ridden Squaw Peak to Hobble Creek route today.

Every year for the past three, maybe four, years I have planned to ride this route in the fall. Fall is in full swing in the high mountains—which should be the best time to ride this glorified version the Bonneville Shoreline trail. I’ve always wanted to challenge myself with ~4000 feet of climbing and enjoy the reward of fall colors and fantastic views of the valley.

It’s no single-track to be sure, but I still have wanted to do it. Why? I’m not entirely sure. There are plenty of beautiful trails I’ve never ridden. Maybe it’s partly because it’s there, partly because I can see a snippet of the route from my front door—a single line slicing across the mountain, mocking me, and partly because I keep planning to do it and continue to be thwarted in my attempts.

The 2009 Squaw Peak ride was not to be. Caren had an engagement that took up a good part of the morning, and so, in an effort to relieve any burden of me being gone, I got the kids fed and enlisted them in cleaning the house. Top to bottom, spick and span. This effectively killed the early-start-early-finish strategy, but maximized the help-ease-the-burden-of-being-gone-for-six-hours problem I face with rides like these.

When Caren arrived home, the house was spotless and we were finishing up lunch. I was ready to go, save for loading the bike. She generously offered to drive me up to the starting point. We loaded the kids in the van and I backed it out of the garage to load the bike.

As I picked up the bike and put it on the rack I noticed this:

Cracked Seat Tube

That’s right—my seat tube is cracked. I have no idea how this happened. Maybe it was on my 157 ride the other day. Maybe it was from my *fall.
*Note: this isn’t really me, and if you’re sensitive to language and/or people falling off cliffs, or have kids in the room, skip this link.

In any case, it’s a disappointment. I was fueled, I was hydrated, my legs felt strong and just minutes before I was ready to leave I find this. Of course I can’t go out on a 30 mile remote ride with a cracked frame. That’s just asking for trouble. Or at a minimum, a lot of standing.

So I called up my local Gary Fisher dealer and found out it would take 3-4 weeks to get it replaced. I don’t know if he’s trying to spin it or what, but he ended with a lame, “Fisher is really fast about warranty replacements.” If 3-4 weeks is fast, I don’t want to know what’s slow.

In 3-4 weeks the trail will likely be dusted in snow—or at least plenty muddy. Like Fatty says, autumn mountain biking is a matter of some urgency. And now my season is pretty much done.

On the bright side, I should end up with a nicer paint job.

2010 Cobia

There’s always 2010, I suppose.

A Ridgeline Trail 157 Newbie No More

That’s right, I finally got around to riding the sweet, sweet lines of the Ridgeline Trail 157 via the Deer Creek South Fork Trail. It was brilliant. In fact, “brilliant” is an understatement.

Ok, granted we spent most of our time on the Deer Creek loop, but it was brilliant nonetheless. Here’s a link to the UtahMountainBike.com trail description if you’re interested.

The climb from Timpooneke to the 157 trail wasn’t as bad as I’d suspected. My legs and lungs felt strong as we crested the hill and started climbing toward Mud Springs and the Deer Creek Trail turn off. What’s nice about this loop, as opposed to my other favorite trail, is that it’s not rutted with cattle tracks. We hit our fair share of cobbles, it’s true, but mostly it was nothing but sweet, smooth single track.

And fast. My goodness it was fast. Especially the Deer Creek to Cascade Springs section. Epic downhill, that.

As well as I did on both the climbing and the descending, I had one little moment where the trail reminded who was boss.

I was climbing in granny and following my riding buddy pretty close when I hit a little bump (3 feet or so) and I just didn’t have the momentum to push it through. I almost made it, but at the last second I stalled and couldn’t get out of my clips. So that was pretty awesome. I ♥ humility.

We made it back to the car still feeling like we could go on for a few more hours. But other fun times await (a family trip to Mirror Lake) and it was time to load up and head home.

All-in-all it’s decidedly a must-ride classic and I’ll hit it again for-sure.

Epic Wannabe

I just finished reading Jill’s announcement that she’s planning on riding the Great Divide in June.

There’s just something wildly romantic about the idea of riding 2780 self-supported miles through the mountains, climbing +200,000 feet, seeing everything from Canada to New Mexico.

Then the reality sets in:

It’s easy to be attracted to the romance of a cross-country MTB adventure. The rugged Divide backcountry is not the place to learn grand tour racing is not your speed or style. Are you a seasoned multi-day bikepacker? Have you ridden back-to-back off-road centuries? Are you an expert level mountain biker? Are you a veteran of Primal Quest-scale multi-day adventure races? Are you a proficient bike mechanic; skilled navigator; competent at self-rescue? If you can’t confidently answer yes to most of the above, it would be wise to consider simply touring the route or taking more time to prepare for a true blitz.

Uh, yeah.

Maybe I’d better get a few dirty centuries under my belt before I dream any more.