Long Ride

After my week off--didn't do much, it was nice--I'm back.

I suppose I could have titled this post "What I did on my vacation" as a throw back to all those horrible essays I had to write in grade and middle school about my summer break. I really think that teachers made us write those because they weren't ready to be back in school either.

But I digress...

Last Thursday (July 3rd) was our second annual C2Sea ride. You may remember my tale from last year. This time I decided to use the Ellsworth Evolve I've been riding, rather than my 'cross bike. I did this for a few reasons: 1) I only have a limited time on the Evolve and I'd like to use/abuse it as much as possible while I have it, 2) people claim that the "steam rolling" feature of the 29er wheels are good for endurance events and 3) I wanted to relax a little more on the rougher sections of the ride near the end.

It was not to be.

We rolled out of the parking lot at 5:40am, all of us ready for a long day in the saddle. In preparation I swapped out the Ellsworth-branded saddle for one that is way, way more comfortable. I also adjusted the air pressure in the rear shock to accommodate the weight of my overloaded pack. Since I built up the bike not too long before the ride, I thought I knew the condition of the rest of the components.

About 2 miles into the ride, I was powering up the first climb of note and--BAM--the chain broke.

Let me rewind a little here, and give you some back story.

On June 28th--the Saturday before the C2Sea--T. and I were riding the Harvey River Trail out of Tillamook, Oregon--good cheese, by the way. I was powering up a short climb there and sort of... well... ham fisted a shift. This resulted in my breaking the chain. OK, no problem, I bust out the good ol' Alien multitool and go to work fixing the chain and we finish our ride.

Fast forward to the C2Sea. This was now the second break on the same chain. Now it'll be really short. And, this time, I wasn't shifting, I was just laying down the power. My legs are HUGE.

No problem, I still have the trusty multitool. But, hey, what's this? The break is next to the Power Link. No need for the tool. I pull the offending link out, and go to reconnect the Power Link and it doesn't close! I've never had this happen before. Thinking that the Power Link was somehow damaged, I grab a spare--brand new--one from C. His doesn't close either. So, now I have a chain that is much too short, won't accept the Power Link, and has broken twice. And this is the first hill.

I wave the white flag and pick up the remains of the chain and coast--mostly--back to my truck. This is why it is good to have many bikes in your garage. I drive home, swap the pedals back to my Jekyll and meet them further along the ride. I missed only 10 or 12 miles of mostly flat gravel road, so I'm not too upset about it.

For the record, these test bikes get hammered. I mean, you get to ride a bike that isn't yours, so you tend to wring the snot out of them. I did repair the bike the next day and am back on it.

Rather than bore you with a rehash of last years turn by turn play, I'll sum up the ride. It was awesome. We were a much more cohesive group than last year--all the same players, too--and we spent much more time riding together, not strung out. There was very little waiting and when we did take a break, the break was shorter. The result was that the ride time was cut down by over an hour.

When I hopped on my Jekyll--having been riding the 29er exclusively since I got it--the smaller wheels really seemed to accelerate quickly. And, turn quicker, too, something that I didn't notice going the other way--26" to 29".

Other than my chain mishap, we had no mechanicals. Modern mountain bikes are well made and with proper care can last a very long time. The current midrange components are so much better than the top-of-the-line stuff from just a few years ago, it's amazing.

Long rides rock. Plan them, get a group and go. Take the time off, get out into nature and pedal. Hop onto IMBA's website and find an epic ride, or make one of your own like we did, and do it this summer. It's worth it and it gives you an excuse to pile on the miles: "But dear, I'm training!".

Nothing to do, but ride...

You can blame James for the slow week, he's on vacation. He's living it up on a long ride today, so I'm full of jealousy and wanting to get away from this computer. I'm much distracted this week with a lot of things going on, but at least I got in a bike ride this morning. Here's how it went.

I got up at the crack of dawn today to go for a ride. It was windy. I hate the wind. I almost turned around and climbed back into bed, but I convinced myself that the wind would be good for me. Probably, anyway.

One thing I've learned, though, is to head into the wind if there is any wind at all. Nothing is more frustrating after a particularly fast bit of riding than finding out that it's because of a tail wind... and then you have to claw your way back.

So, loaded with this wisdom, I headed up the canyon and into the gale-force winds. I won't go into how painful it was. I don't think I'm alone in my hatred of the wind. However, and this is the whole point of my story, the reward was well worth it.

Though the canyon climbs only mildly, on the way down I hit 53mph. There's nothing like flying on a road bike--so smooth, so precise, so fast.

Now, if only I could convince the city to sweep the shoulders as well as the lanes, the picture would have been perfect. Oh well, 30 miles up a beautiful canyon and still back in time for work.

Go out and have a great ride this weekend. It's Independence Day here in the US, so I'll be spending some extra time on the bike--if I can get through the extra yard-work planned.

The Lunch Ride

I think I could safely make the argument that even if you really like your job, you'd rather be out riding your bike. I mean, who hasn't dreamed of the life of a pro? Long days in the saddle--every day! A massage and a nap in the afternoon. What could be better?

Alas, I sit in the office, stealing glances out the window at the sunshine and the mountains--ever present and inviting. Of course, this just makes the day go by all the slower. My best hope is always to just make myself so busy that I don't notice what I'm missing outside.

Lately, however, I've found the perfect remedy: the Lunch Ride. I'm almost filled with guilty pleasure when I see people file out of the building for lunch as I throw a leg over my bike and head out. For an hour (or two), I've totally put work behind me and I'm free. I'm on my bike and, get this, it's the middle of the day!

Yesterday, a co-worker and I got a late start, but I had no meetings planned until 4pm--not that I would take that long of a ride or anything. It started out simple enough. We were on the first leg of a difficult, but not too long, loop. There was lots of climbing with a fun descent at the end.

Except at the end he said, "Why don't we turn and head up the canyon some more. Then we can drop down and head up the other side."

"Sure," I said, willing myself not to look at my watch. Heck, if he could be gone for that long, so could I.

And so it began. At each point when we could turn and head back, or add another loop/section of trail. Neither of us was willing to call it a day--or admit we were tired. That is, until we were both cooked with a further 2 miles to go. We could either climb up and over a pass or just take the 2 mile route around--that had less climbing and was shorter. At this point, I was totally out of water and the 85-degree weather had turned, somehow, into 150 degrees. Or so it seemed. We took the short route. 

When I got back to the car, I checked the time. 3:15pm. "Hmm, that'll be a hard one to explain." I thought, "At least I'll make my 4 o'clock meeting."

But, no matter what happened the rest of the day, I was ready. My legs were tired and I had a mild sunburn, but I was ready for "work".

All told, we did about 2500' of climbing and 19 miles. It was a good lunch--though one that left me hungry.

Legs

I knew I wouldn't have time to ride today, so after I got up and fed my baby at 4:30, I stayed up and grudgingly got on the rollers. Though I rode yesterday, I didn't ride hard (I got stuck in some nasty clay-mud). Even so, my legs were full of lead this morning. I started doing intervals, but I never really felt like I was getting going like I should. After 45 minutes, my left calf started to cramp up, so I packed it up and got ready for the day. It wasn't much, but at least I got a "ride" in.

I got in to work and trudged up the three flights of stairs to my office. Legs = tired.

After 15 minutes after I sat down, a co-worker--and a friend of Elden--walked in to my office and proceeded to tell me where "we" were going to ride at lunch. Without even breaking stride, he said, "If you didn't bring your bike to work, you'll have to make arrangements." Then he walked out.

I looked up at my board. That ride would be scary. I mean, lots of long technical climbs.

I ran home and got my bike.

I could go into long details about the ride. About how the terribly muddy trails of yesterday (literally), were pristine today. I could talk about the perfect temperature and how the bike (I was on the Look) handled. You've all had those rides. No, the best part was that my legs felt better and better as the ride progressed. The more climbing we did, the better they felt. I practically flew up the upper portion of the ride (the last bit of climbing).

I'm not sure how it happened. I never ride twice in one day. Maybe I should rethink that.

Oh, and one final note. I was so slow on the descent that my co-worker was packed up by the time I made it down the mountain. That's not worth dwelling on though, I think.

Spontaneity

For the most part, I try to think through things rationally. I try not to make too many spur-of-the-moment decisions--at least, not big ones. There are certain things, however, that really suck me in.

One of them, is whenever I see a really good deal on something I want. By good deal, of course, I don't mean 25% off. No, I'm talking 60-80% off. It's really hard, at that point, for me to resist--even if it's still way out of my price range.

The other thing I'm tempted by is really long or hard bike rides/races. First among these was LOTOJA. I've done that and, although I want to do it again, I'm content to put that off until my children are older and I can dedicate real time to training.

Last Friday, however, I got sucked in to another one of these. I got an email from the local club about a chance to ride one stage of the Tour of Utah. The 4th Stage, to be exact. In fact, it's on the same day as Stage 4 (only, we get a 4 hour head-start). Click here to see the stage map/profile. Though I feel more like a sucker for signing up (I don't know how I'll ever finish), it's called the 300 Warriors. If you haven't looked at the course yet, you should. See, though it's only around 100 miles long, it has 14,778 feet of climbing in that stage.

Needless to say, I'm scared.

Scared of not finishing. Scared of dying. Scared of being lapped by pros (though, maybe they'll pull us off the course rather than let us get lapped). Scared mostly of looking the fool.

I've probably put in more miles in the last week than I've done in the previous month. There's nothing like a big race to get you riding and training. For that, I'm thankful.

And yet, it was totally spontaneous. I signed up within 30 minutes of finding out about it. Too bad, too. If I had waited, I would have seen it fill up sometime in the next 12 hours and I'd just be planning on watching from the sidelines.

2 months, 17 days until the ride/race ...

Compact Double: Legend or Myth?

The compact double crankset is empowering. It seems to make the rider feel far superior to someone who would wimp out and use a triple. Somehow, the rider using a compact double looks down on these people with disdain. At the same time, they feel like they can be grouped with the pros. I'm not sure what the rationale is--perhaps it stems from the few accounts of pros using them on strictly uphill time trials--but I think these riders somehow feel that it's their little secret that they're using a 34/50 combination instead of the more traditional 39/53.

I'm one of those riders.

For me, the compact double is empowering. The first time I tackled some really hairy climbs on a road bike was with a compact double. After that, I sneered at anyone making those climbs on a triple.

Until I rode next to a guy riding a 39/53... and he dropped me. (I never checked, but I still hope that at least he was riding a 12-25 cassette.)

As you've no doubt read, I just got a Ritchey Break-Away to review and this morning, I took it out for the first road ride. I should take the time to note at this point that it came with a traditional 39/53 set-up. So, on a strange feeling-great-in-a-warm-late-spring-morning-whim, I decided to tackle Squaw Peak. Now, Squaw Peak isn't a monster climb by any means, but it always seems to hurt.

Right away, I started to wonder at the folly of this decision. However, being the pretend tough-guy that I am, I pressed on.

Now, whether or not I'm in better shape this spring than normal, I really have no way of knowing. All I know is that it was no harder than the last time I rode it on my compact double (and a lighter bike).

So now I have to wonder if the only thing the compact double gives me is slowness... I think I'll have to tackle a harder hill.

Quads

For the many years when all I did was mountain bike, I learned to pedal at a fast cadence and stay seated on the climbs. Many of the trails around where I live are fairly steep and loose--making it hard to climb out-of-the saddle. Also, once I started riding a full-suspension bike, I quickly learned to stay seated to be more efficient.

When I picked up road riding a few years ago I found that some hills were just too much to do seated-climbing on. Sure, I try and stay in the seat most of the time, so I don't wear myself out, but there are plenty of times where I stand up to sprint or stand up to hammer up a nasty hill. I've gotten used to, some times, using a slower cadence than I would on a mountain bike, and pushing harder.

On Saturday, I got out on my first road ride of the year. I didn't go particularly far--nor did I go at it hard. Yet, long before my ride was over, my quads began to burn and freeze up on me.

That's when I remembered. I've been on the rollers a lot this winter--when I wasn't on the Pugsley. I can't stand up on my rollers. I just spin. Sometimes I spin hard and fast, but mostly I just spin to get my heart-rate going.

Evidently, spinning doesn't work my quads.

And then it dawned on me: This is going to seriously mess up my bunch sprint-finishes against all my imaginary opponents.

More Tools

Last time I talked about tools and how they can help us with training--or in my case, just collecting numbers about my rides. Today, I'll add two FREE bits of software that help with that.

First, up, Google Earth. If you haven't played with Google Earth, you really need to download it now. It's free. What's nice is that it'll import route. What you need is either a way to convert whatever your GPS outputs into a .KML file, or you'll need a GPS that will export in that format. Run.GPS, that I mentioned last time, exports in .KML format. I used it last night on our weekly night ride--more about the rides next week. Importing the file gives this (click on the image for the big version):

Now, once it's in, you can change your viewing angle, so the hills stand out a bit more, like this:

You know, at the time it didn't feel like we went around the hill. I thought we climbed it. Huh.

The downside? Either the photography or the routing isn't perfect. Probably a combination of the two, though with tree cover, I'd bet money that most of the error is the GPS. This is what I'm talking about, you can see the gravel road we were on, but the route overlay doesn't follow it quite right.

All in all, this is a very cool way to visualize and share your rides--whether on the road or off road.

The second little bit of software is a website. T. introduced me to Veloroutes.org. This routing website is built for bikes. It allows you to create routes, with an elevation chart, and then export the route in Garmin's .GPX format. Once created, a route looks like this:

Both Google Earth--to visualize the ride you've done--and Veloroutes.org--to visualize a route your haven't done, yet--are ways to share your riding area with others and to help you explore your area a little better.

And Ode to Poor Weather

Living in Utah, most of the time I get the luxury of being a fair-weather cyclist. That is, I rarely have to deal with rain. (Of course the winter months are just indoor trainer/roller months--but that's the topic of many other posts--not today.) I'm okay with this. It means to me that I never have to wash my road bike as long as I ride enough to keep the dust off. I probably need to wash my mountain bike a couple times a year, but usually don't.

Speaking of maintenance, I'm pretty sure that I'm supposed to have my shocks overhauled once a season, at least, but I've never done it. Anyone have any opinion on this? I just keep hoping that by the time it really matters (2-3 years later), I can get a new fork/shock. (Although, my full-suspension bike is a Cannondale Jekyll--which means the shock mount is different than on other bikes. Dang you Cannondale! Looks like I'll need to upgrade the full bike when the time comes.)

So, today it is raining. I won't be riding today--mainly because I need to scrounge up some tires for my road bike and the mountains are, well, in bad shape. These excuses, however aren't the only thing keeping me off the road. I just don't want to ride in the rain, when I know it won't last.

On the other hand, I'm stuck inside alternately working, and staring out the window at the rain. Since I have to work anyway, at least I'm not looking outside--longing to be on my bike--not in this weather.

What I miss most about riding outside, though, is the rambling about. I can still get good workouts inside by pushing really hard on the rollers, but I love to go exploring on my bike. I love wandering around the rural communities and then trying to find my way back. I love finding hidden areas in the mountains where I can be alone and enjoy the quiet and solitude of nature.

Watching movies--although good for getting through a session on the rollers--just takes away from the whole biking experience.

Soon, I hope, I'm going to be out there enjoying the ride. Not today, though. Not in the rain.

I Hate Mud

There is a spot where I ride that necessitates avoiding when there is mud. It isn't mud so much as clay--clay that is only one step away from brick. It doesn't really wash off. It scrapes off. As such, there is no rubber known to man that it doesn't adhere to.

There is another place that has mud--real mud that is actually manageable--if a little slippery. It is to this second place that I first went.

Of course that place was covered with about three feet of snow. Evidently spring-like weather in the valley does not mean spring-like conditions in the mountains.

Here, then, is my lapse of judgement. I decided to try the other spot. The clay spot. Luckily, this time I didn't ruin my rear der. (may my poor X.0 rest in peace), and there were dry places--and even slushy places.

At one point, I was riding along a slope of  a hill and hit a patch of slush that slid my front wheel out. For some reason, my reaction to this was to slam my right knee into my stem as hard as possible. In retrospect, I should have just put my foot down--or even let my bike slide out and land me on the ground. Because, man oh man that hurt. Hurt like the last time I slammed my other knee into my handlebars while riding Slickrock trail in Moab. I had to sit down and take it easy because I kept coming close to blacking out--I get woozy that way.

So, I headed over to a gravel road--where there was neither snow nor mud and had a pleasant rest-of-the ride.

I hate mud. I think I'm going to ride on the rollers next.

For now, though, I have to scrape the mud off.

To Fill Up Some Space

I think spring might come and winter end. No, I really do. I mean, we had a tiny bit of snow yesterday, and it was 19 degrees (F) this morning on my way to work, but I really think I'll soon get outside--and not to ride the Pugsley.

Which is, actually, kind of sad.

I'm wrapping up the Pugsley review right now, and I must say it has been some of the most fun I've had on a bike. My winter has actually flown by because of all the fun I've been having--a rarity for me in the cold, snowy months.

I think that before I strip it down and pack it up and ship it back, though, I'll try and get in a good mud ride or two. The mud around here can be just terrible, so I want to see if it's better on the Pugsley.

But, that's not all I'm going to do. I might actually go for a road ride. I think I've seen the road sweepers out and about, so it's now time I made use of my road bike again--only outside instead of in.

Which means I need tires. Desperately do I need tires. Why is it, by the way, that of all the tire brands out there you can find on sale, it seems to be 80% of the time Hutchinson road tires? I mean, I really like them, so I don't mind, but still, why? Don't they sell very well? Does anyone out there hate Hutchinson road tires (and here I'm talking about the nice road tires, not the $15 ones)?

Okay, enough rambling. Read my review (when I post it), then go buy a Pugsley and have a blast on it. It will make all your local standby trails fun again.

Rollers, Trainers, and Other Such Torture Devices

A Side Note From Jon: Many people have wondered why we have ads to BackCountry.com in the side bar of the site. (Well, no one has actually mentioned it, but I know you've been thinking it.) A casual browser won't find any bike-related gear perusing BackCountry.com. However, the outlet portion of that site, BackCountryOutlet.com is practically teeming with good deals on random bike goodness. Just do a search for "bike" and you'll find all kinds of sweet deals.

Three days this week I've meant to get up and get on the rollers. Two days, I'll blame my alarm for missing my indoor training session. This morning, it went off, but I went to bed late and slept so poorly that my early-morning self decided the extra hour of sleep was more important. At this point, I'm very close to failing, in my first week of the year, to meet my time-on-the-bike goal I've made for myself this year.

As an expert on the subject, however, I thought I'd share my ideas to helping to pass the lonely "trainer months", as I like to call them, indoors.

Distractions
If your goals for the trainer/rollers/iron maiden revolve mainly around just time on the bike pedaling, your focus should be distracting yourself. Of course, if you can forget that you're on a bike pedaling, you might find that you're not actually pedaling. This is fine if you're bike is securely clamped to a rear-wheel trainer. (Well, it isn't exactly helping your fitness, but at least you're safe and securely clamped in.) However, if you allow yourself to be that distracted on the rollers, chances are it'll end in disaster.

For some, music strikes the perfect balance--distracting you enough to approach enjoyment while riding-without-moving, and allowing you to focus on your riding enough to keep your heart-rate up.

For others, nothing makes the pain of stationary riding fade like a good movie. With a Netflix (tm) account, you can keep the content fresh. Is it a training day? Check your mailbox and see if there's a little red envelope there. (Note, this doesn't work with Blockbuster (tm). Don't ask why, but trust me on this one.)

Of course, I find that while watching pro races (like the Tour de France), I can let my imagination wander enough to think I'm working my way up to that level. I have an active imagination when I'm delirious.

Measure
Another way to make time on rollers/trainers/the rack more enjoyable is to measure everything. Sure, you aren't going anywhere, but that doesn't mean you can't fake it! Not only should you have speed and distance*, but you should, if possible, have heart rate, cadence and power. I found that adding heart rate alone was enough to extend my maximum-ride-time-before-insanity another 20-30 minutes (bringing the total up to between 21 and 31 minutes).

Intervals
Okay, let me just go on record as saying that if I'm on the trainer/rollers/"The Machine", I want to benefit from it. To that end, if I'm suffering anyway (and, although you can hide it (see "Distractions" above), there is no way to use these devices without suffering), I want to really suffer--and with a purpose.

Intervals are great that way. They hurt. Like "not to 50!" kind of hurt. For me, though, one of the key benefits to intervals (besides the obvious strengthening of the muscles) is how it makes the time pass. In fact, I've found that I can hardly get on the rollers without breaking into intervals. Try varying the length of both the interval and the rest period between them to mix it up a bit.

Of course, if all this sounds a bit scary to you, you can always use the alarm excuse.

* You can't, however, count these as overall miles... because you're not moving or going anywhere.

Broken Record ... and More

Okay, at the risk of posting three entries in a row about the same review, here are some pictures of the Pugsley in about a foot of snow. I'm having a blast on this bike.


In other news, I have also received for review the new Hayes brake, the Stroker. I'll soon have it mounted so I can give you my first impressions. I love fresh hydraulics!

And, finally, a contest.

I've mentioned previously how specialized a front derailleur is, so first let me tell you the prize. A 31.8mm SRAM X-9 Low-clamp, bottom-pull front derailleur.
Now, how to win it? Easy?

Yes, easy.

Post a comment (of course) with the reason why you need this derailleur. You can make it long or short, but it needs to be good. For now, I'm limiting this contest to the continental U.S., though I reserve the right to send it elsewhere if I like the comment enough. It's my contest, so I get to decide. I'll leave this open for a week, so get your comment in soon. If you know someone who could use this derailleur, tell them to post a comment.

My Favorite Time of the Year to Ride

Though I live in Utah, I don't really like snow. I mean, it's pretty. Also, we need it here to have water in the summer. But, for cycling, snow consistently gets in the way. If you have a road bike you ride, that you also happen to like, you should stay off the pavement after a snowfall--no, not because of the slick conditions so much as the layers and layers of salt applied to melt the snow/ice. Bikes don't like salt. Also, unless you like getting stuck a lot, mountain biking in the snow can be arduous at best.

However, on Saturday, when we got our first big snowfall of the year, I welcomed the snow. You see, I'm reviewing a Surly Pugsley and, as you may or may not know, the Pugsley was made for conditions where a normal bike would flounder. The tires are around 4" wide and can be run with pressure's as low as 5psi.

So, with delight I force-fed the Pugsley to my over-burdened roof-rack and headed up into the mountains. I've taken the Pugsley out before (on dry ground, of course), and was excited to try it in the real-deal.

I rode around the snowy, slushy parking lot a bit and adjusted my pressure before heading up the gravel road I started on. I was running around 10psi front and rear. Though most bikes can go forward through snow just fine, I noticed immediately that the Pugsley excels in keeping you from sliding around on corners or a poorly planned line--something easy to fall victim to when you can't read the trail under 6" of fresh snow.

While out, I ran into a local racer who was thrilled to see someone riding a Pugsley. He actually saw the tracks in the parking lot and made the climb behind me so he could take a look. I let him throw a leg over it and, after about 2 miles of riding, he was convinced he needed to buy one. Do I get a kick-back if he does?

Not one to settle with the status quo, I headed out later that night onto the, now icy, roads. Once again, I was amazed at the difference a huge contact patch can make. Granted, I wasn't crazy out there, but I didn't slip once around corners or accelerating during my conservative test ride.

I hope the snow is here to stay. I can't wait to get back out there!

A Curse

I don't really ever get flats. I mean, I've had flats before, but it isn't the norm. On my mountain bike, I used to often get flats--only because I'd push the envelope of low-pressure in my USTs. On my road bike, I can think of twice in the first 2000 miles or so. The first time, I was prepared with a mini pump and a spare tube. I remember that I couldn't quite get the pressure up to a comfortable riding level of near 100 PSI. After that, I got a CO2 inflater. My second flat was much nicer. I was back on the road quickly with rock-hard tires.

Allow me to digress...
There is a trend in road cycling to make wheels with deep rims. This is a fine trend, as trends go, because aerodynamics in wheels is very important. However. I don't have aero wheels. Because of this, I hate the trend that has sprung up from the first trend. Namely, all tube available at my LBS have extremely long stems. When I bought my current spare tubes, I found a place online where I could get short valve stems. Also, I had the option of picking the standard threaded stems or smooth valve stems, "which causes less damage to pumps." I went for short and smooth. I was pretty excited about these tubes.

Curse
The first time I found I had a flat--two days ago--I didn't even consider using my new shiny tubes. I pulled out the old spare I'd been carrying around for 6 months or so and patched up the other tube to replace the spare. Sure, it nixed my ride for that day, but I knew I'd have time "tomorrow" for a ride.

Tomorrow came (yesterday), and the same tire was flat. Yes, I checked the tire for debris (and even removed the offending shard of metal) after changing the flat. I grabbed my mtn bike and headed out on the trail. It was a good ride, but I only had time for a short mtn ride, when I would have spent almost twice the time on the road. Plus, I really wanted to try out my new heat-molded Shimano insoles.

I checked the tire again last night, and didn't waste any time with the old tubes. I fixed the flat with one of my two new tubes (with the short, smooth valve stems).

This morning, I finally got back on the road again.

Let me pause here and tell you about a conversation I had with my wife last night.

"I'm cursed," I said.

"Nonsense," she replied, "a couple of flats hardly constitutes a curse."

"You're wrong," I said with a foreboding voice. Also, I might have been pointing my finger with a crazed look in my eyes--just for effect.

Okay, back to the story. After about 2.5 miles into my perfect ride this morning, I was beginning to question my decision to hand-check the pressure of my tires--the tires I pumped up last night--because things were feeling a bit soft. When I came to a stop at an intersection, "a bit soft" was no longer very accurate. The light turned green and I limped across the intersection to come to a stop below a friendly--bright--street lamp.

I was frustrated--it being the third flat of the week and all--but not undaunted. I had, after all, one of my new tubes with the short, and smooth, valve-stems. I think I was most frustrated that I hauled my heavy HID--well, heavy by my road bike's standards--along and it would probably be light by the time I completed my task.

I calmly removed the offending tube, inserted the shiny new one, and got out my handy CO2 inflator to finish the job.

And that is when things really started to go south.

My CO2 inflator refused to get a solid grip on my shiny new smooth and short valve-stem. Meanwhile, precious CO2 was escaping unhindered into the atmosphere. I pulled it off, put it back on and tried again. Again, the CO2 was leaving the inflator, but not entering the tube. After about 4 tries, I compressed the tire/tube enough to get that reluctant short valve-stem out of the rim far enough for the CO2 inflator to grab on and function properly. The result was a tube that was under-inflated, but probably full enough to get me the 2-3 miles home on my own power.

You'll notice I didn't say it WAS full enough, but said PROBABLY.

Yes, fool that I am, I sought to get in a little more CO2--get it a little fuller. The funny thing about presta valves, for those of you unfamiliar, is that in order to put air in, you need to open the valve. I jammed the CO2 inflator on the valve-stem--effectively opening the valve--and tried to get a little more air in. Wouldn't you know it, but it didn't seat properly. The result: 1) All the air was let out of the tire/tube. 2) All the CO2 (or at least enough to equalize it with atmospheric pressure at around 4700') left the inflator.

Empty tube.

Empty inflator.

"Cursed," I said out loud to no one in particular.

Shame
I pulled out my mobile and called my wife to come pick me up.

Resuscitation

I came up with a lot of titles for today's post. Because ideas don't come easily to me, I decided I better not waste them.

I own two mountain bikes and two road bikes. One nice new(ish) mountain bike, and one cobbled-together one. One really nice road bike, and one really old road bike.

Recently--as in the past number of years--I've been mechanically inept when it comes to hydraulic disc brakes. Sure, I can install them just fine, but I can't seem to bleed them. From this you can conclude any number of things. For one, I like new disc brakes. For another, you can see I'm not as mechanically adept as James.

After two failed attempts at bleeding the brakes on my nice mountain bike--we'll call it, Jekyll for kicks--I decided to take it to my local shop to have the brakes done. After a week and a half, they returned it to me saying that it couldn't be fixed. The master cylinder leaks and the manufacturer no longer stocks parts that old.

I feel okay now that I couldn't get my bleed jobs to improve braking.

I don't feel so good knowing that I need new brakes.

Kickin' It Old School
My cobbled-together bike is, um, interesting. The frame is from a local company, but imported. It's magnesium. You might remember it from when I first built it up as a commuter (here), or from when I decided to start using it as a hardtail mountain bike (here). Though I bought a front deraileur for it, it isn't installed. The rear deraileur is Alivio (it was a commuter at one point, remember?). However, not all the parts are cheapos. The handlebar is a nice Maxm MX-5 and it has a Thomson Masterpiece seatpost. It also has a steel rigid fork and linear-pull brakes.

Okay, that was just background for the next part...

You see, recently, a co-worker of mine has started a weekly mountain ride. Being without my Jekyll means I’ve had to use my magnesium hardtail (hereafter: mag). I'm tired of riding a rigid bike. I mean, it’s cool and retro and what-not, but I'm tired of taking a beating at every trail imperfection. Yesterday, when they announced this morning's ride, I knew I'd get beat up. A lot. It's not a smooth trail.

Open Heart Surgery
All evening yesterday, I spent wondering what parts I had lying around my garage that could help. Mostly, I kept mulling over my old Manitou Black suspension fork. How long, I wondered, would it take to install a new fork on my mag?

Rebirth
My mag now has 100-120mm of travel out front. It only took about an hour and a half to install it. (A personal record.) Sure, the fork is old--really old, in fact. But, it is much better than rigid--at least for the trail I was riding, and the person riding it. The steel fork it replaced was much shorter, but I think the mag was built for suspension, as it finally felt and handled more like I'd expect it to with the added front-end height.

Why I Love My Road Bike
I have to say that an 8-speed cassette mated to an 8-speed Alivio rear deraileur and coerced into action by an old 8-speed SunTour thumb shifter--with me as the mechanic that assembled it all, no less--does not lead to great shifting. In fact, on more than one occasion I ended up with a chain in the spokes when I tried to get to my largest cog. In the end, I think I settled for the third largest cog and I manually moved the chain in front when I drastically switched terrain.

This is why I love my road bike. I love that it always works. I never am frantically trying to get something to work late at night so I can go on a ride in the morning. I've never taken my road bike into the shop and had them return it to me saying, "we can't fix this." I love that my road bike isn't my mountain bike.

I hope I can keep the mag alive long enough to fix the Jekyll.

Epic, Part... Final

It takes longer to write this thing that it did to ride it!

Last time I left you we had completed the paced road climb out of Harlan.

The road turned back into gravel and we dropped down a bit to the river. The descent was notable for two reasons; first, the rock used to gravel the road was HUGE and, second, the downed limbs almost took me out -- and D. along with me. We were descending rather quickly, and I was trying to not just keep up, but lead the guys on mountain bikes. I had never been on this stretch of road and just as I pass D. we round the corner and there are two downed trees, one from each side of the road. I swing right, hard, to avoid the first and see the second. I lock up my rear wheel and just make the turn back to the left to go around the second tree. D. is right behind me. We pick up speed again, round another corner -- are trees near road corners weaker? -- and there is another downed tree. There is no way to go around it, and without suspension and fat tires, there is no way I can plow through it at the speed I was going. I grab as much brake as I can -- remember D. is right on my tail -- and make it over the limbs at a walking pace. D. however, couldn't see around me well enough to see my predicament and was very close to running over the top of me when I hit the binders. Instead of taking me out -- Thanks! -- he goes to my right, over the downed limbs. Good thing he had suspension and big tires! Whew... tragedy avoided.

After this hair raising descent we meandered through the lush flora near the river's edge.


After more gravel road -- at this point we had been on the bikes for over 6 hours -- and all the gravel road was looking the same. We rode some fantastic double track. This was swoopy, overhung, water-barred and just about as much fun as a roller coaster.

This was fun... and it was fairly long too. It more than made up for the pavement section.

We only had one set of horrible climbs to go... They were steep and the large gravel was loose, meaning that I couldn't stand up to pedal, for the most part I had to stay seated -- or nearly so -- to maintain traction. But, I am happy to report, I managed to stay out of my granny ring. My knees weren't happy the next day -- or next week -- but I did it.

We were almost there... looking into the distance you could see where the land ended and the water picked up.

The bay shown above is used for oyster farms. You can see them in front of the clump of trees in the middle.

One more obstacle -- that we didn't foresee -- and some singletrack and we were there. The obstacle? A downed tree that prevented us from using the road.


A short hike around:

And we were home free.

Not long after this, the epic was over. We had ridden from Corvallis to the Coast, mostly off pavement.

Using a cross bike was both good and bad. It was great on the smaller gravel, and the pavement. It wasn't so good on the singletrack, or when the road/trail was totally overgrown. Without suspension I couldn't relax much and toward the end my shoulders were really feeling it. I had to pick my lines with care, whereas had I used my Jekyll I could have just rolled over the rougher spots with nary a care. Next year, I'll probably do it on my mountain bike.

Epic, Part 3

Of course, the ride wasn't all Stinging Nettle. We also saw quite a bit of this:


One of the cool things about riding with a doctor (R.) -- who is also a life-long outdoorsman -- is that you get interesting facts about the stuff you are riding through. For example, not being botanically inclined, I did not know that the flower above was called Fox Glove. R. kindly let me know this. Then he went on to say that there is a heart medication out there that is based on this flower. You see, the plant contains a drug that depresses the heart, so it is used to settle the heart down during arrhythmia. Of course, now the drug is synthesized, but it originated with this little flower.

Then he hands me a large clover and asks if I had ever eaten one. Uh... no. He explains that it is Sorrel. In small quantities it is perfectly fine to eat, and would be good in a salad. Don't eat a bunch, though, it interferes with normal digestion -- whatever that means. Tasty, though.

Back to the ride.

Buried under the foliage was the trail. Along with the trail were many limbs/sticks/pieces of wood lying in wait to knock us off our bikes. These would be nearly parallel to our direction of travel, damp, and devoid of any feature that would provide traction. D. and C. refer to these as "slippery sticks." Apropos, if you ask me.

Since I had stopped to take some pictures, I was chasing back to the rest of the group when... WHAM... I am down. I hop back up, take a quick survey of myself and my bike and I am back up and riding... a little slower perhaps, and with slightly more care, but I am still trying to catch up.

Once we regroup and pop back out onto the gravel road -- having completed the first adventure section -- I discover that one of my water bottles is missing. The full one. The one I hadn't been using. Now, this sounds worse than it is, since I was carrying a hydration pack. The bottles were full of Cytomax. On long rides I count on this stuff for energy and acid buffering for my legs. And, I really liked the bottle it was in. Not enough to go back mind you, but I missed it nonetheless.

After a short downhill -- why are the downhills so short when the uphills are so long? -- we hit the "town" of Harlan.


This is just outside Harlan. You can't buy anything there, there are no services. If you need water, there is the river -- hope you have a filter! If you like living near no-one this is your kind of place.

In Harlan, we pick up the last stretch of pavement. This is the biggest climb of the ride, I think, and thanks to the pavement, it's quite do-able.

The image above was taken while riding, over my shoulder at D. riding up the hill behind me. We were riding through lush forests, mostly in the shade. It was wonderful. We were also 2/3 completed.


Once we hit the top, the road returned to gravel and turned down. I don't have many pictures of the next bit because... well... I was hanging on for dear life at times. At times, the gravel turned into fist sized rocks -- my poor 38mm tires! -- and since I was the only one without suspension, I really had to watch what I was doing, and I had to pick my own line. Thank goodness it didn't last very long. If you look at the profile from part 1, we had now gone over three "peaks." The fourth little set of humps wasn't terribly memorable, and I was starting to ride in autopilot mode. But it was during this bit that I began thinking about the gear I was in.

On my 'cross bike, I run a mountain crankset. This gives me 44/32/22 chainrings. Out back, I was running a 12-25 road cassette. It dawned on my that not once had I used my granny ring up front. I started to get excited about this. I thought, "hey, I can middle ring this whole ride!"

I confided this to D. and he responded, "oh, we've got a couple of really nasty climbs up ahead." Oh... thanks.

Next time, I'll wrap up this long tale, and let you know if I did make it without resorting to my granny.

Epic, Part 2

We started at 6am. Frankly, this is earlier than I normally even think about getting up to ride -- especially on a day off -- and here we were rolling out of the parking lot.

My bike is on the right... the odd one in the group. Due to the fact that there is quite a bit of gravel road on this ride, I opted to run my 'cross bike. I was running 39mm wide tires, and these turned out to be too wide since I was hitting my non-drive side chainstay at times. Other than that, the bike performed with aplomb. Notice there are two water bottles on my bike. I'll miss one of them before the end.

We, as a group suffered exactly zero flats on the ride; pretty amazing, really. We did have our first mechanical just a mile from the parking lot. R.'s cleat was acting up. Pulling over, he discovered that he was missing a bolt, and that the other one was loose. Uh, oh. This would make for a l-o-n-g ride, unless... Asking around, we discovered that C. had a spare bolt with him! We fixed the cleat and off we went.

Right away, we were climbing. It wasn't a long climb, but it was steep. The climb started out on pavement, but soon became pea gravel. After we passed through a gate, into an area that is off limits to motorized traffic, the gravel was loose and harder for me on my skinny tires. Standing up was out of the question. Thank goodness it was short.


Once over this small rise, it was mostly downhill to the second section of pavement. The pavement was uneventful, leading us to a nice covered bridge.

This was our first break of the day, and after a brief stop, we soldiered on. We were back on gravel now, and we were loving it. The temperature was still cool -- mid 60's -- and this was the whole reason we left so early, so that was good.

After meandering along the Mary's River for a while, the road turns up, and gets interesting -- at one point disappearing all together!

As we are riding up the first major bit of climbing -- not as steep as the climb we had right off the bat, but much longer -- C. regales us with what happened to him while he was scouting this route. It turns out that he got stuck in the section we are heading toward. His 2WD Suburban just wasn't up to the task of getting him out of a slippery, muddy, rutted double track and going forward, as you'll see, was not a question. He ended up getting towed out and if you ever wonder what the expense is of getting towed of a remote location... well... lets just say it's way, WAY more than your normal towing fee.

After the gravel road climb, we enter a more rugged double track, and this is where the adventure begins. You didn't think this would be a tale of one l-o-n-g gravel road ride, did you? Oh no... the rest of them were on mountain bikes, you recall.

The two track looked like easy sailing at first. It was fast, it was swoopy -- well, as swoopy has two track can get -- and it was pointed down! Then, it got rutted. Then it got overgrown. Then... it disappeared.

Rutted double track:

Hey, where's the trail?
Now the fun part... much of this was stinging nettle.

C. and D. had quite the run in with the stuff last year on their first aborted attempt at the C2Sea. This time, they came prepared for it with plastic bags for their legs.


They even had some for R. and I, but we declined. We were too tough for that. We could handle the little stings. We were MEN, darn it. We got stung and, speaking for myself, inwardly wondered if the plastic bags weren't a good idea. Oh well. Next year, maybe. If no one has a camera out.

Next time, the sea and "where did my full bottle go?" and "you can eat this?"

Epic, Part 1

Epic rides. They happen on the road, off the road, have a mix of both, have a long ride time, many miles, an obstacle to overcome, and more. What makes them all stand out is the memory they make. These are rides that stay with you for years. You look back on them with fondness... they are the rides you talk about. No one talks about riding the local loop for the hundredth time, but that time you ended up riding out in the dark after 10 hours in the saddle... that is the stuff of legends.

Four years ago, I rode the entire North Umpqua Trail in a day with T. and another friend. That was epic, no matter how you define it. It was long -- both in distance and time -- and it was almost entirely singletrack. 70 miles worth. I have never done a ride since, or before, that stands out in my mind as much as that ride does. It is a reference point. Ironically, we did a training ride for it that involved riding the nearly as good McKenzie River Trail as an out and back ride... that one ended up being 52 miles of singletrack and would have been epic, but it paled in comparison to the Umpqua a few weeks later.

I don't get to do enough epic rides.

One week ago, however, I did. I took the day off to ride from Corvallis, OR to the ocean at Newport, off road. There were four of us, C. D. (C's brother), R. and myself. This was C.'s route, and it differs from the route that is being put together officially in a few spots and, notably, it avoids Mary's Peak -- the tallest peak in the Coast Range. That isn't to say there wasn't any climbing, there was. There was 6100ft of climbing.

As you can see, there isn't really any flat areas. We were either going up, or going down. Also, there is very little net elevation loss, since we started at only 300ft above sea level.

The route is similar to the one below (click for jumbo size) but the starting point was at Bald Hill, not in town, as shown.


We met up at 6am and shortly thereafter, we were off! More in Part 2.