I’ve been busy sleeping, working, and packing for the BC Bike Race. I’ll be leaving the house tomorrow at 3:00am, so see you in the funny papers.
Nothing like a sign of things to come:
Too hard to read???
I’ve got two wheels and so does my BC partner Tim Dougherty. Do the math.
This is my brain on Hell Ride.
Thanks to Keith (Sarah’s beau) for the photo.
Sorry for taking my dandy old time writing this up. An unplanned overnight stay at the Chicago airport left me a little drained.
One knows very little when they enter the Hellride contest. You know that winning means you get to ride 60-75 miles and climb over 13,000 feet, and that there will be a couple pros stomping the course at the same time you’re dragging your sorry ass behind them. If you finish the ride you win a new Santa Cruz Nomad that you just spent the whole day getting very familiar with riding all over the mountains that loom over the small town of Downieville (which I think should be renamed Uppieville as I barely remember riding down anything). All the other obscure details are in the gray areas, off the borders of the map, and beyond definition. Oh yeah, they did bother to mention that this course should be the hardest ever. Thanks.
I spent the better part of Friday traveling on planes and in cars with my enormous duffel of superfluous items that I thought I might need for the trip. When we finally pulled into to Downieville I thought it looked like the facade of Frontier Land at Disney World. We stopped in at Yuba Expeditions to check on the bikes and meet more people than you can shake a people meeting stick at. My bike was waiting for the arrival of the solitary 36 tooth front chainring so I wasn’t able to hop on it right away. Just before suppertime the ring arrived and was mounted quickly so I could bed in the brakes and attempt to dial in the suspension (note that I said “attempt”). I rode the bike around the parking lot, bounced up and down, and decided it was close enough for government work.
We headed across the street for some quality eats and conversation. I put down enough bread and pasta to feed a large Italian family and washed it down with a pitcher of water. Then we all headed back to the shop to put down the traditional night before the Hell Ride shot of liquor. Nothing quite soothes a bloated stomach like a shot of tequila. Urrrrpp. I put down my shot glass and headed back to the room. I’d been up for over twenty hours straight, and I was feeling like ass.
I woke up when my East Coast internal clock started ringing three hours before the start of the ride. I killed some time watching my portable DVD player until everybody started stirring in the “treehouse”. We headed off to a fine breakfast where I enjoyed some eggs cooked in bacon grease covered in salsa and chased down with all the coffee I could scrounge. I only needed to get enough food in my belly for the first loop as we would pass right by the grocery store before we head into the second and final loop. The charred embryo pig meat gut-bomb combo would certainly keep me fueled up for a long time, or not.
I have no idea when we left for the ride exactly, but instead of it being joined by Weir, Sarah, and Rachel I was in a group with Weir and his merry men from WTB and Santa Cruz. Some were just along for the ride and Danno from Santa Cruz was there to serve as my major mechanical support. I was carrying what I needed for basic repairs, but he had spare mechs, hangers, and what-not in his pack to make sure a major malfunction wouldn’t end my day. We headed out of Downieville at a neutral pace, but as we entered the first climb the pace went through the roof. I held onto the back of the pack for awhile, then I rode in their settling dust, and finally they were out of sight. Huh? Not what I expected, but I guess that’s how it was going to go.
I climbed alone for quite awhile until I finally caught back up to one of the merry men, and just like that he popped and went off the back. A little while later I caught up to Danno and another rider, and soon after that they fell out of my rear view mirror and back down the mountain. I continued climbing alone up the loose and steep doubletrack and at most of the intersections a moto rider would point me in the right direction. Occasionally the trail would give me a chance to recover with a short descent, but unfortunately I found out that my parking lot suspension test wasn’t thorough enough. The fork was diving way too deep into it’s travel and packing up while the rear was shooting my ass up in the air. Obviously I was wishing I had spent more time tuning the suspension, but luckily I kept running into Greg from Yuba on his moto, and he would tweak it a little bit here and there to get the bike back in line. I was incredibly thankful as I really didn’t want to do the whole ride with a six inch fork locked out (as I had for the first umpteen miles). I didn’t have a watch, but I figure I climbed for 2/3’s of an eternity until I popped up out above the tree line. It was finally time to go downhill (well mostly downhill).
The downhill is just a blur in my memory bank. Riding over petrified footballs and deep powdery dirt at high rates of speed is pretty much all consuming and hypnotic. I finally realized I had been riding for too many hours fueled only by my greasy breakfast and one gel, so I took a short break to suck back two gels and shake the cobwebs outta my brain. Before I knew it I was back in town at the grocery store buying Gatorade, Coke, Nutter Butter’s, and peanut M&M’s. The Gatorade went in my Camelbak, the Nutter Butter’s went in my pant leg, the M&M’s went in my jersey pocket, and the Coke went straight down my throat. I was good to go out for round two.
Dane from WTB decided to head out with me on the second loop. I was told it was a gravel road climb instead of the crazy loose stuff, but that it was a “little steep” at the beginning. Less than ten minutes in I stopped to “butter my muffin” so to speak. My taint was starting to feel the effects of climbing on the front of the saddle and some TLC was required. Dane rode on ahead, but I caught back up to him and eventually he dropped back out of sight. The road had some steep-ass pitches and in between the gut wrenching sections I pounded my Nutter Butter’s. When I went to eat the M&M’s the bag was soaking wet with sweat, and it spilled it’s vital contents onto the dusty gravel road as I pulled it from my jersey pocket. Being a person of low standards I found that they were still quite tasty after being covered with sweat and dirt, so I pulled over and collected my scattered morsels and had a nice picnic under the hot sun.
The climb continued, but the severity of the pitch decreased eventually. The moto guys were going ahead to make sure I made all the right turns… well almost all the right turns. I came to an unmanned fork in the road, so I pulled out my map so I could make an informed decision. Unfortunately this part of the course wasn’t on the map, so I relied on my memory of a misunderstood suggestion. I zigged when I shoulda zagged, and I ended up climbing an extra mountain on a road that dead ended at a lookout tower. Ooops. I turned around and blasted down the mountain knowing the my moto companions would be looking for me. I got back to the missed turn and headed down the road balls-out trying to make up for lost time and vent some frustrations created by my detour.
I saw the motorcycle coming around the blind corner before I heard the engine noise over the rushing wind. He was blasting up the road looking for me and I was bombing down. I saw his eyes get real big and we both moved a little (I mean a little) to our respective rights. As we made our way past each other at a combined speed of well over 60MPH my handlebar passed under his. It was as if we were Blue Angels, except I was doing my share of the flying tricks piloting an ultralite aircraft. We both pulled up to a quick stop, and he apologized profusely. I was too pumped full of adrenalin to care about my mortality at the time, and was just glad we were both smiling when it was over.
From that point on I had a small decline in morale. The route took us above the treeline again and along some precarious slopes. These were the “I hope they find the body so my family can have closure” kinda drops, and my fear of heights was making me a little shakey. I was hoping for some relief, but the climb continued on swapping from one side of the mountain, over the ridge, and to the other side. The wind was so powerful that while I was on the right side of the mountain I was actually blown over twice while pushing my bike. By the time I reached the actual summit my hands were shaking and my eyes were bugging out of my head with fear, but at least it was over. Or was it?
I was so shaken up by the unrelenting exposure that I couldn’t get my head back in the game. I was all over the trail, and a couple times I had some real “OH SHIT!” moments. I had to pull over, bang myself in the helmet, and get my head straight. I also dropped the PSI in my front tire way down, and then life got sooooo much better. Oh yeah, the double caffeine espresso Gu probably didn’t hurt either. Things started falling into place, and easy street just got more crowded. Smiles and miles to go to the finish.
The last few miles required no effort. My bike and I had finally gotten familiar enough with each other that I was “pouring like an avalanche coming down the mountain”. I got on the gas and enjoyed a pain free ride into town not feeling any of the miles I had put behind me in my legs. I wasn’t sure what was expected of me, but I felt like I had put in an honorable effort. I never saw Weir after the first twenty minutes or so, and I rode alone about 95% of the time. It was an incredible ride, and it was a nice private hell.
A big thanks to Santa Cruz for setting this up; the course, the support, the logistics, everything. Even if they took the new bike outta the equation the experience was still so worth it (but seriously, send that bike my way when you get a chance). The folks that told me I was lucky for being selected don’t know the half of it. I usually have to pay people a lot of money to organize a painful experience for me. In the end Hell Ride was way more than I had hoped for. The isolation, the heavy bike, the big gear, the ridiculous climbs, the party, the people, the life.
Sweet, perfect suffering on two wheels, the way it should be.
Photos should be up soon on the Santa Cruz site.
Tonight it will be tall tales and tall boys 
with the Big Worm, so I don’t think I’ll be getting up early Thursday morning to blog.
That would make this my last post before I journey to hell.
“That’s Death dude.”
Here’s to immense amounts of pain with one ring.
Here’s to running over everything and anyone, especially British children.
Here’s to a weekend that should be far from the norm.
Here’s to meeting new people and seeing new things.
Flight, beer, pain, beer, flight… in that order.
Famous hell quotes (kinda):
“We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Well except for me. Mark Weir is my devil and Mike Ferrentino is his demon spawn right hand man who makes my hell for me”
“If you are going through hell, keep going. Well, that is until you get to Downieville and stop for some Little Debbie’s snack cakes. Then you can keep going again.”
Santa Cruz said I can put my own saddle on the Nomad.
I think this would look pretty sharp on that high zoot rig, don’t you?
The Big Worm was back in town last night. He seemed just a LITTLE EXCITED about his Trans Germany experience. Although he is currently bikeless his cup runneth over in the enthusiasm department. I got a few highlights last night, but beers are planned in the near future so I can get the whole scoop. He did let me know that he and Tommawicki Wicki Wicki carried the Bad Idea Racing concept to the Euros quite well. He managed to snag a pink mini skirt for the final stage, and chest bumps were given out in Sam’s Club quantities at the after party (we’re bringing the bump back baby). There was no wrestling, but Tommawicki Wicki Wicki did arm wrestle the male half of the winning co-ed team. Although they didn’t have to sleep outside or stand around naked waiting for an open shower their race was hardly without mishap and adventure. They definitely had some challenges to overcome that made for a real once in a lifetime event.
Congrats
Represent
Yes, I watched a very old episode of the original Star Trek on my birthday.
This little guy also showed up for some fostering.
Conroy has a broken leg, so he needs a little TLC to get back on his feet again.
Saturday I figured instead of training for the Hellride I should reconnect with my full squish roots. No, I didn’t ride a bouncy bike, but I did watch some talented folks use their articulated riding machines to jump off of some dangerous precipices at the Pee Wees Festival in Lincolnton, NC. Some of those little rubber people were doing a drop that was about 20 feet down and 15 feet out. Spooky compound fracture kinda stuff.
(photo from Robert Seth/MTBR.com)
I guess I better get some Dickies and a chain wallet before I head out to California this Friday.
I rode the Pee Wee’s XC trails on both my Zion and the Berserker just to give them a head to head shootout MBA style. That was unfortunate as the Berserker is a true performer, and there is very little chance I’ll get the Thylacine V2 before I leave for Canada in less than two weeks.
SO….
Sunday I just went out to a local trail on the Zion to get used to riding it again, and only it. It’s still a great bike, and it’s hands down better than my old 26″ wheeled ti rig. I just have to accept my pretty certain fate that I will have at least one more adventure on it before passing it on to the next person.
Speaking of the next person Team 283/Bad Idea Racing finished up the Trans Germany on Saturday. The Race Face site has not been updated since stage five, but I assure you that they are listed among the finishers on the German website. They should be back in town in a day or two, and I look forward to haring the live version of their tale.
Tommawicki Wicki WIcki and The Big Worm are ripping it up at the Trans Germany race. Bill broke his Spicer frame and had to ride stage four on a bike built for a 6′1″ guy. He called me last night to tell me that he has procured a smaller frame to finish out the week. He also told me that they have been traveling all week with Team Rocky Mountain Haywood. Who’s that? Just Carsten Bresser and Alison Sydor. How freaking cool is that? They are having the time of their lives, and there are just a couple more days to go till they become the first SS finishers at the Trans Germany (this is the first year of the race). They are the only American team there, and the only SS’ers. Read all about their adventures and see the videos here (Race Face is doing a much better job documenting the race this time). BTW: They will show up on the official results as Bad Idea Racing because Team 283 was to confusing as there was already a team with the number plate 283. Hooray Bad Idea Racing!!!! Does this mean I need to be incorporated?
Sunday is my birthday. I’ll be 38 years old. Last year I was at the Lumberjack 50 (haha) on my birthday, but this year I’ll be much closer to home. I have to do what I can to limit the effects of my birthday curse. No racing on tap for me. Just hanging out around the home and riding the Berserker as much as I can.
Anticipation for the Thylacine V2 is killing me. It’s been nine months since I decided to go with big wheels, and I have been anxiously awaiting the day when I get on a custom built 29′er. I am a somewhat patient man, but it just seems like my luck wants to test my limits and see if my sanity can hold out. I’m looking at a 50/50 chance of having it before BC Bike Race. After that I have a big gap in time before I do anything else so after I step on the plane it will be much easier to be patient again.
One week till the Hell Ride. Mike Ferrentino sent me an email about my lack of motivation to train. Something about the course “ripping me a new one” if I get all fat and lazy, or something like that. I can picture the beautiful suffering that awaits me in California. I envision long climbs being ridden slackjawed and drooling. The best part is I normally pay people so I can feel like that. I can’t wait.
BTW: It has been raining for days and days in Charlotte. I don’t mind so much, but my messnger bag is stinking so bad that it is starting to vibrate. I’m sure the people in the crowded elevators are just loving me to death. You can actually see the cartoon stink lines radiating from my bag. I stink.
Doesn’t everybody use a carbon bar to air their bag out??
We were given cases of razors from Schick that had Youngstown State printed on the handle. With each sample pack there were two replacement blades included. As rush week came to a close my manager asked us (the back room boys) to get rid of all the leftover razors. She didn’t care what happened to them as long as they were out of her store by Monday. I came home with a few cases strapped to my back and a smile on my face. If I had to guess I would say it was the fall of 1991.
I have been shaving my face and legs since that time, and about a decade ago I stepped up my game and started shaving my arms. I have not bought a razor in sixteen years. I don’t know how much longer my supply will last, but I’m pretty sure I still have a few years to go before I run out. I was looking at razors in a drug store the other day, and I was astounded to see how much people pay for these things. My technology is so old that when I got my stockpile two bladed razors were the “new thing”. Now I see the ultimate form of razors are up to five blades wide. I believe this advanced technology can be directly linked to our extensive travel into outerspace (that would explain NASA’s inflated budget).
Why bother writing about this? No clue. I just smile every time I stick a new blade on that red handle and start harvesting the whiskers. I’m sure a little inventory work and some math would allow me to estimate how much longer I have, but I think it will be a lot more fun to just ride it out and see how long it lasts.
Frugal: characterized by or reflecting economy in the use of resources
I designed the Penguin. Nice Oakley’s, huh??? Our team name? The YSU Penguin Flyers of course.
Happy fifth birthday Nia Pet!!!!!
Don’t worry, you’ll grow into them.
Someday we’ll find it
The ass-ball connection
The lovers
The dreamers
and me
My taint don’t hurt enough lately. I need more riding. Too many sweets. Too much thinking about bike parts and not enough saddle time. A certain lack of future goals is leaving me with little motivation to get in miles. Gotta hit restart somehow.
Out early this AM for some “training”.
Being that the Berserker and the Thylacine V2 share similar geometry I realized I could get ahead of the game and fit myself to the bike I had in hand and transfer the knowledge to the new when it arrives. I headed out to the USNWC with a bagful of stems, an extra post/saddle, some tools, a tape measure, and too many preconceived notions. The trail offers a lot of high speed rough downhills and plenty of climbing to get a good enough feel for the bike in varied terrain.
Although Warwick had certain things in mind when he designed the frame I had a hard time unlearning what I inherited from the Zion experience. I spent too much time measuring things and thinking things over for the last week. I ended up putting the same .5″ setback seatpost and 50mm stem from the Zion onto the Berserker. That’s not what it was designed for, but it felt good enough in the driveway, so….
At first I was quite uncomfortable and awkward. I figured I would just have to adapt to the new bike the way I always do. The front end was super easy to get up, but I just didn’t feel like I was in a good place on the bike. I had a hard time getting behind the saddle on a steep drop in on the trail and the experience was dissapointing so I cut the lap short and headed back to the Sammy for a parts swap. I pushed the saddle back on the rails .5″, and I put my 70mm stem that was on my Dean since back in the La Ruta wonder years up front. Back out for another try.
What do you know? Everything just started to fall into place. I pushed the bike hard, and it didn’t mind one bit. I attempted to overwhelm the bike in the corners, but it wouldn’t give up. Drops, downhills, climbs, everything and anything could throw at it. It just felt like the bike disappeared from underneath me. I was smiling bigger than I have in a long time (without being in the mountains), and just loving the ride. The only limiting factor was the puny cyclocross tire in the rear. I was going way too fast and furious, and I ended up pinch flatting twice. Was I carrying two 700X35 tubes on the ride? Of course not. I didn’t even have tire levers. Needless to say I was bummed about ending the ride early, and I am still fantasizing about getting that bike back out on the trail.
Now to cover the shill factor. I’m plunking a decent amount of money into this project. Warwick isn’t really profitting from this deal either (especially with two overnight shipping charges which ended up being pointless). We do have an association, but if I hated the bike I would continue my search elsewhere and not fake a positve ride report. The geometry is everything Warwick said it would be. I’m not sure if I’ve ever ridden a bike that felt that “right and exact” so soon. I am clicking my ruby red Sidi’s together and crossing my fingers in the hopes that the Thylacine V2 will be on my porch before I leave for Canada for the first really big thing this year for me (June 29th).
FYI: Race Face started posting the goods on Team 283 at Trans Germany.
Position is an important thing. If you do something in the wrong position for a little while you might end up sore. Ignore the problem long enough, and you may end up doing damage. I’ve been dealing with poor positioning since sometime around the beginning of the year, and I’ve been ignoring the “discomfort” associated with it. As usual I have been taking the Homer Simpson approach to the problem: “Ignore it long enough and it will go away”. Well Homer has never steered me wrong in the past, but I don’t think this one is going away. I asked The Pie (a registered nurse) what she thought and she said I have the tell tale symptoms of carpal tunnel syndrome. I’ve always figured that was an ailment for the weak and feeble, so I kept on doing what I was doing.
Eventually my problem was affecting my work. I was having a hard time holding the grips without some awkwardness, and carrying boxes on my bars was more uncomforatble than usual. I looked into solving my problem, but most of the solutions cost money. I am not going to a doctor over this so I needed to correct the cause of my current dilemma. After a lot of brain storming I remembered something laying in the garage that could possibly be fashioned into what I need.
Behold:
“Gee dad, looking at internet porn is so much better now.”
Yes, my keyboard position was the thing that was killing me. When we moved my computer to the bike room to make room for the Nia Pet I just threw it on the workbench. It only moved the keyboard up an inch, but my chair was already maxed out in height. Since late February I have been noticing an increase in pain, and an increase in time staring at the monitor. I put two and two together and got six, but afer re-analyzing the stats I got four. I had to make a change, but as usual I suffered rather than do anything that costs money (outside the bike world of course). Real keyboard trays cost upwards of $50, and I just don’t want to put that kinda money into the computer world. I guess I have to thank my parents for buying me an Erector Set when I was little because just seeing the unused shelving unit in my garage flipped the creative switch necessary to see something that wasn’t intended in the instruction sheet.
It’s hideous. It’s orange. It’s effective. It’s free. It will enable me to continue to blog and surf into the near future so it is lovely. It’s also way more impressive than all of Dave “Thomas Edison” Harris’s LED lights put together (from an engineering perspective).
Oh yeah, I put a freewheelin’ wheel on the Berserker and messed with my position on the bike over the weekend. More on that tomorrow.
