I love Mr. Show.
Making the most out of shitty singletrack videos
Posted in Booze, Dirt, Other
Why do singletrack videos always come filled with shitty techno? Man it kills me.
If I were to make helmet-cam videos of trail riding you better believe there wouldn’t be any techno, and the music might be more along the lines of Iron Maiden, Red Fang, Comets on Fire, or perhaps some super stoner metal like The Sword. Not that I’m pigeonholing myself here. Just giving some insight into what really makes mountain biking great. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a fan of the trail beer, the green sticky, and the long days in the saddle. Just sayin.
Here we see good use of a helmet cam, but the music choice is absolutely terrible (sorry if this is your video). Might I suggest watching this with the sound muted, while this plays in another tab?
Because when you can’t ride, youtube is all you got. As for me, this weekend may not see any riding, but I will be floating down the John Day River. Fishing. Drinking. Next weekend however will see some dirty, dirty miles.
Nothing wrong with Thursdays
Posted in Booze, Cthulhu, Dirt
I work so that I can ride, eat, drink, and sleep. I ride so I can drink more. I eat so that I can keep riding. I drink because it makes me a better person. I sleep so that I can do it all again tomorrow.
At first I thought a short ride sounded like a good idea
Posted in Cthulhu, Pavement
But then I made the mistake of looking at this page. Next thing I knew I was headed out on Stark not entirely sure if I was ready for a long day in the saddle. A couple weeks ago, after the 6 hours of Mt Hood and the Test of Endurance, I was in primo shape. Everything was working smoothly, and my endurance was on point. But a week and a half of traveling in a car, and little to no sustained riding took it’s toll. I may only be thirty, but I’m fully aware that if I want to stay in good shape, I’m going to have to work on it – constantly. Not like that’s a bad thing.
Unlike the heat we had last week, yesterday was a mild day. But it was still warm in the sun, and I was happy to find small amounts of shade where I could along Stark. That’s a nine mile stretch of sprawl. No trees, no tall buildings.
After paying the traffic dues, a turn onto Historic Hwy 30 is a welcome reward. The climb starts about here, and it goes for about twenty miles. Eventually leaving Hwy 30 and taking E Larch Mtn Rd means the last fourteen miles await. The mile markers click it off all the way up.
Once at the top, there’s a short trail leading to a look out. If you’ve ridden this far, you would be an idiot to not take the extra 1/4mile bit. Once on top, everything comes into focus.
Mount Jefferson, Mt Hood, Mt Adams, Mt Rainier, and Mt St. Helens are all visible from this one spot. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was about 80 degrees. This is what Oregon is all about.
I’ve lived in Portland for almost two years now, and I’m becoming more familiar with our nearest mountain. Mt Hood has many faces, this being one of my favorites. Sharp, tall, and covered with snow. After a short stay, it was time to head back home. Forty miles to go. Back in Corbett I stopped for a can of coke and while I was enjoying it in the shade, my rear tire blew. But I was in such good spirits, I took it as an excuse to relax a bit more before dealing with the city traffic, which was in full swing by 5: 30.
This weekend: Rickreall farm roads.
Almost dialed in full
Posted in Cthulhu, Dirt
The top portion of Sandy Ridge may not be open, but the lower portion is nearly dialed in. There are a few gravel turns still needing to be bermed out, but for the most part it’s close to perfect.
The old pinball section has been reworked with steeper walls, and a couple choice tabletops. We went out on Sunday and rode the section five times, each time a bit faster. I can’t wait for the top section to open next week. I think I know where I’ll be on the twentieth.
I’d have photos, but I’m a numbskull and I forgot my camera. Bummer.
Getting rad in Southern California
Posted in Other
I’m from East of LA. San Gabriel Valley. A town called Duarte, or Durock if you’re a gangbanger. I am not, but I do know how to throw signs up. I spent twenty years in the area and yet I don’t feel much attachment to the area. Things change every couple of years, and for the most part, the area I once knew no longer exists. Many businesses that were a part of my growing up have since closed, but the haze still lingers.
So that’s a bit of a downer way to start a post right? Is there anything good to say about the trip south? The title of this post makes it seem like it.
Well here we go then.
Riding in Southern California is different than riding in Oregon. While we are known for our wet roots, my experiences down south usually involve poison oak, sharp rocks, haze, and yet some pleasant flowy trails. The options for riding seem to be less, but the quality is still pretty good. We’re not talking Oakridge here, but I’ll take what I can get.
Santa Monica Mountains. When we arrived at the trailhead, the area was socked in with fog. At the top of the trail it had finally started to lift.
Most of the trails I’ve ridden in this area are out-and-backs, and this one was no exception. Luckily it was up up up and then down down down. I didn’t bring the Kona with me on this trip and opted to give a geared bike a try. This was a Niner-something that was a blast to ride. I might have to add a geared bike to the stable…
A trip home is never over until we make it to East LA. My friend Dave is living in the house his grandparents bought in the fifties. He’s doing all the repairs by himself, living the dream.
The Fourth of July in El Sereno is amazing. Professional fireworks are cool and all, but watching a two hour illegal fireworks war from the roof of Dave’s house was better than anything I’ve ever seen.
The next morning, after waking up in El Sereno we headed back toward the hotel. I was getting picked up by my brother-in-law for one last day of mountain biking for the trip.
Marshall Canyon near La Verne. This trail is shared by runners and horses. On a holiday this trail is extremely busy, and this one was no exception. Another out and back with some nice little kickers all the way down. Again on the Niner, which has no problems boosting over logs and spending a few seconds in the air. Good stuff.
It’s always nice to experience riding in different areas. It’s also nice to get back to local trails, and as of this posting I’m headed out in two days. Preferably somewhere a little cooler than Portland. Damn it’s hot.
Wreck’d on the Umpqua
Posted in Booze, Cthulhu, Dirt, Travel
Where do I live? I live in paradise. It seems like around every bend is another beautiful mountain, river, trail, or valley. I truly am a lucky man. My luck also has something to do with working for myself. Which means that when I received the call from R Kelley about a four day mountain bike adventure in Southern Oregon, I didn’t have to ask the boss for the time off. Well actually I had to ask the wife, she’s really the boss.
And so Friday morning we loaded up the bus, and ventured south on I5. Somewhere around Sutherlin we exited and worked our way up the mountains. The campsite we found wasn’t very private, but there was a small loop to ride around and the hot springs were just a short hike away. After four hours in the bus, and what seemed like two in the market stocking up, sitting in the sulfur water was amazing.
Bright and early the next morning, before the hippies descended and before we hit the trails we spent a little more time in the tubs. If I could soak before every ride, I think I would. But we didn’t drive all this way to sit in hot tubs all day. We came to ride.
We were camped at the bottom of the “Dread and Terror” section, so we took the gravel road to the top. Thirteen miles of loose gravel in the hot sun.
When we finally hit the turn off, Mason and I were greeted by a mint Westfalia that looked much like Marv, but in much better condition. It was indeed a sign of good things to come.
Down the road a bit, before the trail started we crossed Lemolo Lake and got a great view of Mt. Thielson. Another half mile down the road we found the trail.
About a mile and half after dropping in we paused to check out Lemolo Falls. A 102 foot tall waterfall that we sat on top of. I climbed down to the edge to find an beautiful site. I have never seen colors so vivid before. We put our feet in the water, ate some food, and stared at the waterfall for quite some time.
Having ridden only a mile of singletrack all day, it was finally time to start moving. While I never felt dread or terror, this thirteen mile section of trail was a doosie. Technical rock sections, multiple streams running down the trail, constant ups and downs, and steep drop offs into the river far below made this a long day in the saddle.
Close to the bottom, on the brink of running out of drinking water, we came across a pool of turquoise water. I must have stared at this pool for a good ten minutes. I’m thirty years old and I’ve never seen colors like this. It might have been the dehydration, the beer, or the grass, but everything in Oregon looks good.
The next morning we broke camp and headed towards Oakridge. Highway 138 comes ten miles from Crater Lake, and being the tourists that we are, we tacked the extra miles on to get a couple pictures.
We finally made it to the bottom of the Alpine trail, set up camp and shuttled to the top. I know what you’re saying, and I would have gladly ridden to the top, but this is a democracy we live in. I gave in and was happy sit on my ass the whole way up the mountain.
It’s been a couple years since I last rode this trail and wasn’t quite sure where the drop in was, so when I finally found it I celebrated with a “frosty” beverage while I waited for the others to arrive. From there on out it was nothing but yeehaws! and woo hoos! all the way to the bottom.
I offered this trail in contrast to the Umpqua section we rode the day earlier and it was met with much fanfare.
Back at camp we broke into the Four Loko. By Ryan’s suggestion we bought four of these horrible cans. Fruit punch and blue raspberry. I pretty much blacked out after I took this photo. I also poured some on the shrimp we were cooking. This is a great way to make sure you feel like shit the next day.
In the morning, with the sweet taste of hangover a couple of us rode up the mountain to take one more swing at the trail. Two hours of climbing in the sun was rewarded with an hour of shaded descent. At the bottom, Mason was ready to roll, I was exhausted, and the reality of it being Monday started sinking in. We had to go home. When you work for yourself, you can’t blame the lack of production on anyone else.
God damn I love Oregon.