Velograph

Well hello friends. Did you enjoy your weekend? I’m still feeling the lingering effects of long saddle time and epic gravel. So let’s not get muddled with words and hit right into the photos. But first I’ll say that my picture taking took a sharp nosedive around mile 54. Soon after I found Matt Sims who had taken a wrong turn, and the two of us worked together for the last seventy or so miles.

Around this time I stopped taking photos. The climbs kept going, and I remember very little besides the heat. Dropping into the White River Wilderness was a real hoot. Baby/squirrel heads on a rutted multiple mile descent were definitely a highlight of the day. Once finding Matt, we proceeded on and a few miles later we came around a corner to see a man in full camo, with full face paint, and a compound bow on the road. He smiled and we hit the gas. Aside from this fifteen or so mile stretch, the rest of the route was full of sun.

This would be a turning point in the race. Still enjoying the work, but my legs were starting to cramp and we were just around halfway done. After the climb from Sherars Bridge was over, my legs were in a constant state of cramp. Shifting between light spinning, mashing, and standing kept me going for the remainder of the race. Shut up legs!

The last two miles back to camp were met with a fierce headwind. The previous five miles were hands down the fastest descending all day. I clocked a 44.3 headed into the wind as we turned our way down the canyon. It was beautiful and totally invigorating.

127 miles. Something around 70+ of gravel. Around 9,000 feet of climbing. Dozens of bottles of water. Six clif bars. Five gel packs. One Pepsi. One Coke. One pack of orange slice gummy candies.

14th out of 47th.

I’ll be back next year.

p.s. Big ups to Team Beer for sticking together. Poor form on Team Beer for not camping with us. You missed out on cupcakes!

It was 70 degrees last Thursday. The sun was shining behind sparse clouds, and there wasn’t a drop of rain in the air. Nothing too spectacular for an August day, but we were headed to Tillamook where the weather is always up in the air. My brother in law and I were on a last minute three day tour and it had all the right things going for it.

Once off the Max in Hillsboro we pedaled through Cornelius, past the trailer park where I used to read meters, through Forest Grove, onto 6 and up over the summit. We took our time, stopped for beers along the way, and worked our asses off. Once in Tillamook we ran errands. Brie from the Blue Heron French Cheese Company, cognac and whiskey from the liquor store. Oysters from the oyster shop. Bread, wine, and other essentials from the market. Finally we arrived at Cape Lookout State Park. We watched the sun set, ate dinner, and passed out.

Not pictured is the brie and cognac. Take a wheel of brie, stab it with a knife a bunch, pour cognac over it, wrap it in two pieces of foil and put near the coals. In about twenty minutes you have amazing cheese for bread.

Knowing that it would be cold in the mountains, and not knowing what the wood situation was, we decided to carry wood for the night. That’s thirty or so pounds of wood on my bike. The Black Star Bags look great too.

Nothing says light camping more than tyvek. Right? Not for me, I prefer the little domicile in the background.

In the morning we made some coffee, ate donuts, and proceeded to get a move on. We crested the big climb right as the sun was putting out full power. We coasted down the mountain to Carlton.

And as all tours go, this one ended. We rode back through Yamhill, and connected to Hwy 47 through Dilley. The weather was perfect, and I for one would have been happy to keep rolling.

So it’s Friday the 13th. A full week since we were in Seattle. Sometimes when I get back from a trip I’ve been waiting on, it’s hard to write about it or put photos up. I think I get a tad depressed when it’s all over and I have to go back to work. So I sit on the material for a bit, muse about what went on, and then half-ass a post about the whole thing.

So last Friday Jose, Misia, and I took Marv to Washington. We left on time, and thanks to Marv’s cruising speed, arrived at the Tapeworm around 1pm. (Marv likes to take breaks.) I don’t like getting within 20 miles of the Worm without stopping by, and seeing as how Messman couldn’t make the weekend trip, we felt it was a great compromise. The outer trails are really overgrown, and the majority of the wooden features in the Tapeworm are broken, but the trail was still fun. I think the best thing possible for this trail would be a temporary closure. Close out the trail for a couple months and the vegetation will come back, bringing the twistiness back to the original design. Just sayin.

After a couple laps we headed into Seattle to secure our lodging and prepare for the party. You know, the Dead Baby Downhill? Or as I’m referring to it (sort of) as the “party where I don’t know half these people.” Having left Seattle two years ago, the changes in personnel, styles, and manners are evident. We had a swell time though.

But a visit to Seattle isn’t the same without a stop by the Monorail, and Wa Leg. Being race day, it was a quiet affair. We jetted quickly.

Finally on top of the hill, surrounded by hundreds of like minded people on bikes. And somewhere around 7 we took off. A mad dash down Capitol Hill, through the International District, and finally to Georgetown, on our mountain bikes. We came for the party, but stayed for the dirt riding. I shared a couple beers during the ride and enjoyed a nice pull of scotch as well.

Now if you’re reading this, you probably remember when I broke my foot at the Westside last year. Yeah, that was awesome, and it really served as a wake up call. Not the stop-drinking-in-the-morning kind of wake up call, but more along the you’re-not-21-anymore line. Since then I’ve healed and more importantly I’ve cut down on the drunken showing off. It really does nobody any good. So with that in mind I ate some food upon arrival in Georgetown, and then proceeded to drink the beer out of my bag, as opposed to waterbottles filled with Manny’s. That shit is heavy, for reals. But I still managed to burn the candle at both ends – responsibly.

At some point Ross called me up and told me to join him for some pizza at Stellars, and within a half an hour I was feeling tops. Ready to roll, because I’m not a big fan of large drunken crowds. I must be getting old, or just cranky.

Early the next morning we awoke on the top floor of a beautiful home on the hill. The sky was grey, the wind was cool, and our hangovers gave up after being bullied by coffee, bacon, eggs, potatoes, and toast. Our wonderful hosts took very nice care of us. Such great friends! But they had a camping trip, and we had a camping trip, and well, they were in different places.

So! We went south. It rained. Hard. The driver side windshield wiper fell off on I-5. We fixed it with a ziptie. Yep! And onwards to Enumclaw, a stop for beer, forties, corndogs, and camping food at the Safeway. A stop at the bike shop for a lost disc brake mounting bolt(Misia is a shredder) and we were finally in the woods.

We met up with Todd, Quon, Cory, and Ross, and soon enough we had Mason, Billy, and Lockwood in tow. An “easy” ride came about and we headed out.

A quick ride turned into a race to the end of Skookum Flats. Flat? No. Technical as can be? Yes. Sweet? Yes. Did you bring any food? No. Bummer. But Billy on the rigid Trek with the Ritchey Pro Logic fork killed all of us. Surprised? Nope.

On the way back we bumped into Littel, Meg, and Shu, and due to our low blood sugar induced mental state, didn’t even recognize em. haha. And upon arrival in camp we were greeted by Chuck and Gerg, and Damian. What a great reception. We made chili with bacon and cheese, ala Devlin and the night was amazing.

In the morning we milled about, made breakfast, and prepared the shuttle to the top of Ranger Creek.
Photo by Gerg who was also kind enough to cook all weekend.

A couple thousand feet later, at the tree line, we prepared the bikes for the ride of the weekend. But not until one more group photo.

And finally we rode some bikes on a big trail.

The initial idea of Noble Knob gave way to unbridled speed, and I was the only rider to make the journey. So much for waiting at intersections. Haha. Beautiful views though, even if it was socked in by fog. But that’s always the case on the Knob.

Palisades was ignored on a time-restraint so we went full bore into Ranger Creek. The chase was on, and you wouldn’t believe so many ex messengers could ride so fast. But holy shit, we burned that trail down. Lockwood blowing minds, and Littel off a recent broken thumb. Good stuff!

And eventually we made it back to camp. With the weekend drawing to a close, and a four hour drive in front of us, we packed up Marv and headed home. Over the passes, on the east side of Rainier and finally back to I-5 just in time for Exit 63 chicken. Perfect.
Photo by Misia.

And here I am a week later, remembering the good times. A week has past, but there’s riding on the horizon. Like Sunday. That sounds like a perfect time to get some of that good bacteria in. I’ll take all I can get.

And last but not least, welcome home Cthulhu Seattle!

So we’re headed to Seattle for the day/night. Dead Baby Downhill year number 14. Yikes.

And tomorrow we’re leaving Seattle early to head south to Ranger Creek. The forecast calls for rain, but by god I’m riding the Palisades and I’m going to stand on the top of the Noble Nob. That is unless there is lightning. In that case I’d have to be a first class idiot to stand on top of an exposed rock formation on the top of a mountain. But hopefully it doesn’t rain so we get a good view of Rainier.

Either way, tomorrow is my four year anniversary with my wife and that is awesome. Best decision I’ve ever made.

Back on Sunday! The first preseason game of football is going on that day. Which means fuck-all, but at least football is back on.