Following Saturday’s experience at Clear Creek led by Jonala with Mcassle and me in tow, I arrived back at the bachelor pad for some well-deserved rest after darkness set in. Next morning it was laundry day – four washers going at one time! Of utmost importance were my weasel squeezers (MTB pants) and other gear for this morning’s invitational ride. Last week the phone guy noticed (sound like a movie? Or was that the Cable Guy?) I had a bike – one with engine, one without – and invited me to join him on a mountain bike ride. Warning him I haven’t for a few months did not dissuade him.
Come the end of laundry duty I threw MTB gear into the car and sped to the predetermined location. Another fellow showed, part of the big-belly crew and aged, with an equally aged MTB w/o suspension – all to my relief, as I want to get off to a slow start and easy reentry. We exchange greetings (his name is Mark), and as it turned out, he was invited by his daughter’s soccer teammate father (that’s a mouthful), Carlos. Turns out he works for the same company, although a different division.
As we were donning our goods, Carlos and the phone guy, Mitch, pedal on up on their expensive bikes – both Mark and I get this sinking feeling, seeing all these exotic-to-us billet parts, thinking we’ve become fodder for their amusement and torture. Oh well; such is the risk. They look like roadies with exception of cleated yet streamlined shoes; me low-budget entry-level MTB, and Mark a casual Sunday cruiser from the white tennis shoes to the standard-issue bell casual bike helmet.
Mitch explains the game plan and we head off for a mile up the paved road to jump some fences. At the first, we encounter two other MTBers who add their comment for the day, then once over the fence. Mitch & Carlos jet off up a well-established trail, moderately uphill. The place has all the appearances of a cattle ranch, droppings and all. ~ 1mile up the trail, we regroup in the order of equipment and fitness: Mitch first and foremost, Carlos a respectable second, me a distant third, and Mark carrying far but visible the rear. Mitch explains the route progressively at intervals, saying if we are noticed by the typically inebriated caretaker, go about our business regardless; if we get the first spotting then lay in wait for an opportunity to either resume or turn back, depending upon his observable intentions.
The first soil sample was taken by yours truly when following Carlos too closely, too fast; rounding a hairpin the front end didn’t stick and washed out. I did a one-handed mini-superman; today my shoulder is slightly sore.
Did I say this place was beautiful? We were weaving thru oak trees, the grass was green, and the trails somewhat established from the cattle. Speaking of cattle, the one thing they produce in quantity and variable consistency had littered the trails. Whenever I’d get too close to Carlos, the stuff would fling up into the air, at times landing upon my person. But I was doing my best to avoid the stuff with my own tires. I quickly learned when it’s dry, it’s OK; it’s the darker, shiny droppings you want to avoid. And of course the trails are littered with the stuff.
Every so often we’d cross a graded road, but quickly reconnect to single track. Mitch kept up a good pace but stopped regularly for an orientation review, and to wait for Mark. Did I say it was beautiful? It’s going to be a fine spring, with many flowers on their way, waiting to blossom.
At one break spot we observed a herd congregating near two bulls. The younger was to our relief on the opposite side of the fence, while the herd and an old ancient bull on ours. A minute later when they finally noticed our stationary presence, the herd came in our direction in one accord, and the slow-to-catch-on old bull followed, then bellowed (as if we cared) to announce his presence and “power”. The herd stopped halfway, and it was time for us to move on.
More single track followed by road connectors. This area is also pumped for oil, and we would see these grasshopper rigs every so often. Carlos spotted a pickup truck adjacent to one at a distance, but it appeared the mechanic was busy and not interested in what we were up to.
We came to a spot where Interstate 10 could be seen, and a microwave tower for reference. At that point we crossed a large open area, then up a real grinder (uphill); I needed three breather-breaks on the way up. By then Mitch commented I’m ready and qualified to join his regular MTB group on more rides, but we weren’t done yet. Past the uphill there was this peak/slope with ruts (my nemesis); I was going way too fast and leaned over into a bush. Little did I know Carlos and Mitch were watching; the latter offered a riding tip – go with it next time instead of fighting the rut by staying on a rise. Then came this treacherous, steep, long downhill that wound thru oaks and bushes. Did I say it was beautiful? Carlos mentioned to me the presence of poison oak, which gave me another thing to watch out for. We had another albeit short uphill to climb, and down again thru a beautiful oak valley. Then came the last grinder for the day. Mitch met us at the top, having been able to pedal all the way up, Carlos carried his bike, Mark hiked it, and I carried the rear by half pedal powering it and half walking – heart pounding.
Rejoining where we had spun off on our 8-mile loop, it was back to the fence where we started. Mitch and Carlos raced off, me in the middle, then Mark carrying the rear. As I straddled the fence the “No Trespassing” sign became evident. This was not a place to found, so we headed back to the meeting place to say our farewells and vowed to meet up again, exchanging phone numbers.
Mitch did mention I should wash my bike ASAP as poison oak can be carried by it. Come to think of it even days later my face feels a little itchy, but it may be just in my mind. Upon close examination it was discovered my swing arm suffered a stress crack; I’ll have to find a good welder in town in order to continue these kinds of excursions.
Monday evening I head out to San Luis Obispo for grocery shopping and to attend the Cal Poly Penguin motorcycle club’s meeting. I arrive late, missing most of the meeting but find it to be a group of college-aged fellows, 30 or so in attendance. They were finishing up discussing their D/37 dual sport ride, then went right into raffling off some donated low-dollar motorcycle goods (shucks - I did not win any), followed by a blooper nominating session. The stories were amusing; one led to another. The winner of the dozen nominations was a fellow captured on film donning a brassiere; yes, we had to look at it. So he has to attach the cowbell to his bike and wear the momentous hat each outing until next month. They had a list passing around three sign-up lists for a trail ride in Pozo this Saturday, Clear Creek in two weeks, and Mexico (spring break?)
After the meeting refreshments were served (punch, cookies) and I had a few conversations, one with the club VP. I asked him if there were any older club members and he mentioned two 35 YO guys (yeah, right! Older?), and I was going to ride the club’s Pozo enduro 24 years ago but it was cancelled due to snow. The 120-mile organized/AMA sanctioned dual sport ride replaced the enduro and funds the club throughout the year. He said he’d e-mail me re: the Pozo ride this Saturda, and added the club has a secure storage shed on campus, a nominal fee for its use is $10, and the club fee is the same per school quarter; no need to be a student to be a member.
When I arrived back at my apartment there was a UPS sticker attached to the door; it’s Eric Gorr’s engine shipping crate! Goodie! It’s now in town.
Having lost a pickup tire last weekend at Clear Creek I was in the market for a used one to match my three others of the wore down set, and none of the 10 tire stores in town had anything in the size needed, except a lowly yet busy place on the west side of town. The guys were preoccupied with other customers, so I wandered in their back yard for a look-see - it’s like a whole acre, all organized on racks. I was busy getting lost until unknowingly wandering by the watchdog’s day quarters – yeeouch! And I’m off to the front to wait for help. They did have one tire in the size I needed, and $30 later I was on my way.
Last night I went to the library to access my Hotmail, but the waiting queue for computers was five deep, so I went back to install my new-to-me tire and organize parts for shipment to Eric Gorr. I picked it up the crate last night, and packed it for shipping out today.
OK: that’s it for a few weeks.
Come the end of laundry duty I threw MTB gear into the car and sped to the predetermined location. Another fellow showed, part of the big-belly crew and aged, with an equally aged MTB w/o suspension – all to my relief, as I want to get off to a slow start and easy reentry. We exchange greetings (his name is Mark), and as it turned out, he was invited by his daughter’s soccer teammate father (that’s a mouthful), Carlos. Turns out he works for the same company, although a different division.
As we were donning our goods, Carlos and the phone guy, Mitch, pedal on up on their expensive bikes – both Mark and I get this sinking feeling, seeing all these exotic-to-us billet parts, thinking we’ve become fodder for their amusement and torture. Oh well; such is the risk. They look like roadies with exception of cleated yet streamlined shoes; me low-budget entry-level MTB, and Mark a casual Sunday cruiser from the white tennis shoes to the standard-issue bell casual bike helmet.
Mitch explains the game plan and we head off for a mile up the paved road to jump some fences. At the first, we encounter two other MTBers who add their comment for the day, then once over the fence. Mitch & Carlos jet off up a well-established trail, moderately uphill. The place has all the appearances of a cattle ranch, droppings and all. ~ 1mile up the trail, we regroup in the order of equipment and fitness: Mitch first and foremost, Carlos a respectable second, me a distant third, and Mark carrying far but visible the rear. Mitch explains the route progressively at intervals, saying if we are noticed by the typically inebriated caretaker, go about our business regardless; if we get the first spotting then lay in wait for an opportunity to either resume or turn back, depending upon his observable intentions.
The first soil sample was taken by yours truly when following Carlos too closely, too fast; rounding a hairpin the front end didn’t stick and washed out. I did a one-handed mini-superman; today my shoulder is slightly sore.
Did I say this place was beautiful? We were weaving thru oak trees, the grass was green, and the trails somewhat established from the cattle. Speaking of cattle, the one thing they produce in quantity and variable consistency had littered the trails. Whenever I’d get too close to Carlos, the stuff would fling up into the air, at times landing upon my person. But I was doing my best to avoid the stuff with my own tires. I quickly learned when it’s dry, it’s OK; it’s the darker, shiny droppings you want to avoid. And of course the trails are littered with the stuff.
Every so often we’d cross a graded road, but quickly reconnect to single track. Mitch kept up a good pace but stopped regularly for an orientation review, and to wait for Mark. Did I say it was beautiful? It’s going to be a fine spring, with many flowers on their way, waiting to blossom.
At one break spot we observed a herd congregating near two bulls. The younger was to our relief on the opposite side of the fence, while the herd and an old ancient bull on ours. A minute later when they finally noticed our stationary presence, the herd came in our direction in one accord, and the slow-to-catch-on old bull followed, then bellowed (as if we cared) to announce his presence and “power”. The herd stopped halfway, and it was time for us to move on.
More single track followed by road connectors. This area is also pumped for oil, and we would see these grasshopper rigs every so often. Carlos spotted a pickup truck adjacent to one at a distance, but it appeared the mechanic was busy and not interested in what we were up to.
We came to a spot where Interstate 10 could be seen, and a microwave tower for reference. At that point we crossed a large open area, then up a real grinder (uphill); I needed three breather-breaks on the way up. By then Mitch commented I’m ready and qualified to join his regular MTB group on more rides, but we weren’t done yet. Past the uphill there was this peak/slope with ruts (my nemesis); I was going way too fast and leaned over into a bush. Little did I know Carlos and Mitch were watching; the latter offered a riding tip – go with it next time instead of fighting the rut by staying on a rise. Then came this treacherous, steep, long downhill that wound thru oaks and bushes. Did I say it was beautiful? Carlos mentioned to me the presence of poison oak, which gave me another thing to watch out for. We had another albeit short uphill to climb, and down again thru a beautiful oak valley. Then came the last grinder for the day. Mitch met us at the top, having been able to pedal all the way up, Carlos carried his bike, Mark hiked it, and I carried the rear by half pedal powering it and half walking – heart pounding.
Rejoining where we had spun off on our 8-mile loop, it was back to the fence where we started. Mitch and Carlos raced off, me in the middle, then Mark carrying the rear. As I straddled the fence the “No Trespassing” sign became evident. This was not a place to found, so we headed back to the meeting place to say our farewells and vowed to meet up again, exchanging phone numbers.
Mitch did mention I should wash my bike ASAP as poison oak can be carried by it. Come to think of it even days later my face feels a little itchy, but it may be just in my mind. Upon close examination it was discovered my swing arm suffered a stress crack; I’ll have to find a good welder in town in order to continue these kinds of excursions.
Monday evening I head out to San Luis Obispo for grocery shopping and to attend the Cal Poly Penguin motorcycle club’s meeting. I arrive late, missing most of the meeting but find it to be a group of college-aged fellows, 30 or so in attendance. They were finishing up discussing their D/37 dual sport ride, then went right into raffling off some donated low-dollar motorcycle goods (shucks - I did not win any), followed by a blooper nominating session. The stories were amusing; one led to another. The winner of the dozen nominations was a fellow captured on film donning a brassiere; yes, we had to look at it. So he has to attach the cowbell to his bike and wear the momentous hat each outing until next month. They had a list passing around three sign-up lists for a trail ride in Pozo this Saturday, Clear Creek in two weeks, and Mexico (spring break?)
After the meeting refreshments were served (punch, cookies) and I had a few conversations, one with the club VP. I asked him if there were any older club members and he mentioned two 35 YO guys (yeah, right! Older?), and I was going to ride the club’s Pozo enduro 24 years ago but it was cancelled due to snow. The 120-mile organized/AMA sanctioned dual sport ride replaced the enduro and funds the club throughout the year. He said he’d e-mail me re: the Pozo ride this Saturda, and added the club has a secure storage shed on campus, a nominal fee for its use is $10, and the club fee is the same per school quarter; no need to be a student to be a member.
When I arrived back at my apartment there was a UPS sticker attached to the door; it’s Eric Gorr’s engine shipping crate! Goodie! It’s now in town.
Having lost a pickup tire last weekend at Clear Creek I was in the market for a used one to match my three others of the wore down set, and none of the 10 tire stores in town had anything in the size needed, except a lowly yet busy place on the west side of town. The guys were preoccupied with other customers, so I wandered in their back yard for a look-see - it’s like a whole acre, all organized on racks. I was busy getting lost until unknowingly wandering by the watchdog’s day quarters – yeeouch! And I’m off to the front to wait for help. They did have one tire in the size I needed, and $30 later I was on my way.
Last night I went to the library to access my Hotmail, but the waiting queue for computers was five deep, so I went back to install my new-to-me tire and organize parts for shipment to Eric Gorr. I picked it up the crate last night, and packed it for shipping out today.
OK: that’s it for a few weeks.
