tribe.net is fading...i posted hundreds of blogs over there between 2005 and 2008. they have to go somewhere. unfortunately, many of them have references to a certain ex girlfriend who has caused me no end of pain and misery...nothing we can do about that now, is there?
by the way, the mountain bike i mention in this post is now in the hands of another (hopefully) happy rider. i sold it at the end of 2008 due to the fact that i was dead broke...and tghe fact that a twenty eight pound dualie with a coil sprung front suspension and an air sprung rear shock is not the best combination for long, relatively smooth fire road climbs and descents.
PHOTO-the War Pig's head tube mounted calling card
JULIA BLIB BLIB is back to work in the tiny the army surplus store on haight street after taking two months off with her broken clavicle. that meant i'd have to fend for myself this fine sunny early january sunday afternoon, and i was determined NOT to sink my sorry ass into the sofa and waste the day away finding new ways of affecting the Buffalo Bills Four Super Bowl Revenge, or watching wild card pro football gmes broadcast live out of stadiums far, far away from the Flying Buffalo Ranch in san francisco.
the sky was too blue and the sun was too warm on my skin for any of that meatheaded noise.
no, i thought, i'll take the Dog Dick Red War Pig across the bridge for some off-road cycling fun. lord only knows how long its been since i've pedalled across the golden gate bridge on my own for a two hour self flagellation fest up and down the sometimes painfully steep two mile long fire roads in marin county. i knew, however after the first fifteen minutes on the bike that pounding out a twenty five mile route up over conzelman road, down into miwok stables via the old springs trail and back over the bobcat and marincello fire roads was going to be quite a challenge. my lungs and quads repeatedly asked me in pitiful whining tones why i did'nt pack another fat bowl, flip on the playstation and sink into my normal sunday afternoon maintenance stoner stupor.
i ignored the pain in my legs and my racing heart while i splashed though the mud puddles in the trails leading past the general's old house in the presidio.
over the crowded golden gate bridge i plodded on the War Pig, narrowly avoiding having my rather wide riser bars make contact with oblivious roadies on their expensive titanium and carbon fiber steeds, until i was chatting with my old friend bernie in the parking lot just to the north of the golden gate bridge. after shooting the shit for a few minutes with my old riding and racing buddy i turned the War Pig left on to conzelman road, and started the mile long journey up that tourist congested blacktop leading to the coastal trail, and High Speed Fire Road Heaven.
it's usually about a third of the way up conzelman that i begin to hit my groove on the twenty seven pound dual suspension War Pig-as i've passed my fortieth birthday and spend more time at home eating bacon wrapped pork loins with blib blib, i've noticed that my warm up time on the bike has increased considerably. at any rate, by the time i reached the Y intersection of the coastal fire trail and conzelman road, my legs and lungs were contentedly beating out a steady, humming tune from my meaty knobby tires.
lots of mountain bikers disdain the thrill of blasting own wide fire roads at high speeds-they say that there's no challenge in riding on a dirt fire road that's wide and smooth enough for the park police to drive their crown victorias on. those riders probably haven't spent a lot of time in marin county after a big winter rain storm, when the rainwater draining from the coastal mountains forms large ruts in the fire access roads, some of which are a foot and a half wide two feet deep and more often than not filled with cold, fast moving water. picking the right line on such fire roads requires skill and brains, and the consequences of making a bad choice might result in a helicopter rescue by the united states park service, which is often accompanied by a hefty bill.
how can anybody professing a love for all things human powered and two wheeled dismiss the sensation of high speed on any surface?
by the time i reached the bottom of the coastal trail, i was feeling very happy that i'd forsaken the carolina panthers, the high scoring and undefeated virtual buffalo bills and the play station. a quick break at the meadow at the southwest side of rodeo valley allowed me to recharge my batteries with gatorade, luna bars and fragrant herbs after which the War Pig and i set off to challenge the wide open fire roads of gerbode valley.
this is where i decided to cut about five miles out of my ride.
ascending paved roads on a twenty seven pound dual suspension rig equipped with a highly active coil spring suspension fork is one thing, but climbing wet, tacky dirt roads on the same rig is quite another. even though i was telling myself how great it was to be alone and in the beautiful green open hills of coastal california, the twenty five minute climb up the marincello fire road is always miserable for me. the ascent begins innocently enough out of the rodeo valley bordering the northern half of conzelman road, but soon becomes steep and criss crossed with treacherous rain ruts. three or four times i was forced to use the soft, wet outside lines to make room for riders who'd had the sense enough to ride the shorter, steeper miwok fire road into the stables. when i'd steer the war pig into these mushy lines, it felt as if my agressive 2.25 motoraptors had suddenly gone flat.
regardless of the relentless pain in my legs and a reluctant decision to shift the superlight into granny gear, i made it to the top of the ridge where the marincello and bobcat fire roads meet. my original destination of the picturesque miwok stables lay about two downhill miles away, but there was not a chance in hell that would be capabe of extending my range today another five miles given my current state of fitness. the stables with its picnic tables and porta potties would have to wait until another day, i thought, some sunday months in the future when i have built up my range and endurance with these two hour weekend excursions to the wind swept rock outcropping overlooking the sausalito marina.
now was the time to point the War Pig south again, back down the wide, smooth fire road i had used to make this first step in rekindling my love affair with the sport of mountain biking and as a tool to reduce my slowly expanding waist line. this was the part of the ride i loved best, the high speed balls out run back down into the rodeo valley, where the santa cruz War Pig charlie at vision cyclery sold me back in 2001 shows me why i paid almost a thousand dollars for a dog dick red full suspension mountain bike frame. back in the day when i rode rigid hardtails my magnetic bike computers had indicated i'd reached speeds of forty miles an hour wildly pedalling over these washboarded, dusty fire trails-i can only imagine that having four inches of suspension travel at each end of my bike fourteen years later only adds more velocity to what is already an exhilarating rate of speed on a bicycle.
all told, today i might have ridden about twenty miles this afternoon.
gee, i'm going to have to do this again next weekend, weather permitting.
watching pro football is a wonderful pastime, and whipping hapless opponents into whimpering little girlie men with the Playstation Bills is good old fashioned foot stomping fun, but nothing beats the thrill of pedalling the War Pig to breakneck speeds on the wide open fire roads that wind through the bare green coastal hills of southern marin county.
who knows, the sea otter classic is only a few months away.
i've got a few mountain bike racing medals stashed away somewhere...
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