26InchSlicks

Rackufacture: Reclamation Mods & A New Budget Porteur Bag

2012-01-29T21:27:00.000-08:00

There's no popular demand, but the Rackufacture series is back, whether you like it or not. I don't have anywhere near the free time I've had the last coupla winters, but I'm managing to squeeze in a little rack activity where I can.

I guess I'm not happy unless I'm trying something different and about two years ago, I built this nutty-looking job. It's actually a modular rack that consists of a smallish pretzelized portion designed around a specific bag that carries things like jewelry and keys and looks like a man purse but is definitely not, and then a second removeable portion that looks more like a normal porteur deck for carrying bigger stuff like cases of beer and XL pizzas. Posts on the original builds are here and here.

Some of the rack experimentation I've done to date has worked out pretty well, but this one has turned out to be kind of a pile. For one thing, the deck is big and has lots of big gaps and is not very useful for hauling bags of groceries or the type of stuff I need to move around the neighborhood. A good, functional porteur bag might help solve the problem but I've been too much of a cheapskate to spend the coupla hundred bucks on a proper one and I haven't put forth any effort towards figuring out a home-brew solution. For another, some dopeshit mounted the light right behind the potential porteur load, which totally limits what you can haul after dark.

So it has long been my plan to do some corrective hacking to make this mess a little bit more functional. I've been able to enact the plan over the past few days.

My search for a budget bag hack led me to Cabela's.

I've been here twice before - once shortly after it opened just to see what all the hysteria was about, and one other time when I was looking for what they might have to offer in terms of bike camping gear. What they sell just has very little overlap with my interests - the majority of what's inside has to do with getting geared up to go out and kill animals and that's not something I would ever think of as fun. Nothing against anyone who does, just not my thing at all. If I had to hunt or fish in order to survive, I would Nike up and just do it of course. Luckily, I live in a time where someone does all the dirty work for me. Where I'm going with this I guess, is that through my glasses, it's a pretty interesting walk through this mega-store.

Yes they are all real.

Real dead, that is.

I'm not strictly anti-gun or anything, but it does scare me a little bit about how gun crazy we've become.
I mean, when you can't sell guns fast enough and have to put a first-come-first-served
take-a-number system . . . well, it just gives me pause.

I do think this is not my last visit to Cabela's in search of some bike-nerd/outdoorsman-nerd crossover gear. Case in
point is this day-glo hi-tech fabric vest. I've been feeling the need to make myself a little more visible during National
Forest rides, during which time I'm sharing space with hunters. Plus I could stash all kinds of cool shit in the pockets.

So anyway, here I was again, looking for something bike related that I wanted and maybe only these guys could help me with. In this instance, it was fishing bags, and I wasn't disappointed. Don't they look a little bit like something you could strap on a porteur?

I know! Totally! I am so smart. I scored this one for forty bucks.

Buying the bag was the easy part. In order for it to be a workable solution, I'd need an easy-on, easy-off budget hack mounting system.

In a long-ago post that I don't wish to spend any time searching for, I talked about unraveling one of the nets on
the left and ending up with the righteous roll of bungee cord on the right. I even found where I had put it.
Then I scrounged up some fender washers.

Few things in life are as exhilarating as drilling holes into something you just bought.

This is the inside of the bag, with the aforementioned bungee cord sticking through the fender washers and tied off.

These are new bungee loop posts.

Those are bungee cord finger loops, for hooking your primary bungee cord loops over your bungee loop posts.
I know you are basking in the terminology.

Stretch and hook. So easy, even a baby could do it.

Hooked in, ready to roll.

That problem solved then, next under the knife was the light mount.

New mount.

As it should be. (What in the hell was I ever thinking.)

But what to do with the old light mount . . . mmm. Hack it off? Neh, too much work. Why not turn it into a bell mount.

Never owned a bell before. Oh the joy that must await me.

I thought about maybe sharpie-ing down the volume on the bright yellow embroidery, but hey, these guys
provided the solution. So for the time being I intend to wear it proud, wear it loud.

In case you are even wondering, please. Don't insult me. Of course my new Cabela's gear will enable me to bag
a half rack. Hmmm. Maybe I have some of that hunter gene in me after all. No, wait.
Bullets + beer bottles = bad business. Guess, I'm a gatherer, then.

All up, I'm pretty excited about these mods . . . I think the bike is gonna be way more useful and therefore way more fun.

Hypmotized

2012-01-28T20:38:00.000-08:00

Look directly into my eyes and listen carefully. I am in control, you are powerless. You shall pedal, I shall run. Any attempt to ignore these instructions will be futile.

I'm waiting.

All My Other Bikes Look Funny

2012-01-27T00:28:00.000-08:00

It's more than a little creepy: My fatbike now looks to me like a bike should look. All the others look like anemic freaks. I sort of sense that I'm unbalanced, but not quite ready to accept it. So just shut up.

Studded Up, Platformized and Bootiful

2012-01-21T23:31:00.000-08:00

I honestly thought we were gonna get through winter in this town without having to worry about snow and ice. I really did. It just took so long to get here that I'd somehow convinced myself that we had moved through and past it. Apparently then, I was in error.

Don't get me wrong - I'm on record in multiple posts wishing, longing, praying for snow. No need to remind me. But it was the light, fluffy idealistic kind that I was dreaming about. Not this real shit.

In the course of the last coupla days, I've been slapped around a bit and forced to deal with reality. I've hit the deck more than once. I have impressive bruises to show for it in places that you don't want me to photograph. Now I remember.

But it's not a bad thing, where my head has adjusted to - it's just where it must be: Stud season is here. I accept it: Freeze, thaw, freeze, thaw. Meh. As of tonight I'm back to sporting carbide.

And also, in the never ending internal conflict of platforms vs clipless, my pendulum has swung way to the platform side over the last 3 days, after falling over on the fatbike a coupla times. Which I attribute to not being able to get clipped in or out fast enough. Fair or not, I'm rolling with that excuse. So platforms it is on all my bikes for now and ever more! Or until I change my mind.

These are the pedals John gifted to me one day when I was wishing out loud for something grippier for the pump track bike but which I never had the balls to use once I looked at the take-it-to-the-bone nature of those studs. In winter, with multiple layers and the legitimate need for some grip, they don't scare me quite as bad.

Now that I am fully committed to flats, I needed boots with a stiff sole. Cheap bastard that I am, they couldn't cost an arm and a leg. Fortunately, they were on sale.

So this is now the sum of my bike plan about how to get through the rest of this winter.

Big and little.

It would appear that some kind of adventure must certainly lie in store.

First Fat Snow Ride Report

2012-01-18T23:58:00.000-08:00

After all the buildup, I dare not let you down. Read on, then . . .

'Twas a glorious eve! John stopped by and we fat-tired our way acrest the silky blanket of newfallen wonder, down acrost the flowing hills of the southland and unto the den of Glen. The hang hung heavy with calorific and culinary delight, and the conversational content was in no way compromised. After some time, we high-tailed it back up the hill, albeit with heavily heaving hearts.

Sorry about the lack of pics, but with the quality of prose at hand, do you really even need them? (Don't answer that.)

I arrived home, supremely satisfied and starved for suppination.

But Brandy brashly reminded me that first snowfall is cause for supreme celebration and how could I possibly hang that fabulous orange bike up without first taking my damn dog down to the park??

The fact that my damn dog complimented my bike left me momentarily shocked and devoid of a come-back. So back out into the wild winter weather we went.

No regrets so far. About the bike. Or the dog. I dig the dog and the bike.

It's Coming

2012-01-15T16:40:00.000-08:00

Ace knows it.

NOAA definitely knows.

Maybe life's not so unfair after all. I can feel the bitterness beginning to evaporate even as I type.

Decompression

2012-01-14T00:21:00.000-08:00

Patty and I are so busy at work these days . . . we're super grateful to be vital cogs in vital organizations but holy hell, sometimes we arrive home on Friday just totally work-week wasted.

We always sit and talk for a bit about each others' days, but afterwards, our coping mechanisms are different. She retreats to various indoor comforts while I head out to the cold-ass shop (she's obviously a lot smarter than me).

Tell ya what, though - cold as it may be, Friday night solo shop time is about as sweet as it gets . . . coupla beers, good music, thinkin' all of life's troubles through, no pressure to get anything done . . . jeez, my problems just melt away, if only for a short time. Heaven on earth.

The Fatterization Of The Rackomatic

2012-01-11T21:53:00.000-08:00

Fatterized

Rust

2012-01-07T23:11:00.000-08:00

I haven't built or even thought about building a rack for months. The rack activity last fall-winter-spring was pretty insane, what with my own projects and trying to do classes. There were a lot of mornings worth of dragging my exhausted ass to work after having stayed up way too late working in the shop. The whole deal was cool and I was all crazy inspired, but by about April or May, I wasn't sure I ever even wanted to look at one again. A lot of great work got done by me and a lot of other people, but the weather was beginning to turn and it was obviously time to give it a rest and bump up the obsession a notch by constructing a pump track.

At the time I suspected I'd probably give a krap about rack-building again at some point, but I didn't know when and I didn't really care. That motivation is something that you should just let come to you, given the amount of time and energy it demands.

Well apparently, it finally did. Come to me. I had 4 or so hours of free time today and racks was how I found myself wanting to spend it, so I busted out and dusted off the gear. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I even remembered some of the important stuff about how to use it.

Turns out though, I was able to knock off most of the rust and pick up where I left off. Sort of. Thing is, I was in a way different place with my life last year than I am this, and time is currently super-premium and especially with the perspective gained from having buried myself so deep into it last time around, it's a little different activity now:

Last time, it was a lot about art; now I only have time for good structure and good function. I still want things to look good, and they will, but there's no time for fussing with the fine stuff. I wish there was, but there just isn't. No full-sized computer-generated layouts. Simple sketches will do just fine.

A lot of hours, thought and energy went into the 'o-matics. Designs that were pretty successful and details that won't ever have to get re-hashed means that getting them out was pretty sweet. They're down and ready.

This is the end result of 4 hours of rack time.

It's not particularly pretty, but it's good and square and very sound and that's mostly what I care about. I don't know where the many other hours to get it finished will come from or how I will be able to help other people build racks, which is important to me. I just have to believe it will all somehow work out.

I'm Not Bitter. Really.

2012-01-04T22:27:00.000-08:00

I don't think we're gonna have winter this winter. I got home a little before 7 tonight and I looked at the thermometer and it said 47 F. I'd felt pretty warmish on the way home - guess that explains things. About an hour later I looked again and it said 48. Wrong direction. Jan 4. Right on.

We could still have a snowfall or two, but the 7-day forecast doesn't show any signs of hope and that pretty much puts us into mid-Jan and by the end of Jan it's pretty much over, except for maybe a coupla fast-melt snow days in Feb and then it's pretty much totally over.

Look, just because I bought a stupid-ass snow bike does not mean I am totally pissed. Really.

(#$%&*@#$@!)

Adventures Shared With My Copilot

2012-01-02T20:51:00.000-08:00

This weekend was a four-dayer for us, and was designated as chill time. Some deliberate downtime between a very busy 2011 and what looks to be the same kind of 2012. A few to-do's got done, but the list didn't own the weekend and most were left undone. What did take some of the priority was a bit of riding and thinking about riding. And what I'm obsessed with lately, bike-wise, is hitting some of the area's unimproved railbeds on the new bike. I know it's a me-problem, but I'm just smitten with the history of these corridors and with the public access to miles and miles of stunning natural and man-made scenery.

I'm generally not so hot on driving to ride, but in this case, I'm pretty happy to get in the truck and lay down some miles in order to put myself in position to experience some meaty railbed. Roaming out to these areas on a fatbike isn't really an option - it's too far and honestly, riding one on pavement is about as exciting as cardboard, IMO. On any other surface, though, let the fun begin.

And my mood for the weekend was super low-key . . . I just wanted to pedal around in this crazy dry weather amid the sessions of sunshine and enjoy looking at stuff. It would be so rad if I could take my dog along.

I don't have a fatbike rack option figured out yet, so for now I'm just piling the damn monster in the back of the truck.

Trouble is, that's Brandy's domain. Which leaves no other option except for her to ride shotgun. She seems to dig it, so I guess I can deal with the dog hair and bad breath.

On Sunday, we headed to Rosalia, to check out and do a bit of riding on the John Wayne Pioneer Trail. The remnants of the line are pretty prominent features of the area.

The signage on the gates that's now pretty familiar to me states that a permit is required and I had intended to just not worry about it and lightly poach, but when we got there, there was just too much population and visibility and I just wasn't in the mood to push it on a relaxed Sunday morning in rural Washington. We ended up just driving around and exploring the landscapes and hitting a few different road crossings of the trail. Despite the fact that we never pulled the bike out, we had a great time just banging around, and learned a lot about the lay of the land. And oh yeah, we got out on a couple occasions and did some good work sniffing around and peeing.

Today, we headed west on I-90 to Sprague - about a 40 minute drive from home, including a stop for an Egg McMuffin, which we shared. Not that bad (the eggamuffin or the drive). The destination was the end of the tame portion of the Columbia Plateau Trail and the beginning of the wild part. At a trailhead called Martin Road. The signage was unbelievably awesome and there's no way we could have not found it.

We were lucky enough to get a parking spot.

My new camera has a razoo timer feature that allows you to set it for up to a 30 second delay and then take 10 consecutive photos, spaced at about 2 second intervals. We dinked with this thing for a while and took a buncha shots - some of the sequences were pretty hilarious . . . this dork and his dog and his fancy-ass camera ride-posing in the middle of nowhere and failing miserably. A couple turned out okay, though.

The unimproved railbed is pretty gnarly - it would suck on pretty much any other bike and is one of the kind of surfaces that people talk about when they say that fatbikes allow them to ride places they couldn't before they got their hands on one.

The ballast was pretty hard on Brandy's pads, but at times there were cow trails along the edges (this is bigtime cattle grazing area) that gave her some relief. And me too - I'd ride there sometimes to mix it up.

The way the fat tires handled the ballast was pretty amazing. Don't get me wrong - it was 5-7 mph stuff, but it was comfortable and not that death-grip, wear-ya-down kind of experience you'd be having on a normal MTB. One of the things that I know second-hand is how tune-able the "suspension" of these bike is. But most of the pressure gauges that are attached to pumps are not accurate or reliable in the pressure ranges that these tire run at, so you have to have some means of measurement. I bought this gauge a coupla weeks ago and was finally able to get some firsthand experience with the feel of the bike at different pressures. Dropping both tires from 14 down to 10 totally changed the ride. For the better.

The other part of the big air equation is a portable pump that's up to the challenge. Damn, these balloons take a lotta air! What I picked up is a Lezyne high-volume morph-style pump. While the pump is nice piece of hardware, the plastic mount that comes with it is a flimsy pile of krap. You can't see it in this pic, but the base bangs against the frame and I had to protect it with some electrical tape. Stylin. I'll figure out a better way to mount it in due time.

This is more of the kind of garbage that would not be so much fun to ride through on a normal MTB, but was a blast with the fat.

What kind of bike adventure would be complete without a flat. Changing it takes a little longer than your normal-bike flat. I hope I get faster, 'cause I think there are a few of these in my future. I thought that maybe this was a pinch flat due to the 10 psi, but it was just a puny thorn. These tires don't have much in the way of flat protection - you wouldn't want them to - they need to be as flexible as possible to provide that cushion and grip that is so amazing.

The noise of these tires against the ballast, getting echoed off the walls of a rock cut is righteous . . .

I understand that this stuff (fatbike and/or nasty rail trail) is not for everyone, but I'm afraid I'm a little hooked for the time being. The majestic scenery and the freedom of exploring these historical wonders via pedal is messin' with me bigtime.

Lemonade

2011-12-31T19:46:00.000-08:00

Of course I'd like to be playing in the snow. But I've also got a lot of details to figure out in the next 6 months, in advance of my planned cross-state tour on the John Wayne Pioneer Trail, which I'm now pretty seriously committed to. So one thing this dry weather affords me is the opportunity to get out and do some railbed riding on it much earlier than I otherwise would. Today I headed out to Cheney and the Columbia Plateau Trail, for my first taste of railbed fatbiking.

One of the things I've been wondering is what kind of average speeds I can expect, so I can plan my progress on the big trip. Today's outing was 21 miles at an average speed of just under 10 mph. I'm in terrible shape and that will have to change, but on the flipside, I wasn't packing any gear. At this point, I'm guessing 10 mph is a pretty reasonable number to shoot for on the big trip, on average. I still need to get out on some of the eastern portion of the JWPT though - it's a different animal than what I rode today. Soon I will.

Shimano Alfine Overhaul

2011-12-30T23:11:00.000-08:00

I've been having trouble with the Alfine 8 speed internal gear hub on my karate monkey for quite a while and basically, the problem has gotten to the point where the bike is unrideable. The problem is that in 4th gear and only in 4th gear, the hub every once in a while "lets go", or in other words goes into freewheel mode. It normally happens at the most inopportune times, like when the light changes and I want to get on it and hammer through the intersection - at which point I end up flailing wildly at the exact center of the intersection just to keep my balance, to the amusement of everyone else sitting there waiting for the light to change and watching. I mentioned the problem to John who mentioned it to Alex who mentioned to John that I should try "dunking it", who mentioned it back to me.

I didn't know what this meant, so I looked it up and sure enough, there are about a hundred thousand online testimonials from people who have taken apart their Alfines and bathed them in automatic transmission fluid (I know, this is starting to sound extremely weird) and then put them back together to find that they work better than any bike or non-bike device in the history of the universe.

This post is in no way intended to be instructional. Go to one of the hundred thousand other sites for that. The only thing I would like to point out, from my own experience, is that things are not always as easy as they appear to be on other people's websites. Never does anyone mention accidentally spilling a small bucket of solvent all over the floor of their shop and then subsequently spilling a small bucket of brake fluid all over their work bench and then dropping part of the slippery-ass guts of the hub on the floor and having to get down on their hands and knees to look for roller bearings that exploded out of the carrier when it hit and could be anywhere in their shop. And that they probably came up one short.

I'm not saying any of this happened to me.

I'm just saying that something went down and it didn't go as planned and everything did eventually go back together and there are a few pictures. I don't want to talk about it other than that. I hope it works better now, but if it doesn't, I'm not going back in. Life is too short.

Canonized

2011-12-27T00:12:00.000-08:00

I'm seriously interested in taking better pictures.

Why is this thought bike-related? Because at least 90% of the pictures I take are because of and end up on this blog. Not that there isn't more to life, but extended-family-wise, we have some prolific photogs, so there's no real motivation for me to jump into that fray. Although it would cool to be able to provide Patty with some higher-quality art of our immediate family. So there's also that.

I'm inspired by pictures like these (in no particular order):

MikeC

Alex

Jerome

Patrick

And there are others . . . Hank, Rory, Andre, Vik, to name a few . . . all have given me valuable advice and lots of fine examples of their work to look at.

I'll never be as good as any of them, but they give me something to aspire to. I think the 80-20 rule is in effect here . . . with some moderate effort I suspect can improve my images drastically. I don't need to be bomber, just better.

So the first step in my quest is/was to buy a way-more-capable point-and-shoot, which turned out to be the Canon S95, which is at rock-bottom pricing right now because the newer faster S100 is out. The S95 is basically a highly-acclaimed cam that has/had a MSRP of $400 and can now be had for around $300. I could have scraped into one at $290 online, but one of our local retailers, Huppins, sale-priced them at $299 and even with tax added in, it was close enough that it's just something I wanted to buy local, in that tug-of-war of internet vs local. As far as DSLR's goes, I'm just not at that stage yet for a coupla reasons:

1. Technically, they're a bit beyond where I'm at and have the ability to grasp and learn right now, given my schedule constraints. Maybe, time and interest allowing, I'll progress there in due time.

2. Bike-wise, I'm still hung up on compactness and portability. I've thought long and hard with as wide open a mind as I could manage, and I just can't get to the place where I can envision lugging around and protecting a much more expensive DSLR for the majority of what I do.

So this is my new deal . . .

And I'm signed up for some instruction, because you can't learn every damn thing online . . .

So hopefully, there will be some better photos coming your way soon. And if not, hopefully you'll understand that I spent a spent a buncha money on something that didn't pan out and not pour salt in the wound. Although, why would I expect you to change, knowing you as I do.

Misc Images From The Holiday Hang

2011-12-22T00:52:00.000-08:00

Nobody likes a shutterbug. But nobody wants to see this formal-atire event go unphotodocumented, either. I'm pretty sure. You can't have it both ways, people. You know you love it.

Crank removal

Yes, it says what you thought it did.

Draw your own conclusions.

John is pretty sure the demand and therefore the value of this tie will spike at some point. Contact him directly if you want to invest.

These last shots comprise the shoe and pantleg section of this post. No I do not have a shoe fetish, thank you for asking. I have the eye of an artist.

And with that, I'm out for a coupla days. Mercifully.

Hope you have a great holiday season.

All Wound Up Again

2011-12-20T22:11:00.000-08:00

Someone posted a link to this over on the fatbike forum. Shit like this just totally kills me - now I'm gonna be awake half the night, head-a-buzzin. Great.

9:Zero:7 Chain Rub Problem Solved

2011-12-18T23:06:00.000-08:00

This is a particularly long and nerdy post, so if you're not all that interested and wanna blow it off, I totally understand. Catch ya next time. If, on the other hand, you're needing a good nerd fix, read on . . .

I haven't talked much about it on this blog yet, but the process of buying my fatbike has been long, problematic and frustrating. By "process", I mean the period of time between placing the order (Oct 19th) and having the bike in my possession, assembled and working correctly to the point that I feel it's really ready to go get busy, which is today (Dec 18).

During a bike hang a few weeks ago, I was talking to Joe2 and I mentioned that I was having some problems and he told me that he thought I really should let people know, because based on what he had read on this blog, he had assumed that everything was smooth as silk and that if he or someone was interested in a 9:Zero:7, I was doing them a disservice by not telling the whole story. I think he made a good point, but I also knew that I was still processing it all and wanted some more perspective before I'd be ready to write about it. I guess I got ready enough this past week, because a new thread that appeared on the fat bike forum at MTRB.com prompted me to reply with the details of my experience. If you're interested, you can read about it here. I'm not going to re-hash those issues in this post. What I am going to talk about is the chain rub issue that I ~~have~~ had, and what I found out in the process of correcting it.

Chain rub is a common issue with fatbikes, because you're trying to cram a lot of tire width into a space that's limited by the chainline, which is constrained by the rear wheel's OLD and a reasonable Q Factor. That's a bit of an oversimplification, but for purposes of this discussion, it's a sufficient statement.

So within the relatively new world of fat (the Surly Pugsley, which was the first version of what we currently know as fatbikes, came out in 2006), some workable standards have developed. The standard I opted to base my purchase on was a 170mm OLD rear spacing, combined with a 100mm bottom bracket and an FSA Alpha Drive, and Surly's Endomorph rear tire. I thought that this was a sufficiently tried-and-tested setup that I wouldn't have any chain rub worries. So I was disappointed to find that I did. And oh yeah, it bugged the hell outta me. So I set out yesterday to find out what was causing the problem and to see what I could do about it. A lot of the detail in here is included for the benefit of those who might be coming over from MTBR.com because they're experiencing similar problems - I had a lot of trouble finding this kind of data.

One of the things I wanted to know was whether any part of the problem was caused by frame misalingment. In order to find out, I needed first get some good, accurate baseline measurements.

This photo shows the problem - in the lowest gear, the chain rubs on the tire both above and below the chainstay.
You can see the wear mark developing on the tire after just the few miles I've ridden the bike so far.

I checked clearances in some of the other gears, just to get a sense of how much space I would need to gain back in order to eliminate the rub and have a little clearance.

Upper chain clearances:
0 mm - Largest cog
2 mm - 2nd cog
3.5 mm - 3rd cog
5 mm - 4th cog

Lower chain clearances:
0 mm - Largest cog
1 mm - 2nd cog
2.5 mm - 3rd cog
4 mm - 4th cog

Based on these measurements, it looked like the upper was just barely touching and that the lower was interfering by .5 to 1 mm. Ideally, I'd like to have at least a couple mm clearance, so that would mean moving the chainline over by 2.5 to 3 mm at the tire.

I also wanted to check and see how well the tire was centered in the frame. Just eyeballing it, I could tell it was close to being centered. I found piece of steel to use as a spacer that was about the right thickness and used it as a gauge. It was slightly tighter going in on the drive side and I used feeler gauges to estimate that the difference in gaps was .5mm or maybe just a little less. So this means that the tire might be sitting .25 mm closer to the chain than if it were perfectly centered. So not much of issue here.

Checking disc-side clearance between the tire and chainstay

Checking clearance on the drive side, with the same spacer. It was slightly tighter on this side.

I also wanted to get an accurate width measurement of tires at different pressures, so that I would know if running at higher pressure contributed to the problem, as I have heard account of fat tires growing quite a bit with pressure.

The 27 TPI Surly Endomorph on the rear measured as follows:
20 psi - 100 mm
15 psi - 100 mm
10 psi - 100 mm
5 psi - 99 mm

It has nothing to do with the chain rub issue, but I measured the front tire, a 27 TPI Surly Larry, while I was at it:
20 psi - 101 mm
15 psi - 101 mm
10 psi - 101 mm
5 psi - 101 mm

It surprised me that the width of these tires was so consistent over this pressure range.

I measured between the chain-to-chainring and chain-to-cog points of contact to get an idea of the geometry involved with moving the chainline out at the chainrings vs moving it out at the cassette. This distance is about 18 inches, and the point of contact between the chain and tire is about 6 inches from the chainring end. What this means is that for every mm that you move the chain out at the cassette, you only move it off the tire by 1/3 mm. But for every mm you move it out at the chainring, you move it off the tire by 2/3 mm.

Next, was something I was really interested in - whether there appeared to be any frame misalignment. I clamped a straightedge to the rim, rested it on the bottom bracket shell and then measured from the edge of the straightedge to the edge of the shell, on both disc and drive sides, with these results:

8.3 mm - drive side
8.7 mm - disc side
0.4 mm - difference

This slight amount of difference was in the same direction and approximately the same amount as the difference in gap between the tire and chainstays. This makes me think that the wheel dish is off by this small amount (I forgot to check this with a dishing gauge when the tire was off the wheel). All in all, my conclusion was that the frame was very well aligned and that frame misalignment had very little if any contribution to the chain rub problem.

At this point, I wanted to focus on solving the problem by spacing the chainrings farther out from the center of the bike, rather than spacing the cassette out - the common method of doing this involves removing one of the smaller cogs and adding a spacer behind the largest cog. The effect is that you lose a gear, but move your largest cog away from the centerline of the bike by a distance equal to the distance between cogs.

The bottom bracket is an ISIS type and I thought I had the right splined tool to remove it, but the inside diameter of the tool wasn't large enough to fit over the spindle. Luckily, Glen was in his shop and hooked me up with the right tool, along with a spacer, which I thought I was going to have to make on the lathe. Awesome.

Difference between the ID's of the tool I had (L) and the tool that Glen gave me (R).

Drive side of the bottom bracket before removal.

The black piece below is the bracket for the e-type derailleur and it clamps between the bottom bracket shell and the flange on the bottom bracket cup. The plan is to add another spacer adjacent to the bracket, thereby moving the whole bottom bracket and crankset away from the centerline of the bike on the drive side.

Disc side of the bottom bracket before removal.

When I removed the bottom bracket, I left the disc side cup in place, so that I could make sure it would have enough adjustment to accommodate for the new shim. By eyeballing it, I could tell that it would, but in hindsight, I wish I would have bottomed it out on the threads and taken some measurements so that would know how much adjustment is available in case I ever want to add more shim for whatever reason.

Looking into the bottom bracket shell from the drive side.

Disc side bottom bracket cup.

Below is the drive side shot of the bottom bracket after installation of the shim. The shim thickness is 2.7 mm, so this should move the chain outboard at the tire by 2/3 x 2.7 = 1.8 mm. Initially, I was looking for 1.5 to 2 mm, so this should do the trick.

Disc side of the bottom bracket after installation of the shim. If you compare to the picture before removal,
you can see how much farther inside the shell the cup sits now.

I needed a spacer of approximately equal thickness for the derailleur upper mount point and ended up using three 5 mm washers.

Not sure why blogger decided to rotate this picture, but you get the idea.

Ghost auto-rotation in effect here as well. This shows the upper chain-to-tire clearance
after adding the shim - it's about 2 mm.

This shows the lower clearance, which is about 1.5 mm.

Back in business, sans the rub.

BTW, I measured the offset of the cranks with respect to bike centerline before adding the shim and it was .6mm to the disc side. With the addition of the 2.7 mm shim, the offset is now 2.1 mm to the drive side.

It took a lot of time to go through the bike and figure out what was happening and then apply the fix, but I'm really glad I did - it feels right now. Hopefully this is the last of the hassles with the initial build and setup of this bike and I can go put some miles on it now.

What's For Dinner

2011-12-14T23:58:00.000-08:00

Why? Because I was sitting in a pizza joint all night with bike buds and I can't get the smell of pizza outta my head.

You may ask: Why didn't you just get a real one while you were there? The answer is that: Supposedly I was sitting on the "wrong side of the wall".

"Beer only, in your area, sir. If you'd like to come to the other side and sit by yourself, we'd be happy to feed ya til ya pop." Thing is, all my bike buddies were getting served an endless supply of wings on the 'wrong' side of the wall while I looked on, starving my ass half off.

This screams of a conspiracy. In my imagination, it has everything to do with this. And it's awfully suspicious that Johnny G didn't show up, considering that he lives like a half a block away. He will squirm out of every accusation, but I strongly suspect that he is somehow involved, for the simple reason that this is obviously a conspiracy. And what ever became of Jacque, who was supposed to be there, according to him. Just hope he simply bugged out on his commitment and that something terrible that involved federal agents in bulletproof SUVs didn't befall him.

So lots of questions, very few answers. In the meantime, I'm comforted by Red Baron French Bread Singles, which I've found to be delightful. So once again, bite me, Benni's.

Damage Undone

2011-12-11T19:57:00.000-08:00

The shades-of-orange mismatch on my bike was bothering me to the point that a coupla times over this past week I actually threw up in my mouth a little bit. So no way it was not getting fixed over the weekend. When I got done, there was this rare stuff called daylight outside, and so I headed down to the park with the new iPhone cam for what Patty calls "senior pictures".

I'll sleep much better tonight.

Hopefulness

2011-12-10T23:33:00.000-08:00

I'm not a photographer, but I'd like to be able to visually convey things on this blog with some reasonable image quality. And occassionally getting lucky with an image that's actually good would be alright with me. It seems like that with the current level of technology, the machine that lets me achieve this goal must be out there and shouldn't be that hard to find. I'm not asking for something idiot proof - I'm happy to think a little, I just don't wanna have to make taking a decent picture my life's work.

My last purchase in pursuit of this goal was a pretty major fail. This cam may be a tough-guy, but the dude takes some seriously krappy pictures, and I've had my fill of fiddling with him in an effort get something decent to show up on the memory card.

I've lately been seriously close to the edge on a Canon S95, which can currently be had for about $290 since the newer-more-better S100 is out, but I haven't quite had the guts to step off the ledge. Maybe there's a different possibility of a solution, though.

Patty and I are way outdated on our cell phone hardware and our service contract expired a very long time ago. Her phone actually totally died a while back and we got her a cheap "go phone" (cheap being the operative term here) and have been nursing that solution along. But we've known the time was coming and it turns out that our patience was all up and today was the day.

I'm graduating from an iPhone 3G and you already know what she's graduating from. I couldn't care very much about most of the differences between the 3G and 4S with the exception of the on-board camera. Back in the 3G days, the on-board cam was just a POS - good enough was good enough and there wasn't a lot of expectation. But we're now a coupla generations evolved and the expectations are way higher and the cam on the 4S has been getting some good press. My hope is that it'll be able to be my everyday picture-taker that's good for 90% of what I wanna show you guys.

The little tiny eyeball on the back corner of my phone that all my hopes ride on.

I took some pictures of tonight's activities in different parts of the shop and house, in different light conditions. Without knowing anything about the camera controls or anything else about it. Indoor light stuff just sucks, but I was hoping it would be simply PhD (press here, dummy). Some came out okay and others just okay. So apparently some more goofing around is in order. I'm still hopeful that I can get a reasonable picture with some reasonable effort, though.

Camera stuff aside, you probably now have a pretty good idea about what I've been up to tonight.

Hang Report

2011-12-09T00:19:00.000-08:00

John called for this week's hang to be at my house and so it was. (If that sentence sounds kind of odd, see bullet point 2 below.) It was supposed to be an indoor-outdoor event, with some comfort grub in the heated shop/warming hut and a massive bonfire in the driveway so that we could enjoy our hot frontsides and cold backsides in the starry, frigid evening. But aparently the air is so incredibly, insanely particulated and dangerous to breathe right now that a burn ban is in effect. So it was all in. Side. It was a good hang, nonetheless.

The going-away, day-later bullet points:

I'm friends with some people who effin know how to cook and brew. I won't run through the entire menu, but holy hell, we were in a damn garage and you couldn't eat that good at most fine restaurants. By comparison, I'm a bit embarassed about what I served, but on the other hand, the bastards put a pretty good dent in it, so I've probably spent enough energy on that particular emotion.

John uses at least one hang each year as a "swap meet". Which is basically a smoke and mirrors pretense for him to move some really fine bike shit he no longer needs into the hands of bike friends. It's just another one of a thousand things that he does to share his love of cycling and it's totally John and it's totally rad. If he ever suggests any activity at your house that sounds even remotely related, schedule it immediately.

Despite the lame "Is that it?" comments and reactions that I got at the end of the lathe demonstration, it was probably the pinnacle of the evening. All I can say (and you know who you are) is that if I have to explain the phenomenalness of the aluminum washer that was created out of NOTHING, you will never understand. I'm sorry, but sparks and flames don't shoot out of lathes. Unless you're doing it all wrong.

Wait.

Just a second . . . really?

You were hoping for a Youtube moment??? Really??

Mmmm.

I'd like to invite you back next year. I've decided to do assigned seating. I'll set out a bowl of chips for you. On the picnic table out back.

Arrival and unloading of the bulk of the swap meet stash.

Dave needs to cheer up a little.

Glen, making phenomenal aluminum washers.

Project Fat Fender, Part II

2011-12-04T22:13:00.000-08:00

Patty was out of town this weekend, which apparently gave me license to wreak havoc in the shop. This post is the follow-up and conclusion to Part I. I'll pretty much let the pictures tell the story.

When I split the fenders back in Part I, the rear went fine, but the blade walked a little toward the end of the cut
cut on the front. So first thing I needed to do was deal with that.

Not all better, but way more better.

This is what I'll use to fill in the newly open space between the fender halves. It's .032" 5052 aluminum sheet.
This is a 48" x 42" remnant that cost me around $22.

Makeshift fence on the new bandsaw. There are surely lots of different ways to cut strips out of sheet,
but I'm still needing to justify the purchase of this saw, so I'm going this route come hell or high water.

It took more than a little body english to feed the big floppy sheet across
the puny little saw table, but it worked, and the strips came out great.

I worked the strips back and forth across a piece of pipe, to give them some radius.

These are the fasteners I chose for securing the alum strips to the fenders halves.
They're 8-32 x 1/4" stainless steel screws with a black oxide finish. From McMaster-Carr.
About 14 bucks worth, with quite a few screws and a boatload of nuts left over.

The main thing to note about this picture was how dangerously low I was getting on project lube.
I rectified the situation with a refrigerator run shortly thereafter.

Bracketry

First mock-up of the front. The fender is held off the tire with wooden blocks and that's some shock cord (bungee cord) holding everything together.

Larry accurately predicted in his comment on the Part I post that the added mass of these fenders was going to
overwhelm the already shaky stay system on the Cascadias. Unfortunately, a new stay system is a whole 'nother
project, for another time, so the stock one will have to do. But in order to make it work, the brackets also had to be split.

I needed some material for the mondo mudflaps that belong with these fenders, and I wanted to keep the weight
down as much as possible. I ordered a couple of different materials, also from McMaster-Carr. For this first
iteration, I chose the one on the left, which is 1/16" high-strength neoprene. It's super floppy, so I'm
not sure how it'll work out. I'll have to get back to you. 15-ish bucks for enough to do 4 mondo flaps.

This is the making of the bracket that will hold the flap to the fender. It's a chunk of the .032" alum. Here, I've
clamped it to some shims so that I can take a piece of flat bar and a hammer and make that indentation in the middle.
This will make way more sense in the next photo.

Rear fender hardware. I wouldn't necessarily have had to make these with the lathe, but it's another
piece of equipment that I need to justify.

These are basically big washers that will go on the underside of the rear fender, where it attaches to the frame.

Rear mock-up.

There's a gap in the sequence here - I guess I got too tired to give a krap about taking any more pictures, but after burning it to the ground late into Saturday night, this is my Sunday morning in the living room. Final-assembling the finished and now-painted parts together. All the screws got blue loctite.

Ready to mount. Time to head back out to the shop. Brrrrr. I liked it better in the living room.

Ready for mud.

All up, the cost was probably the better part of a Benjamin and everything added up to 2-1/2 pounds worth of fenders. They're a little floppy, but not as bad as I thought they might be. They won't be on the bike all the time - 3 screws in the front and 4 in the back is all it takes to get them on and off - but it will sure be good to have them in some conditions. Fat tires can kick up a ton of gunk. The mismatch on the shades of orange kind of bugs me - the pictures don't do it justice, but the fenders kind of clash with the frame. I had assumed that any different oranges would pretty much work together, so I didn't sweat the shade, but I think it's gonna bug me to the point that I'll need to do something about it at some point. Later. For now, it's time to go get dirty. So where's all the mud and snow?

Fat Fender Preview

2011-12-02T23:20:00.000-08:00

501. Rock on.

I previously predicted that my fat fender project might take a gazillion hours, but I think I might have underestimated by approximately a brazillion. It's coming together, though.

The Building Pressure. And Number 500

2011-11-29T23:55:00.000-08:00

Certain bike stuff gets into my head from time to time that's super powerful in the sense that it can pretty much take over my life. Maybe in some cases it starts a little nascent and can dwell there for a while and ebb and flow a bit, but the strength of its attraction is ultimately so strong that I can't dismiss or escape it and have no real option other than to deal with it.

The pump track had no dwell - I was simply put under a spell and commanded by the bike gods to act as feverishly as possible. The fatbike is at the other end of the spectrum - it's been simmering for two or three years. But in the end there's really no difference, in the sense that there was no escaping either one. It was just a matter of time.

So tonight, I was hit with the realization that I'm facing another bikey compulsive effort from which there is no escape: I must wheelie. Or maybe manual. There's a statement that you will hear in a minute that is something to the effect that wheelie-ing (sp?) is old school manualling or something to that effect, which came as a total shock to me, so I'm a little sketchy on what I'm aspiring to, but it involves somehow being very cool by riding a bike on one wheel for a respectable distance.

Anyway, I've been consciously aware of my wheelie fixation for a while, and I've been hatching some vague logistical and equipment plans to achieve an "old-school" goal of a city-block-long wheelie, but until tonight, I didn't realize that I MUST. Or if that's even the right goal anymore. What jarred me out of dwell mode was this video that I ran across on the Lazy Rando blog:

How-To: Manuals from PlusSizeBMX on Vimeo.

There's a term in there that's maybe "loop out" or something like that. It was the first time I heard it, but I knew instantly that it meant landing on the backside of your head with great force. Hope I don't have to do too much looping out in the course of dealing with this latest obsession.

The other part of the title of this post has to do with the fact that this is post #500 for me. I think back to where my head was at on the first post and where it's at today and it's pretty entertaining, the evolution that you go through. A few weeks ago, I was pretty sure that I was out of blog-fuel and wouldn't make it to 500, but here I am. I guess I must kinda like typing and hanging out and talking bikes with you guys and occasionally flipping you shit. Thanks for the time you spend hanging here. See you at 501, then. If I don't loop out and kill myself first.

The Monster Lives

2011-11-27T22:58:00.000-08:00

Definitely. Most definitely.

The build process has been even less kind than the photo quality, if you can believe that. (Nothing like a good garage door shot.)

But it's hereby ride-able, and hereby it shall be ridden.

Requisite drivetrain shot. I have no clue why it's requisite, but here it is . . .

Surly ad shot. I have no clue why. Period. But here it is . . .

Last thing to get mounted was the headlight . . .

Reason being, so I could take my resident alien down to the park to chase the flying saucer.

Don't stare too long, lest you be assimilated.

In summary of my fatbike-building experience: HUNDREDS of hours and dollars. Priceless. For everything else, there's VISA.

Just to give you some idea of how twisted your mind gets, I've been looking at the image on the left for so long that the one on the right ("normal" MTB tire) looks anemic to me.

I'm obviously a little rummy from a long day in the shop breathing kerosene fumes and trying to focus on the world's smallest instruction text font. In seven distinct languages. But I have crossed the finish line. No one has ever been more ready for winter than me. At this five minutes.

Shhhhh!

2011-11-24T19:38:00.000-08:00

We have company, but I snuck out to the shop for a few minutes to hang
a couple more parts. What am I supposed to do? This is killing me. Don't
tell Patty I was out here. Thanks. Gotta get back inside now. Later.

Apparently, It's Time

2011-11-18T21:39:00.000-08:00

I got back from a business trip tonight, wasted. Not in the alcohol way, but the life-energy kind. So I'll be damned if I can figure out how I ended up in the shop instead of on the sofa. I guess when primal forces tell you to do something, you do it. (Yes, I stole that line from Field of Dreams, my all time favorite movie. (Whatever, the brilliancy of the plot greatly overshadows the acting, so bite me.)) And what primal forces were telling me, as I gazed wistfully out upon my silent, snow-covered pump track, was that the damn lathe I bought last winter has been sitting there long enough and that it's time to fire it up and turn something.

So the rack shop now has machining capability, officially. Holy hell, things are gonna get totally sick.

Project Fat Fender, Part I

2011-11-13T22:15:00.000-08:00

Nobody makes a fender that will work with a 4" wide tire. But there are some ingenious folks who have hacked together some pretty fine solutions and put them out there on the interwebs for all to see. I'm going to attempt to pirate one that I particularly dig.

Fatbikes currently use 26" wheels/tires, but by the time they get all pumped up and fat, their OD is much closer to a "normal" 29er tire. So my starting point is a brand new set of Planet Bike Cascadia 29er fenders. I shudder when I think about how I will be harming then.

The deal is basically this: You split a very nice, shiny set of production 2-1/2" wide fenders down the middle, and hack in a center section to make them 4+ inches wide. It sounds simple enough, but I'm fairly sure that I'm gonna have about 300 hours into a set of fenders that ends up looking like a kindergarten art project. Unfortunately, I'm all jacked up to give this a go and could care less about the value of my time.

Removal of all the hardware and mudflaps is the first thing that needs to happen . . .

Leaving you with a sad, non-returnable pile of parts that looks like this . . .

Once everything is stripped off the actual fenders, you're free to buzz em through the saw. I started with the front fender and it was a little rough. I refined my technique and the back fender came out a lot cleaner but trust me, of these two extremely boring videos, you want the shorter one . . .

The end result then, of the first hundred hours, is four pieces of plastic.

From the ashes of this dumpster fire something fabulous will eventually rise. Possibly.

The Unlikeliest Of Bike Accessories

2011-11-12T00:13:00.000-08:00

I'm just so grateful that it actually even exists. It's damn hard to come by locally. Obviously.

Hanging In

2011-11-06T21:57:00.000-08:00

Work and other life stuff have lately been crushing me at a level I haven't been crushed before. I've kind of retreated into survival mode and it's left me not caring about a lot of things that are normally important. Among those things, a diminished interest in bikes - to the point of seriously wondering if I really give a rip anymore. Crazy talk, but I shit you not.

But then when I step outside of myself and objectively look what I've been up to, it's damn hard to make a case. In my scant spare time, I've been researching and obsessing over and now have a badass new winter bike on order. This weekend, I got a bigtime burr under my saddle and carved out a few hours to clean up the workbench and get it ready to build racks and do other fabulous wintertime fabrication activities. That thing under the brown tarp is the lathe I bought at the end of last winter and haven't used yet - it's gonna do some killer shit, I hope. I've hung some new lights to brighten things up. Etc.

Apparently then, it's not that easy for the harshness of life to snuff out bike spirit. In fact, maybe adversity is what makes it thrive. I'm not sure. At any rate, I think everything's gonna be okay.

So Cool

2011-10-22T22:54:00.000-07:00

I was doing a little surfing tonight and wound up here . . .

More about Ground Truth Trekking and the Donlin film project here.

May not be your thing at all, so FWIW. To me it's just fascinating and inspiring as hell, on so many levels, so I thought I'd share.

A Cry For Help

2011-10-20T23:03:00.000-07:00

Middle fall is a particularly sweet dogbike time of year . . . it's dark early and the weather is awesome and Brandy and I head down to the park almost every evening with our glow-in-the dark projectiles and have the place all to ourselves. She gets all crazy athletic while I, umm, lamely chuck something and enjoy the fireworks. She's a pretty amazing dog.

The normal routine is that I eventually strain every tendon in my throwing arm and issue the command "let's go home". At which point her dog brain registers 'lame master ready to quit', and we head home together, me on the bike pedalling for all I'm worth just to give her that last bit of exercise and her, efortlessly keeping up. Also part of the routine is that she carries whatever throw toy she has in her mouth from the last catch home with her, and drops it in the driveway.

It's a sweet gig and it totally works. I suspect Adam probably had this exact same thought in the Garden Of Eden. But as we all know, he got burned pretty bad. I think the main lesson of that biblical episode was that "Fellas, you're doomed for the duration of the world to be lulled into complacency about how swell your world is, while unbeknownst to you, the females in your life are particularly unsatisfied. This discrepancy does not bode well for you and I'm sorry, but there's very little you can do about it."

Apparently the lesson that has been served about a hundred triillion times since that initial enactment has been served onto me by a female in my life and then compounded by the fact that this particular female is also a canine eager to top it off with some dogly head games. I don't stand a chance.

Last night on the way home, she dropped her toy about 50 yards from the house. WTF, this has never happened. I went back and picked it up. But not before I gave her the business - needed to let her know this isn't how we do things and who the boss is. Point communicated, one time deal, then. (Complacent, stupid male am I.)

Swell. That was so much fun that tonight, she drops it about 3 blocks from home. She obviously knows what she's doing, because while I must turn around to go pick up the stupid-ass glowing frisbee from the middle of the street, she books home and waits for me. You know the old saying about how it's better to remain silent and let others think you a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt? I didn't say a thing when I got there.

Offer you an apple, boss?

She's obviously pushing my damn buttons. It's pointless for me to argue that I'm anything other than that archetypical complacent male, caught totally off-guard. I'm at a loss and that's why I'm reaching out . . . . If you think you understand even one ounce of female dog psychology, please shed some light on this situation. I feel unbelievably vulnerable, and my fear is that it's going to get worse before it gets better.

Squeezing In A Ride

2011-10-16T23:37:00.000-07:00

Patty and I road-tripped to Seattle for the weekend. The occasion was a party: Jacque and roomate Brita were born on the same day of the same year. How flippin cool is that? And this year marks their 30th. They were gonna keep things low key. How flippin lame is that? Luckily, they came to their senses and decided to throw a speakeasy-themed cocktail party birthday bash. These two dames know what they're doing when it comes to house parties and it was a gas.

I suspect you'd have no trouble looking at a bunch more pics of pretty girls in roaring 20's outfits, but this is a bike blog damnit, so snap out of it.

It was a relatively quick trip over and back for us, with quite a full menu once we got there. Squeezing in a ride didn't seem likely, but riding in Seattle is always fun and I'd identified maybe, possibly, a window of opportunity. So I packed my newly cable-splitterized contraption in the trunk, just in case.

Sure enough, the window materialized, and I found myself in the darkness of the hotel parking garage, assembling my bike for a ride.

It took me 7 minutes to put the bike together. It should take about 2. But I really haven't put the coupled halves of the bike together that many times yet and let me tell you, they're pretty damn squirrelly, what with parts flopping all the hell over everywhere while you're trying to screw two separate joints together at once, with just two hands. Not sure if the garage had security cameras but if it did, I'm pretty sure I made the guard's whole shift. At any rate, me and the bike were finally ready.

My potential next-year cross-state tour on the John Wayne Pioneer Trail occupies my mind for a significant portion of every day now, and as a result, no trip to the west side is not gonna involve some sort of recon. In this instance, we were staying in the U-district, which is hella close to the very last few miles of the route - on the Burke Gilman trail out to Ballard. One of the things I hadn't figured out was where I was gonna do the ceremonial dip of the tires into the Sound. It's now figured out - Golden Gardens beach.

Cool ped-bike tunnel at the end of the BG trail, there at Golden Gardens.

Shilshole Bay Marina. A boatload of boats.

It was a wonderful mid-October afternoon in Seattle and I immensely enjoyed the adventure of sneaking in a ride where one should never have fit and piecing this little bit of the trip together. The subtle point (or maybe not) is that if I'd have had to haul a bike over on a roof or hitch rack, it would have been way too much of a hassle, given what we were doing and where we were staying and parking and security issues and all that. Even more than that, the bike would have gotten way in the way of what the weekend was all about. But with this coupled gizmo in the trunk, I was able to work in a ride and keep it real.

I know. You could give a shit about my stupid-ass ride and next year's trip. Fine. Be that way. Here's some more eye candy, then.

P & J. Hotness.

J and her true BFF's from high school. Rad.

Floor Pump Hysteria

2011-10-14T23:26:00.000-07:00

At my age, I should be remaining calm and collected at all times. As a matter of health risk and decorum.

Thing is though, I've been terribly upset with the total shit floor pump designs out there. And I've been quietly trolling for a decent solution for a long, long time. And today, I think I may have stumbled across the baddest mother of a pump. And I'm all manner of prematurely amped up about it.

I'd seen it before and it totally caught my eye, but the head looked like a POS because I was stupid and didn't understand what it was. The pump is a Specialized product and on my way out of Wheel Sport East after replenishing my brake and shifter cable stash, I happened to ask Mr. Grob (yep, same guy who sold me my rad pump track bike) about it. Jake doesn't eff around - when he says something, you can take it to the bank. And he told me this was a good pump. With a "smart head". Works with both types of valves.

Right. If only that were possible.

It's a $60 pump and I bought it. I wanna believe.

Well, I got the damn thing home and hooked it up to a coupla tires that were running a bit low. HOLY. LIVING. HELL. Who knew pumping up a tire could actually be fun.

Introducing the Specialized Airtool Comp.

Super stable base and a mega-diameter gauge with confidence-inspiring action.

Best of all though, the smart head just flat works.

I topped off the tires on all eight bikes we have around right now. My appetite was not even close to satisfied. So I hit our car tires. They were soon at rated pressure and my soul was left longing. I headed down the block to pump up some of the neighbors' tires.

Car alarms quickly sent me scurrying home.

I'm telling you though, I think this might be the real deal.

DaVinci Easy-Split Install

2011-10-13T22:51:00.000-07:00

If you own a bike with S&S couplers and you don't have cable splitters on said same bike, you are a fool. I have an S&S coupled bike that I got from Glen. I am was a fool. Don't you be a fool too. Instead, be like me, and get some splitters from Glen.

If you don't have a coupled bike, you are either on a budget or you are a fool. If you are on a budget, that's cool. If you are not, you are a fool. You should get one from Glen. If you do decide to get coupled and cool, don't be a fool. Spring for the splitters.

As if I haven't already helped enough, let me walk you through the installation process:

Those three black things in the middle are the splitters.
You'll also need some new cables.

Splitter close-up. The two set screws anchor one half of the splitter to
one half of the cable. Things will make more sense in a minute.

First under the knife was the rear brake cable.

Instructions say to stay 2" away from the nearest cable guide. Done, then.

Separation.

The part of the splitter with the two set screws attaches to the the lucky end.
The unlucky end goes away forever. It seems harsh at first,
but it's just the cycle of bike life.

In its place anew, a young (lucky) cable. Thereby perpetuating the cycle.

All connected, just like nothing ever happened.
Save for the fact that both ends are scarred for life based
on the violence thay have just witnessed.

Lather, rinse, repeat for the shifter cables.

It should be pretty clear at this point that no one has ever been more ready for a fold-your-bike-into-your-trunk road trip than me.

What Friends Are For

2011-10-08T22:54:00.000-07:00

A few of us showed up at Glen's tonight, to help put together Dylan's new Elephant cross bike. Good thing, too. Not sure how he'd have gotten it done by himself.

Serious Hang Potential?

2011-10-02T21:49:00.000-07:00

Patty and I bike-dated down to the new Flamin' Joes on 29th tonight. Only the best for my gal.

There's no bike rack, so we had to chain up to a downspout (lame). I want to think there are plans for a bike rack, time permitting. So I'm not issuing a demerit just yet.

Once inside, big-bar, fun-time character. The towelabra . . .

. . . and bottlecap-entombed tabletops . . .

There are about a million wing flavors, including the original set . . .

There's a code red challenge (not sure why bogger dumped this picture on its side, but whatever, blogger) . . .

This is what our actual order looked like. It was BAD. In the good way.

Beer-wise, this is the tap list. Not super-inspiring, your regular sports bar deal . . .

Here's the craft brew list, also just okay . . .

But here's something a little different . . . big bottles are apparently the big deal here, and the list is long (again, not sure why blogger dumped this picture on its head) . . .

Here's what a big bottle looks like in the hands of a patron . . .

So there's a party-time, gee-wiz factor to the place for sure, and I'm good with that, if not all hyped. But what has me pretty damn excited is the view through my bike hang spectacles. This picture doesn't really do it justice, but the place has a ton of room and can accommodate some pretty badass crowds. I don't know if you remember the Chapala layout, but there were all these sort of individual, compartmentalized dining rooms on the main floor and then a whole 'nother balcony level. With the remodel, the main floor has been completely opened up and there looks to be massive seating on the balcony level too (we didn't actually go up and check it out).

IMHO, our biggest bike hang problem over the last coupla years has been crashing in with a big group and overwhelming the establishment. Think South Perry Pizza debacle. The south hill neighborhoods are conducive to and filled with more boutique-ish establishments. Until now, there hasn't been that place that has the general capacity to not be phased by a 20-ish large group rolling in. Until now.

All that's necessary for a good hang is a reasonable beer list, some honest bar food, space enough for everyone who shows up, and good enough service to make us feel appreciated for dropping our hard-earned dollars. After that, we're good on our own. Based on initial impressions, I'm thinking Flamin Joes might deliver. So yeah, I'm excited.

Loon Lake Base Ride Hang, v1

2011-09-29T23:59:00.000-07:00

*****Super long post*****
[You've been duly warned]

My family owns and shares a cabin at Loon Lake and for the most part, it gets used between the 4th of July and Labor Day, and that's about it. September always has some super-sweet weather and I've thought for a while about having some willing friends up for a weekend of mixed terrain riding, including some excursion into the south end of the Colville National Forest. This past weekend was the actualization of that thought.

The general idea was to schedule a kind of Fri-Sat-Sun open house, where people could show up for any/all of the riding/hanging. There are sofas and cots to throw a sleeping bag down on, or places to pitch a tent. There's electricity; running water, including a shower; regular kitchen; deck with a view of the lake and stars; fire pit; boat; swimming. You get the idea. There are 3 or 4 country-cool restaurants, bars and coffee shops within a 5 mile ride and 3 or 4 more within 10. So the vision I had was that of us all driving up and parking, hanging out and playing, then riding to secure our nourishment and riding for the sake of riding, as the spirit moved us.

The vision was a little ambitious maybe, but hey, you gotta dream big. Things work out as they will and should. I sent the invite. I had first mentioned the whole deal to John late last spring and he was all over it, so I knew that at least he'd be on board, but then he clotted out. For a while, there was no other response, and I was mentally preparing to go it alone. But then, hardass mothers Jon, Nate and Steph threw down. They were all coming up on Saturday morning.

I'd pre-mapped and gpx'd a 55-mile/4000' route, along with 47-mile/3000' option into the forest. I haven't been riding much for the past few weeks and so while Patty and I ended up totally chilling and enjoying the day on Friday, the apprehension about my ability to complete either of these rides was gnawing at me in the back of my mind. Things came to a head between 1:30 and 3:30 in the morning, during which time my hyped up brain played out various heart and lung explosion scenarios, along with the the requisite dead-along-the-roadside-half-eaten-by-coyotes-and-vultures-with-loved-ones-weeping-at-my-closed-casket-funeral whole deal.

Things seemed a little better by the light of day and I was happy to see the gang show up around 8:00. I presented the route options and soft-lobbied for the 3000' one based on the pretense of its superior scenic merits, but the gang was all about the 4000' one, of course. I acquiesced, of course. What kind of a host would I have been? I also had my funeral to think about and I wanted people to have *something* good to say about me.

So that was that and my self-preservation strategy thereafter turned to carb loading and gear obsessing. Patty made the carb loading possible with a fantastic breakfast, while I futzed over every little equipment, clothing and mapping detail (except for the really important ones).

Real (non-phony) blueberry pancakes, veggie omelettes, french press joe, the works!

At exactly 10:00, we were ready to roll, happy delusional bumpkins were we. Just a lovely jaunt in the forest, 4 or 5 hours worth, said I. The blind leading the blind.

Jon. Nate. Steph. Me. L2R.

In the first 5 miles between the south and north end of the lake, there are a coupla reasonable climbs. We were good and warmed up by the time we hit the actual town of Loon Lake.

I'd spied a particular section of powerline road heading north and thought it looked sweet. We hit it hard.

Badass creosote. We all pretty much agreed that aliens would
eventually find this pole, perfectly preserved, long after the extinction of the
human race, and wonder WTF we had been up to.

Super duper happy fun riding on dirt a dirt road between the powerline and
the main road into the forest. We love bikes and puppies and Mickey Mouse.

At around 20 miles into the ride, we entered the Colville National Forest. The roads almost instantly turned Forest Service prototypical - smooth, narrow doubletrack, tightly contained by dense foliage. At about the same time, I was starting to feel pretty wasted and was getting seriously concerned about my ability to finsish the ride. Fortunately, I knew that we were already at 2800', and that the route topped out at 3000', so there wasn't a lot of climbing ahead. Unfortunately, I was apparently oxygen-deprived and totally delusional and somehow had some different routes mixed up in my mind, as we were just beginning a bitch of a climb to 5000'.

Stephanie bolted off the front like the mountain goat that she is. Jon wasn't far behind. I struggled mightily. Nate kept me company and kept me smiling. Dude was awesome.

At a certain point though, despite his encouragement, I could go no further. I was in bad shape and seriously shaking. I stopped, sat down and had a bite to eat. Maybe Steph and Jon were wondering where we were. I'm sorry, but I didn't give a shit at that moment, because in addition to feeling like garbage, I just realized that we were at 3500'. And also that we needed to go to 5000'. I formally entered into survivial mode.

There's this human deal about inviting friends on a ride and then aborting. There's just no way you can do it. I'll be honest, though, I seriously wanted to. But I had to find a way to keep going, and that way was to keep playing with the numbers. I had the gps and I became intimately familiar with the elevation gradients - I was all about how many hundred feet I needed to climb to get to such and such a percentage of the total, and how the grade might flatten out by a percent or so over the next half mile . . . that kind of thing. I knew that at some point, I would be close enough to the top that it would actually seem possible and some final-kickass energy would emerge out of the abyss and carry me to the summit.

In the meantime however, things were ugly as sin.

Yes, it's as steep as it looks and yes, I'm as wasted as I look. (Jon Eberly photo)

Despite the bleakness of my personal situation, I was still able to appreciate the higher-elevation views we were coming into.

(Jon Eberly photo)

Just a cool scree field. You see these a lot on the west side, not so much over here.

At long last, we hit the 4880' gradient, according to my beloved device, which was what I had long-ago identified as the highest point on our route. I insisted that we stop, celebrate, and capture the moment.

Primary summit timer photo. (I'm the excited one, there in the middle.)

Auxiliary summit timer photo. (I'm the excited one, there on the left.)

The road levelled out for maybe 50 yards, after which our descent immediately began. It was a steep, rocky one, the kind that bounces you all the hell over and cramps up your hands, arms and shoulders from death-gripping your brake levers. After all that climbing, this is the krappy descent we earned? At least were were going down hill. We dropped 700' in almost no time.

Jonathan had been out in front, but not that far, and so when I saw him riding back towards us, it didn't make much sense. Until he delivered the worst possible news: that the road dead-ended just up ahead. WTF, no way. I sprinted up, because there was no way. The dude was lying. Oh shit, how could this possibly be???

Sure as hell, the road ended. But I wasn't ready to accept the fact that we were gonna havta turn around and climb 700' back up that nasty-ass road and backtrack the way we came. It was panic time. I saw a foot/game trail, dropped my bike, and plunged in. 10 yards in, getting more dense . . . jeez, this MUST go somewhere . . . 20 yards in, brush battering my legs, please, please, don't end, this MUST connect to a road that my gps says is here . . . 30 yards in, steep and sandy, can we even drag our bikes through this if it even does go anywhere . . . I should probably turn around, but I cannot climb back out of here, I'm gonna die in the woods, I just know it, MUST keep going . . . 40 yards in, hey, what's tha . . . is it . . . HOLY LIVING HELL, IT'S THE DAMN ROAD!!!!!

Giddy with the hope of survival, I crashed back through the brush and emerged with my good news. There was very little discussion - we were obviously about to go bushwhacking.

There was a moment of debate as to which direction we should go, and after the debacle we had just experienced, I felt the tension of an impending mutiny, but it never materialized. I can tell you it was nip and tuck, though. The gps pointed us in that, there direction.

But not until after Jonathan fixed the first of his two flats.

While we watched, I think there was some tension released, combined with some dehydration and lack of oxygen and we entered into the 'comical zone', cracking each other up and laughing our asses off over the stupidest shit. It was so excellent.

Remember how I estimated this ride at 4 to 5 hours? Well, we were already there time-wise, but not even halfway there in terms of mileage. And we were all runing low on water. We tried not to think about it as we got back on the road. I was positive that we'd never find running water in September, at the relatively low elevations we were at. Shit. How had I so totally underestimated the saddle time, thereby causing everyone to pack much less water than they would need? Worse yet, Jonathan was supposed to work on Saturday evening, and now he was gonna get fired for not showing up, all on my account. Shit.

And then a miracle happened: A creek appeared along the side of the road. Beautiful, cold, clear running water!!

But guess who had decided not to bring a filter? Yep, this dumb-ass. Jon and Nate didn't give a shit, though. They drank heartily and filled bottles with reckless abandon. I stood by my principles, guided by fear and didn't drink any of it and didn't fill any bottles, despite the fact the we had 30 miles left to ride and I was down to less than half a bottle. As I look back, I am totally at a loss as to how I could possibly have been so f'ing stupid.

A short while later, Jonathan had his second flat. While we were chilling, things went seriously to hell for me. I couldn't stand up and I was getting nauseous. I had sweat so much that my electrolytes were all out of whack and it was all I could do to keep myself upright, sitting there on the side of the road. I had absolutely no idea how I was gonna be able to pedal myself out of this hell hole.

Fortunately, Nate and Jon recognized that I was in pretty bad shape. I hadn't been smart enough to save myself, but they had my back. Nate had bottled enough water that he had some extra. Jonathan was packing commercial electrolyte solutions (think Gatorade powder and Nuun tablets). They mixed me up a creek-water concoction and nothing has every tasted so good. But more importantly, I began to feel better almost immediately.

Cola Nuun. Oh hell yeah.

There would still be cramps to battle with, but I could move again, and now there was hope that I might actually return to civilization. I owed my life to these two beautiful men:

Jonathan (Eberly self-portrait)

Nate (Jon Eberly photo)

I had been ready for this ride to be over since way before we ever began that wicked climb, but at some point I actually began to feel not all that bad, which coincided perfectly with several miles of extremely sweet, smooth, windey, flowey, not-too-steep forest road descent. It was just reward for a very long, hard day in the saddle and everyone was digging it and the world was right again.

We endured, and made it back to the cabin just before 7:00, so just shy of nine hours on the road. Jonathan was able hightail it back to Spokane and work his magic and keep his job. Nate, Steph and I zombied (by automobile) our way over to the local BBQ joint and plowed into some calories, then went back to the cabin for a very mellow, short evening and crashed hard.

Processed salt.

The dusty nipple of salvation.

I have to say, one thing we never had to worry about was getting lost, and
that would have been a pretty big deal, given the other challenges we faced.
My gps totally ruled.

This was our route.

This was the meaty part.

In retrospect, I messed up pretty bigtime: 1) I went out on a ride I had no business doing, fitness-wise; 2) I totally underestimated how long it would take, which misled everyone else about the calories and water that would be required (and when they could show up for their jobs); 3) I got way too complacent about the demands that the forest can put on you, when you have no way to get out but under your own power, and as a result, I didn't pack some of the equipment I should have (like a filter!). If we'd had any route trouble, we'd have quickly run out of daylight and we'd brought nothing along to get us through a cold night. (Although the obvious solution would have been to huddle in Jon's beard.)

So I'm not trying to get too serious here, but OTOH, if you don't learn someting from an experience like this, you're not paying attention. I hope the lesson I learned will not soon be forgotten.

And I would never willingly or knowingly put myself or my friends in the situation that we were in, but shit does happen, and while the brutality of the pain is soon forgotten, the excitement of the adventure is not, and it was totally awesome and soul-inspiring and something that I don't think any of us will forget for a very, very long time. There was so much drama packed into one day that by the end, it seemed like the beginning had happened the day before yesterday. It was one of the best rides of my life, and I know that I'm not alone in that sentiment.

Nate, Steph and Jon, thanks for making this happen. You guys are so rad for showing up and hammering down. Your company is what made it special.

Mr Speare, you were missed. Get well - we're not doing this again without you.

Recovery Therapy

2011-09-25T10:09:00.000-07:00

Replenishment after yesterday's punishment. Full story to follow, at some point.

Mukluk at Steve's On Cannon

2011-09-22T22:59:00.000-07:00

Now the opportunity exists for a fatbike impulse buy. Only heaven can help me.

Forestly Shod

2011-09-22T21:40:00.001-07:00

I Can Only Picture The Pleasure

2011-09-20T22:45:00.000-07:00

I'm heading into the hills with some friends this weekend. I've logged a buncha hours online mapping some maybe routes and gpx'ing and downloading 'em and I'm here to tell ya that the whole gps thing ain't all that user-friendly just yet. If you're into burning massive amounts of time, this could be just the hobby for you. But it's also so useful (and cool) that you can't not do it.

Sorry, I digress. Big picture-wise, the gps time-dump thing is chump change. Of far bigger concern are my spindly legs and contracted lungs. To which I say, "bite me".

For three days, I will cast off the shackles that bind me and perform climbing feats beyond the realm of possibility! No cubicle on this planet can subdue my irrepressible spirit!!!

[Exhale]

Okay. I fully understand that I will die, in a particularly un-pretty fashion, on the ride and in the days that follow. But for those few moments of bliss, ahh . . . I can NOT wait.

I Might Be A Girl

2011-09-13T21:08:00.000-07:00

Hard to accept, harder even to deny. In the middle of organizing my bike shit I was hit with this alarming realization:

Sadly, there are even a couple more.

Normally, I try to somehow summarize my posts, but I need to go just deal with this on my own.

Manito Tap House

2011-09-11T17:08:00.000-07:00

I've been way ready for the Manito Tap House to open pretty much ever since I first heard it was gonna be the Manito Tap House. Thanks to a tip from Spokane Southie, Patty and I learned that the soft opening was happening Friday night, and since we were on a neighborhood bike date anyway, we swung by.

Turned out there was nothing soft about it, as the place was packed. It was kinda late and we weren't into waiting for a table, so we left, vowing to return. Soon. We got our chance this afternoon.

If you don't know much about the place, you can check out another of Spokane Southie's posts here.

The atmosphere is great, and the number of beers on tap is over the top.

There's another one just like this, only different, at the other end of the bar.

Beer list, front side. On tap? True dat.

Back side.

The food ain't bad, either. Local and organic ingredients. Bread baked in-house.

Tzatziki lamb burger. Oh yeah.

First fill for the new growler (Hale'sCream Ale. Hellaya.)

Patrick, the owner, spent some time talking with us - he obviously digs the bike crowd. He has plans to install a custom, arsty bike rack. He's gonna keep a pump and basic tools behind the bar, for patrons to use. And keep some tubes on hand for sale. And oh yeah, he mentioned a 10% discount for cyclists through the Bicycle Benefits sticker program. Saweet! (Now, where did I put my sticker?) This is such a rad, rad, RAD addition to the neighborhood.

Season Finale

2011-09-07T22:46:00.000-07:00

I'm having to get home earlier than ever from work to make them happen and even then, they're pretty short, so tonight was the last after-work evening sesh of the season. I hope to still have a bit of weekend shit going on, weather allowing, but it definitely has that feeling of being like pretty much the end of pump season.

Befitting of a grand finale then, were the following special events:

a. First time visit from Ben Tobin. He clocked a 6:25, which I think is the track record. My memory is krap, but I think the duel between Tracy and Bob last week ended up at 6:31. So Ben is officially fast.

b. Stephanie showed up. Holy hell. After about 15 invitations. Finally. Great to see you, Steph. You rocked pretty hard, btw.

c. Justin crashed. HARD. Different corner, but exact same crash mechanics as mine. It hurt to watch in the moments after; I felt what he was feeling, reluctant brethren are we. I don't expect his youthful ass got whipped quite as hard as my old one, though. At least I hope not.

d. John brought his yesterday-new Sun Spider fatbike, and clocked a 9:18, which is damn impressive, for a fatbike.

e. New record for most bikes on the track at once.

John's perspective here.

Enough jabber already, here are the pics . . .

Ben rode every bike available. Including Maddie's 20" zebra bike.

And the house bmx.

John, pumping the fat. Hating every minute. Maddie in hot pursuit.

Community.

Massive body english; the frog remains stoic as ever . . .

Ben crosses to the fat side.

Pursuit.

Tommy. The dude rules.

Patty's New Wheels

2011-09-07T06:55:00.000-07:00

Coupla weeks ago, Patty revealed that she's not too much about drop bars anymore. That totally registered and made sense to me and also gave me, in my mind, full permission to craigslist-out her Trek road bike that we bought 5 or 6 years ago. I got one response, which is pretty much all it takes, and the bike was gone. I'm not exactly sure that she saw things happening quite that fast. But damnit, I knew what was best for her, so I took charge.

She graciously rolled with that, as well as my bike shopping agenda over this last weekend. What woman doesn't like to shop, I rationalized? Well . . . my wife apparently, when I'm along.

I'm dramatizing a bit, but we did tour quite a few LBS's and experience a slight bit of marital disharmony, as what I envisioned her blissfully floating over flower-lined carless country roads on (some bike-nerdy steel contraption) wasn't exactly what she envisioned herself blissfully floating over flower-lined carless country roads on (something sleek, modern and aluminish).

What she ended up being smitten with was a Trek flat-bar road bike at Two Wheel Transit. But not the exact model or color that she was after. Tomas, being the superior salesmen that he is, happened to mention, and actually write down on the spec sheet that he printed out for the model she *was* after, that they had one (2012, no less) that had just arrived, in "Seafoam!" (that's the only and EXACT word that was added to the printout, in beautiful, rad penmanship, complete with exclamation mark.) Apparently, it's a particular style of salesmanship and color of green that spoke directly to Patty. I was clearly toast.

I'm not exeedingly bright, but at least smart enough to know when to zip my pie hole, which is exactly what I did. They put it together and she picked it up yesterday.

She is super-excited about her new bike and I am even more super-excited for her. There are some transcendently dramatic, thrilling moments in life that involve nuptials and new babies and that kind of thing, but after you get through all the heavy hitters, getting a new bike is still in the top ten, I think, unless you've had either ten babies or ten new wives, of course. (If you've had both, you're in a class by yourself, and a new bike probably won't register in even the top 50, so don't get your shorts all bunched, you're not my target audience.)

One thing, from a bike-nerdy husband's perspective that is great about dealing with TWT, is that you KNOW the bike is put together right and that the fit is good. Thanks Tom (I assume) and Tomas, Patty is thrilled.

And headed out on her first commute on her brand new bike. Good times.

Might Have To Shoot My Dog

2011-09-04T21:10:00.000-07:00

Yes, she's been digging in the track. This is an egregious violation of our contract.

A more impetuous master may well have taken action by now. I'm imposing a cooldown period on myself, though.

Major Pump Track Radness

2011-09-02T01:09:00.000-07:00

The Playas:

Tracy

Bob

Joe

John

The PlayER:

Jacob

Time Trials:

Show Stealer:

Fun-ness:

Satisfaction Denied

2011-08-31T22:14:00.000-07:00

Today was to have been part one of my first-ever attempt at back-to-back evening pump sessions. Different groups each night. But as mother nature would have it, she would not have it.

Thing is, among the various bike disciplines, pumptracking is maybe the most weather-senstive. A bit of moisture is good and even necessary for a track, but anything over that is dangerously slick and will subject your track to damage in a hurry. It pretty much poured, for the first time in weeks, so that was that.

The first half of the reason for planning doubles is that I'm sensing the impending change of seasons, complete with dwindling daylight and disabling precipitation events, and the pressure is on to get as many sessions in as possible, while there's still an opportunity to do so.

Other part of the doubles equation is that it takes so much work to get the track ready that when you do, you wanna take full advantage of the readiness. I think maybe that's one of evolutionary conclusions of a pump track proprietor - there's just not enough time to keep the track in shape all the time, so it makes sense use it in bursts.

Anyway, in preparation for the back-to-backs, I busted ass and had the track in maybe its finest-ever shape, as of this morning:

But you know, best laid plans and all that.

I'm happy to report, however, that we moved things under cover and made the best of it.

Thanks to Joe, Robin, John, Jon and Glen for hanging out, despite the shit weather. It wasn't quite the fun we had hoped for, but it was the next best thing.

Backyard Pump Tracks: The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

2011-08-30T23:31:00.000-07:00

Blogging has been a little tough for me lately, for a number of reasons, but one of the main ones is that I've always tried to keep this blog as diverse as I can, given the constraints of my limited knowledge and experience. I recall one particular exchange among local bloggers regarding "why we blog", and the consensus was that the desire to blog is ego-driven. True for them maybe, but for me, I think it's a lot more about connection. I don't facebook or tweet or anything, so for me this blog is my means of hanging out with my local and national bike buds, known or unknown.

But back to the diversity thing. The pump track has kind of taken over my life and rendered me pretty much one-dimensional, and I've been trying to figure out how to work other stuff in as part of the connection deal but as of tonight, I guess, I'm throwing in the towel and thinking that my best path forward, short term, is to just lay it out there: My name is Pat S and I'm a pumptrackaholic. The backyard pump track season is drawing to a rapid close and so I won't be talking about it forever, but maybe there's some value in just focusing on and sharing what I've learned and experienced and think about every day, ever since I decided to throw myself into this project back in early spring. Or not, that's for you to decide. But for sure I can't do diverse right now.

So even though backyard pumptracking is a miniscule segment of the bike scene here in Spo, tune in here over the next few days if you want to know more than you ever wanted to know about this particular weird little subculture. Including some tales of satisfaction, disappointement, revelation, downright rants, and major exhiliration. And of course how could I not share some data.

Back In Bidness

2011-08-28T21:58:00.000-07:00

It's been exactly four weeks since my crash. This weekend was about getting back in the saddle. I picked up dirt after work on Friday and did some track mods over the weekend that made me feel safer or whatever - rationalization and head games and managing fear mostly, but also partly some good improvements that came out of four weeks of reflection. John was over for moral support or is that Evil Knievel, the new nutcase is messing with my head.

I'll be honest, I was scared shitless for a coupla laps, but once I was able to loosen up, it was so rad to be back on the track.

Pump track, I'm sorry for the harsh words. You complete me.

You Die

2011-08-26T23:23:00.000-07:00

I love you, but you die, mofu. You dumped me on my head, harder than shit. But I am alive, stronger than ever, pissed as hell and then some. I created you and I will alter you and I will rule you and I will hit every corner of you so hard that you will cry like the baby pump track that you are. And when you beg for my forgiveness, well . . . I will think about it.

New dirt is here, consider yourself modified. Deal with it.

This is your brain, pump track.

This is your brain on Pat.

Any questions???

Fat Thursday

2011-08-25T22:33:00.000-07:00

On their blog this morning, Surly posted a buncha details and pics about their new products. Lots of their new offerings are fatbike-related. The forums lit up and through the course of the day, the excitement drove the needle on the fatbike nerd meter straight through the side of the housing.

I was able to read the blog text today at work, but IT filters out the pictures, so I just now got to look at them. Damn, the fatbike choices just got wildly more diverse and delightfully more confusing. I'll have to follow what fatbikers are saying on the forums and process it all over the next few days/weeks.

As far as whether it will affect my buying decisions, I'm not sure. I'm really wanting to go after a reasonably light rotating mass and the new Marge Lite scores well in that department. And the cool thing is that the new tires are gonna be available almost immediately and fatbikers are such hackers and they're gonna be playing with all kinds of shit as far as fitting them into existing fat frames. Will I get smitten with the Moonlander itself? Only time will tell. Maybe the Moonlander is such a drastic evolutionary step that current fatbike owners will be compelled to convert and more of the current crop of fatties will be available, and at more reasonable used prices and that's what I'll go after. Once again, time will tell.

One thing for sure, it's really fun to watch this unique velo genre evolve, because unlike most others, it's in its infancy and there's tons of experimentation going on. I needs to gets me in on it. One other thing for sure is that Surly has reached the size, as a bike company, that might automatically make you not like them quite so much anymore just based on that fact, and that if not ubiquitous, Surlys are at least common. But I love them more than ever for their innovation and for the way they seemingly listen to and respond to what people ask for. Maybe that respect will have the bigger affect on my buying decisions. Only time will tell.

Discombobulated Downtime

2011-08-21T22:33:00.000-07:00

My pump track crash was three weeks ago today. I hit pretty hard. F%@kin' hard, actually. I've had trouble focusing my eyes due to some swelling around the socket, but I think that's mostly over with now. Lingering problems are a rib injury and what I think is probably a broken bone in my left hand. Based on past experience with those two types of injuries, I'm guessing I'm about halfway there. The hand is the most problematic, because riding aggravates it, and I'm thinking the only way for it to heal is to stay off the bike, so that sucks.

So that mess, combined with some pretty serious overload at work has left my head in a pretty weird place. But maybe it's okay and even a good thing, as the out-of-saddle time is cause for a lot of reflection on what bikes really mean in my life and what I want out of them going forward. My obsession is fully intact, but I've never considered it as anything as serious as a religion. A super happy escape/diversion from the hard realities of life though. Anyway, I think I'll be altering my course a little. Not drastically.

Biggest thing is, I'll be getting a fatbike, barring something major like my own death. I'm now fully engaged in this particular form of insanity and I've been having great fun sorting through the nuances of the various equipment options. My major fatbike focus is next year's cross-state tour on the John Wayne Pioneer Trail, but I'm convinced I'll have all kinds of other fun once I get one in my hands. The following vid is more extreme than anything I will ever do at my age, but I'm so incredibly captivated by the possibilities. It may not be your thing, but maybe you can at least get a glimpse of the bug I've been bitten by:

Bikerafting Alaska's Lost Coast: Yakutat to Glacier Bay. from lacemine29 on Vimeo.

Yeah, the idea of crossing the Columbia on a packraft. I know.

Second biggest thing is, I think, maybe, I'm ready to live without a road bike. The dedicated lightweight roadie kind, in this case my Orbea. In my mind, a road bike's always been a pretty solid part of my stable/who I am, bike-wise, but I've hardly used it these last 2 or 3 years and when I have, it's been fun, but not all that. It wouldn't have to be forever, or it could be, but I think it's time to let go of this particular security blanket. Watch for it on a craigslist ad near you.

Other than that, there was some dolling up of the Elephant tonight, in advance of the big Elephant-owner's photo shoot this week. See how well I have Patty trained to mow the yard while I wash my bike?

Know how I talked earlier about my own death? I think it's now imminent, once she reads what I just wrote.

I've also been working on a basement organization project - the BABSSA (Bike And Bike Shit Storage Area). It's a long-overdue project, as I have krap scattered all over hell in the basement. That pile in the foreground is what will now get organized and put on the shelves. I'm proud of the fact that except for just a couple of new 10' 2x4's, I did it all with recycled materials that I have around, including the paint. (The color is what I got when I mixed a buncha partial leftover cans of paint together and it's not pink, dude, it's mauve.)

So anyway, good catching up with you. I'll try to get my head screwed on a little better and not be such a stanger.

Thur Pump Sesh Pics

2011-08-04T23:38:00.000-07:00

(As always, click any pic for big . . .)

Too many people heading into one intersection. Don't let Joe L's
expression fool ya - the traffic is stressing him out.

Moments later, Justin anticipating the inevitable . . .

Road rage. Don't let the expressions fool ya.
I was there and the stress was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

These three pics of Glen are the textbook pump sequence.

Justing eyeballing the line . . .

. . . and executing.

If I've learned one thing in life for sure, it's that kids dig pump tracks.

Breathe deep for the downstroke . . .

. . . then count on your grit and determination to get you up the other side.

Tommy! Eyes on the track!!!!!

Justin, railing the 180 that tried to kill me.

Joe T, taming the beast.

Joe L, still not having fun.

Joe T brought home-brew beer (not pictured); Joe L brought home-brew
ice cream (pictured). The Joes are rad, rad, RAD.

Pondering My Response

2011-08-02T23:07:00.000-07:00

If you find a bear cub or baby giraffe or something on the side of the road and bring it home and raise it, you can delude yourself into thinking it's all domesticated, but you have to know in the back of your mind that there's always the chance that the wildness that can't be totally and completely purged will emerge for just a split second. If/when it happens, you're hosed.

I understand that this isn't Wild Kingdom and we're not talking animal babies . . . we're talking dirt. But shit, I just thought that based on the Frankensteinian process I endured to give this particular batch of dirt some fabulous life, it would somehow honor me. Wrong, apparently.

We all love innocent baby animals and dirt, but hell, at some point, a bit of retaliation is in order. I'm thinking C4. I seriously doubt that I can bring myself to destroy that which I have created, but at least I can dream.

One thing's for sure: It's not enough to simply love your pump track; you must also respect it.

Super Double Mandatory

2011-07-31T22:36:00.000-07:00

A nice guy named Chad was over to buy some stuff I had advertised on Craigslist tonight, and he was familiar with this blog and therefore with the pump track and so I wanted to do a demo and give him a chance to try it if he wanted.

I've been really good about strapping on a helmet whenever I get on the track but tonight, since it was only a demo, and since I was doing just a coupla laps, I blew it off. By now I'm sure you can hear this next part coming - I went into a corner too hot and planted myself hard into the track, whose surface is not all that different from concrete these days.

I bought lunch today and the total came to $6.66.
I shoulda gone straight home and went directly to bed.

I banged up my body some, which is fine, but I rung my bell pretty good, which is scary. So from now on, if you come over to ride the track, the helmet policy is zero tolerance. Me included. Can't stand the thought of someone getting seriously hurt on this track. Just thought you should know what's behind my new super-double-mandatory-helmet-at-all-times-while-on-the-pump-track stance.

SEON (Super Easy Overnighter)

2011-07-31T00:13:00.000-07:00

There'd been some scuttle among friends this past week about a possible group overnighter to the campgrounds at Riverside State Park on Friday night. The group part never materialized but in the process, I managed to get a commitment from Patty, and there was no way I wasn't gonna take advantage of her willingness to give bike camping a shot.

The original plan was to wrap up our responsibilities for the week and head out late afternoon, but neither of our jobs would let go their grip and we finally rolled at 6:30.

First off, let me just say, I had my camera inadvertently set to macro mode, so these are not the greatest pictures. Don't take that as an apology, just deal with it. (I'm so glad we can talk like this.)

Somewhere down there is where we'll spend the night.

Camper Patty, rolling strong along the parkway.

A place to call our own.

I pulled all the stops when it came to introducing
Patty to the finer aspects of camp cuisine.

Including the concepts of naked . . .

. . . and fully dressed.

After a night of sleep dominated by the sound of the nearby river and a relaxed
morning dominated by a good cup of Via, we were packed and primed.

But we couldn't leave without saying goodbye to our new friend Loren.

Loren was the only other cyclist in the campground. He was slightly more hardcore than us, having started in Cali and having been on the road 10 weeks, and having just gotten started really, as he was on his way to Boston and scheduled to get there no time soon. With just a few exceptions, for most people there is only one brief period in you life that you can do something this crazy and it's in your late teens/early twenties and even then you have to be deliberate to make it happen and it was awesome to see and hear about all that went into his planning and what he had experienced so far, and what he anticipated going forward. And it was a good thing it was interesting, because the dude could talk the ear off a deaf man. Seriously inspired, is he.

There were some things that surprised us and I won't go on and on, but the one thing that must be pointed out is that he's touring in a full face helmet. Downhill style - check out the pic. He was hit by a car a while back and he's not taking any chances. Patty and I handled it and turned it over and looked inside and holy hell. It's heavy as a rock and thick as a brick. He had just come from Grand Coulee and all I could think about was climbing that massive hill outta there while wearing an R49-insulated bowling ball on my head. Let me revise my stance from holy hell to holy living hell.

This is a shot of his Washington map, a thing of beauty.
As he's heading east from here, he's pretty close to being done with it.

Back on the road, Patty powers up Doomsday Hill.

We rest-stopped at Indaba for a real cup of coffee.

To be serious for a minute, here's essentially the whole deal about this post: Patty and I had a super fun, chill time bike camping in the woods just 9-1/2 miles from our house. We left late on Fri, got back early on Sat and felt like we had lived a whole day by noon. We were fully in the woods, on the shores of an awesome river, and yet there was drinking water, trash cans, and restrooms. Bike camping doesn't get any easier. Yes, there's a time and a place for more epic adventures, but there's also a time and place for a quick, easy overnighter in your back yard. It's too great of an opportunity not to take advantage of and we highly recommend you check it out.

Fat Bike Buzz

2011-07-27T00:14:00.000-07:00

My enthusiasm over a potential cross-state tour on the John Wayne Pioneer Trail (begs for a worthy acronym, I know) next year has held pretty steady over the last few months. Which gives me more and more confidence that it's not some flash-in-the-pan idea. Casual research and thought on the trip are fairly continuous for me and are a great source of relaxation, as well as a righteous way to pass those occasional sleepless wee hours.

I've got my basic route mapped out here, and as I envision myself riding through the various sections of the route, I'm always on a fat bike. You certainly don't need one to do this trip and in fact my friend Nate is considering a similar trip on a single speed ultralight 29er setup, but for me, a fat bike is a pretty integral part of my dream. It's part of what I want the experience of the trip to be about.

And so anyway, I'm to the point in my progression on this journey towards the journey that I'm ready to be serious about bringing a fat bike home. I've been watching this one for the last week or so and I put in a not very aggressive bid of $1100 at the bell, which didn't cut it.

Being as it was located in Portland, I'da still had to cough up another chunk of change one way or another to get it here and besides, I'm not totally sure it's what I want.

Reason being, is that concurrent with the virtual shopping, I've been hanging out on some fat bike forums and whatnot, learning a bit about what's going on inside the world of fat bikes. And what I've found is that the species is in the midst of a pretty intense evolutionary growth spurt. Fat bikes are still a little niche, but not that much, and I feel like interest is on the verge of exploding, if it hasn't already done so, especially in certain areas of the country.

I've had it in my mind that I want to acquire one as inexpensively as possibly, reasoning that a fat bike is a fat bike is a fat bike, and that there should be a decent inventory of used ones around, given that they're a bit gimmicky, right? And that they've (thus far) been marketed primarily as snow bikes and we're pretty much as far off-season as you can get, right? And while higher-end Fatbacks and 9Zero7's are in high demand and out of my price range, there should be an abundance of the more mainstream Surly Pugsleys and Salsa Mukluks in the mix. Turns out, though, that the used inventory just isn't that great and is far out-paced by the demand, as more and more people seem to be interested. Used machines are holding their value amazingly well. For bikes.

Other thing though, is that all manner of craziness is happening behind the consumer curtain at QBP, who owns both Surly and Salsa. There seems to be some effort to differentiate the offerings, with Surly taking "fat" to a new extreme with the Moonlander and maybe marketing more to the winter crowd, and Salsa refining the current fat bike definition and broadening it's offering within that definition and maybe marketing to a more year-round crowd. I could be all wrong, but whatever the marketers are doing, they're making me want a Salsa. Badly. And what's really starting to get to me is the desire for "a little bit lighter" fat bike (oxymoron if ever there was one). I know, I know - weight is precisely what drives all manner of insane, reckless, irresponsible, dishonest bike expenditure. I feel amost as though I'm watching helplessly, from outside my body, as I become the next victim.

From the QBP website, the two brands are described (aka marketed to powerless idiots like me) as follows:

Salsa Cycles
Premium road, mountain and cyclocross bikes

Surly
Sturdy, no-frills road, mountain and cross bikes

I guess I fancy myself a premium sort of fellow. And then it wouldn't hurt Surly to actually offer a frame color once in a while that was halfway appealing. And then it doesn't help that there's a ton of buzz right now about news leaking out of this dealer-only QBP show called SaddleDrive . . .

For 2012, Salsa will be offering the Mukluk 1, 2, and 3:

Mukluk 3 - $1599 with a few cool upgrades from last year
Mukluk 2 - $2099 with sweet component and detail awesomeness (like E13 cranks)
Mukluk Ti (1) - $2099 frameset only with Alternator dropouts

Followed by this pic from the show:

Ti on top, "2" on the bottom

So things are not looking good. The big question at this point is how far into my pocket Salsa is going to get their hand.

I Feel Bad

2011-07-17T23:31:00.000-07:00

That was seriously rude of me not to tell you where to get Bikini Blonde Lager. It's at the Rocket Market.

And just to prove I'm sincere in my apology, I left some for you.

Okay, it's only one, but it's still some. Technically.

Miscellany

2011-07-16T23:09:00.000-07:00

To continue the theme, as of late. It's just that it's suddenly summer, and there's so much shit going down all at once.

Item 1.
The Larry-H-Miller-Lexus-Liberty-Road-Race-Number-Two happened today. Another great effort by a fine bunch of athletes. I happened to be working a very rural corner and during a bit of down time, I walked over and looked at the barbed-wire fence next to the road.

It made me think of how Johnny Hoogerland's body got launched through the same thing earlier this week. And how he got back on his bike and finished the stage, and then went to the hospital and got 33 stitches and then got back at it. And there are plenty more stories like his, probably more dramatic. Point being, I guess, is that pro riders are super seriously hard mothers. Different breed a cats. Shite.

Item 2.
It won't be big deal to you, but I put new rubber on the dogbike. It's a big deal to me because the old rubber was turdy-knobby and the new stuff rolls a lot smoother. Which is not a big deal if you're just running down to the park, but thing is, this is my only bike with pedals that I don't havta clip into and so it gets a lotta other neighborhood duty and downtown duty and so I think you can now appreciate what a big deal it is to me. Even though it's not to you.

Item 3.
Another 3-hour pump track tweak - can't leave it alone. It's always been my intention that this section be designed so that you can bank right, bank left, bank right. Fast and smooth. So far it hasn't worked out at all. I might havta give up on the concept - I think maybe it's too shorta distance in which to shift your body weight. Not that I won't keep trying for just a little while longer, though.

Item 4.
Saving the most important for last: I've discovered the best-yet canned beer. It's fabulously badass.

Plus I work in the aluminum industry, so the can talks to me in more ways than one.

If you want some, you'd better get there before me. Oh, so sorry, can't remember where I got it.

Pump Track Rock Star

2011-07-14T23:10:00.000-07:00

At 2-1/2, Owen is the way-youngest to hit the track so far. He had a rough first 5 minutes. At which point he picked up and dusted his self off and killed the next 90.

In addition to obviously being destined for greatness on a bike, he shows up superior on film, which gives me the illusion that I know what I'm doing with a camera. Dude rocks.

Stupid Shit

2011-07-12T23:54:00.000-07:00

Work is crushing me at the moment and I've no leftover energy to ride, and therefore not much bikey to blog about. But I know how short your attention span is, and despite our differences, I'm feeling the pressure to not lose you. Easing that pressure, fortunately, knowing you as I do, is the understanding that it doesn't take much to stimulate you. Read on then, and be captured.

Right after I got my new camera, I took these two shell-dump pics during a ride on the FLT, right next to Queen Lucas Lake. Not bad for a waterproof, shockproof jobber, if I do say so.

On the same ride, I think, here's Patty, going through the tunnel, maybe just after the douchebag vandals hit the mural. I could be wrong, feel free to correct me.

Peekin' the new cam through a gap in fence on the bridge o'er I-90

This next one is a point-and-shoot pic of a poster that Jacque gave me that hangs on a wall in the basement. The krappiness of the image doesn't capture it very well, but smartest guy in the history of the world, smiling crazily. On a bike. I rest my bike blog case.

Like a lotta people, I've gone to the liquor store to get righteous, heavy-duty moving boxes. Like a lotta people, I've had shit stored in those same boxes for years. Like probably not a lotta people, I just got around to appreciating one of them last winter, one night while I was rack-building. I'm not much of a hard-liquor guy, but I can't help but admire the golden age of advertising.

That should hold you for a while, then.

All Is Well

2011-07-05T22:34:00.000-07:00

Clean drivetrain, lubed & adjusted, hi-zoot new chain. Freshly groomed and dampened pump track. Nailed a coupla 180's at dusk. Supreme satisfaction & relaxation rock my world for this moment in time. Peace out.

The Fourth

2011-07-05T01:36:00.000-07:00

Patty and I hung with her family at Sunbanks Resort on Banks Lake over the weekend.

Let me just get it out there - we've been there once before on this same weekend and it's not my happy place. It's a little crowded.

But that's just me and I did my best to shut up and meld. From what I could tell, everyone had a great time, so as I said, that's just me.

But anyway, this is a bike blog and so of course I brought a bike. To my delight though, so did a bunch of the gang. I'd done some online mapping and as if I had a clue as to what I was doing, and the first two to misplace their trust in me were Patty's sister Heather, and brother Bruce. And even though we didn't accomplish the killer loop I'd promised, we managed some epic climbing and bagged some killer views.

It got a little rough and so on the way back, we had no choice but to seek out a rehydration station. Enter the Electric City Bar and Grill. $3.50 pint Irish Death's and I am not kidding. Killed every last bit of pain.

So that was Saturday. On Sunday, the big group was ready to roll. Unfortunately, the massive power in my legs torched my chain before we even got out of the resort parking lot.

Fortunately, I was once again righteously packing a chain tool and managed to cobble things back together.

No sooner had we started to roll than I got distracted. Ever since the Honey Badger Vid came out, I've been hyper-aware of snakes, and especially the manner in which they die, and so this caught me eye and I was compelled to share. It was killed by a car tire and got off comparatively easy, IMHO.

The big group, rolling hard and proud . . .

The big group, posing all serious . . .

The big group, off-road, hamming it up . . .

The big group, re-visiting the hydration station . . .

The big group, on the verge of full re-hydration . . .

Gratuitous shot of a couple of my nephews, back at camp, downing their own cool ones . . .

I hadn't quite gotten my fix, so on Sunday afternoon, I headed out solo to do some exploring. I'd mapped 3 different loops and I wanted to prove out at least one. That there road turned out to be my best chance of making it happen . . .

After climbing like a bastard, I finally got to the top. All indications were that this was gonna be a lovely 5-mile, thousand-ft descent. And that's how it started - the roads were smooth, fast and wonderful. The scenery was stunning . . .

And then I got to the point where I was supposed to change roads, according to my GPS. Except that there was no road there. I stopped and looked, rode past where it was 'sposta be, rode back past it. Did about a 100X zoom on my GPS. Shit. This was the spot, for sure. Looks like there was some type of road there at some point, but not what I needed at this point . . .

Super telephoto reveals remnants of the road I should be riding. But it's not rideable, and I won't be riding it . . .

Damn, it would have been so great to loop back to Banks. But still, the riding and scenery were rad. Gratuitous shot #2, on the backtrack . . .

I'm pretty fascinated my the geography/geology of this area and so for me the scenery is pretty spectacular. And while there's probably not enough riding to warrant a trip down for that sole purpose, there's definitely more than enough to justify taking your bike if you're going anyway.

I Need To Tell You Something

2011-06-28T22:59:00.000-07:00

I bought a Sackville/Rivendell bag for my front rack a coupla weeks ago. The rack's been lacking a proper bag ever since it got built and I hope this fits that bill, but that's not what I really wanted to tell you.

It's working out pretty good so far, except that the rear loop of the rack sort of interferes with the zipper path - some dumbass built the loop just a tad tall. But that's not what I really wanted to tell you.

The bag comes with D-rings for shock cord (aka bungee cord material) on top, but without the actual cord - you hafta supply that yourself. My go-to place for bulk 1/8" shock cord is REI, but when I went there, they were out of stock. I don't really have a backup source. Shit. Life can be a bitch sometimes. But you already know that, and it's not really what I wanted to tell you.

I coulda looked around and found it somewhere else pretty easily, but that woulda taken some time and that's what I have least of, so I headed straight to Lowe's and bought a 15" x 18" cargo net, which I presumed (read gambled) was made up of one continuous piece of shock cord for $10 in round numbers. This is the starting point of what I wanna tell you.

I un-knotted the net and ended up with one continuous piece of 1/8" shock cord and a buncha leftover hooks, so it's do-able. So that's the first thing I wanted you to know.

I ended up with somewhere in the neighborhood of 27' of cord. Which would have cost me $6.75 at REI. Versus $10 for the net. Not to mention saving a half hour of my life. Point being that, if you're ever faced with the same decision of whether to buy bulk or dismantle a net, go bulk (assuming money is all you care about).

And that's pretty much what I needed to tell you.

Major Dogbike Upgrade

2011-06-24T23:35:00.000-07:00

It showed up a couple or four days ago on my front porch, without warning, courtesy John. I'm not all that smart and I twirled it around and stared at it for a while. Then I put it down, and looked at it for another while and since I couldn't not screw with it, I ripped apart and re-magnetized the industrial velcro a few dozen times and snapped the buckle together a few hundred dozen times. Tonight was finally the epiphany. It's a busy pic I know, but just left of the gloves. It's a San Francisco Freight Road Soda . . . ummm . . . searching for the word . . . umm . . . 'thingy'.

Despite the fact that it's intended to carry only one "soda", it has a massive
suitable-for-rock-climbing-type nylon strap that wraps around the head tube,

...along with a second buckled strap that chokes the life outta the top and
down tubes. The SFF dudes are obviously of the opinion that no "soda"
should ever run free.

Fine, you say, what's so MAJOR about the upgrade? I'm not surprised at your question, I wouldn't expect you to understand. But delighted that you asked. Deal is, the old soda transport solution was adequate, but tended to bounce around and shake up the soda, which tended to foam it up and make a mess upon opening.

Now with the new cush ride there's none of that, plus the leash which I rarely-if-ever use but have to carry due to fear of certain park-rule zealots finally has a home of its own.

One small step for man, one giant leap for dogmankind.

6am Pump Session

2011-06-21T06:26:00.000-07:00

Webb's Slough SON

2011-06-19T17:20:00.000-07:00

I've been going on about the Webb's Slough SON for months now, and this weekend it was finally time.

It kicked off at 7:30 am on Saturday, at the FLT trailhead. Throwing down with me were Mike, Glen, Joe, Nate and Wade. (As per usual, click any of the pics in this post for big.)

Glen's super into camping. Which explains why he's so excited.

Wade's righteous setup

En route, on the FLT. Nate is either super-efficient with his camping gear,
or he's not planning on going the distance. Hmmm.

Waiting to cross
(Nate: I saw you first)

Water stop on the FLT. Joe is either super efficient with his camping
gear or he's got other plans. Hmmm. Glen's excitement hasn't yet worn
off. Wade is speaking the truth, as usual.

The ride from Cheney out to St John was one tough, slow mother. Plenty of hills applying gravity to all those pounds of gear, along with a head-on headwind all the way that ratcheded up a notch the last ten miles, along with threatening skies, spitting at us. At least they didn't open up. Yet.

The five of us (it was always Nate's plan to accompany us to Cheney and then turn around and ride back through Turnbull, only dude with any sense) finally arrived in St John and provisioned at the killer grocery story there.

Once inside the gates of the slough, Joe (only one of the five of us with any grasp of the reality of the situation), met up with his wife, who had driven down, and bid us farewell and good luck, suckas. By coincidence, it was time for those skies to open up. The four of us are survivors, so we did the only logical thing and found our our way to the covered beer garden. Apparently, it wasn't exactly an original idea.

Wade, speaking the truth

Making the best of a bad situation

We managed to find something to wash the beer down with

Wade managed to find a product he could get behind

As far as actual boat racing goes, Webb's Slough is a pretty interesting place . . .

This is the terraced hill overlooking the track. People bring EZ-ups for
shelter from the sun, normally, and shelter from the rain, abnormally.

This picture doesn't do a good job of showing it, but that's a sea of RV's
out yonder. Build it and they will effin' come. Holy shite.

The actual craziness that is the track.

This is the start area, where boats are constantly being put in and taken out.

Sprint boat racing is about covering a timed course, one boat at a time. In the top class, the boats have up to 900 horsepower. They stop, start and turn on a dime - it's pretty damned spectacular shit, which I guess is why they can manage to get people to drive (and other idiots to ride their bikes) from all over hell to a field in the middle of nowhere.

Here's how they start . . .

And here's how they stop:

And here are a coupla runs . . .

Water is constanly flying every-the-hell-where. Here's a burst sequence . . .

These boats have drivers and navigators. The navigators tell the drivers which way to turn. Many of the navigators are wives of the drivers. This is one possible consequence of listening to your wife. (And no, I cannot believe I just said that.)

Somewhere along the way, Glen and Wade phoned up some SAG support and called it good. Can't say I blame them. Mike and I, though, were not about to be deprived of the fun that lie ahead. We pitched camp in the rain.

This picture pretty much says it all, so I'll just shut up.

No rule that says you can't have a little fun while you're being miserable. As
a side note, I need to mention that the water and Guinness were both part
of a carefully crafted re-hydration plan. That worked brilliantly, I might add.

At about 7:30 or so, my tent started looking pretty sexy. My hands and feet were cold as hell and life just totally sucked. I've spent way too much money on my lightweight tent, bag, and pad over the last couple of years, but at that moment, it was the best coin I'd ever dropped. A warm and dry refuge. I hit the sack at 8:30, while it was still light out. Out before my head hit the pillow. The slough was in post-race party mode literally until the sun came up. Fortunately, the action was far enough away from where we were that it didn't keep us from sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time. We were up at five and on the road before 6:30 and the ride home turned out to be as wonderful as the ride out was, uh "challenging". It had stopped raining, and the sun was peeking through at times, and oh, yeah, we had a freakin' tailwind the whole damn way. We kicked it like no one on 60 lb bikes ever has.

Your's truly

Mike, testing out the self-portrait capabilites of my new cam.
BTW, this one trip fully justified my purchase of a waterproof model.

The ride wasn't that tough, really. I rolled into my driveway wondering if
maybe I should go do another lap, just so I could call it a workout.

We did our best to kill the beer at the slough, but there were two survivors.
Mike and I are both committed to the principle of leaving no beer behind, so
we split the weight and hauled them back to Spo. To die.

All up, 106 miles round trip at an average speed of 13, which surprised me
(I thought it would be lower). I think it must have been 10 on the way
out and 16 on the way back to average out to the average.

Big thanks to Mike, Glen, Joe, Wade and Nate for coming out and riding, despite the lousy weather. Friends are what make an event like this worthwhile. Extra thanks, Mike, for hanging tough and overnighting. If you had bailed, I probably would have too, which would have been a shame - the ride back this morning was sweet, and the adversity will make the memory of the trip extra special. And I mean that.

Return Trip Fuel Stop

2011-06-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

Zips in Cheney rocks breakfast hard.

The Endless Futzing Over Kamping Krap

2011-06-16T23:42:00.000-07:00

Getting ready for an overnighter still starts two or three nights in advance for me. I'd like to think I'm getting better at it, but I'm not sure. There's no such thing as one universal set of krap that works for every outing - there are some universal basics, but each trip seems to have its own peculiar requirements.

Of course my dream is to be so efficient that I could pack in about 20 minutes and I'm working on that system, but it's still pretty lame, as I'm about 480 minutes shy of my goal. But still, it's a system:

I keep a master electronic kamping krap list and the starting point is to print a copy and attack it with sharpies and highlighters. That sorta serves to wrap my mind around how I expect the trip to go and what I might need.

I've centralized all my most-used krap into a few plastic storage boxes and the next step is to go through them, with the sharp focus that I obtained in the previous step, and pull out everything that might possibly be of use. This used to take the entire living room floor, dining room table, every surface in the kitchen, and several chairs. Now it just takes one basement countertop, so I suppose I can consider that as progress.

What makes packing so hard is that once you've done a coupla these, you come to the "understanding" of how just a few insignifcant ounces of unnecessary gear, here and there, can add up and conspire, and turn you into a rolling turd. So it ultimately boils down to an excercise of wants vs needs.

Which works fine, as long as you keep all your wants and needs in plain view. For the fourth time, I almost lost sight of a major need - my sleeping bag. When that eventually happens, the long and bitter night will surely be the driver of a major overhaul of the system.

For the time being, though, I'm good. Albeit slow.

Pump Session Leftover Lunch

2011-06-15T12:58:00.000-07:00

I can't even begin to tell you how great it is to be me right now. And
maybe one of the best reasons yet for considering a track of your own.

Rock Lake Top Ten

2011-06-12T23:57:00.000-07:00

The Rock Lake trip was a big success and I'd like to tell the entire story and post all 91 pictures I took, but that's just out of the question, time-wise for me, interest-wise for you, so I decided I'd cull and post the best ten. The paring process was as agonizing as the goal was unachievable, and I hit the wall at thirteen.

The breakfast menu at Zip's in Cheney - this stop was research for next weekend's Webb Slough SON

My favorite view (by far) on the drive out from Cheney to St John.

On the trail.

If you click this pic for big and then look just left of center, you'll see the deer that tried to outrun my new camera. HA! Fool.

The snake-whisperer (Joe).

Investigating the scene of the accident.

Nate. This is probably my favorite of the whole bunch. The light's not great, but oy, the perspective.

The bank was so steep here that, well, one mis-step and a guy'd be fish food. Good thing we all kept our wits.

If you're on the fence about doing this ride, let me give you a big push.

Rock Lake Or Bust

2011-06-11T08:08:00.001-07:00

Trestles and Tunnels Beckon

2011-06-09T23:07:00.000-07:00

You may or may not remember that back in March, I was all fired up about the prospect of a 2012 fat-tired cross-state tour on the John Wayne trail to mark the upcoming anniversary of my 50th year on the planet.

Subsequent to that post, I got pretty buried in research and talked to the State Parks Ranger who is in charge of dealing with that portion of the trail between Tekoa and Lind (DNR has jurisdiction over the portion from Lind to Beverly) and then applied for and was granted a permit allowing me multiple day trips on this portion of the trail during the months of April through June.

Along with the permit, the package I received from Ranger Truitt contained a bunch of great information regarding the use of the trail, along with a detailed map of the trail, broken up into four 8-1/2" x 11" sheets. In color.

The reason for structuring my permit request the way I did was that I'd planned to get to know the trail a day-trip chunk at a time, over those three months.

And then all pump track hell broke loose.

If you've been following at all, you will understand how this sick obsession strangled the life out of any competing bike interests, so I've not used the permit once. Now, with June almost a third gone, I'm experiencing the bike-exploration equivalent of the ticking of a biological clock. In other words, I'm fraught.

Looking at my schedule, this coming weekend is probably my last chance to bear fruit and so I'm trying to birth a plan to get out to that bit of the trail that runs along Rock Lake - it's by far the most interesting stretch of the far eastern portion of the trail, what with it's trestles and tunnels and views of the lake.

Unfortunately, the trail along the lake is not continuous . . . there's a one mile stretch that's owned by an, umm, 'obstinate' land owner, who refuses to allow public passage to this piece of state heritage.

But whatever, there are a coupla different ways to deal with the obstacle. The main thing is, I'm gonna explore whatever of the John Wayne Trail and roads around the lake I can on one of the days this weekend. I have a fairly epic 60-ish mile circuit mapped out here, but I'd be just as happy doing the drive-and-park deal and enjoying the best parts of the trail at a fraction of the mileage.

Where I'm going with all this rambling is that if you're interested, you're welcome to join me. Just chime in and we'll figure out a plan. The only non-negotiable detail is a greasy breakfast on the way out.

And speaking of the way out, I took this picture at about this same time last year.

It could possibly be my best ever landscape picture and yet I think it could be possibly quite pale in comparison to what we see at the lake. I'm not trying to sway you, though.

Latest Addition To The Pump Suite

2011-06-08T23:39:00.000-07:00

And quite possibly the last, as I'm out of room. Courtesy the magic of craigslist.

As of tonight, there's something here you can throw a leg over and hit the track on if you're anywhere between 6'-10" and tiny. I might still snag one more to cover from tiny down to newborn. If you're over 6'-10" though, I'm sorry. There are no plans to accommodate your special needs and so you will need to bring your own freakish ride. Which to be clear, is more than welcome, along with your towering self.