Five hours in the mountains, on the Moots, solo this afternoon. Went high today, above timberline, for the first time this year. Never dipped below 8,700 feet. After two days off the bike, felt spry, enjoying the options of the gears, the cool, low tech YBB rear (perfect for the rocky terrain out here). Windy as all heck on top, in the land where the winds are born. Searched for an ancient gravesite and found it. Unfortunately, all the tombstones had been defaced, leaving the graveyard a ghostly mystery. Onward, into the wind. Decided to stay in the woods for the return trip, on a route I have not been on in years. Nor it appears, had anyone else. Overgrown, and I had to do some searching to jog the memory for ways to cross creeks without getting swept away by the high spring runoff. Feet frozen to the bone. Warmed only by even more climbing, in the deep woods, away from the wind. Sheltered on Shelter. Paradise, 48 hours before heading to hell.

Solo riding. Found this quote from an old BIKE MAG article from 1997 that captures the essence well:

"Who made this trail? Perhaps Indians hunting for food, miners digging for the Earth's riches, messengers of a lost civilization. You imagine the trail in years, decades, centuries past and the many souls that have tread its soil before. On this day its soil is yours...There's something powerful about being here. There's something even more powerful about being here alone. Riding in the wild by yourself is like no other experience in mountain biking. An intensity of focus pulses through your entire body. Everything is amplified: the intensity, the challenge, the fear, the adrenaline. You're defying backcountry rule#1: Never go in alone." - Aaron Teasdale

Well put Aaron. This summer, strive to ride alone. And keep the secret places to yourself. In the magical place in your mind where you can return to, unencumbered by anyone else, when the soul requires. You might not see God, but you'll sure see where he lives.

Sunday, May 30

A tale of two days. Yesterday, did something I rarely did, and actually went to a mall. Quite comical, as I need to purchase quality dress clothes for a work trip coming up this week to Washington, D.C. I was politely informed my cargo pants and assortment of hooded sweatshirts wouldn't make the call, so I was thrust into the grips of hell, aka Men's Warehouse. All spiffed out now, with a blue dress coat (never button the lower button I was informed), two dress shirts, socks that match my belt (huh?), and the skinniest damn pair of pants I've ever seen. After putting all this stuff on in the store, the salesman says to me, "Boy, I bet you don't even recognize yourself." "Uh, yeah...(nervous laughter). Now let's get the hell out of here."

After a whirlwind of intimidation, I left the joint having dropped $390 on stuff I'll wear maybe once a year. Well, after leaving Men's Rip-Off House and getting away from the sell-buy push, I decided to return one of the shirts (why do I need TWO dress shirts?), the socks (who is looking at my socks anyhow), and the skinny $89 pants. I'm sure I can get a pair of khakis at the Gap for $20, and that will work just fine. I do kind of like the coat - I feel sort of pro golferish in it - and I've been informed that you can "accessorize" once you have a good jacket. All this stuff is pretty foreign to me and seems rather unfunctional for 99.99999% of my lifestyle. My returns will drop the total to under $250, which I suppose I can live with, but damn, that's a lot of Spot wool jerseys!

So that sort of sucked, but today made up for it. A hike along the old railroad route, through mining towns and along game trails through the woods with SuzieQ. Learned a lot about the area from a couple locals we met, which will lead to even more exploration. It's amazing how nice everyone is to you when you are hiking, and not biking! A chilly one out with flurries all day long - sort of felt like late October. A short lived cool spell I suspect before the depths of summer move in. Truth be told though, it's not so bad here at 8,700 feet above sea level. It never gets above 80 degrees, and that's only between noon and 2 pm, easily avoidable.

Hiking around these hills today reaffirmed my belief that this is indeed one of the best places on earth. It makes me want to give back to the community more. I'm starting to feel uncomfortable with being basically a commuter citizen, going to Boulder to invest my energy everyday. In fact, the only way I've dealt with it this long is because I've sort of turned my commuting time into fun time, in the woods, riding to and from work. That said, I'm feeling a pull, stronger every day, to do something to make the local 80466 community stronger - teaching perhaps - and not just be another homeowner who works in the Republic. A small step taken this weekend. I volunteered to work at the Nederland Mining Museum once a week this summer. I'm way into the history here, and I think it's important for younger people to help out in the place that they call home.

Thursday, May 27

Still, mild yet light air today. Good for climbing. No headwind, no tailwind, but little self created resistance either. Odd. Not really pushing it, but going up quickly nonetheless. The 34x18 actually felt a little easy today, the first time that's happened this week. Kept the body loose, the grips light, just letting the legs do their thing, not really thinking about it. Comfortably numb. When the song in the iPod worked, instinctively rode to the beat, but this depended on the song.

Roads wet in places, bone dry in others. A few sprinkles, high, thick, puffy clouds. Oddly typical. Settling into a routine. Climb home three days a week, descend two. That will work for now, until next month, and the next, when things ramp up. There is a certain magic to this route, that doesn't wear out the body yet builds strength nonetheless. Felt it two years ago, the slight improvement each week.

This year, making the 45 minute hike-a-bike mandatory practice. Finding my ideal position for energy conservation and momentum. Feeling a little less tired each day when I get home. It's fun, this riding, what it can do to the body, and how it makes being alive that much more sweet.

Finally, some drama near the end. Ominous looking misty clouds whipping off Niwot Ridge, and a reddish hew to the west, under the thickening quagmire. Storms moving in this weekend they say, with snow levels down to 7,500 feet.

Rode past the local high school this evening. A massive shindig, it appeared. Some sort of graduation. Good days, dramatic days for those involved. I don't miss high school (and certainly not middle school), but there was definitely something very pure about the raw potential you felt in June when school commenced. Nothing at all could prevent you from doing whatever you wanted. An great attitude, but most people lose it, sooner or later. They don't fight this loss hard enough.

Climbing hills is fighting it. It's non-practical. People scoff, question when you'll finally settle down. But it's the perfect remedy for breaking through all that is negative in life. At the beginning of the climb, things are tough, as the body sheds the muck. Slowly but surely, this burden is lightened, until your flying at the top, with a clear mind and a renewed spirit to do whatever it is you dream to do.

Tuesday, May 25

I was debating with myself which of the three senses I would be most willing to give up. Actually, it was a simple decision, as I believe I could easily do without the sense of smell. Sure, it's nice to smell the sweet scent of spring, an aromatic food, or fresh rain. But I could live without it.

It would seem, upon first glance, that hearing would be the next one to go. But then, spinning some ethereal trance records here near midnight on a foggy night in the mountains, it's almost incomprehensible not to hear. Life without music would be a life, it seems, without any soul. But to not see, would be just as crippling. Still it seems that sight is more functional, while hearing is more emotional. Tough choices, one I can't emphatically go one way or the other on. Hopefully, I'll never have to choose.

Rode the rebel route home today, the one that in parts is over run by too many damned people. Followed three motos tracks all the way. Could hear them the whole way. They were riding every wet trail available, making huge paths around snow banks (you can't portage a moto dummy). Ran into them near the end of the ride, emotional and angry. We spoke a bit – I maintained composure and made my case. Explained a little about trail ethics, about respect. Maybe made an impact, maybe not. Was angry - furious in fact, but did what I could to keep it in check.

Go away everybody, except for me and a close few friends. Selfish? Definitely. But irrational times call for irrational attitudes. If I could rewind the clock five years, there would have been no BOA led ride to "educate" people about the trail system. Good god, what were we – and me – thinking? A mistake that will not be made again.

Time to undo what has been done. In responsible, yet crafty ways. The heart wants to go ballistic, to open full fledged warfare, consequences be damned. But there are better ways.

Monday, May 24

Snappy co-workers. Broken computers. Deadlines. Stress, if you let it get to you. The realities of a lousy Monday, but easily remedied. Salvation, Johnny Rotten style awaits in my office, patiently, like the eye of a hurricane surrounded by mayhem. Today, a break in the storm around 5 p.m. Grab the opportunity. Dressed quickly, and before anyone could say, "Hey, I need you to..." I was out the door. Heading west. Homeward. From the hot, dusty flats to the cool, crisp, moist hills.

Up the bike path, the body labors from too much sitting on the ass. Got to get the blood flowing, the muscles loose, the vibe in stride. See some friends driving down, and this makes me happy, and I feel a surge. Near the top of the path, chose the long way, the old rail route. Longer, but more enjoyable. 11 miles to Sundown, and then a portage ala Montezuma. Not feeling overly spry, curious if the body is tired or just lazed to sleep. But well enough to keep moving, aided by a light drizzle at times and a mix of sounds in the iPod.

Onto dirt, the road narrows, the cars almost disappear entirely. I've ridden this route three times so far this year, and have seen exactly two cars on the section. Alone at last, just me and my headphone. My headphone, they saved my life.

Near the end of the dirt. Debate the longer, rideable route, or the shorter hike-a-bike up the gulch, For whatever reason, I chose the gulch. Starting to feel better hiking, the day finally wearing away. Into a world of green, interspersed only by old rusted out mines and an occasional abandoned side route. Headphones off here, as I want my senses in tune, in case of lions.

Quicker than I anticipated, at the top. A chill in the air - they are predicting snow on the divide tonight - so put on the leg warmers and wool jersey. Across the highway, onto the dirt. Down, down, down and then a short up. A nice cooling effect. Into town. I love this place, the glow of the evening sky. You can keep Iceland Bjork, I'll take my homeland in the sky any day. And west again, the final push to Happy Valley. No wind tonight - just a tweaked cloudy salmon colored sky and mountains looming in three directions.

In just three hours, a world away from the Monday blues, transported from a temporary jaunt into adulthood back to the bliss of never ending youth.

Sunday, May 23

A stellar weekend, and almost all of it off the bike. Didn't reach my goal of nine straight days on the bike - only made it to seven - as there is just too darned much to do! Rode abundent singletrack Friday, somewhere in the county. I even saw a moose, the first time I've ever seen one of those on a ride in Colorado. Kind of had my head down, focused on the trail, when a brown shadow galloped off to the left, into the darkening night. Huge animal, and you could almost hear the ground rumble as it strode off.

Yesterday, a bit of giving back, as I spent the day taking a local mountain youth group down to the Apex Center in Arvada playing basketball, flying down waterslides and ice skating. Great fun, and a killer group of kids. I find conversations with 13-year-olds to be much, much more interesting than those I have with most thirty and forty year olds I know, my good friends accepted. When conversations start to turn to mortgages, corporate insiders and the like, I tend to tune out. Too much faking it, too much posturing. Conversely, I find that kids inevitably keep it real.

Today, the last day in purgatory before heading back to the land of stress for a week, was spent exploring 100 year old routes, stumbling on rusted out ghost mining towns and spending a lot of time following a little black line on the GPS devise. All on foot. Many elk everywhere. I love biking but I can't deny the truth - you see a lot more when you hike. Actually, you don't really see more...you simply absorb more. But, I prefer the bike still.

While other single speed websites seem to be all up in a frenzy about the VeloNews article from our good friend and moto-head whose name I've forgotten, I just can't muster up the energy. LaDeeDa who cares. Fortunately, the bloggers linked off this site did a fine job covering the subject, allowing me to contemplate, moose, elk, hiking and such.

Saturday, May 22

Can't say I'm a big George Bush fan, but this is pretty darned funny. At least he finished the ride...

White House - AP

Bush Suffers Cuts, Bruises While Biking

By DEB RIECHMANN, Associated Press Writer

CRAWFORD, Texas - President Bush (news - web sites) suffered cuts and bruises early Saturday afternoon when he fell while mountain biking on his ranch, White House spokesman Trent Duffy said.

Bush was on the 16th mile of a 17-mile ride when he fell, Duffy said. He was riding with a military aide, members of the Secret Service and his personal physician, Dr. Richard Tubb.

"He had minor abrasions and scratches on his chin, upper lip, nose, right hand and both knees," Duffy said. "Dr. Tubb, who was with him, cleaned his scratches, said he was fine. The Secret Service (news - web sites) offered to drive him back to the house. He declined and finished his ride."

Bush was wearing his bike helmet and a mouth guard when the mishap occurred. Duffy said he didn't know exactly how the accident happened.

"It's been raining a lot and the topsoil is loose," the spokesman said. "You know this president. He likes to go all out. Suffice it to say he wasn't whistling show tunes."

Bush left Crawford shortly after the bike mishap for Austin, where he was attending a private party of his daughter, Jenna, who graduated from the University of Texas earlier in the day.

As he departed from the presidential helicopter with his wife, scrapes were visible on the president's right temple and on his chin. Close-up shots taken by photographers revealed other scrapes above his lip and on the end of his nose. When he waved to the crowd greeting him at the airport, a small bandage could be seen on his right palm.

Earlier this month, Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry (news - web sites) took a spill from his bicycle while riding with Secret Service agents through Concord, Mass., about 18 miles north of Boston. Kerry fell when his bike hit a patch of sand. He was not injured.

Told about Bush's mishap, Kerry said, "I hope he's OK. I didn't know the president rode a bike."

Wednesday, May 19

Boring, pointless banters on the newsgroups. I should know better than to engage. But I did learn that people come to this website to learn about trails in the local hood. Seems like sort of a futile exercise to me, as there is a great Latitude 40 map that you can buy in any store that will show you tons of trails, but to each there own I suppose. However, since the point of this website is definitely NOT to feed people trail information, we'll be making a concerted effort to make things even more obscure.

Anyhow, taking cue from the Queen Bee, I decided to integrate a bit of hiking into my commute home. 45 minutes to be exact, in a green, lush gulch, straight the hell up 1,500 vertical feet. A gulch well away from the mayhem. Alert for lions - I've heard rumors they frequent these parts. Hiking with a bike is very different than hiking in general, and it's a skill to be developed, especially for events like Montezuma's Revenge and our planned Colorado Trail trip.

The highlight, without a doubt, was near the top as I was putting on some extra clothing for the descent down, when I was caught smack dab in the middle of two howling coyotes, the closest of which was probably 35 feet away from me, hidden in the trees. I'm not even sure they knew I was there. Not a long, deep howl like a wolf, but a piercing, undulating, almost alien-like shrill. I have to admit, a side of me was momentarily concerned for my well being, but then the more logical, emotional side settled down and just enjoyed the song. Living, breathing and singing coyotes are much more interesting than those shot by a redneck slung over the bastards pickup truck.

Tuesday, May 18

If the days heading up the steep hill are reminiscent of a miner taking supplies back to his camp, then yesterday was more of a day to be a train car. A 1900 narrow gauge railroad engine to be exact, only this time there only one passenger (me) and the fuel is human powered as opposed to coal. It's an appropriate enough analogy, since 100 years ago this exact route was the popular narrow gauge train route that took hordes of tourists from Boulder to Happy Valley. In places, the road, which is a mixture of pavement, dirt and full on jeep road scree, goes over the exact spot where the railroad used to be. In others, the old grade is clearly visible, a distinct cut over grown with vegetation. The railroad stopped running in the mid-1920's, as society turned more car based, but for a single speeder with weary legs, this route is a blessing. Railroads cannot climb 17% grades, so the route is a nice, serpentine 3-5% grade the entire way, from 5,400 feet to 8,700 feet above sea level.

Back in the day, it took the train 5 to 6 hours to complete the journey from Boulder to Happy Valley. On the single speed, it's a quicker jaunt - about 3 hours give or take depending on how the body feels, how loose the road is, how much of headwind is blowing off the divide. This is one of my favorite routes in the area - it's mellow enough that you can actually enjoy it, and there are tons of old mines carved into the cliff bands lining the road. As you turn off the paved road, and head up the dirt, you're literally transported back in time. Old mine shafts dot the road, dilapidated cabins from the turn of the century and the ever-present, haunting railroad grade.

Near the end of the route, you're actually forced to divert off the railroad grade, as the old tracks lie smack dab in the middle of some of the most "off-limits to bikes" terrain in Boulder County. I lament this closure at times, as it sure would be nice to pedal off the road on a nearly flat route right to my front door. But then, as I ride a seldom used dirt road above this area, and overlook a sea of thousands of elk grazing in the meadow below, I begin to realize that bikes, and humans in general don't need to be everywhere. Those sanctuaries for wildlife are few and far between, and if preserving this means a bit of inconvenience for me, so be it.

Monday, May 17

Finally got a slideshow up for Iceland. I'll write more of a story soon, as there is a lot to tell, but this will have to do for now.

Been easing back into the riding pattern since returning home. Well sort of easing. Got suckered into climbing Mag on the single one day last week, but fortunately the weather went to hell so I had three days to recover from the effort! Back in the saddle this weekend, for some suicidal rides into the high-country that inevitably ended in post holing for 30 minutes through snow drifts. I didn't really care though - it was good to be out there. Shooting for nine-straight days of riding, since our August Colorado Trail trip will require this, and I'm not really sure how the body will respond to back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to back days of riding. I don't really ever shoot for a certain amount of days in a row, so this will be a nice change of pace.

Apparently Timmy saw a mountain lion on his ride today!

Tuesday, May 11

Been in Iceland for the past 10 days. Amazing country, with stellar landscape, unique people and a wealth of adventures. As is always the case when taking an extended trip, I'm buried to the gills catching up now, but I've got a few photos for posting. More soon, with the full story.