So here in Marinland the bay area cleanup continues from the oilspill. The captain claims his gauges were screwy, the Coast Guard claims the captain was screwy, or that the Chinese crew was screwy, or that both were screwy, but it seems they ALL were screwy and the whole thing got screwed. The mayor here, Gavin Newsome, is a real piece of work. Just google this guy. What a joke. He took a trip to Hawaii DESPITE the fact that he knew the oil spill was huge. And the cleanup continues.
But the real reason to post this time was to pay homage. Homage to mountain biking. Okay, if you haven't been following this blog (what's wrong with you?), then you wouldn't know that I got called out. On my last post I was taken to task for some things I said regarding cyclocross and mountain biking. Check the last post and the comments then come back here....Okay, now you see it. WELL, I laid it on thick for sure, and I knew it would have to be real thick to get someone to stand up and say, "Wait, you're a mountain biker, have you no shame?" And someone did. The very person I had in the back of my mind when writing the post, though I thought some other individuals (names kept confidential) would say something to it, but they were either just too slow, or they didn't give a hoot. I knew Adam would give me sh*t for sure for what I was saying, I just thought someone else would chime in before him. I could see him standing back in that dark corner as I stood up on that soapbox preaching, his arms crossed, and I would expect others closer up to protest, but he moved forward and grabbed the mic. And bless him for it baby Jesus. Bless him for it.
His comments gave me a kick in the pants. But before we get into that I have to say one thing. His whole tack on me being the rider to watch was a bunch of horsepucky. This is the same guy that when we were in Squamish (oh how I love thee), and he was on his antique 3-inch suspension bike from what?, the time when 8 track was hip, I think he still has an 8 track in his Subaru (no he doesn't, but I wish he did, that would be so cool, flip it over brutha, flip it over if you want the rest), and we come on this party of four, locals, older than us, 6 inch "big hit" bikes, body armor, full face helmets, the full Northshore get-up, and Adam says, "Is this the way to Black Viper of Death trail?"
I'm in my party shorts, a t-shirt, but on my brand new 4 inch travel bike, the most suspension I'll need for the rest of my life, right? The old man in the group, the alpha male, looks at us, our clothes, then our bikes. Then he says, "The double black diamond eh? Oh yer on the wrong bikes fer that one. You need some big hit bikes." Yup, that's what he said. Well knowing Adam for some time now, and knowing a little how his mind works, inside my head I'm saying Easy now bro, easy. Adam looks at the ground, his bike, and says, "Huh, well does this trail go somewhere fun?" He points straight ahead instead of up to the top of the hill where the Black Viper lurks, and the alpha male says, "Oh yeah, this trail is fun. But there are logs, ladder bridges, big boulder drops, but you can ride around them. We're headed that way, you can follow us if you want."
SO we do. Adam right on their ass. And when they stop to do some trail work, we exchange pleasantries and they point us in the right direction, to where all the big hit trinkets are. Adam drops into the black diamond trail and off we go. Needless to say he was riding all the logs, the ladder bridges, the big boulder drops, all on his bike that wasn't supposed to be able to do it. And he did it with finesse. Which goes to show that it ain't the bike, or the technology, but the rider. Plain and simple. Here's the thing. Adam and I started mountain biking together what, like right after Bush War I? I don't know. Something like that. But we learned on the east coast on some technical trails so we kinda got a head start, though I stopped riding for a long time. Usher in the 6 inches of travel, more gadgetry, and poof, you've got this bike-makes-me-a-better-rider marketing blitz that took over the mountain biking industry. SO that's what people buy. Bikes to make them better riders.
Adam kept riding over those years on what was probably considered an "old school" bike in terms of travel, and he rides all that Northshore amusement park stuff while others sit sidelined watching, looking down at their bikes, thinking about their bank account and the 30+ pounds of bike they just bought and have been draggin' all over creation and back. Scary thing is now Adam's bought himself a bike with 4 or 5 inches of travel (used of course), so I don't even want to know what kind of stuff he's riding now.
So that's the long way of saying don't listen to him. Listen to me. It's better for your health. It's also a way of saying that his comments got me to give the cross bike a much needed rest and break the mountain bike out of the stable for a little trot. Ironically, Marin has very little "legal" singletrack to ride. Most of the riding here is "fire roads." Not the kind of fire roads like up in the Northwest. There are no rusted pickups flying up and down them with meth heads behind the wheel lookin' to tear-some-sh*it-up. No vehicles at all are allowed on these fire roads. Which is nice. But singletrack's where it's at and I think the local mountain biking community got together, pitched a bitch, and the county planners/park agency looked around at their assets and said, okay, we'll let you have China Camp. That's where I went yesterday and it was glorious.
Here's this park that has hand-built singletrack, right on the bay, all of it forested with Live Oak and Madrone. There's a 4.2 mile singletrack trail that pretty much rides along the water the whole way, swerving back and forth, up and down, just throwin' you into a good ole time. There's even a Redwood grove you ride through, and I love that part so much. The riding isn't technical really (sorry Adam), but just good, downhome cooked rolling singletrack through trees that is just fast and fun. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.
It has been some time since I got on the mountain bike and let me tell you, it was a rip. The thing about all this new/more suspension is that it doesn't make you a better rider, it makes the riding more fun (and it's probably saved my ass once or twice). Riding a mountain bike with 4 inches of suspension front and rear is kind of like eating a cream puff, or a napoleon. If you have one laying around go get it now...okay, now take a bite. See that there. That's what it's like. Light as air. At least that's the way it is on my bike. That baby just seems to float and it feels like riding on clouds. Which is the exact opposite of riding that cross bike, which is more like riding on, well, rocks. And roots. And really hard stuff.
So they both have their thing, which means you need a full quiver of bikes, which is okay I guess, as long as you sell one of your cars. I guess. Well it's Saturday and the trails are calling. What should I do today? Which new trail should I explore? Let's have a look at these maps. Maybe that one right there, Bolinas Ridge. Right on the coast. Runs along a ridge. Hmmm....Here's to hopin' you get out today for a little ramblin'...keeps the bones well greased and the doctor lookin' for things to do.
Hit me with some comments people. It puts a smile on my face when you talk to me. :)
2 comments:
I had no idea that you guys had gotten to the Bay Area yet, and so I didn't think that that one comment might be from you. God bless your scurvy hide! Don't forget to go here to see what I told the world about that little prank.
Keep 'em coming.
Oh and that night you and Adam I rode from the U Dist up to the diving board at 3am in the dark the whole way? One of the best times on a bike I've ever had, easy!
That's right. You know, my plan was to say that mountain biking was the most fun I've had on a bike since well, that time I was riding in pitch black down an unlit trail followin' two fools and a blinkin' red light to go jump off a high perch into Lake Washington...but the next you know the thread's gone one way and you're standing there with a keyboard in your hand and you've hit the "post" button and don't even realize that you were supposed say something else. Until someone comes along and reminds you, but now it's too late. Like that night was. But you had fun anyway. And that's what's worth rememberin' in the end.
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