Epic Riding

Moab: Visual Aids

Grizzly Adam — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 12:00:24 +0000

Although I may have sounded down on Moab in my previous post, I find it difficult to retain any sort of lingering melancholy that I (inexplicably) felt in the wake of what was by all accounts, a fantastic weekend. I think my larger point was that in spite of countless riding days in Moab, and despite having ridden everything I did over the weekend before, that Moab still delivered. Which is testament to not only how truly wonderful a place it is, but also a credit to the people I rode with. As I said before, riding with good friends and in a beautiful world is always worth the effort. And in case you need further evidence, let me present exhibits A-D:

Exhibit A: Sunset on Slickrock:

Exhibit B: Keith mid dab on a harder-than-it-looks ledge on Amasa Back:

Exhibit C: Dan and his socks on Porcupine Rim:

Exhibit D: K.C. cleans that climb on the Slickrock Trail (you know the one):

And, just for good measure I thought I’d present visual proof -indisputable and irrefutable – that Chris Holley is indeed mortal:

Obligatory

Grizzly Adam — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 12:00:25 +0000

There is something entirely obligatory about mountain biking in Moab. That is, the environment itself – the sandstone fins, the rock ledges, and the smooth waves of the ongoing redrock sea have all nearly become cliche in their over saturated appearances in every cycling magazine and website in existence. In fact, I was sorely tempted to ride elsewhere over the weekend rather than once again ride the familiar, rocky trails of mountain biking’s sacred Mecca. And yet, and not surprisingly, those hesitant feelings, and that urge to explore new terrain gave way to that iconic joy of Moab.

I may have even cracked a smile on Porcupine Rim, that old nemesis and traitor. It would seem that when I voice my dislike of that trail to other mountain bike riders there is a quick and uncomfortable hush that falls over them before they nervously laugh off my blasphemous incantation as merely the utterings of a conversationalist looking to stir the pot. But really, the truth is, there are other trails I would much rather ride than that jackhammer descent. Although I will admit, that when I rode the trail on Friday, it was the first time in my life that I made it from top to bottom without a painful crash. A moral victory, perhaps? But despite all that, I rather enjoyed the ride.

But like so much of what Moab has become, Porcupine Rim seems to me, rather obligatory.

That is not to say that I still do not gaze out off of that rim, or any of the others surrounding the town without emotion and without a feeling of smallness (of myself) and magnitude (of my surroundings). Moab is after all, still Moab.

Although I do have to ask, is there a more out of place trail for a cross-country rider than Porcupine Rim? The free-riders in their baggies and on 8 inch travel bikes seemed much more at ease gliding through the rocks and the ledges. And although none of them actually said anything, as they passed me by I was certain I could hear their thoughts – mocking, laughing – “nice spandex, dork.” Never mind my ability to out climb them, they were the kings on that trail, and they knew it. What good is climbing ability on a narrow, terrifying singletrack high above the Colorado River?

Well. The weekend was a rousing success. Despite my snarky mood right now, and my hesitation leading up to the trip. Riding with good friends in a unique and beautiful world is always worth the effort.

Even if it does feel, at times, rather obligatory.

Eye of the Storm

Grizzly Adam — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 12:00:30 +0000

Here in the Wasatch we have been experiencing an unexpected and welcome relief from the spittings and threatenings of Winter that were so evident just a few days ago. This week has been nothing but sunshine and temperatures hovering in the 70s. Which of course means that the one must ride – whether one wants to or not (and who doesn’t want to, really?). The trails, the skies, and the short-sleeve inducing days have been simply too good to pass up.

And what better way to finish this improbable week, than to flee to the hoodoo of Moab for a weekend of sand and slickrock and far horizons?

Come back on Monday. I ought to have some pictures to show, and some stories to tell.

Belated Helloween

Grizzly Adam — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 17:52:47 +0000

I mostly just monkeyed around at the Helloween night ride:

No related posts.

November Loop

Grizzly Adam — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 17:21:15 +0000

The Alpine Loop is closed to cars. The roads are still clear of any debris or snow.

Get it while you can.

Feeling Cross

Grizzly Adam — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 15:41:33 +0000

Ali Goulet on his way to Saturday’s win

I watched my first cyclocross race on Saturday.

It was awesome. The racing was fast and furious. And of course, as I watched everyone pound around the course and hop over the barriers I was thinking that “I ought to really try this”. Several years ago I thought about giving it a go, but then nothing ever came of it, and I have hardly given it a thought since.

So, now I have questions. Lots of question.

I’d have to convert a bike. I have two mountain bikes: a singlespeed and a full suspension. The FS would be silly. The SS would work, but I’ve have to figure out how to run a taller gear. 32×16 (29er) is as tall as I can run with my current equipment. From what I have read, converting a road bike would be more work than the mountain bike. Am I wrong in that?

I’d love to own a cross bike, especially if I ever became serious about racing. But other than racing/practice, when does one ever ride a cross bike? It seems that road and mountain bikes are more useful from an everyday perspective. But then, maybe I am also wrong about that?

How do I ensure that I do not show up and look like an idiot? (I mean, besides how I normally look.) Are there secret CX rules or customs that I should know about?

I’ve heard about cross clinics and practice sessions. How do I find out about those?

I don’t have a skin suit. Apparently I need one. That won’t be pretty.

I enjoyed watching the races. They reminded me of my XC running days in high school. The course and the pace and the atmosphere was all very similar. The style of the racing is something I think I could excel at – that is, if I manage to learn how to not trip over barriers. It also looks like a great way to improve bike handling skills, top end fitness, and to keep those competitive fires burning into December.

Which is actually one of the reasons I’ve never tried it before. Usually by this time of year I have no desire to compete, but this year has been different. And it would seem that Cross is the perfect outlet for that, even if only for a race or two…

Exit Question: Anyone have an old beater (56cm-ish) to lend out?

My Neck of the Woods

Grizzly Adam — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

I like my little corner in the world.

Certainly it is not without its quirks and oddities. But I can’t complain. I live within a few miles of incredible singletrack, world class powder, and in a valley that still has quaint, quiet areas that remind me that life is better lived plainly, without the distractions of this or that.

Despite the cold today, my ride was refreshing. A casual tour of casual trails. The cold air permeated through my lungs, forcing me to feel alive, and alert. There was no need for the Garmin 705 on the handlebars. I knew it was time to go home when the sun had sunk below the distant western skyline. It didn’t matter how far I’d ridden or at what heart rate or cadence. It was just riding. Simple. Easy. Turning the pedals, whooping through turns, and admiring the mountains and meadows.

It’s a good place to live.

Indeed, where else can I ride Spring during the trenches of autumn?

October Flow (Video)

Grizzly Adam — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 12:00:29 +0000

October Flow

Grizzly Adam — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 12:00:46 +0000

We hummed and hawed and otherwise hesitated in the parking lot as dark, heavy clouds gathered overhead. The frigid morning was made more so by the wind that howled and swirled, a precursor to the coming storm. We zipped up our vests and tugged arm warmers a little higher, swapped cycling caps for fleece beanies and headed into the leave-less trees of Park City’s famous Spiro switchbacks.

The dirt was damp and sticky, and covered in a coating of leaves which became small water traps for dew and rain. As we spun the droplets of stagnant water flickered up into our faces. The sun streamed through the gray clouds, filtering itself among the bare branches and tumultuous sky. As we turned the pedals up the tight, steep switchbacks there was no question that winter was looming; peering over the edge of the precipice, patiently awaiting the call from Mother Nature to unleash its frozen wrath on the world below.

The naked aspen trees stood huddled together in blank defiance, stalwart and determined. Resolute in that inevitable fate that awaited them. The ground was filled with summer’s gold and green, those tinkling natural chimes that create the density and music in a windy grove of aspen trees. But on this day they lay silent and defeated. Instead of a dense and swaying field of shining leaves, only death and the stark, vacuous void remained . All enduring life was clinging precariously to itself, staring boldly into the face of an assaulting Wasatch winter.

An unmistakable feeling that this was the last chance to ride at that altitude hung, like the clouds, heavy in the air. The snow was brewing overhead, indeed that very night it fell in a sporadic dusting, leaving the timber sugar coated, and the high mountain accumulation that much deeper. But for a brief respite from the seasonal shift that was all forgotten. The singletrack was a winding, turning, incredible stream of fantastic improbability. A final taste of what has been, a goodbye to all that was. In that moment there was no thought of snow and winter and skis. In that moment all the world was concisely fixated on the grin-inducing flow of perfect singletrack. The Mid-mountain Trail was immaculate – smooth and twisty, a mix of pale green and gray and the fading resplendentcy of a long past summer.

The Mid-mountain Trail

In that moment the cold melted away into that irresistible warmth of speed and trees and a toothy ear to ear grin.

It was not unlike that April day of powder, that last frosting filled ski day before the heat and the thaw of the coming summer. In fact, these two days are now intrinsically coupled as bookends to the 2009 singletrack season. Transitional days, linking snow and dirt, skis and wheels.

And now, not unlike those aspen trees staring at the bleakness of winter, my eyes are turning heavenward, watching, waiting, and anticipating those first thick, heavy flakes of snow. Those first of the season’s inaugural storm. But as I do so, I’m remembering with fondness the summer of 2009. A training table of singletrack and vast summer skies. An endless stream of swoopy ecstasy and heart pounding mountain passes.

Long live summer.

Bring on the snow!

Thaynes Canyon

Boots not Bikes

Grizzly Adam — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 13:00:09 +0000

Henry's Fork Basin, High Uinta Wilderness

One of the problems I have with the “boots not bikes” argument surrounding the designation of Wilderness areas is how subjective it has all become. Because bikes have proven to be safe, quiet, sustainable methods of backcountry travel, there is no other sort of argument to be made, other than an appeal to some mythical reverence and experience that only the absence of bikes can provide. It’s hogwash, because that experience cannot be defined. It – whatever that is – is different for everyone who ventures into wild places. And yet, the rhetoric being piled on the no-bikes fire is soaked in the emotional butane of indefensible, purely subjective, rancor that serves only to paint with a broad brush both proponents, and opponents of Wilderness.

For example, in an otherwise excellent article, the conclusion that:

despite what mountain bikes offer, there comes a point when you’ve got to get off your bike and experience the world directly, as up close as possible…Wilderness is about re-creating the fundamental conditions given to us as a human species. It is a place to walk softly while we try to figure out how we got here and where we’re heading. It is that place out there where you’ve got to get off your bike.

Why? Why do I need to get off my bike to be able to appreciate the world up close and personal? Every ride I have ever been on, and I can claim this without hyperbole or exaggeration, has helped to reconnect me with an innate love for the outdoors, the mountains, the deserts. The desire to feel alive and fit and at one with the world around me is continually rekindled. This blog is evidence enough of that. Too often our human experience has become clouded in the everyday urban demands of economic and social survival. People are not making these connections nearly enough. But then, again, those connections are largely personal, intimate, and unpredictable occurrences that might be sparked by an unplanned encounter with wild and primitive landscapes. Or, simply, with wild and primitive emotions.

Wilderness has no monopoly on wilderness.

But an appeal to those emotions is a shallow approach to argument and policy. Indeed, it reeks of an elitist stance in which objection for the sake of objection is the highest and most authoritative form of dialogue. That sort of attitude never endears anyone on the opposite side of any argument. Collaboration and compromise (the essence of capitalism, just to add a little potential for reader participation) is usually the best form of policy making and discussion. Essentially mountain bikers have been locked out of the committee room, and barred from any meaningful Wilderness negotiations or discussions.

The original intent of the Wilderness Act of 1964 was to cull the automobile expansion in the West. The text of the 1964 legislation does not specifically ban bikes. That came in 1984. (ever wondered what IS allowed in Wilderness? You might be surprised) At that time the ban was somewhat understandable. Mountain biking was catching on as a valid recreational outlet, but its impact on trails and on the safety of other trail users was largely unknown. Today those questions have been answered. And they have rendered the 1984 amendment “anachronistic, an indication of prejudice and lack of accurate information at the time.” In fact, since then, because of user impact studies we also know that horses have a much more negative impact on trails, and on the environment surrounding them than that of either hikers or mountain bikers. However, I respect, even if I despise the effects, the right of a horsemen to seek that backcountry experience. For all the grumbling I do about manure on the trail, neither its presence, nor that of horses themselves have ever really endangered the enjoyability of being in the outdoors.

But looking beyond the emotional rhetoric, which could be argued is all I ever write in this space, I still have a hard time supporting Wilderness Areas because they paint very diverse lands with one very broad stroke. It is unrealistic to manage the desert near Moab the same as the Cottonwood Canyons. As I argued earlier, land ought to be managed by those who use that space. By those informed of the resources, the usage, and the impact that the local population is having on any given acreage. Sometimes Wilderness designation is appropriate. Often times much less restrictive, more reasonable designations achieve the same purpose, but do so without alienating any user groups. And in those cases, user groups are much more likely to work together toward a common end.

But for some, that common end is not enough. It is more satisfying to object, because objection feels empowering and important (and I get that, trust me, I’m libertarian – I have a lot to object to these days). But the subjective and emotional nature of the bikes VS. Wilderness argument has been reduced to one, rather short sighted sentiment, expressed concisely in this 2008 article: “We weren’t happy about having to share the trails with the group [of mountain bikers]“.

As long as that is the driving force behind “boots not bikes” then no common progress will ever be achieved. That sort of attitude also negates any appeal to that obtuse “experience” that is supposedly being rendered moot by pedal bikes.