One of the main factors a 4-wheeler needs when going off pavement is traction. Whether you have a heavily modified rig or a stock unit, traction is what makes an offroad trip a success or a failure. You’d need full traction to get to your destination, or if you believe in the saying “the journey is the destination,” well, need I say more?

Going through various topics on the 4×4 Philippines forum and around the internet regarding different traction aids, a new user might be a little bit overwhelmed at the amount of available options out there, ranging from tried-and-tested aftermarket products like the ARB Air Locker to individual offroad modification shop techniques, and even backyard engineering of Do-It-Yourselfers.

After running my 1997 Suzuki Vitara for years without any additional traction aids, subscribing to the mantra of building your rig slowly from stock to know it better, I decided it was high time I get myself something new. As I mentioned above there are a lot of choices out there, like the very basic tire chains (cumbersome to install, and requires manual removal when going back to the pavement) to LSD’s and differential lockers.

Choosing the right traction aid

I didn’t want to permanently weld my differentials to lock it full-time. LSD’s, based on my research, would wear out components on my SUV — not a good option for me as this is also my daily driver. Besides, some have shared their experiences about LSD’s and it didn’t work as expected. Blame it on too high expectations, but I need my expectations to be high so I can get back home after going out on the trails — not to mention get out of the trails with my vehicle.

Last option for me are lockers. As many of you know the best lockers are the ones that let you drive your vehicle in the city like you don’t have ANY lockers at all, but when off-highway and you need maximum traction you get what you need while sitting comfortably in the driver’s seat.

The most trusted name in this category is the original ARB Air Locker, and to my surprise (well, not really) there is the Chinese imitation. No contest, I balked at the idea of using an imitation of something as important as what I need. If you’re not convinced of my decision you might want to watch a comparison between the original ARB Air Locker and the Chinese imitation. Check the video below:

Putting it to the test

Now that I have mine installed it’s time to try it out. Perfect timing, one of clubs I’m a member of, the Suzuki Off-Roaders, Inc. (SORI), just informed me we’ll be having a club trail day.

First obstacle we encountered was an eroded section of a bridge due to Typhoon Pedring (international name Nesat). Upon first looking at it it was a huge gap that would swallow the front end of a vehicle easily. As I inspected it I knew this would be a simple test for my new ARB Air Locker. I need it to “push” the vehicle out of the ditch.

Before I put my SUV into first gear I flipped two switches. One for the air compressor, the next for the rear locking differential. Without moving my rear end off my seat my rear differential is now locked, ready to take on the first obstacle on its maiden voyage. Let’s do this.

Slowly and gently, as instructed and spotted by Joey, a good friend of mine, I start the entry into the ditch in front of me. Adding a little bit of power for the front of the vehicle to get out and bring the rear in and down the ditch. Now that my front end is up and out next goal is to get the rear out and clear the obstacle.

“Give a bit more power than usual,” Joey instructed. I normally would follow his directions, but I wanted to see if I can get out without exerting too much unnecessary throttling. I started feathering the gas and releasing the clutch, depending on the ARB Air Locker to get me out of this hole.

And it did, perfectly. Sure, it wasn’t that deep but I wanted to see how little power I need to give for it to be able to push me out. It passed with flying colors. Looking back I believe I was the one who gave it as little power as needed. I patted the locker on the back, in my mind. Heh.

Next up was a 35-degree deeply rutted, uphill climb, with fist- to head-sized rocks along the trail. I smiled. Now this is a better test, I thought to myself. And a better test, indeed.

After a few attempts of the one in front and opting to winch up the climb, the trail was clear for me. Joey’s 4xForce off-road crew got into position, in anticipation of more spotting and guiding. Again I flicked the switches to engage the ARB Air Locker and waited for the go signal.

As soon as the signal was given off I went, down and across the stream, then I started the climb. For additional testing purposes I decided to feather the accelerator again, only using the necessary amount of power and not relying too much on momentum to get me up this fairly steep climb.

I can hear my guides and my spotters shouting at me, “Power! Power! Power!” telling me to stomp on the gas pedal, to give my rig more juice to get me up, but I was playing with my new ARB lockers, so I didn’t give in.

Whenever I felt the vehicle start to slow down I’d tap on the gas pedal only a bit and smile as I felt the tires bite. Traction, yes sir, no unnecessary tire slippage.

I believe I can proudly say that day, at this specific section of the whole trip, I was the one who was able to climb without a single problem — I didn’t need to stop midway and try to use more power and momentum to finish the climb, I didn’t need to have someone pull me up or winch me out, I didn’t need to be pushed up by the crew to get me over this section. This is one of the perfect examples of a comparison between a 4-wheel-drive with open diffs and one with an ARB Air Locker installed.

The last test for this trip was unintentional: drive through a mud pit on 2-wheel-drive. You see, at this point of the trip I already have a broken front axle.

Approaching the mud pit I spotted Suzuki LJ with a broken crossjoint (also running on 2-wheel-drive now), two vehicles in front of me, stopped in the middle of the curving mud pit. Preparing to be pulled out.

As soon as Coach Rod in a Samurai, the one directly in front of me, was done crossing I decided I won’t wait for the go signal. I can always call on them if I get stuck in the middle, I thought.

Air Locker switch on, check. Mud pit clear of vehicles and people, check. First gear, check. Then I released the clutch. This time I needed to depend on proper momentum to get me through. Will the lockers pass this test?

I kept the rev high enough to keep forward momentum. In a way I felt the mud trying to stop my vehicle from moving forward, I felt the front tires not helping me in any way except to steer me in the direction I wanted to go. I put more pressure on the gas pedal, making sure I don’t lose the forward motion. My engine howled with the high rev, both my rear tires spun simultaneously, digging in the mud, throwing it back out of the way.

The people in Coach Rod’s pickup-type Samurai kept their eyes on my SUV, pumping their fists at me, telling me to go faster, to give it more power, egging me on.

Then I felt the rear tires bite the trail harder, the vehicle lurching forward suddenly, and I knew I was on safer ground. I made it. The ARB Air Locker helping me out, whether 4-wheel-drive or 2-wheel-drive due to a broken front axle — naturally, the latter has some limitations but compare it to the very same conditions but with an open differential. Worlds apart.

Now we set off to lunch by the river.

It’s a short article on my journey from being a naive non-biker (my initial impressions, how I got started) to a mountain biking addict.

Here’s an excerpt from the article:

It was a totally different experience from what I wrongly thought mountain biking was! The rush of the single track trails! Oh, the trails! The fear of falling in almost knee-deep muddy ruts! Oh, the ruts! My heart beating wildly as I try my hardest not to crash, as I try my hardest to keep pedaling even when I felt I didn’t have anything more to give, as I try my hardest not to slow the whole group down.

In my journey I was able to answer that question. Get your copy of the 2nd issue to read the whole article. Or if you’re patient enough I have a few copies to be given away as What The Heck?! contest prizes. Still trying to come up with something for round 3, though.

A change in Darna (my bike). From a used-and-abused front end to a more indestructible weapon. View video here:

Rock Shox Reba Team installation at Velocipede (Nov. 22, 2010) from Francis Arellano on Vimeo.

That’s one of the main problems bike commuters in the Philippines have. Ours being a third world country it’s no surprise our streets are suddenly being populated by bike commuters from all walks of life – from people who only have a beat up and wiggling bike as their main and only form of transportation to those who are members of 2-car (at least) families.

Bike parking is a problem as only bike shops, and, lately, a bike rider-conscious owner of a gas station are the only ones I am aware of that provide semi-safe bike parking. Sure, there may be other establishments but my point is they may only comprise of 1%, give or take. Not included government institutions who I think should set a good example. But then, when did the Philippine government ever be a good example overall?

That’s why I admire the Firefly Brigade’s initiative of talking to local governments and malls and convincing them of providing simple and cost-effective bike racks for public bike parking. I don’t remember where I read it but I’m pretty sure I landed on the page while reading about this project by the Firefly Brigade, if I remember correctly it’s their recommendations on public bike rack designs.

Main point being the structure should support the whole bike (mainly, the frame, unlike Nuvali’s bike parking) plus the structure should enable the biker to secure the bike’s frame and both tires using 1 long bike lock. It should also be sturdy and secure enough that it won’t be easy to lift the whole structure off the ground, along with the bike(s), and load it onto a small truck or closed van. That scenario is possible!

With some simple Googling I found some examples and options of what public bike park structures should look like.

Fine, I’ll stop ranting now.

Anyway, why am I concerned with this bike parking problem? Simple things, really, but I have also learned it has a great impact on a lot of important points, like my health, the environment, convenience, etc.

Simple errands which would be too far to walk to, too near to bring a car (and the perpetual traffic on the main road due to the stupid strategy our local municipality’s traffic enforcers employ; no other way but to pass here), too impractical to ride the public transportation… and, of course, the chance to put in some saddle time.

Not only that. The Alabang Town Center is just a 14-km ride from home. If I need to go there for some reason or other what stops me, as with the case when I need to do those simple errands I mentioned before, is the complete lack of secure bike parking.

My eldest son can also benefit from school bike racks. A few months ago he already asked me if he can just bike to school. Sure, I’m all for this idea, especially the school is fairly close to home and there’s a safer route he can take without having to pass through the main road I mentioned above. This would lessen the monthly expenses for my kids’ school service, it will help him develop his stamina and endurance, help him get comfortable on a bike — part-training for when we go to the trails, since late last summer I’ve already starting bringing him on some of the shorter and easier rides. What made me decide not to let him bike to school is the lack of safe school bike racks; unlike in Japan as shown in The Fast and The Furious: Tokyo Drift.

Supporting and encouraging the use of bicycles for simple reasons like the examples I just shared would go a long way in easing the infamous Philippine traffic, promote a healthy and clean lifestyle, and gently push us into doing our part to save Mother Earth. Simple solutions, significant impact.

That’s the message I got from John. I verified if he was thinking of pedaling all the way to Tagaytay. He said yes. So I started wondering what the heck he has eaten.

I have my doubts as he has been saying how much he hates uphill climbs (as with any newcomer to biking), then this sudden invitation.

I asked for details like his chosen route, take-off time, other attendees, etc. Turns out it was just me and him.

After non-stop texting the night before until the morning of the ride we finally settled on an afternoon ride. We didn’t really have a choice. But the original plan of pedaling from Daang Hari to Tagaytay was scrapped. The macho bravado faded (haha, just kidding, John!) and he decided to just bring a car to Sta. Rosa and ride from there.

Lights were packed in pockets and bags as I knew we’d be riding in the dark later on.

Up until leaving the parking lot of Nuvali we were still undecided if we should just ride the Sta. Rosa trails or do the Reverse Palace route. Solution? A one-hit bato-bato-pick (Paper, Rock, Scissors) while pedaling to decide where we’ll ride.

“Kung ikaw manalo, saan tayo?” (“If you win, where are we riding?”) I asked John.

“EWAN KO!” (“I DON’T KNOW!”) John answered, exasperated but laughing.

“Kung ikaw, Sta. Rosa. Ako Reverse Palace,” (“If you win we’ll ride Sta. Rosa. If I win we’ll do Reverse Palace,”) I said.

“Game.”

My scissors beat the crap out of John’s paper.

Off we go, wondering what John’s reaction to the climbs will be. I found out before too long as we were starting the climb going to the Marcos Mansion.

“Put***ina ka! Kala ko ba sabi mo wala masyadong ahon?!” (“Son of a b**ch! I thought you said there won’t be much climbs?!”) I heard John shouting as I keep my pace steady during the very first (and one of two) steep climbs. I smile at the irony — HE wanted to pedal all the way UP to Tagaytay, then he doesn’t want to encounter uphill climbs? I just had to laugh.

Midway John started experiencing back pains. This slowed him down, and the fact it was his first time to climb this route. All that plus the late afternoon start nighttime has fallen before reaching the final and second steep climb (landslides covered the road but sections were already cleared for a one-vehicle track).

At a recovery point just before starting the final climb I stopped to wait for John and to start installing my lights. As I was waiting in front of a makeshift house the owner offered me the langka (jackfruit) he was eating. Not taking no for an answer I accepted and started eating a few bits. When John finally caught up I offered the langka but he declined. When we were ready to continue I returned the rest of the langka and we turned on our lights.

We reached the small store at the top around 7:00 P.M.

We started discussing and debating on our route going down as we rested. Will we pass via the route to Aling Pina’s or back track and go down the Reverse Palace route? The latter will be faster and safer for us.

John’s original plan of meeting up with his girlfriend Karla in Tagaytay for dinner was taken out of our options as it was too far to ride at that time.

Naturally, we opted for the safest and quickest route: go back down where we climbed.

Not much of a rush but going down this route at night was fun. Just stay alert for dogs, humans loitering, parked vehicles, and motorcycles. Speed control is necessary, too, so as not to startle the locals too much. If they get too annoyed it might not be safe for future bikers to ply this route at night.

With Ian’s assurance it will be safe I finally agreed. He assured me we’ll be riding the most newbie-friendly downhill tracks. Plus, he promised to lend me complete safety gear: a full-face helmet, body suit, knee and shin guards.

We also borrowed a DH bike for me to use. A Kona Stab Supreme.

I arrived at the meeting place on time. My riding buddies, Ian and Edwin, weren’t there when I arrived. Are they backing out? Hah! Yeah, right.

The travel was a time suck. Because of both the distance and the hellish traffic on SLEX (South Luzon Expressway — EXPRESS my ass) approaching the toll gates. The distance is bearable. The traffic I’m sure something can be done about, but dare I say making money off of motorists is more important than easing the highway users’ inconvenience. OK, I’m ranting, but seriously. 1 hour and 30 minutes of SLOOOW moving traffic towards the toll gate early in the morning, and the same thing in the afternoon going home (on the same lane/direction), on a Saturday? Common sense dictates something should be done about it! OK, I’m still ranting. I’ll stop this now.

Finally, I started seeing signs reminding people to keep Mt. Makiling clean. In no time we arrived at the UP Los Baños Sunken Garden.

From the very beginning I was experiencing a whole new way of riding: the bike’s setup and body geometry, the cumbersome safety gear strapped on the top tube and hanging from my back, the nice and plush suspension system of the Kona Stab Supreme, the pair of cycling rubber shoes I was wearing and the platform pedals (naturally, I’m not clipped in), and the weight of the downhill bike.

Starting from the parked cars I tried to pedal as far as I could go but it was impossible to pedal it all the way up the Mud Spring tracks. I didn’t take note of the time but if I remember correctly the ascent of pushing the bike up where we started took a little over an hour, including the pit stop at Station 5.

First things first, upon reaching the stores that mark our starting line: fresh buko (coconut)! Natural energy drink. And a much-needed rest. I’m not made for hiking… yet? We’ll see.

I was still wheezing from the uphill push when I noticed my guides and mentors were starting to prepare for the downhill ride. With much effort to push myself up from the bench I was sitting on I started getting my gear ready.

2010 05 01 DH Day – Prepping from Francis Arellano on Vimeo.

Now we’re ready to go. Being a first-timer on this trail and on this bike I was fairly cautious. As long as I can see way way ahead of me I wasn’t scared to let go of the brakes. But as we were riding down a (wide) mountain trail the tracks have non-stop winding curves — and these scared the shit out of me. I still have a way to go in learning to ride turns with speed so I apply the brakes as I approached and slowed myself down to a unimpressive speed.

I’d rather be unimpressive than overshoot the damn cliffs. So I ignore the voice of my self-conscious mocking me about my form. SHUT UP, I thought, shouting at it. I kept alternating between sitting down on the low saddle and standing up on the pedals to be able to use my legs as additional shock absorbers. I felt my feet and legs shaking uncontrollably from the stress of standing too long and from the vibrations from the rough terrain. I’m more used to doing descents much slower than this.

Then I hear the noise, the rattles than can only be associated with bicycles barreling fast down rough terrain. A split second after, as I go slow around the bend, a blurred vision of the downhill rider appears in my peripheral vision. With the streak of yellow on his shorts I recognized him to be Ian. Seeing him pedaling around the curves made me want to slap my hand on my forehead, as I thought to myself how the hell he did that.

I turned my attention back to the trail. With the moss-covered baby heads (rocks embedded into the ground) I had to make sure I’m following a good line and stay alert. Even though I’m not going as fast as I want to I know crashing in this terrain will hurt.

I entered and passed through another right-turning curve. I started to notice the rocks up ahead are slightly bigger than what I’ve just passed. I gripped the handlebar tighter. Then I saw a huge rock in my path. Huge enough to form a small drop. The drop isn’t really a problem, I know I can manage that. What I didn’t know was the interior tube couldn’t. As soon as I passed it I heard a different kind of sound as the fork absorbs everything the trails gives it.

I thought it was a normal thing as I’m only getting acquainted with this bike on this ride. It’s the sound of some kind of metal hitting a hard object, like a rock. I kept riding.

Then my front tire wiggles, which in turn passes it on to the handlebars, then to my hands, then to my arms. I almost lost control. My heart skipped a beat. Then I regained control back.

The trail up ahead curves left. Then I hear a shout. It was Edwin, behind my. Checking me, guiding me.

“What?!” I shouted back.

“Flat!” he said.

I applied the brakes. No wonder I almost lost control, shit, I thought. I thank God and Edwin for staying behind me.

We slowed down and proceeded to fix the flat. More than 1 snakebite pinch flats were found. We even almost ran out of patches!

And finally we’re done. Off we go again to continue the ride!

Knowing Edwin will be staying behind me as a guide Ian went ahead to have his fill of his downhill rush. 5 seconds after taking off I didn’t have any idea where he was. I couldn’t see him anymore.

I focus my concentration back on the trail, looking ahead a few feet in front of me to see what’s coming and to anticipate if I should/could roll over is, jump over it (heh!), or swerve to avoid it.

Finding me too slow Edwin alternated between staying behind me and slowing down to let me pass. Then I saw it again. Similar terrain characteristics of where I think I got the front tire flat. I was too chicken to swerve and, at the same time, too confident with the patch job we just did. I could pull the bike up a little to lessen the impact, I thought.

As I neared the small rock-formed step I pulled on the handlebar. A split second after I did a slight jump on the pedals.

Then I land back down. BLAG! I felt and heard the rear tire touch down on the trail hard. Too hard for it to be a smooth landing. I felt a slight wiggle, this time on the rear. Shit, I thought.

Edwin passed me a few meters back. But on the next curve I saw him riding slow, waiting for me. As soon as I was within earshot I shouted, “Am I flat?”

“Huh?”

“Is my rear tire flat?” I asked again.

“Yes!”

Double shit, I thought, again.

We stopped. I flipped the bike. He got his tools and we started working on the flat. One last patch left. Gulp!

Done. We inflated the tube and got ready to put it in the tire. Edwin pumps while I squeeze the tube checking if it’s inflating.

It wasn’t. Hrmm…

I don’t know why but I checked the front tire. I squeezed it. The tire folded. No air.

No patch. We ran out of.

We looked at each other. We were both disappointed with me not being able to finish the whole downhill ride.

After putting the tube back in the tire I flipped the bike back up, checked our stuff to make sure nothing was left behind, and I started the hike down. Edwin opted to walk down with me. More “mountain bike hiking…” Descending this time.

Watch out for the post about the next Mt. Makiling trip we did which had way way better results than this trip. Stay tuned!

Ride safe, ride hard!

The day before, as what happens quite often lately, I’ve realized, I vowed to go out and ride — solo or not. But as the time nears when I’d really have to start preparing for the ride the high I got was starting to wither down.

I was undecided. Quick short ride or stay at home? Then I remembered an old, short entry I did about how Erick of Nema gave me a boost about going out there to train, or just to simply ride.

Because of my fickle-mindedness my original plan to leave at 2:00 P.M. was moved to 3:30 P.M.

Headwind was strong. I even did a simple test. In a downhill section of Daang Hari, specifically the part after the exclusive subdivision of Verdana towards to bridge marking the boundary of Cavite and Muntinlupa, before reaching the new Petron station across the Daang Hari police outpost (north-bound), I stopped pedaling.

Normally, since the road was going downhill a bit, we would freewheel and let momentum and gravity do their thing. But not today. The headwind was literally stopping me in my tracks. If only I didn’t start late on this ride I would have waited for the wind to put me in a full stop. It wouldn’t take long, I was sure, but I was kind of in a hurry to finish the ride.

That damn headwind almost made me turn back and leave the ride as it was: a half-baked road ride. But no, I decided to pedal on and try to finish whatever I can ride in the Malipay trails. I’ll take whatever route I can take in the limited time I have, I thought.

As I was entering the trail from Fernbrook my phones started ringing. It was my wife. After a short chat, I also found out she didn’t get the text message I sent about me going out for a ride, I started pedaling, slowly gaining momentum, but still undecided if I should ride hard.

Then I reached the creek. As always it was rideable, but I wasn’t in the mood so I decided I didn’t want to get wet. At the same time there was a little kid crossing and playing on the rocks. I had no choice but to stop, though I welcomed it.

Riding alone in Malipay, knowing I can go as hard as can or as slow as I want the familiar feeling of the uneven surface under me started to give me a boost, like it almost always does. It was starting to make me concentrate on riding hard, not giving any thought to the route I was about to take. Besides, I’ve ridden these trails countless times. I already have a set route.

As I reached the Plaza (basketball court) I steered left on the main dirt road, only slowing down whenever I see little kids walking home from school. Good afternoons were exchanged with the kids, some were extending their arms for a high-five. Whenever I can I oblige. Then it hit me. Where the hell am I going, I thought? Sure, I was planning on riding the Otso-otso first, but that was at the Amore entrance, the opposite end of where I started (Fernbrook).

I made a U-turn and decided I would try to ride the sections in reverse order. I would start with the Single Tracks that ends under the tamarind tree (I think; when I asked quite a few people what tree that was I got a bunch of different answers; best one was “Puno ng Malipay” (“Malipay Tree”)).

After turning back I saw the small gate pillars that lead to the Single Tracks. I’d have to turn left between them to start that section, but then I would be missing another section we usually ride before entering that “gate”, so I continued to ride the main dirt road, aiming for the Plaza again. I greeted the kids once more and when the coast was relatively clear I continued on past the basketball court then turned left at the first corner, into a mild twisty single track with a dip then climb to a section with small roots creeping in all directions.

I was breathing hard, I was sweating hard, but it was fun. This is one of the fun ways to ride your mountain bike, I thought, on single tracks, going down fast, climbing up hard, natural handling against the dirt and roots. Scary, but exhilarating!

When the ground leveled off I pedaled lightly. Recovering. Regaining my strength.

Then the left turn appeared, as the single track I was on dipped left into a tight double track. Momentum. Gravity. I kept rolling. Using slight body english to steer the Darna, my bike, from small but dangerous obstacles on the trail. Then another dipping left, and more speed.

But I was still not riding as hard as I can. I was still cautious…

I followed the tracks as it turned right. Then I saw the small eroded section with the exposed cement pipe. Rocks were used to fill up the gap. I didn’t think twice about it. This is part of our regular route.

But I wasn’t going fast enough. I pulled on the handlebar to lift the bike. Without the proper speed and momentum the front tire didn’t clear the gap. It landed on the rocks which weren’t tightly packed. Loosened by traffic of community locals and visiting mountain bikers. I felt the bike stop suddenly, but only for a beat. I felt the rear lift up suddenly, but, again, only for a beat. I still had enough momentum to push the bike forward, but not enough that I was able to successfully move my body weight towards the back of the bike.

The front tire cleared the rocks and continued to roll, pulling the rest of the bike away from the rocks. The endo was avoided. The heart was beating fast. The shock not helping. “Shit,” I breathed out.

I shook my head as I continued to pedal. Now I can see where I did the U-turn. Now I can go back through the “gate”. So I turn right into it. Slowly my legs started pumping harder and harder. Slowly gaining speed, unconsciously, I was trying to get away from the near-endo experience.

The Single Tracks now have been “cleaned” of cut branches. Good, I thought. Less risk of damaging my rear derailleur or hanger. I felt the sudden tiredness, and lazyness, burst like a bubble. Replaced with the need to pump my cranks hard, to push the tires to roll faster, to weave in, out, and around the obstacles in my path. And so I did.

Before long the bushes open up to reveal the hard-packed trail start its descent, and change into what looked like a huge rock surface. It curves left, then a fork. Familiar view. I took the track on the left, entering a tunnel-like area made up of branches and leaves of the surrounding trees, but not before releasing the brakes.

I used the momentum to bring me higher up the sudden climb, a natural characteristic of the Malipay trails: downhill section the sudden uphill climb. “Home”.

I started pedaling before reaching the halfway point, taking advantage of the speed I was able to develop. Reaching the top I eased off of my pedaling. Taking deep breaths, smiling, humming.

Then my heart skipped. Caused by what I was seeing. Or rather, what I wasn’t seeing. The single tracks, which used to only have few holes for sunlight to pass through, is now as bright as the rice fields around Malipay. The right side of the tracks are now lacking the trees, though small, that make this section what it is. A beautiful, peaceful, serene stretch of natural tunnel-like maze.

I stared in disbelief. A teenage boy stared back while his arms continue to do its work. Holding, cutting, slashing, hacking. Before long I’m sure a lot more of these small trees will be cut down… to be made into charcoal.

The rest of the ride I tried to concentrate on the trail, on the actual act of riding my bike, but I can’t help but be bothered…

I want to give them something more sustainable. Something that will make them value the land where they live in right now. Where in the long run they will not succumb to land developers — win-win situation for them, and for us… I hope.

Now I ask you: As a mountain biker, as a citizen of the Earth, as a human being; whether we share the same trails or not, what can we do to stop, or better yet, educate the locals and make them understand how short-term these activities are? Is it not our place to do this, to plan this?

That was my text message Monday night to a few people when I realized I could do a quick ride the next morning around Malipay (again), while looking for people who are available & might want to join me.

Tantan responded telling me they’ll be meeting at 7:30 A.M.

“Who?” I asked.

“South Cycle. Wanna join?”

My heart skips a beat. Then another. Then another. Eventually it starts to beat a little bit faster than normal. South Cycle, I thought…

The South Cycle riders have become friends of mine but I have never really ridden with them as the main group. Main reason, I think, is because their primary game is downhill riding… and I’m still chicken to try downhilling.

I psyche myself too much on the hardcore stuff (downhill cycling, FYI!). Gotta slap & remind myself to take it little by little. Beginner trails first then slowly progress. But I will try it out. One day. When? I don’t know.

Anyway, I told Tantan I’ll join them if I can. I was planning on a real quick ride so I could get back home early, but with their 7:30 A.M. meet-up, plus allowance for late-comers, I was having second thoughts.

My subconscious kept reminding me how bored I get during solo rides. As with it being more risky as I won’t have anyone I trust with me if something happens while inside the trails. With these arguments I’ve decided to join the South Cycle group the next morning.

Not sure if Tantan has told the group I will be joining but I didn’t dare arrive late. In this ride I was looking at myself as the guest in their group ride.

As soon as my alarm went off I stood up and started preparing… and looking for food!

When I arrived at the meeting place there was only 1 person from the group there, Ace.

After only an hour and a half of waiting (!!!) we were almost complete, with Coach Eboy Farr informing the others he’ll just catch up. Plans were made to meet him at the store inside the Malipay community and we’re off, finally! But not without Tantan and Theo bugging me to lead. Me? The guest? Take the reins, and lead? No thanks

We head towards the Daang Reyna rotunda. The pedaling was easy. Didn’t they think it was getting a bit late, I thought to myself, but I didn’t care. At least we were already rolling.

Along the way someone called out to me. When I looked on the other side of the street I saw Jerome, a.k.a. Bornok23 in the forums. He was alone. I assumed he was taking a road ride. I signaled to him about joining us. So he made a U-turn as I stopped & waited, with Theo even encouraging me to convince him to join us.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged when he caught up to me. Questions about where he has been, where he was about to ride, and the never-absent invitation to join us in the trails. He was hesitant. His chain was making noises. It was dry. He hasn’t lubed it yet. With the sudden uphill shocks of Malipay he was quite concerned about breaking his chain. And the never-absent (un)reasoning of, “No, it won’t,” made him accept my invitation… I think.

Thinking about it now maybe he did accept my invitation to shut me up. Or maybe his conscience was bothering him about not being able to attend the Philmofo Christmas party and to make up for it he decided to accept my invitation, knowing he has a bigger chance of breaking his chain.

After the first uphill climb, what we call the Otso-otso, Jerome finally decided not to continue. His chain was complaining too much. So we said our good-byes and we all continued on with the ride.

Like I said earlier these guys regularly go downhill biking. In the downhill sections, twisty or not, they were going too fast for my taste! It was fun, and at the same time scary, to watch. Seeing how they easily control their bikes, how they are flowing as one with the bike AND the trail was pushing me to try and do the same.

I didn’t take a giant leap. I was still cautious, just pushing my speed a little faster than I’m normally comfortable with. And it was fun!

Even on a section which Ondoy (Typhoon Ketsana) initially destroyed a new line was found: the left off-camber side of the heavily eroded rut. Past attempts to ride the rut would cause one to hit the pedals/cranks on the immediate sides, thus the new off-camber line.

Naturally, my first few attempts on this line in the previous rides were ridden quite slow for fear of the tires sliding into the rut. But as I watched Crazy (a.k.a. Alvin) attack that section like it was flat land again made me say, “Fuck it, if he didn’t crash I could probably do it, too. Use the momentum!”

And that’s exactly what I did. As soon as I passed the rutted section, as soon as my elation was starting, I brought my concentration back to the trail as immediately after the rut is a small 1-foot drop.

I shift my weight back to prevent a possible endo, but I was confident. I have ridden this countless times. Then the last dip of this section and the sudden uphill climb. Still confident I continued pedaling up as I have done before and marking the end of this section is a very short single track curtained by tall wild grass, then exiting into the main wide tracks.

The rest of the ride was the same, especially after meeting Eboy at the store. Him, Crazy, and a couple of others were all leading, mashing, pedaling hard around the trails, while I do my best to stick to their rear wheels. Or at least keep the distance of 1 rider between us constant.

Not my regular style of riding. But, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it was daaaaamn fun! I felt my heart rate go up, my sweat pouring, my arms numbing, my legs aching, but my big smile stuck to my face like an old strip of duct tape on an idling car’s hood under the burning sun.

At the tamarind tree after the winding single tracks, which usually marks the end of our Malipay ride, we rested for quite a long time. Everyone was breathing hard, smiling, laughing, exchanging stories and jokes. Some even checking for little problems on their bikes.

It was getting late so when they still decided to do one last section of a new trail I’ve never ridden before I had to pass, but not before vowing to try it out next time. A few others also had to bail out early, or joined me towards the exit for different reasons: previous commitment (Alfie), using a different bike (Ace sold his XC bike and was using a heavier rig, Lake a.k.a. Edward was using his son’s smaller bike since he still had to have some finishing touches done on his bike), and a tired first-timer (Candyman, an employee of South Cycle).

Thanks for the invite, and thanks for the ride! When are we riding again?