Snow dog

              You mean I can go full speed on this straight trail?   Hell yeah!

Kona has been miss and hit on coming when called.  With a solid layer of snow and temperatures perfect for a thin-skinned greyhound, we decided to see if Kona would enjoy running on one of the dog-friendly trails in the Methow.  Lest we forget, Kona was born and raced in Florida.  His first experience with snow in November was not good. What would happen?

                 Where we going? I'm in. Where we going? I'm in. Where we going?

I had promised myself I would take Tux running on the winter trails, but it just never happened.  I felt grief for that and determined not to let it happen to Kona. I figured Tux would approve of taking his young nephew, Kona, in his place.

At the trailhead I readied the fat bike and then brought out Kona on a leash.  After giving him a treat and making sure he knew I had more, I unclipped his leash and we took off.  

I have taken him trail running a few times keeping him on a leash.  That follows a familiar pattern of him pulling like a sled dog the first mile or so and then me dragging him back home. He was a professional racer, now retired exactly one year to the day, but his races were only seventeen seconds long. He did exceed forty miles an hour on those races, but he has yet to figure out the endurance thing.

He sniffed some other dog's pee in the snow and then launched after me and passed at a full gallop. He loved that I could go fast as I clicked down the cassette flying along. The trail stretched out in front of us and he looked back as if to ask if he could just open up.  I cheered him on and he was so happy to run.  He greeted other dogs and ran with them a bit before continuing on his way.  This was heaven for him. 

We then stopped and I took off his coat as his running had generated plenty of heat.  In Florida they would take them in wading pools to cool them off after races.  Without his coat in the sunshine, bounding in full stride he looked like he was born for this life.  He was panting now and his muscles bulging. A skier with his own dog commented on how beautiful Kona was.  I agreed and he said it again, "He is just so beautiful. His markings, his muscles, his smile!"  Kona looked not just fit, but so happy.

We got Kona in the age of COVID and he loves dogs and people and having everyone and every dog keeping their distance was torture for this social creature.  Being able to greet people and dogs and run free was what this guy has been dreaming about for eight months. 

After less than two kilometers I stopped and told Kona we should start heading back. He looked further down the trail and only reluctantly turned west and followed me. His strides now were bouncy and he was slower as we headed towards the trailhead. The shadows now reached the trail and the distractions of urine and holes in the snow had a greater pull than they had on the way out.  My chain was on the other end of the cassette wrapped around the big cogs. 

I was now coaxing him along with treats and we were no longer passing skiers, but just holding our place among the groups heading back.  He was spent and it was an effort to just go faster than a walk. 

                             In the shadows of Virginia Ridge.  

As we neared the parking lot I clipped his leash back on. When we got to the car he jumped in and flopped down on his bed while I secured the bike.  The day could not have gone any better.  He kind of minded me. The treats gave him a reason to stay close and he played well with other dogs, which I fully expected. He didn't leave the trail chasing a bunny or other small mammal off in the woods. 

Pacing?  We will leave that to another day.

On the drive back we declared success and Kona asked if we could do it again soon.

            We stopped by Methow Trails and got him an annual pass.                                                              Yes Kona, we will do it again!

                        Then we went home and both enjoyed a fine dinner                                                             (Kibble for him, Pizza for Hottie and me)

                         This is what happy looks like a couple hours later.

Castelli Thermal Pro Skully Cap Review

                                             This is what it looks like.

It sucks.  Really.  "How can such a thin cap keep you warm?"  It can't.  There may be some comically narrow temperature range where it is useful, but cycling clothing needs to be versatile and this fails the test.   Don't buy it and if you want mine, let me know and I don't like you, it is yours. 
 

2020 DONE!

2020 Started with such hope, only to expose our collective pettiness via tragedy. An inconvenience for Hottie and myself, yet a horror for others. I kept working.  We had no major surgeries for the first year in a while. 

We lost Tux. That hit me so hard I realized I actually have a heart. As a tribute to him, we welcomed his nephew, Kona, who has brought so much joy and love to our hearts. That was unexpected. 

Bike races and bike rides were cancelled.  Our Sunday "Coffee and Lies" rides took a five month hiatus. My son Tim and I were able to share the backpack trip of our collective dreams albeit with masks at the ready. 

An ideal remote work assignment allowed me not just to continue working, but to spend a majority of my time in my favorite place. So grateful.  I ironed two shirts in all of 2020.  What the hell?

Such a strange mix of good and bad news.  We were lucky, yet are so aware that many were destroyed by the Pandemic.  It would be offensive to celebrate. We are powerless to change the pandemic and how the powers that be handle it.  We can control how we treat those we see and this event has provided an opportunity to be the best we can be. We could all have done better.

For all the good and bad that we had in 2020, I am ready to move on and welcome 2021. Let's learn our lessons and move forward.

A winter's ride

A winter ride, muted colors under grey skies

Gratitude for dry pave, I get to ride today

A narrow ribbon of road cuts through the white snow

Fallen leaves silent, buried below winter’s blanket

The cold bites, my tempo responds in kind 

Measured effort failed, I push now for warmth

Legs and feet long past feeling, spinning as trained

Rising from the saddle, the short day growing darker

Food gone, bottles empty I turn for home

Unclipping at my door I am safe from the cold

Years of dedication, sacrificing for victory

The journey is the victory now. Spent, I win

Summer no more.

I'm from Florida.  What is this cold, white stuff?

On Thursday it looked like this:

I'd call it an Indian Summer, but perhaps that phrase is now racist or I'm a day or two behind the political whirlwind of woke correctness and I should stick with just saying fall.  Anyway this is what late October looks like most of the time.....

It was predicted to happen Friday, and it did:

It took Kona a while to step onto the mysterious substance, 

but it proved to be an adequate running surface.

We are all adapting to a new season.

Happy Apocalypse

            It smells kinda like camping, kinda like death......

With the fires we've been dealing with some unhealthy air quality. 

When I say unhealthy, it isn't an uninformed opinion....

It reminds me of being sick as a kid and staying home from school.  You just kind of wander around inside and as the afternoon stretches into dinnertime, you just feel sluggish from the lack of activity and lung tightness. Everyone is restless and maybe even a bit cranky.   Covid has taken the excitement out of staying at home for everyone.  This is just the icing on the cake. 

              Outside it looks foggy, except the fog is yellow.  

Taking Kona for a short walk, the streets are deserted, adding to the Twilight Zone atmosphere.  

Make it end.  Please, make it end..... 

Angel’s Staircase Adventure

2020 has become a year of bucket list accomplishments.  A month ago my son Tim and I finished off our John Muir Trail odyssey.  This past Sunday KB and I set off on the Angel’s Staircase Loop. 

 

The adventure really started when I took my bike out to add some sealant to the tires a few days before (just to be safe) and I noticed the back wheel felt wonky.  It turns out I had a broken suspension pivot axle. I took it to the great folks at Methow Cycle & Sport and they told me that they would have to order a part and the bike would not be ready until after my planned ride.

 

I contemplated renting a bike, but opted instead to give it a try on my fat bike. I took it out for a short test ride and made a few minor adjustments (saddle height, brake lever angle) and deemed it ready to go.  I figured there was going to be a bit of hike a bike so the day would be an adventure anyway.

When KB suggested we set off from my place at 5:30 AM I flinched, but agreed.  Starting early would get us riding before it got too hot and running out of daylight was a problem neither of us dared say out loud, but it was a possibility we wanted to avoid.

We arrived at the trailhead in time to dress, drink up and get rolling before 7:00. The assortment of bikes on racks and campers told us we were in the right spot. Soon we were out of the parking lot and climbing a dusty trail in thick forest.

We were leapfrogging two other groups of three riders as we climbed and climbed.  At each trail junction they would stop and wait for their friends and we would confirm our direction and putter on.  The fat bike was doing very well soaking up the bumps and lumps of tree roots and rocks.

Although the fat bike is rigid, it does have a dropper post and more than one rider commented that given the choice of suspension, or a dropper, they would choose the dropper.

 

These trails are shared by hikers and bikers so we kept an eye open and at times the hikers envied us and at times they offered us pity.  “I’m glad I get to hike up this steep trail,” was something we heard more than once.

        Above Cooney Lake.  Look carefully and you can see some sad souls... 

When we passed Cooney lake the trail shot up a comical climb that made me wonder if we were off the trail. The grade necessitated us pushing and then carrying our bikes before returning to ridable trail.  Then after what seemed like a three-minute uphill ride the trail shot up becoming what a ride veteran referred to as “the wall.”

Nobody rides the “wall” section up or down, and we and others alternated between pushing, pulling, carrying, cajoling and cursing our bikes.  The trail was like trying to climb a mountain of loose marbles.  You would push your bike uphill, grab the brakes and pull yourself up even with the bike and repeat.  Some carried their bikes on their shoulders with their steps sliding backward like they were climbing up a down escalator. Everyone was glad to be here but nobody was smiling.  I told KB that as a hiker I found this part of the trail horrible and as a biker I thought it was more of a dare.

 

Although this section wasn’t that long, it took longer than it should have and knowing we had several more hours after this, we did not want to kill ourselves.  When we reached the top others were seated on rocks next to their bikes recovering.

We could see Rainier to the south

We snapped some picture and ate and drank.

After a brief traverse we had a bit more climbing and then we were at the high point of the ride at over 8,000 feet.

We dropped down the Angel’s Staircase and all I can say is that I guess not all angels are good angels. The trail was a series of switchbacks where we dismounting at each corner.  The loose, lumpy, steep drop corners just invited a crash and that was not on our agenda.  Showing more wisdom that expected we aligned our risk aversion to our age and talked about how smart we were.

Soon the trail was traversing alpine meadows that were golden under the late summer sun.  We stopped at a stream and filtered water to restock our supply.  The water was cold and felt like heaven on our parched throats.

                                      Looking SE

                                   Looking NW

After some moderate climbing we reached Boiling Lake and paused to enjoy the mountain scenery.  We began the hot, steep, exposed climb up to Horsehead Pass.  

                                  About to go down here

                         Just came up from here (see the trail?)

KB’s bike with water and gear strapped to it weighed a ton, and by a ton I mean pretty close to fifty pounds. Thirty-five pounds of bike plus seven pounds of water and a more than a few pounds of extra clothing, tools, tubes and first aid gear. 

 

The switchbacks just kept going and we paused a few times to drink and take in calories.  This was a full day and we were glad to have started as early as we did. People had been encouraging to us as we were both on rigid bikes and the novelty struck some as adventurous.

       Spring, summer and fall were all in the last month at this elevation

When we reached the top we had the place to ourselves.  It was a narrow ridge and we took our time refueling and taking in the view below us.  An observer might wonder if we were tired, or casual about not rushing to get going.  It was a pleasant combination of savoring the time and gathering ourselves mentally for a long technical descent that would require a Zen-like focus.

 

When we were ready, we dusted ourselves off and set off down the trail.  It was the now familiar “cliff on one side, mountain on the other” that we had been riding most of the day.

                     Yeah, and THIS was the shit we rode....

 

The trail started off rough, loose and exposed.  Each kilometer it got less so and our speed increased the closer we got to the trailhead.  We had over three thousand feet to descend and the trail got better and more flowy by the minute. 

 

We paused at one point on the way down and shared the observation that nine hours of riding and pushing/carrying a bike can make you tired.   KB had blood on the back of his calf from multiple pedal encounters and a dirt moustache. I was likewise dirty and had some blood on me.  I was glad our appearance matched the day’s effort.

                             The dirty smile

When we arrived at the parking lot we felt like we had experienced the full meal deal that is the Angel’s Staircase Loop.   KB commented that if we did this ride every day for a couple weeks we would get in really good shape.  I just let that hang in the air as I opened the cooler and fished out a bottle of cold water.

           Don't think for a moment that we don't know how lucky we are....