Monday, July 31, 2006

Barely Creaking

Wow. Tried to think of a clever way to start this, wow is all I could come up with. Maybe I was a moron for considering a ski resort to bike around on a hot day like today. What the hell though, you only live once. I got everything I bargained for.

This place is tough. That's an understatement. I think it will be a fantastic place if ever my skills improve exponentially. I could almost classify this as a hike more than a bike. My legs are hammered and I am dehydrated so this will be short.

Got the advice to ride it clockwise from the kiosk. I honestly think I would have turned around if I did it counter clockwise. The ride was beautiful, trails were outstanding, plenty of my nemesis rocks, some defeated, some defeating. I though I was home free when I made it to the top of the chair lift. I was wrong. It was a different kind of terrain, fun, but pedal grinding downhills and rocks rocks rocks. I was definately at my limit most of the ride. Then the face smacking green signs started to appear. "Warning: Technical Area" Are you kidding me? Where wasn't this place technical? The ones that said "Warning: Downhill" weren't kidding, but managed some of them. That taunting sign will be in my thoughts for a while I think.

I have a creak that's getting worse. I think it is in the bearing that goes through the frame at the crank. Not sure what that is called, but it's getting worse. Almost like there is a rubber o-ring that is binding. I guess I need to get it checked. Ride time on the computer said 1:06, distance 4.0. Total time about 1.5 hrs. Probably two-stepped 15-20% of it. Stuck to the blue trail the entire ride.

Well, this is the end of the experiment. My princess comes home tomorrow and I can't wait to see her beautiful face. 6 previously unexplored rides in 6 days. Previous 4 months and I visited a grand total of Jacobsburg and the towpath plus a few rides to Lowes and Heights market on the road when I needed stuff I could fit in my backpack. My skills have grown exponentially in these 6 days. I have learned more about myself, my equipment, and skills than I ever could have hoped. Where do I stand now? I am a beginner mountain biker with a love of the sport. I havn't been on two wheels since I was 15.999 years old. I can take defeat like a man when I give it my all. I whoop like a rabid football booster when I take a section clean I could not have previously. I want more.

For now, tomorrow will be a welcome day off for the mind and body. I think I will spend some more time at Jacobsburg in the coming weeks regaining my confidence and lengthening my ride time. Dodson St, Tekkening, Constitution Rd and South Mountain Park will all be attempted again in the near future. Franko Park was too boring, Bear Creek is beyond my present skills. Maybe next year on a day with reasonable temperatures I will give it another try. These guys who race it must be a sight to see.

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Constitutional Fortitude

I know you are not suppsed to ride when it's wet because of trail damage etc, but with the weather the last few weeks, I wouldn't get any time in the woods if it was my mantra. So tread lightly has been the name of the game of late. I had tried to find the salisbury sand pit earlier in the week to no avail. Instead found Franko Park, which didn't seem to be bike friendly and the ride was on open grassy lanes and such which I didn't really care for. A quick post to the Dirt Devils forum gave a lead on something I may be more interested in. Constitution Rd. A quick mapquest search found what I was looking for. Snapped the coordinates into the GPS friday night and saturday mornings adventure became a plan.

After a nice long ride down a lumpy road that made me smile and pat my truck on the dash, I found a parking lot that looked promising. There was only an ultra compact car with no bike rack in the lot so it looked like I would have the place to myself. Prepped the bike, remembered the computer this time and off I went into the trail with the "Walking Purchase" sign. 75 yards in and I was walking my purchase back to the lot with the rough part of the Tekkening two-step experience from the previous day fresh in my head and legs. Unrounded, soaked, slippery rocks abounded. There had to be another option. The guys who had pulled in as I was getting saddled up got a smile and made a comment like "short ride today?". I made up some lame excuse about exploring and high tailed it out of there and out onto the gravel road with my tail held low. Up the road about 100 yards there was a red blazed trail off to the left that looked more my speed so in I went.

Much better. Trail started with a fine gravel bed that gave way to a loamy trail with a slight downhill slope. Dodged a couple puddles on the edges that I would have rather pounded through thanks to my tread lightly attitude. My good deed for the day now behind me, I started ripping down the trail, thoughts of slimy rocks well behind me.

A series of logs across the trail now appeared through my foggy glasses. These were much larger than the ones I typically encountered so off I hopped. Good thing I did as my large gear would have ground across. Same thing for the next two. I guess I need to learn how to bunny hop or something if this is going to be a frequent occurance. I have enough to learn for now so no shame in saving my equipment and two stepping across. Down a bit found a zig zag bridge that had a couple inches of water in it. Using my hands and pedals I managed my way across without incident. There is an opt out to go through the creek, but tread lighly and thoughts of wet shoes so early on in the ride made the man-made option a no-brainer.

Next section was rather uneventful but fun, until I reached the pipeline. I surely was not heading uphill so down I went. Loose rocks and light orange mud were fun for a bit, then it dove a bit steeper and I did my part for the environment and chose not to add my personal fluids to nature and walked it down the rest of the way. Back on the bike and hung a right along the railroad tracks to a flat and enjoyable section. Had to duck down onto the tracks at one point due to a blowdown but rest was pretty flat and the middle ring was put into play for the first time today. Trail goes all the way down to St Lukes. Towards the end there was a lot of glass and other garbage in the trail so walked around that rather than risk a cut tire.

Return back was as expected though pretty much uphill the entire way. Tire slipped a little for no reason, i wonder how these tires stack up against what the others use? Is a tire a tire? From what I have learned so far, I am thinking not, but not going to start blaming equipment other than my pedal fiasco.

Took a different route back to the lot that was parallel to the road. Lots of rocks, but I am a bit more confident now and navigated them pretty well. This "look where you want to go and not at where you don't" concept pays off in spades when you keep your mind focused.

Back to the lot and it was the walking purchase rematch, this time, hopefully mostly pedaling the purchase instead of walking it. Against my better judgement, engaged the granny gear (back story can be found in "South Mountain Park" article) and away I went. Much better this time, perhaps a little drier, but not much. Foot down a couple times, but progressed much further in before getting off. Bashed the pedals off a few larger rocks, these things take a beating. The old plastic ones would be in shards I think after this week. Passed by a couple large ones by back pedaling to keep the offending pedal up so spirits are high from my new-found technique. These rocks have to stop soon right? Gone is the loam I muddled through for the last hour, I began to yearn for those miles at this point. Legs burning from the high cadence, but forward progress is being earned, not given. Couple more pedal bashes, a little pushing and it is time for the return trip. The heat and humidity was getting to me and the computer was reading 5 miles for the adventure so this bail was not as disconcerting as the first one.

Ride back over the same rocks was jarring, but fun. Pedal work was fun keeping them out of harms way. Legs are getting a little sore and form is probably poor as I look down to watch my pedals more than I look ahead to pick line. WHAM. That's WHAM in capital letters. If I could make it blink, I would. As I was going past a particularly large rock the front tire avoided, at a significanly more speed then I had previously allowed, the back tire hit it square. The seat caught me. Simple physics here. Seat goes skyward, shorts follow newtons law, mass times velocity = pain. I yelped like dog who just got stepped on in the dark. If I had the ability, or the inclination, to look there, I am sure there would be a mark. Enough of this, trip over. Time for some advil. The jungle known as my back yard needs some serious attention from high speed rotary steel. It is not going to be pleasant in this heat and with these rubbery legs, but at least it is an activity that does not require me sitting down.

Ride time 1:10, distance 5.3 miles.

P.S.- Try lowering the seat, it's been in my way all day and the nose is wreaking havoc on my posterior.

South Mountain Park

Ah, the great Lehigh Valley mountain biking mystery. The whereabouts of the Lehigh South Mountain mecca seems to be a closely held secret. Searches of the internet are rife with flames back and forth between people posting about it and others saying shhh. I don't think anyone will read this, so I think I am safe from the flogging that's sure to come my way. I'm actually not quite sure this is the place, but I did find some pretty gnarly stuff, so I assume I was on the right (single)track. In my defense if it was a renegade intrusion, there is no sign that says Lehigh students only or anything of the ilk.

This took little to no brainpower (thankfully). Do a zoomed out mapquest search of Bethlehem and look for green, that's what I did. I was looking for Constitution Rd actually and noticed the emerald green glow of South Mountain Park beckoning me from the south. If geese fly south in winter, why can't I in the opressive summer heat?

After a quick 3/4 " drop in my saddle from yesterday's fiasco (more in "Constitutional Fortitude") I was off and sweating. 45 seconds after the sweat started, it became profuse. Brainiac me started off on the right hand side of the parking lot and climbed the rockpile of a "path" that encompases the start of the disc golf course. For the third ride in a row, these rocks had their way with me. I am learning some things along the way however and that is what quests are all about.

I read in an article when I first started this obsession to stay out of the granny gear. I have no idea as to the context or author of the article, and have since lost it. I did learn this in practice when I found my first tryly enjoyable ride about a mile up river of sand island. This find was about the 3rd or 4th time I had mounted my then new and shiny black beauty. The location is right across a bridge of the canal. What lay ahead of me was technical track that seems to have been built for motorcycles. This place had everything and I have spent quite a few nights there since when the gas bikes were not about. Of particular consternation was a hill on the left hand side. I have had quite a few instances of my butt being forcefully evicted from my saddle in my short carreer, but this hill still holds the record in both frequency and severity of said event. The first few attempts found me starting too slow, or in a higher gear or it was wet or...well you get the point. I got only 10 feet or so and bailed on each attempt. Then I got the idea that my back tire was spinning and to put plant my butt squarely on the seat, put it in granny gear and pedal like hell. Yup it worked. With legs a spinnin I made it further than I had before, well, up until the front wheel came screaming past my face like a Randy Johnson fastball. I lay there like a fat turtle, sans steed, head pointed downhill, like a filty latenight inversion machine infomercial. What happened next was akin to the infamous "morning after" in college, with the famous last words of "I'll never do that again". Unlike college, I happened to make it more than a few hours before going back on my promise. I made it until yesterday as a matter of fact.

I'm not saying that the granny gear defeated the rock pile, but it did help, and I did a lot more on two wheels then 2 feet, which is a small victory. There is a saying "fish or cut bait". I was doing neither after a while and confidence was plummeting, so I got the hell off the trail and headed up to the water tower in hopes of finding new waters. Wow, good choice. Time to fish! The trails that lay ahead were outstanding. Singletrack, downhill, uphill, it had it all. Path choices for the first lap came up aces. Rode the brake too much again, but at least it was in the back of my head. This was really enjoyable. Path took me down the hill and the rest was along the road edge, which was hairy at times. Dead ended at the stop sign so backtracked a little and found a path up the hill to do it again. Saw a doe with two fawns so stopped for bonding time with my camelback and watched the deer feeding only 50 yards away, completely oblivious to me. The skinny fawns still had spots, though fading fast.

Back up the hill and begain what I THOUGHT was another of the same lap. Somehow I made a right and started heading downhill. I mean DOWNHILL! I kept going thinking "this has to level out soon". It didn't. "What goes down must go up" kept echoing in my head. Being tired and hot, I cut my losses and turned uphill to backtrack up the same trail. 100 yards up or so there was another trail off to the right. "What's down here?" he says. I'll tell you what was down there. Sickness, utter disregard for the body, stuff that causes Evil Knevil to wake up screaming. There is a wooden jump of some sorts there off the top of a rock. I wouldn't try it in a million years. I sat on the edge, had a drink and laughed in admiration of the madmen and women who built this contraption. I don't believe I would have ever tried it in my youth, and certainly not now. Not even with an ambulance standing by feet away and a stunt bag. I was hoping it was some of this "North Shore" stuff I had been reading about, but there seemed to be about 50 feet of it missing. I want to try a see-saw and some other things, but NEVER this launch into hell. Ah well, some day.

Back up the hill and did pretty well all things considerd. Granny gear was a life saver, this thing really comes in handy yet again! Found my trail, made some changes but essentially uneventful and a similar lap. Much more comfortable this time carrying more speed and less brake. I seem to tense up pretty good though on the downhills and quads and front of my thigh seem to burn a little as I stand on the pedals soaking up the bumps to prevent yesterdays malady.

Did about 5.5 miles in all with about an hour of actual riding according to the computer. Not sure how much time elapsed while I was out there, but like McArthur, I shall return.

P.S- Seat adjustment worked wonders. Keep it there. Rear tire pressure still too high. Do I keep lowering it until it blows?

Friday, July 28, 2006

Tekkening Two-step


Tekkening. Look it up on Google and you find a fair bit of unreadable posts with odd looking characters from Scandanavian countries. To me, Scandnavia evokes thoughts of cross country skiing and reindeer with crisp, lung burning air. My first foray into the shadow's of Martin's creek radioactivity couldn't have been further from that imagery.

"Realfeel of 98" the weatherman crowed over the hum of my air conditioning. I slugged a bottle of water and a coke in my truck in a feeble attempt at pre-hydration. A bowl of stale lucky charms 4 hours before was not going to provide the energy required if this place was anything other than flat. I had no information on Tekkening Trails other than directions of where to park from the Dirt Devils site on clubMTB.com. There could be anything at the end of this asphalt road.

The previous evening had seen me pulling an all nighter at work to rebuild a server that decided to trash about 10,000 user files for fun as the hard-drives slowly ventured into the River Styx. What was I thinking heading out here in the noonday heat? I was thinking adventure, I was thinking ANYTHING other than keyboards and cranky users. That's the funny thing about this new mountain biking hobby I picked up this spring. The harder I crank on the pedals, the less negativity enters my head from my cranky users and my cranky ex. It's both a mentally and physically purging experience for me. Maybe that's why I don't mind waking up in the morning with a sore rear-end so often lately.

I'm here. It's a pretty non-descript parking lot, but there is a big board with a map, and little pamphlet maps of the trails. A quick once over the big board and a stuff of the pamphlet into my seat bag with my cell and truck key and away I went down the gravel road and into the woods with the weird name. I had decided that I wanted to be a little adventurous. The blue trail along the Foul Rift of the Delaware was labeled "scenic". Scenic is for old lady's and people with skinny tires. No sir, I would not take the scenic path. I have portly tires and a jet black bike. I'm Darth Vader with a camelback dammit, and I want woods and rocks and sticks and mud.

This is easy. It's like the towpath with hills and trees. I passed the blue glow of the porta-potty about 100 yards into the woods and leaned into overgrown single track with the orange markers. This place must not get ridden a whole heck of a lot as the weeds from the sides encroached onto my new spiked platform pedals and threatened to untie my shoelaces. In and out of fields and woods the orange trail wound. Pretty easy stuff. A lot of twists in the trails kept the conservative side of me off the bigger rings. A couple of 3-4 inch logs took the high-speed mini-wheelies with ease. I like this place already. It's pretty hot on the field edges, but the woods are cooler. It must have rained this morning because the rocks in the trail are wet, but they are smooth river stones, and not much of them.

"Damn, forgot to hook up the cycling computer" i mumbled as I hopped off at the start of the first decent hill. Technology trumps reason, it's an illness I guess. Stupidity apparantly trumps knowledge because now I am at the bottom of a wet hill spinning my tire and wandering into the vegetation as i try to climb from a standstill. Well, this sucks. Time to walk it up I guess. Funny how your mental state changes. Last year, I could have been hiking here like a true bi-ped. I didn't own a bike and would have been happy with the trudge. Now it just seems so lame, a failure of sorts. This sport gets into your soul somehow, pushing you do do un-natural (and stupid!) things and never give up. Such a let down when you do, maybe that's part of being a newbie. Finally I reach a section level enough to pick up some speed and hop back on to my trusty black steed.

I'm soaked with sweat at this point. The walmart 2% that my horseshoes, stars and green clovers marinated in this morning is feeling a little squirrely. That little green guy on the box looked so happy this morning, at this point I could choke him and his silly accent. Fortunately, i filled my camelback to the top with ice before I filled it so a nice long tug of ice water evened me out a bit. A little more downhill, a little up hill. Trying to keep off the the brakes on the downhill. Brakes are a security blanket I need to shed. At least I am learning to use the front one rather than generate smoke with the rear...

Things start getting rockier. The smooth and rounded river stones are starting to mix with some sharper edges now so a little weaving is in order and I am back to enjoying myself. I can duck off of orange to head over to the sissy blue trail, or keep going onto the red trail. Did ol' Darth eat lucky charms before battle? I guess not, he couldn't get the spoon into that helmet. Plus, milk breath with all that breathing would not a grand leader make.

Red it is.

Hamburger. That's what my shin feels like. I have no idea what I just hit, but my pedal caught on something hidden in the weeds. These new pedals Liz Allen suggested are sweet, and I slip off way less then the crappy plastic ones that came with it, but this is a side effect that will take some getting used to. No pain no gain, no guts no glory, ride fast and ground meat metaphors begin to apply.

This trail is getting more difficult by the yard. Gone are the smooth stones that my suspension soaked up so easily. These boogers are sharp, odd angled and frequent. I have to get off and push again. I think it is primarily a skill deficiency, but the heat, what's left of my shin, and my energy are draining from me pretty quickly. The next 3/4 mile or so provides more of the same pedal a little, two-step a little. This place is beautiful, but a little beyond my skills, at least in my present condition. I take solace in the fact that the granny blue trail lay just ahead of me. Smooth sailing back to the truck is just what the Dr ordered after the humiliation Ma Nature is just piling on at the momet.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a little blue sign, and rock piles, oh dear. OK, scenic at this part means 40 foot cliff 2 feet off the "trail" with a beautiful view of the river below. It also means pretty much no dirt and basketball sized rocks piled upon each other. I am reduced to riding granny gear for 30 feet, walking 60, convinced I am about to splatter bike parts in multiple directons at any moment. This is no Jacobsburg. It is certainly no towpath. I am feeling less like Darth Vader, and more like the Will Farrell character in that Taladega nights trailer.

I learned a lot the last 100 yards. I learned that pedaling over rocks in the wrong gear can send my heartrate up through the tree canopy. I learned that if I concentrate, and stare where I want to go rather than at the razor sharp nasties (Thanks Liz) I can actually navigate some things I would not have thought possible 10 minutes ago. I have also learned that obstacles at 45 degree angles to the trail can take my back tire and shoot it about a foot from where it started. I also learned that these bikes are pretty darn tough, even if it is a cheapo from Dick's.

The trail starts to open up, it's soft sand with only scattered smooth rocks here and there. I am back up to a respectable gear and getting some good wind through my helmet to help cool this sweating heap that seemed so invincible 45 minutes ago. The sights and sounds of the river have always been special for me, and now I am back to enjoying it and taking my eyes off the trail, if ever so briefly.

As I piled what remained of me into the truck (that should have had the windows cracked) I felt myself already wishing for more. This weekend I want to try Jordan and the Sand Pit at Salisbury, but I'll beat this place someday and will be back to practice the conquest in the very near future.

Note to stupid: Eat a real lunch next time and leave the lucky charms for the little princess!