Cruzin

Yet another fun weekend spent Cruzin through the woods on my Santa Cruz over two of the best singletrack trails in Georgia; the Pinhoti and Rich Mountain.



Saturday we had a nice relaxing afternoon in the Cohuttas on the beautiful Pinhoti Trail. Raja and I joined 4 of our roadie friends on a 2nd attempt at the Pinhoti. This time last year, we thought it would be fun to try and convert some of our shaver buddies over to the dirt. In the first mile up the climb of the Pinhoti Trail, we already lost a rider to a casualty. In our usual caring attentive fashion, this mishap wasn't even noted until 3 miles later, and we knew someone was missing. Miraculously, Geoff remained friends with us, and eventually decided to give it another go.

It was made clear that I was welcome on the ride, but my camera was NOT. Being guilty of posting compromising photos on local forums, no one wanted to fall victim to my clever schemes. As much as I enjoy a good laugh, I understand there are times to put joking aside and give others the freedom to be themselves. Besides, a ride without the chore of picture taking would be like a mini vacation for me.

Geoff, Travis, Robert, Rob, Raja, and I took off for our Pinhoti Take #2 Ride. The goal was to do all 3 sections of the trail and enjoy the lookout at the top of Hwy 52. It was a spectacular day, clear as a bell, with a fabulous view to reward us at the top. We saw our friends, Larry, Gary, and Allan on Pinhoti 2. I was happy to be riding a nice relaxing pace with my friends, but wished I was in better shape to hammer with Larry.

As much as I enjoy a good thrashing ride, this year they have been few and far between. I'm getting lazy and cannot find the motivation to continue the maintenance required to keep my body at that level. My mind remembers the thrill, but my body doesn't want to keep pace. In the meantime, these relaxing rides fit the bill just fine.

It was a nice day in the saddle. Our goal was reached, with 25 miles for the adventure and no casualties. Although a few big crashes were had, the big smiles on their faces afterward let us know it was okay. We had fun trying tricky sections over and giving them a chance to get a feel for this thing we call mountain biking. I think they had fun, and hopefully we'll get a chance to do it again. Otherwise how else will I get to pay them back for all the times they drop me on the road, hehehe.

I was a bit nervous for Sunday's ride after having ridden over 3 hrs on Saturday. Even though it was an easy pace, just being out for so long (4+hrs) wears me out. But it was exciting to be around a different crowd and meet some new faces. The turnout was huge. Our longtime friend, Mike Palmeri of Cartecay Bikes in Ellijay, was hosting a "Santa Cruz" ride. Almost 20 yrs of riding with Mike, when he calls, we come a running.


Every bike was welcome, but the focus was on Cruzers. About 20 Cruzers and 10 "others" showed up for the adventure.


We met at the Stanley Gap Parking Lot in the Rich Mtn Trail System. This trail represents alot of history for me and Raja. Back in 1988, when we began our mtn biking journey, there weren't that many trails to ride. You couldn't be picky, and had to take what you could get.

This was the hardest trail around (and still is one of the more difficult), especially with our green behind the ear effort on fully rigid, toe clip bikes. Those first few rides were not filled with nostalgic heart warming times. Not only have our abilities and bikes been upgraded, but the trail has as well. A few changes in the route of the trail have greatly improved the enjoyment of the climb from those first few years.


The leaves were in full color, bursting yellows and reds. It was a treat for the senses to ride through the singletrack completely enveloped in a color show. The leaves also made for a good game of hide n seek to play with the rocks and roots waiting to jump out and snag your wheel.


After the ride, as my bike was laying on the ground, the tire gave a big "boom". Turns out I had ridden out a big hole in the sidewall, thanks to one of those rocks. I am very glad it held up to the end of the ride. My tire, some guy's sprained ankle, and a blown shock were the only casualties I know of for the day.

Rich Mountain is a very challenging and technical trail, even for the best of riders. I could not help but smile though, as my Blur floated down the steep rooty drops and over the rock strewn downhills. What I wouldn't have given for this bike 15 yrs ago. Yes, it helps to have 19 yrs riding experience under my belt to make riding easier, but there's nothing like a super full suspension bike to take the heat. My 40+ yr old back thanks me.


We climbed up and over Stanley Gap, then took the connector trail to Flat Creek, where I foolishly tried to keep pace with Kevin. He has a marvelous riding stance, very calm and relaxed. It reminded me of racing day strategy, where much of your riding is as mental as it is physical.

Fortunately we rode Flat Creek counterclockwise, enjoying the long long rocky downhill. A short singletrack climb brought us up to the trailhead, where we headed down to Deep Gap. After crossing Aska Rd, we climbed to Green Mtn and then flew down the fabulous singletrack all the way to Aska Rd.

It was my first time on Flat Creek Rd, off of Aska Rd. It was nice way to shorten our time spent on the road, riding along the beautiful river. After a brief jaunt back on Aska Rd, we turned off onto Rock Creek Rd for a long arduous 5 miles back to the pkg lot. Mary kept pushing the pace, and I had to stay with her to remind the guys of the pecking order for the day. Actually I was anxious to get back for the schwag/trivia giveaway. Cartecay Bikes had Santa Cruz hats, bottles, shirts, and socks; something for everyone, literally. Cool! Thanks Mike!



It is always a treat to ride with Mary and Kevin Kellar of North Georgia Outdoors and Fitness Magazine. Kevin will ride you into the ground, and then smile and talk shop with you afterwards. Mary smiles even bigger than Kevin, and doesn't even act like she's working as she pushes the ride pace higher and higher. The thing I like about these two is their willingness to ride with and encourage other riders.


Quite frankly, I don't give a hoot n high holler how dang fast someone is if they can't ever take the time to ride with riders of lesser ability. Want to earn my respect? Be fast and courteous. Introduce someone to mountain biking and keep the sport growing.

It was a great weekend, good riding, lovely scenery, and no crashes. I'll take this kind of Cruz any day over a Love Boat Cruise!

Just What the Doctor Ordered

The "drought" has continued the past few weeks in my riding life. Georgia got a good dose of rain, but my cycling motivation remained dried up. Every ride was worse than the one before. My legs felt like cement, no matter what I tried. It was getting to the point of wanting to put the bikes on the front lawn with a "For Sale" sign on them. But enough experience has taught me in times like these it is best to stay off the bike until I literally "feel" like riding. So, I didn't ride.

Friday night was decision time for the weekend's activities. Nothing interested me, and Roger was frustrated with his lack of choices. As I read an email aloud to him from our friend in N.C., I could see him perk up. He was excited at the prospect of driving 3 1/2 hrs up to Pisgah for a day of riding with Duckman. His excitement must have sparked something in me, because all of a sudden, I "felt" like going along too. There would be no pressure for me to ride fast. Raja would have someone to "play" with, and I could be free to ride at my whim.




My history with Pisgah is not the greatest. Our first trip there goes back to October of 1989. Our bikes were fully rigid, and we barely had 2 yrs of mountain biking experience. Many trips ensued from that point on, often in the company of our fellow cycling friends. I was always off the back from the start of any ride, terrified over the terrain, and having a horrible time. Pisgah is always wet, always rocky, always rooty, and always difficult at best. Then throw in the likes of Greg Turner, Marvin Masson, and John Courier as your riding companions and you have a recipe for disaster. My only memories of Pisgah are of pain and suffering and some of the worst crashes I've ever had. So Why am I going to Pisgah to have Fun?




We met up with Duckman at the Fish Hatchery with foggy skies to greet us. With hopes the clouds would soon burn off, I changed into my cycling gear. Raja brought a demo Turner 29r to ride, since Pisgah would be the best testing ground of all. Duckman was on his 24lb Intense Spider, and I had my 27lb Blur.





I was pleasantly surprised as we pedaled up the gravel road toward Cove Creek Trail. Duckman was taking an easy spin, not pushing the pace at all. I kept waiting for the inevitable surge to hammer on up the climb. But it never came. We chatted and admired the beautiful fall colors and lovely blue skies. The clouds had burned off quickly revealing a spectacular Fall day. It was actually relaxing as we spun slowly up the road feeling completely carefree.


The entire ride ended up being this way. There was no hammering, chasing, or intervals. No challenges were made, no gauntlet thrown down.


I cannot remember the last time I rode with someone else (other than Raja) and we just pedaled along in oblivion to our pace or heart rates. In fact, I did not even wear my heart rate monitor. I felt so free! It was beautiful. I was having fun. Faint memories of having fun on the bike were coming back to me. The rough terrain was not so terrifying because I wasn't coughing up a lung trying to stay with the pack. My 4.5" of plush suspension was doing all the work. It was playtime, not race time.




We stopped along the way if something pretty struck our fancy; pretty waterfalls, lovely rhododendrons, babbling brooks, and the refreshing beauty of the Pisgah Forest. If I didn't feel like attempting a log crossing, then I didn't do it. No heckling or poking fun.



I could have ridden all day like this. We were out there a good bit of the day. We must have started around 10:30ish and didn't stop till 4:00. I didn't want it to end. Finally the fatigue of being out for over 5 hrs began to set in and my body was ready to call it a day. Wow, I rode Pisgah without one negative incident, no crashes, no getting dropped, and no suffering. This is just what I needed to recharge my mental batteries and keep me from selling my bikes.





Racing, training and hard riding all have their place. But you gotta keep it fun. Otherwise a virus takes hold, eventually sapping the life and energy right out. You forget why you began in the first place. Raja and I started mountain biking together because it was fun, we explored new places together, and it was an exciting way to meet new friends. Let's keep it that way. Thanks Pisgah. You're just what the doctor ordered for my ailing heart.

Riding through the Drought

Returning home after fun cycling trips is similar to the drought from which we are presently suffering in Georgia. My bottle of inspiration is empty with no sign of incoming supplies. Lake Alatoona is not the only thing to have dried up around here. Our motivation to ride seems to have dried up as well.

Nothing is as it is supposed to be.
I miss riding through the fields in Europe after the Great Marshmallow Harvest, looking for stray pieces.


Everyone drives so slow down South. I want AutoStrada, not Interstate.



MPH, humpf! It's a known fact you go faster and farther with Kilometers!


The only hope I had of breaking this dry spell was waiting quietly in the wings.
My sweet little singlespeed. The magical mechanic had released the EuroBike back into its natural habitat. Striped of derailleurs and chain rings, the Litespeed was once again a FunSpeed.




We had thoroughly trashed our legs on Saturday chasing Damyankee and The Camster up Hulseytown and 'round Yorkville. Riding at red line for over 2 hrs must have jump started our engines. We were ready to ride again on Sunday.

Singlespeed........that's all I could think of when Raja asked what I wanted to do.


It had been so very long since I had enjoyed the pleasure of riding my singlespeed.
Last spring, I went out to Blankets for some SS laps. Starting on the South Loop, which is a bit rougher on my body than Dwelling, sharp pains began to develop in my right elbow. Every rock or drop delivered a knife stabbing sensation, which could only mean one thing. The dreaded tendinitis was back, aka tennis elbow, aka mountain bike elbow. AAAargghhhh!!!

When this flares up in my arm, it takes forever to get it under control. That was my last ride on the SS, over 5 months ago. Sad day.

Janusz added this to the long list of complaints on which to work. With his help, the tendinitis eventually subsided, but then my singlespeed had disappeared. Remember? Raja had transformed it into the EuroBike for our Italian Cycling Crescendo

Before we could get the bikes unloaded, we spotted a number of familiar faces ready to ride at Blankets. W.O.T. member, Tim and Dave were headed out for laps. Raja recognized Speedy's Element in the parking lot. James was out there tearing up uber fast laps in between shifts of his new job as Super Dad. Peter Uhr rolled up on his Scalpel Singlespeed; now that's a first. Pretty clever ingenuity on his part.

Now, I like Peter and all that, but his version of a warmup lap and mine are different. My hip was starting to scream not 10 minutes in to the ride, so I had to back it down a notch. Raja snuck by me and continued to chase down Sonic Man, while I nursed my hip. This wasn't shaping up to be the love affair I remember singlespeeding to be.

At the meeting spot, I urged Peter to continue without us, while I did some stretching. Raja and I started out for the 2nd time hoping things would kick into gear, no pun intended.

Backing down my effort level alleviated the hip pain. I started to enter the zone. Momentum kicked in, and everything fell into place. Sounds of Raja riding behind me began to fade. Yep, I was pulling away and not even trying.

"Well, somebody got their second wind," he commented. No, it's all about the momentum with a singlespeed. Once you get going, you're in a groove and there's no stopping it. It's exhilarating! It's fun! It's a blast!

It works your legs! It's a workout! It's exhausting, but in a good way!

Drought or no drought, I think I've found my inspiration to ride once again.
Now, if I can just get my sherpa to rebuild my Fox. You think it's leaking a bit?

Suffering for the sake of???

As a cyclist, I get to experience many wonderful things. Cycling through Italy, for instance, is a memory I cherish. But I also do many strange things, of which the memories haunt me and impair my ability to make wise decisions.

Today was the perfect example. We "raced" a grueling course of 45 miles with about 15 of the fastest mountain bike racers from Atlanta.
Racers like Shane on his pinkpuss singlespeed. That's insanity!






There was no timer, no officials, no prizes, no race number plates, and no recognition. Just the chance to race the Firewater 50 course that we had missed 2 weeks ago.

The course starts out immediately with a climb up Windy Gap.
Here's a video of the pack. Sorry I had to cut it short, but that
was the train I had to hop on to quickly!





At first, I thought it was going to be a good day. Usually the climb up Windy Gap seems to go on forever, but before I knew it, there was the turn off for Milma. I had tried desperately to keep my heart rate below 151 so that I wouldn't explode. Obviously I had been so delirious that I wasn't coherent enough to realize I was climbing.

Raja was just within my reach as we turned onto Milma. Desperately, I wanted to stay with him. Keeping him in sight would push me to ride harder and stay on task. Yea, that lasted all of 10 seconds. Trying to lower my heart rate, I could not concentrate enough for the descent. He was gone in a flash.

Myers came flying by me, once again inspiring me to push a little harder. For a brief moment my pace lifted and we rolled along in sync. But as quickly as he came, he pulled away, taking my high spirits with him.

I've been doing this wretched "race" for over 10 years, and it always deflates my ego. In one instant I feel like a slug that can't turn the pedals over for anything. Enough of the bad vibes, I've got to generate some positive thoughts.

After what seemed a decade, the turn for Tibbs appeared. Travis and Teron were standing off to the side. No matter, I have to continue. Tibbs was not in great shape. This trail changes by the day. A few months ago it was like riding a paved road. Not today. It was loose, rocky, and super challenging.

Once again, my heart rate was pegged, and I was only going 3.5 mph. Teron was on me like white on rice. Not having much of a choice of lines, I stopped to let him by. Flatfender was right behind him.



I relished the 15 seconds of rest while letting them pass. That tiny break actually did me a world of good. Starting back up felt better.

My back was beginning to scream at this point. It is so difficult to deliver the power through the legs with this intense pain. You think the 100oz of water on my back has anything to do with it?

Teron and I hooked up towards the top of Tibbs and turned onto the forest service road together.



After a few miles he had a mechanical and stopped. Being the considerate rider that I am, I continued on, offering him no help whatsoever. My rule on Firewater is: if there's no blood involved and the person can still talk, then I'm not stopping. Harsh. Today is all about survival.

On the forest service road it is a boring gravel road climb to Potato Patch. I am now in my own miserable world. Whoever said "misery loves company" didn't know how I felt. I was miserable and I didn't want any company. Let me die in peace.

Down Potato Patch to Bear Creek singletrack. Could I go any slower? I could not focus. My mind wandered faster than my bike. I remembered a phrase I used to teach a racer I mentored years ago; "smooth, fast, forward". I repeated the words over and over, until my mind wandered off again.

Hikers were coming up the singletrack. Puhleez, get out of my way.

The Pinhoti trail was next. Normally I'd be in my middle ring, no big deal.
But noooooooooooo. I can barely get on top of the pedals, only the small ring will do. I entertained myself by taking pictures while riding.





At this rate, I figure I will finish in 7 hrs. Ugh. I passed Gary's parked truck, wishing I knew how to hotwire a car. Oh great, I hear a rider behind me. It was Gary! He had made a wrong turn, Doh!

This was a godsend. I'm comfortable riding with Gary and we don't have to make small talk "getting to know each other". We pedal along in silence, happy to share the suffering between us.


Romping through the colorful weeds before the singletrack descent on Pinhoti.


The only bright spot of the day came with the descent on Pinhoti #2. This singletrack sweeps along beautifully down 3 miles of bliss. I think I even smiled once.

We reached the sag stop. Thanks to our generous volunteers, Kit and Mary, we were able to refill with water and down some food.


I'm glad I wasn't alone at this point, otherwise, I would have thought I was hallucinating. Raja, Gary, and I proceeded to pedal past more than 15 covered wagons pulled by horses. In between the wagons were packs of horses and riders. There were over 50, I kid you not! No doubt, we're in North Georgia.


We continued on towards the climb up 68 with the lovely scent of horse poop encouraging us along. I had to stop and rinse off some of the remains before I went mad.



Gary pulled away on the long climb, while Raja and I fell into separate rhythms. At the overlook we saw another odd sight. A monster tow truck retrieving a stolen car that had been pushed off the cliff. This day was getting more bizarre by the moment.


At least it was a beautiful day. Too bad there was no time to enjoy the view.


Mary seemed to be enjoying herself much more than I was. She inspired me to get back on the bike and get 'er done. We were so close, and yet so far away.



The long climb up to Potato Patch was made in silent separate paces; Mary, Raja, and me, each in our own little worlds. Then it was a left turn back across the forest service road up top in pursuit of Windy Gap.

I was stunned to see Gary on the last climb. Once again, he was my godsend, inspiring me to stay focused.


We complained and whined our way to the Windy Gap trailhead. Oh joy of joys, we made it!!!!!!!!!!!! I was grinning from ear to ear.

I knew I would not be able to stay with Gary for long on Windy, but that was okay. This was the final stretch. The baby head rock garden section seemed worse than usual and I had to stop a couple of times. Crap.

Then the best part, the long whoop-d-doo descent section. It seems like 10 miles, but I think it's only 3 or 4 miles. The great thing is it is all downhill, screaming downhill.

It's over, I survived! All that counts to me is roll time (never mind I was out there for 6 hrs), and my roll time was 5 1/2 hrs. 45 miles and 7,000' climbing. Felt like 10,000'.

Team W.O.T should be dubbed Team W.O.W.!


Caesar and Brian, 2 ultra fast, ultra cool guys!


The only fun part of the day (besides Pinhoti #2) is hanging out with the other crazy cyclists that smoked my rear end. These guys are top expert racers, and they treat me like I've just won the Tour de France. No smack talk and bragging. Just laid back hanging and chillin'. Mountain bikers are so cool. You'd never in a million years experience this with roadies.






Every year I do this I swear it is my last. So for the record, "I'm not doing this next year!"
At least I burned enough calories to negate the guilt of eating an entire chocolate bar; one of the 80+ chocolate bars we brought back from Italy:)
There you have it....Suffering........for the sake of chocolate! Mmmmmmm, Chhhooooocccooollaaaaaate.