G.A.T. Squad Patrol Log

Hi Everybody!

2009-01-29T10:45:00.005-07:00

Christmas in Review

2009-01-29T10:04:00.005-07:00

Who Me?

Playtime with Oma

Nap time with Bear. Too much nog...

Ithaca contingency.

Mommy's side.

Opening gifts is exhausting!

Cuter than Rudolf?

Home on Wheels

Traveling Nanny

Our fearless Captains!

Amber is 28. Ava is 7 weeks old TODAY!

2008-12-10T15:58:00.006-07:00

November Fun

2008-11-30T17:29:00.007-07:00

Ava attends her first ball. The Retro Furball Ark-Valley Humane Society fundraiser that is...

Where she met her first crazy people... her Ark-Valley aunties.

Under direct supervision from mom, of course!

With the weather getting colder, Ava dresses in her Yeti outfit before going outside. She is acting her part!

All bundled up, the baby Yeti is ready to walk the dogs.

Grandmother, Judy came to visit with her two dogs, Dixie and Tucker. Moby, in the blue jacket, is Ava's dog. No licking allowed!

Three generations. Three different hair colors!

Judy and Dan's new house. It's snowing!

And Growing!

2008-11-06T15:13:00.007-07:00

Ava is enjoying life to the fullest as every baby should.

Ava = 6 lbs
Bob = 12 lbs
Moby = 18 lbs
Anton = 150 lbs

Bheri keeps a watchful eye.

Party central!

"Every girl needs a German bear."

Kettler trike piggy backs it home on the Big Dummy.

Daddy time...

One Week Old Movie Star

2008-10-29T13:11:00.013-06:00

Ava received her first mail package! It was a digital camcorder from her grandmother, Judy. Unable to resist the spotlight, Ava insisted we start filming right away...

First Days

2008-10-25T15:49:00.010-06:00

Day two, mom and baby are tired and content.

Colostrum for lunch.

Day three, Ava has her first outdoor adventure -- a walk on our trail with dad, mom and the dogs.

Day four, the midwife, Susie, and her assistant, Adrianne, make a second visit to the house after the birth. Ava gets her health and hearing checked. All is well.

Later, dad reads while Ava gets a sunbath.

She's such a happy baby!

Oh Baby!

2008-10-23T19:09:00.004-06:00

Ava Autumn van Leuken
6 pounds 4 ounces
Born at home
7:16 pm October 22, 2008

Nesting

2008-09-28T15:49:00.006-06:00

Both Mom and Miranda visited in September, separately, and helped me put together the baby's room. I thought I'd share some of the finishing touches...

The baby's room used to be our office. It was painted Pepto-Bismol pink. Mom helped me choose the new colors and Rufus demonstrated the calming affect.

This old trunk with bike decoupage has been around since college. It fits great in this little pocket of the room.

The office shelves were adapted to much needed storage shelves.

This baby shirt was made for Wies as an infant. Now it has a special place in the room and is waiting to be adorned again. The height chart is also Dutch, hence the centimeters. It used to belong to Anton and Arne.

This dresser, a gift from Uncle Tom & Christine years ago, makes a great display table. The shoes, hair brush, and one teething ring belonged to Wies. Our wedding picture frame complements the musical carousel that was a gift from Tante Diny. The other teething ring and silver drinking cup belonged to Anton. There is a tiny silver bracelet with turquoise and bear claw carvings for the baby, which was a gift from a friend. And, my birthing bracelet:

The birth bracelet is made from beads and charms given to me by women in my family. My plan is to wear it during the birth to remind me of all the strong women who love and support me.

The changing table, a gift from a friend, is set up in our bedroom. The adorable wooden mobile is from Anton's childhood.

The guest room was finally finished also. Yay!

Grizz Passes On

2008-09-13T12:33:00.007-06:00

Grizz died during the night peacefully in his sleep. Over the last two weeks Grizz had less of an appetite but no obvious signs of illness. He continued to amble around the property, nap and spend time with his human and dog family even on his last day. Last night he walked away from the house and laid down under a full moon, surrounded by pinon trees and mountains and fell asleep forever. Today he was cremated with a picture of his family and flowers from our driveway.

Grizz was adopted from the Ark-Valley Humane Society in the spring of 2007. He was about 8 years old when we took him home. His teeth were worn most likely from years of chewing on fencing and his back end was weak due to nerve degeneration. We know that in the six months before we adopted him he had been at the Leadville Animal Shelter and three homes. He had been bounced from home to home because of destructive behavior and was unable to adjust to living in a kennel while at the shelter.

After we brought him home, he let us know right away that even though he weighed 130 pounds and was covered in thick fur he, in no uncertain terms, was only happy as an inside family dog. Fortunately his calm presence gained him acceptance from the other dogs in our pack. Although he occasionally ate books, he was never destructive or anxious as long as he could come and go from the house as he pleased. He would sleep along the fence whenever we drove away so that he could greet us with a raised head and perky ears upon our return.

Grizz made friends wherever he went and we know that there are many people who loved him and will be touched by his death. I'd like to think his spirit energy is running with his ancestral pack, wolves and dogs alike, as wind through the mountains. I know in my heart that he is eternally at peace.

2008 Townie World Champions

2008-08-18T22:11:00.013-06:00

24 Hours in the Sage
Townie World Championships
Gunnison, Colorado
The A-Team: Special Edition
Andrew, Anton, Brandon & Rich
16, 13-mile laps completed in 24 hours
First Place Finish!

Anton & Moby taking it easy before the race start at noon on Saturday at the KOA campground in Gunnison, Colorado.

Andrew finishes the first 13-mile lap of the day for The A-Team: Special Edition. The team is off to a great start with his lap time of 1 hour 13 minutes!

Now it's Anton's turn for his first lap...

Anton lovin' that fast singletrack.

Rich is up next..... And go!

Anton, Andrew & Moby refuel back at the camper.

Rich finishes his lap and Brandon is off and pedaling...

Rich ran the last part of the course due to a flat tire and still made it in 1 hour 27 minutes!

Andrew finishes his fourth lap shortly before midnight. Tambi takes the first half of the night's support duties.

Night laps were exhausting. Brandon makes it in and is ready for bed at 5 am.

Anton completes his first early morning lap and eagerly awaits sunrise as he heads out for a second lap near dawn.

Anton rolls in at 8:48 am and is beyond tired. Rich is up next. Then Brandon and Andrew go out on the final lap together to ensure a timely finish.

Two other four-person townie bike teams raced. The A-Team maintained their lead throughout the race, but the Tune-Up Team stayed hot on their heals, trailing by only a half hour nearing the finish.

Thanks to a great support team, sturdy bikes and a burly effort from the racers, The A-Team wins the 2008 Townie World Championship!

When the race announcer asked the crowd of mountain bike racers if any of them had been passed by a townie bike during the race, about half raised their hands. Everyone laughs & cheers. The A-Team is awarded a bit of cash and lots of applause.

Crest Trail Sans Bicycle

2008-08-12T17:56:00.004-06:00

28 Weeks along and I'm starting to make peace with this pregnancy. Mostly because I'm not constantly nauseous anymore. I've come to accept that daily bouts of nausea and heartburn are tolerable after enduring five months of the more extreme variety.

Jon Kabat-Zinn writes:
There is an art to facing difficulties in ways that lead to effective solutions and to inner peace and harmony. When we are able to mobilize our inner resources to face our problems artfully, we find we are usually able to orient ourselves in such a way that we can use the pressure of the problem itself to propel us through it, just as the sailor can position a sail to make the best use of the pressure of the wind to propel the boat.

I learned early on that I couldn't head straight into the wind. As a result of hyperemesis gravidarum, I left my job, I handed over pet chores to my husband, and I sold my bike. Now, that I'm starting to feel human again, I feel way off course and am trying to make sense of that. Going back to where I was isn't an option and motherhood is less than three months away.

I never expected to be up on the Monarch Crest Trail without my bicycle. It seemed unnatural. We got up early and I dropped Anton and two of his friends off at the the top of Monarch Pass at 11,312 feet elevation, so that they could ride the trail and road back into town.

I went for a slow hike with Moby and I was exhausted but thoroughly glad to have gotten out of the house and into the mountains for the first time since March.

Anton van Leuken, Lance Armstrong Race Across The Sky

2008-08-10T18:20:00.022-06:00

Anton van Leuken, Lance Armstrong and 818 other competitors rolled from the start at 6:30 am Saturday, August 9th for the Leadville Trail 100 mountain bike race. Although the paparazzi focused most of their attention on Lance Armstrong, seven time Tour de France winner, and Dave Wiens, five time Leadville Trail 100 winner, several pictures of Anton hot on their heels just hours behind the lead pack made it into this blog...

It was cloudy and a brisk 48 degrees at the race start in Leadville, Colorado at 10,350 ft elevation. Dave Wiens, last year's race winner, is wearing lime green and black and has the race plate #1. Lance is wearing yellow and black with race plate #7. Anton is way back there somewhere.

Click Here to see video coverage of the race from VeloNews.tv.

Lance is all business pedaling through the Twin Lakes aid station at mile 60.

Anton is all smiles when he rolls into the Twin Lakes aid station--thinking yes, I've made is this far! They just finished climbing to and descending from the highest point, Columbine Mine, above treeline, at 12,600 ft.

Anton's pit crew; starring pregnant wife Amber, and friends Jackie and Tambi get to work refueling Anton. The cloud cover is ominous but welcomed, keeping temperatures in the 70's.

At the next aid station Anton and his boss Shawn roll through so fast we don't have time for pictures. This is Shawn's 13th year competing in the Leadville Trail 100! They are heading into rainy skies. The last 25 miles of the race ahead are grueling with a very long, steep climb up a powerline access road - where they met with a five minute hailstorm.

Andrew, Tambi and red Rollfast cruiser bike call it a day at the Pipeline aid station.

At Pipeline aid station, friend Andrew just misses the 75 mile cut-off time, and is unable to continue the race after making it 75 miles on his one speed cruiser bike, with a coaster brake - an amazing feat, and not a scratch on him! Andrew has raced the Leadville Trail 100 on his single speed mountain bike for several years and decided this year to up the challenge.

The official cut-off for the race finish in downtown Leadville is 6:30 pm, 12 hours after the start. The crowd waits with bated breath as the 12th hour approaches. Is Anton going to make it this year?

Anton arrives at 11 hours 36 minutes and the crowd goes wild!

(photo credit to Associated Press)

Anton finished a mere five hours behind race winner Dave Wiens and second place finisher Lance Armstrong. Dave and Lance both broke course records finishing 100 miles in 6 hours 45 minutes and 6 hours 47 minutes. Anton broke his personal record, taking an hour and 40 minutes off last year's race time, which was his first attempt, with an unofficial 13 hour, 15 minute finish time.

There's no yellow jersey to be won in this race. Instead, Anton wins a sporty red sweatshirt, medal and belt buckle for finishing under 12 hours--a feat accomplished by only 653 of the 818 racers. And he's still walking the next day and rode his cargo bike to the store for groceries.

Click Here to read the Associated Press article about this year's Leadville Trail 100 race.

Spot the rattlesnake in this picture

2008-08-10T17:35:00.007-06:00

As i'm out taking care of our chickens, I nearly stepped on this little fellow. Barely a foot long. Note the chicken feather for scale. Maybe one or two little bumps on his rattle. I pushed him out of the way with a stick, and though his tail made a tiny little housefly-at-the-window sort of buzz, he didn't strike at the stick until I'd given him a few good shoves. Far enough away from the house that I wasn't too concerned.

Here he's heading away through the grass and pine needles:

The camera shutter noise gets his attention, and he turns around:

And he settles into the classic position, fixing me with a steady gaze and buzzing his tail. No, I didn't get in any closer. At this point I put down the camera, high centered him on the stick and carried him down to the edge of the property.

Big Wheel Bike

2008-06-29T22:56:00.007-06:00

So this guy walks into the bike shop a few weeks ago riding this on a world tour.

An L.E.D. lamp hanging off the axle in a traditional housing.

He picked up the proper English headgear, with an Australian emblem if I remember correctly.

The view from the saddle (custom bar ends!); and a view of a handlebar repair.

Regular clincher tires cut from the bead and glued onto solid rubber cores.

His name is Jonathan Summerfield, or Joff, and he's as interesting as you'd expect. His website is of course Penny Farthing World Tour. His itinerary to date reads as such here. Joff was on this leg when he passed through Salida, and the next section to Kansas is recorded here. He's somewhere near Virginia/Maryland at this point, if not further. His pictures are excellent, the ride must be amazing. His Penny Farthing (the difference in wheel size is likened to the difference in a penny and farthing coin) is fixed: if the wheels turn, the cranks turn. An upright position, a certain learning curve, but there's no doubt he knows what he's doing, on a bike he built himself. He told me about crossing Himalayan passes, chatting with the airlines (for oceanic flights) about stowing his bike away, and all in all, clearly having a very good time.

Bikes with Critical Mass

2008-06-15T14:59:00.005-06:00

Finally found a nice used metal filing cabinet in good shape. I picked it up before work at the local thrift store. As I'm getting ready to leave and ride home, there's a band setting up their equipment at the cafe next door. One of the musicians takes one look and tells me I'd have an easier time moving my files if I transferred them to an iPod.

Rode home with a slight lean. Next time I'll experiment with having the load centered, but higher up, and see what's easier to manage.

A properly balanced load of recycling.

Amber's 1930's Elgin bicycle. All original (except for tires, grips?, saddle, seatpost, pedals, baby seat). A slightly bent fork. And a beautiful rear coaster brake, with mechanically perfect internals, utilizing a roller-clutch style engagement system that is still about as effective as a bunch of wet leaves jammed in the fender. But finned hubs for efficient cooling. With grease ports. Skirt guards. Skip-tooth chain - note the alternating links. Now on long-term loan to a local store in town, as a classy window display. An amazing looking bike, with a riding position that makes one's knees ache.

Front Elgin hub, with fins and grease port.

Skirt guard, the opening in the chainguard is for access to the bolt that sets the chain tension, and the lower frame tab below the axle is a stop for the original centerstand, long since disappeared.

Why Is This Man Smiling?

2008-05-21T08:46:00.004-06:00

What? I always smile like that. Wrapping up a full day of working at the shop and racing at the 2008 Annual Cruiser Criterium in downtown Salida. Which raises money for the music at the Fibark Festival later this summer. So with the Big Dummy bike rack in place, I hauled the sweet race machine with me to work. (1961 Columbia Firebolt, with some modifications). Didn't win, but gave the crowds some high-pitched squealing skidding tire action.

I've had this book for a while now. Note the line written at the top. Did this lead towards buying a '41 Chevy? Well, I've had a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and I did eventually obtain a free 1980 Suzuki GS450. But I never put in a battery, or cleaned the carburetors, and it stayed East when I moved West. Just a matter of how things work out. Here's a quote from the book:

"Service manuals are hymnals of conservative thought. They are based on metal touching metal, what will go and what, absolutely, will not. They are not even pragmatic: there is never a hint of the "try this, then try this, and if that fails, try this" that is the operative method of the real-world attempts to make machines survive. They are composed out of fear of failure and grudging acceptance of the inevitability of wear. Compensation for flaws, reaction to the destructive effect of actual use. Despair over the necessity, in an imperfect world, of having to recommend - ghastly concept - tolerances. Admissions of imperfection. The service manual posits the perfect machine, and tells how, when some dolt like myself has profaned that perfection through actual use, to restore it to perfection. Start with perfection, and then follow instructions. Precisely."

Breaking News...

2008-05-13T10:52:00.002-06:00

Amber's article for Dirt Rag just got published. Awesome. Swing on down to your local Independent Bicycle Dealer of distinguished repute and pick up the latest issue.
We interrupt this newscast to bring you a Very Important Film...

Living in the Past

2008-05-07T21:49:00.008-06:00

1941 Chevrolet AK series 1/2 ton pick-up truck

I'll give first credit to Jethro Tull for this posting's title, I've always liked the feel of it. And its interesting multiple interpretations - but I'll use this one: this is living, in the past, this is its life, and what is it - what are we studying and what are we dealing with?

If we're going to look at past, present, and future, I'm going to argue that they're all existing simultaneously. The age of things, from the ancient rock crushed into a gravel driveway to the morning's newspaper, are not broken into time frames on their own, we do that for them.

There is, there must be, a very seamless link between them all. We may be far removed but we can trace a line between these things. Like this (bear with me):

. . you'll note that bit of "for sale" sign in the cracked windshield. Or you're still mesmerized by the amount of chrome.

"Does it run?" Yep, let me start it up and let it idle . . you ever double-clutch a non-synchronized transmission?" "No? - well, here's how you do it."

"What kind of work does it need? . . hmm, okay."

So we bought it. Amber and I had talked about a truck for a while, but nothing came of it. Nothing seemed worth the effort. Earlier this week, we came across this, for about as much as a used, non-descript, albeit possibly newer truck. It runs, it shifts, it needs some interior work and some lights wired up. No, I don't think it needs a paint job. Yes, we really did buy it.

Chevrolet started production, of what became known as the "art-deco chevy" in late 1940, and this was the only year during WWII that the grill work was chromed. The cab and bed are actually from a 1941 military issue truck; olive drab paint is visible on the firewall and door handles. And if you fix one up really well, it can look like this. But not this one: I'm going to do some interior work, and fix the lights. I found out it came stock with a single housing in the back, on the left, for a running light and brake light. Still from the age of hand signals.

It came with three pairs of running boards, extra windshield . . and a full bed of spare parts.

6 cylinder, 216 cubic inch. 12 Volt upgrade (but 6V lights), 4 speed manual. Yes, it runs.

Enclosed driveshaft, leaf springs, gas tank (moved from under the bench seat!), worn tires.

I mentioned the interior needs a little work. . .

In this great state of Colorado, transfer of title is a cinch. Bring your paperwork, and the county will send you your plates. No safety inspection in this part of the country.

Somewhere, not too long before this was just starting down the assembly line, my grandfather, Bas Kamerbeek, was enlisted in the Dutch army. This is him, on the left. He was a motorcycle guy his whole life, whether or not he owned one. I remember him telling me once about riding in the middle of winter, and getting so cold that he felt like everything shut down mentally and physically except the push to get through to his destination. Well, what he really said was that he got so cold that after a while he couldn't even take a leak, even if he'd wanted to.

He recently passed away and my mom and dad went back to the Netherlands for the funeral. He didn't leave much as far as physical mementos, but a family member scanned some of these pictures. This next picture was with them, I don't know if he's in this one or not:
It makes it a funny sense of timing. I got sent these pictures the same week that a truck, almost as old, ends up in our driveway. From the same intense period of war, and aggression, and occupation. But 60 years later, where I am, there's some very different feelings as well. The intensity lessens, and something a little richer and deeper remains with me from my point in this time. I'm left with something very real but indescribable from these things: the expression on my grandfather's face, the pictures that were once in his possession, the captivating sheet metal and the simplicity of an old truck. And there it is.

GATSquad--Crazy Action!

2008-04-24T23:56:00.004-06:00

So lately the Squad hasn't been doing the best job of living up to our billing on Team Velveeta. There are some good reasons for the slow action, and, that's about to change, baby! (Wow, two in-jokes in one word.) A and A have been, for the most part, thoroughly occupied with the first trimester. Good news is, that has been getting incrementally better.

I've be working on an altogether different sort of egg--Bike Shop Remodel Version XXVICIVICCXX!!! Absolute now has four workstands, our two primary repair stations plus a dedicated assembly station and a 'Short Order' stand. There is now also enhanced bike displays out front, a comprehensive arrangement of men's and women's clothing and a brand new changing room to try it out in, a spiffy new sales kiosk, a dedicated service writing and rental workstation, additional bikes-in-for-service storage, and the super-duper Wall o'Tires. Oh yes, and a helmet camera rental kiosk. All in eight short weeks. If any of you happen to stumble upon my life laying around somewhere, send it back to me would ya? I'll pay for shipping.

Short Order Workstand and Service Writing Station

Point of Sale Kiosk and Map Case

Brainstorming the logo for the POS Kiosk--Campy tools that have finally 'broken in' to obsolescence...

Ahh, but that's not all. Salida Mountain Trails has just gotten approval from Salida City Council for our second singletrack project near S-Mtn. This will be a key bit of trail, about 1.5 miles, that connects a major parking area to our proposed 'backbone' trail that forms the heart of our proposed system.
Even more exciting is this: SMT, SPOT, and the Arkansas River Trust recently had a face to face meeting with some Union Pacific Railroad representatives. Turns out, they're actually pretty into our idea of continuing the Salida urban trails system across and along the river, and creating legal underpass rail crossings (absolutely key access to SMT's Ark Hills singletrack network.) Next step is another meeting with them next week and working up a proposal. This is a huge step forward, and very exciting.

And if all that isn't enough, now we're linking you to Kittybait.net. Run by another former Snitger's Bicycle Store scallywag and some of the minions from Pasadena Cyclery, Kittybait brings the rest of us a lurid window into southern California bike culture. Which is kind of like infiltrating Area 51 to sneak a peek at one of their unwilling residents; you're not sure what you're looking at, you don't know where it came from, it behaves rather strangely, and you're pretty sure you shouldn't even be there in the first place. Enjoy!

BAM Ride

2008-04-24T23:32:00.004-06:00

Every week, a handful of South Central Racing riders meet for the BAM ride--B-Team, A.M.--a nice mellow ride for ideal for newcomers to road riding or folks looking for a good social recovery ride. Last week, it was socked in, snowing and rather uninviting. I waited at the rally point but no one else showed. The weather just made me feel nostalgic for my early days of riding Pennsylvania roads, not to mention I was relishing the though of the first ride of the year without a 30mph head/crosswind, so I mounted up on the 28 Special and rolled forth.
I choose one of my favorite hour long routes that connects all the existing SPOT (Salida Parks, Open Space, and Trails) trails around Salida. Starting out on the Monarch Spur Trail, I rolled out under a light sprinkling of snow. By the time I reached the pipeline construction zone on CR 140, the sun was trying to peek out. I like to do a lap around the dirt roads at Fairview Cemetery; I imagine I'm riding some tree-lined avenue on continental Europe in the 1920's, which Fairview resembles, except with more headstones.

Onward to Franz Lake, as the overcast burned away from Tenderfoot and Mt Shavano, to test out the 28's dirt handling with a new absurdly expensive Conti Top Contact rear tire to complement the Specialized Houffalize CX front (You know, if someone would just call their tire a 'Mk II' or something, I'd buy it just because it was easier to say.)
After a couple laps of Franz I paid my respects to the mallards, and headed for Sand Lake and work, taking a little diversion onto singletrack along the way. A nice little ride to work.

Tax Day

2008-04-16T09:01:00.015-06:00

With three day of summer weather, finally, I'd been looking forward to taking this road bike out. A donation to Brooktondale Bikes, it took me a while to figure out what to do with it. A wide cyclocross bar, 32c tires, and a wide ratio freewheel gave it some wandering potential. As a congratulations for doing taxes all by myself this year, I told myself I could go for a ride as soon as I finished.
We're having a baby, which I'm really happy about. My wife not so much, she's suffered through weeks and weeks of nausea. So our taxes were my deal this year. We sold the fixer upper that we bought in 2002, and the one here locally. The one that now makes me take a glowing reference to "stick built" with a grain of salt. Try "dirt sill". And then we bought our current house, which I call "the last fixer upper".
So taxes were a bit more than last year. But at 4:00 pm, April 15th, I rolled down to the Post Office and dropped everything off. And headed towards County Road 250, which leads to the base of Mount Shavano.
Old schoolhouse, a project of the Colorado Historical Society.

. . stop and feed the horse along the road. A welcome break from the very sturdy west wind.

That saw blade seems to be connected to the drive shaft. Conversion kit?

Finally, the dirt.

I like these shots.

Breathing a little heavy, passing one of many side roads.

And here's a snow bank. Followed by another. Sun's setting, time to turn around.

The sturdy west wind provides. A short section of highway to County Road 160, I note how slowly I'm getting passed. Not just courtesy, but relative speed as well. Nice when the winds don't shift on the way home.

A last little bit of dirt, in a small low valley along the Arkansas. Dust picking up, making the sky a bit hazy.

Sand & Sandstone Study

2008-03-25T22:04:00.007-06:00

A collection of pictures from the last few years. Documenting the weather, the terrain, and notable features of nearby locales. First we start with Andrew, during a lunch break from mountain biking, near Gemini Bridges in Moab, Utah:

A rest day from the bikes that week had us hiking through Arches National Park. Perfect day. This picture is looking across a canyon, looking into a bowl carved out into the side of a cliff, from a trail heading up to the Delicate Arch:

. . and the Delicate Arch:

A year or so later, another trip to Moab found different weather. Snow. Cold snow. Just two days into the trip, we headed south to Flagstaff, Arizona. To where the weather followed us every step of the way. Much like a four-cylinder Winnebago finds chance to draft a rolling Taco Stand:

We woke up with the vehicles covered in snow, in late March, in Flagstaff. And went down, down, 2500 feet or so, to nearby Sedona. And found perfect temperatures and trail conditions.

We survived, and thrived, and took the spaced-out town dwellers in stride. Before the long drive back to Salida. (Overheard at an excellent Sedona Chinese restaraunt: "yeah my avedic, umm, arved-ah-ahryervedic (ayurvedic?) teacher asked: no, what do you usually eat? I said cheeseburgers and fries mostly").

Then my parents came to visit last fall. They took a few hikes in the hills way up behind our house. Here's one of my dad. They're from central New York, and the weather insisted on making them feel at home.

A few months later, in those same foothills, more sunshine, and a little bit of snow.

This is the kind of footprint a 125 pound dog leaves all around the house:

We've got our springtime winds blowing through, with blue skies, and melting snow. The prevailing winds from the west mean I'm in a low gear while heading downhill - and more often than not big-ringing it while loaded with groceries, heading back up the hill. Go figure. I'll take it.

The new cargo bike: Big Dummy arrives

2008-03-12T13:23:00.011-06:00

Yes, I got a new bike (I am giving an old one away though). This new ride is the Surly Big Dummy, which accepts the cargo accessories designed by Xtracycle. I just barely managed to get one, but get one I did. I bought it as a frame and fork, having had plenty of time to figure out what components to install. They were first seen at the 2006 Interbike tradeshow in the fall, then at the 2007 Interbike, and finally became available at the end of February 2008. Surly did quite a bit of research and development, along with ironing out complications with painting and shipping a really non-traditionally sized frame.

I built the wheelset, with a Shimano generator (dynamo) hub in the front, 32 spokes, straight gauge, 3-cross, laced to a SunRingle Equalizer rim (31mm wide).
Rear wheel is a Shimano LX hub, 36 spokes; also straight gauge 3-cross lacing. Both hubs accept disc brakes, I went with a slightly oversized rotor up front, with my favorite cable-pull (mechanical) disc brake, the Avid BB-7's.

On the first trip, I rode out all the way to the veterinarian, to pick up some old dog medicine. Riding back to town, I spotted a big chunk of firewood, rode past it twenty feet, circled back, and thought - here we go! No excuse with this thing not to pick something up. The bike has a whopping 200lb payload -plus rider! A BOB trailer is rated somewhere around 70lbs. What this means is that "smaller" loads are easy to handle with the Big Dummy. (Which is a Sanford and Sons reference). A purpose-built, one piece frame is going to be torsionally stiffer than anything else.

For instance I was riding home one night in the dark with a loaded BOB trailer. They have an attachment point on either the specially designed skewer or axle nuts. It's very simple, secure, and easy to use. Riding gently out of the saddle, the load was causing enough leverage on the rear frame dropouts to cause the tire-driven generator to pulse, as it pulled away from, then pushed against the sidewall. No wheel axle slip, just flex. Most of it probably in the spokes, but even that bike has a sturdy wheel build. And that time with the chicken wire, well, I knew what to expect at that point.

The bashguard is handmade out of aluminum stock, made by a friend of a friend's back in Ithaca. Note the heart, diamond cutouts. This was the first piece for the bike, which then led the search for a crankset with a 58x94mm bolt pattern. Which I found on a compact Shimano crank spider, which I then mounted onto a set of square taper XT crankarms. From Team Velveeta, a 14x32 7spd cassette, still brand new in the box. I fitted a spacer onto the 9spd cassette freehub body, which helps the chain clear the tire in the lowest gear. And a set of almost new Deore thumshifters, mounted to a Jeff Jones licensed Titec H-bar.

It rides amazingly well, expecially when previous bikes used for commuting are a 47 lb single speed Rollfast cruiser, or a typically overloaded-trailer-towing 3spd GT bicycle.

. . . and it made the Minneapolis news, where the Surly folks are based. Here's the link.

Mt. Shavano

2008-02-29T11:08:00.012-07:00

What a great winter this year! (I never thought I'd hear myself say that!) Epic storms, playing in the snow with my friends, and learning to tele-ski have all but made me forget that I miss my bikes, summer and singletrack.

It didn't look like it was going to be this way. We had a nice extended mild Autumn that was making the skiers and boarders a bit nervous. Monarch scarcely had six inches of snow the week before they opened; it wasn't looking good. But early morning of opening day, the mountain got walloped with six feet, and all was peachy and powdery.

But to get back on track here, we hiked Mt. Shavano on November 4th, and only encountered a 100 foot patch of snow across the trail. And we were able to start far later than the thunderstorms of summer would allow, so we were treated to an incredible sunset at 14,000 feet. So, let the picture show commence! (Click on the panorama shots to get the big view.)

You can see the summit of Mt. Shavano from the house (it's the highest peak in the photo.)

We were mobbed by a pair of extra-friendly jays. The must make a good living off of gorp.

First view of the valley above treeline; Methodist Mountain is in the center, and you can peek into the San Louis valley just to the right.

The air is getting thinner...

The only snow to cross was that little patch below the saddle.

The saddle. Scree fields above timberline always feel like being on another planet.

Our planet has a really nice star.

All smiles above Salida.

Aww, how cute.

Rocks make lousy tripods. On a lot of my 14er hikes summit time is short and anxious thanks to some approaching thunderhead. The nice weather let us relax and take it all in. The perspective is fantastic. You can actually see the curvature of the Earth, and you get the sense that our atmosphere is a thin and delicate thing indeed. The sky overhead is a deeper shade of blue and space doesn't feel so far away after all. If you lay on your back you can imagine falling down forever into the darkening blue until all you can see are stars.

Mountains? Yeah, we got those. The northern view from the summit. There about a thousand named peaks in this picture, but the closest are Tabeguache, Antero, Princeton, White and Jones. Also visible are the Elk Mountains, the Sawatch Range, The Mosquitoes, Tenmile Range, the Kenosha Moutains, and the Tarryall Range.

You can see the house from the summit of Mt. Shavano. (It's the white spec next to Ute Creek;-) This is the view to the southeast. Pikes Peak is visible above the Arkansas Hills, and you can see the Wet Mountains, the Sangre De Cristo Range, Sand Dunes N.P. and the San Louis Valley, the Cochetopa Hills, Mt. Ouray and Antora.

We chased dusk with our headlamps as it swept over the valley and bade the Sangres goodnight with a rosy glow.

Close call, next project

2008-02-21T07:16:00.011-07:00

We've picked up a small flock of chickens since we've moved in. Some abandoned, some just passed on from a friend. My dad helped me set up an existing pen on the property to house them better. Heat lamp, plug-in water bowl for winter, roosts and so on. It was getting time to clean it out, so I tossed a bunch of stale bread in their yard to get them out of the coop. As I was scooping away, in flew one of the chickens. Which is unusual, usually they stay away from any commotion I'm making. She was trying to get away from the gray mass diving down on her. In that half-second I realized it was a hawk, the bird wheeled around in the doorway and dove after the rest of the flock. Which was running for cover under the larger, three-sided stall. They like to hang out here when it's inclement weather, they don't like scratching in the snow, and probably feel more secure under its roof. I saw the hawk dive and get both sets of talons on one of the white hens, right on the stall's threshold. It let go immediately and flew into the far corner of the stall, towards the only set of windows. It stopped right on the window sill. I walked right up to it, gratefully wearing a set of insulated work gloves, and grabbed it right by the legs and tail feathers. Easier to truss than any of our chickens. Hanging upside down, turning its head to keep an eye on things, I carried it out of the stall. My heart started to race, in wonder at what had just happened and what I was carrying in my hand. I walked back to the house, and knocked on Andrew's apartment window. His head popped up, I held the bird in one hand and pointed with the other. He cranked open the window, and I said something to the effect of: Hey I just caught this going after the chickens while I was in there cleaning the coop can you grab your camera I'll meet you at your front porch".

During this whole time, I had the hawk just by one leg and the base of its tail. The only struggle it gave was to occasionally flap its wings once or twice, and fold them in again. I tried putting my hand on its shoulder, to support the rest of its body, and it never even tried to bite. Just kept its beak slightly open. It didn't grab on with its talons either. Which I suppose is correct in this situation; you're not trying to hold on, you're waiting to get away. Still, what amazed me was how calm and steady it was during its capture. The opposite of trying to catch a sparrow that's flown into our house, for sure. I let it go soon after the last picture; it took off low to the ground, flew expertly between two low-hanging branches, and that was it. Didn't even lose a tail feather. Andrew went to go upload pictures, I went back to the chickens to see how they had fared.

Not a scratch. Most had followed the rooster back into the coop, silent and huddled in the corner. A few were still in the stall, pressed into corners. This is definitely one of the vulnerable aspects of chickens, they will suffocate each other trying to wedge into a small space when under duress. I had to gently move them out and into the coop. They were all fine, not a scratch or a drop of blood. A few more loose feathers than usual, and that was it.

I sent the pictures to my brother, who had this to say: "The goshawk is in the accipiter family, like the cooper/sharp shinned hawks. They're differentiated from the buteos (like the red tailed hawk) as being a more swooping through the woods and flying actively; as opposed to the more soaring high in the sky buteos. Accipiters are known as bird feeder hawks, so your chicken coop is right in that ballpark." He sent me this link. He said he heard these birds of prey can bite through steel-reinforced gloves - but hey, glad it worked for you.

I've alway kept the chickens closed up in the coop at night, and when we're not home. The yard has a 4' fence, but no cover. Clearly some will be necessary. Amber having driven to work, I was left with a balmy day and a bike trailer, to start my next project.

Winter's been fun and all...

2008-02-20T06:30:00.004-07:00

But what about this so-called "Banana Belt" I hear people talking about? I've lived here eight years now, and I haven't seen no stinkin' Bananas. There used to be this Banana plant at Bongo's; but it froze to death in 2006...

5 Acres of Paradise

2008-02-18T18:04:00.007-07:00

Step out the back door and there are beautiful things to see. The snow is finally melting in town and the yard has come alive with color, new found objects and earthy smells. The dogs love outdoor time. They've become adept at avoiding cactus, uncovering old bones, finding deer droppings and chasing unsuspecting rabbits. Even little Moby who dislikes being cold as much as I do, will venture far and scavenge under a pinon tree until he loses track of time and finds himself all alone--uh oh, where's my pack! Grizz, our 125# Malamute has nerve damage in his hind end and lumbers unevenly through the brush. He went in for acupuncture today. He wasn't able to jump into the car on his way there--please, I need some help here--but did so just fine leaving the vet's office. Rufus' one focus is finding a bone and then guarding it with gusto any time another canine comes within 10 feet. Bheri keeps a look out from wherever she is, always ready to jump into action. She charges the chicken fence to make sure the chickens are never dozing off. This is no game. One poor hen was eaten a couple of weeks ago by some hungry four-legged creature--so stay alert chickens! And of course Bheri keeps an eye on the road so that if by chance someone with a bicycle or baby stroller rolls by, she can let us know. The cat, that's Twister aka Evil Cat, (not Bob cat who doesn't bother to get off the couch to come outside and play with the rest of the gang), follows the pack from a distance, meowing the whole way, taking extreme effort to avoid any cactus and rolling in the dirt when the spot is right. He slinks about, half scared, half curious, with his tail straight up in the air and puffed out to three times its normal diameter. Anton picks up rocks and places them artistically on other rocks or stumps, and I enjoy keeping an eye on the critters' happenings. And speaking of critters, we're considering adopting a pair of retired and unwanted donkeys. Check out Long Hopes Donkey Rescue. Before anyone gets too excited, there's a lot research to do, fence posts to pound, fencing to erect, and a small stable to construct. As for now, all is peaceful on these five acres of pinoned paradise.

Nothing Parties Like a Rental

2008-02-12T10:53:00.002-07:00

A few years ago, Yeti released the 575, and we decided to include it the shop's demo fleet. Wanting to get familiar with the bike, Shawn and I took a couple to Moab. This year, Yeti has improved the 575 for 2008, but the original was so good I launched this ledge along Amasa Back on the first ride.

The folks with the 4x4 wanted to video it, and they were kind enough to email me the file when they returned from vacation. Thanks guys!

Mount Antora Aviation Crash Site Investigation.

2008-02-10T20:36:00.012-07:00

For nearly as long as I've lived in Salida, I've heard anecdotes regarding a plane wreck on the western slopes of Mt. Antora. The one that stuck with me most is a fourth-person account of a skillful snow machine rider who ascended a steep avalanche chute in the middle of winter to retrieve a souvenir from the wreckage. Was this a tale founded on truth?

Mt. Antora. This mountain escapes notice and notoriety by standing somewhat less than the 14,000 feet that gives so many other Colorado peaks a claim to fame. But no traveler on the Colorado or Continental Divide Trail could fail to take note of it's imposing majesty and beauty, whether in summertime:
Or in winter, as may be glimpsed from Monarch Ski Area (here, behind Snowstake, a popular backcountry run just above Monarch Pass):

Now, my friend John E. and I share a love of aviation, and he has spent some time searching out specific locations of several aviation crash sites. I wanted to see if the Mt. Antora tales were true. Between us, we had little difficulty convincing Anton and Amber to accompany us on our expedition. We never need much of an excuse to ride bikes and hike all over a mountain side, and this promised to be interesting.

It's true that accords of human activity began to be recorded in durable format a long time ago, but the sieve of recorded history has been, and will be for some time, made of a coarse mesh indeed. It's curious that we place an arbitrary mark on the planet's timeline and say, "here is the beginning of the recorded history.", because in our information age of RSS feeds, text alerts, and planet scanning satellites, we tend to forget that the record is awfully spare compared to the vast story of humankind, itself just a footnote in the Book of Earth. There is plenty of history left to discover.

To return to our little adventure, our attempt to verify a small bit of modern history. At first, all we had to go on was those anecdotal stories. We checked out a few likely avalanche chutes on Google Earth, and hatched a plan. Ride from Marshal Pass on the Colorado Trail until it met with the Antora Meadows Trail, which traverses the western slope of Antora to an old mining camp and passes under all the chutes we wanted to investigate, then hike up the ridges between the chutes to scan for the wreck with binoculars.

Antora Meadows Trail is a treat. It possesses the quintessential Salida singletrack formula of heavenly trail and unreal viewscapes tempered by utterly vague navigational signage and crushing hike-a-bikes. It's so far out in the middle of freaking nowhere that you are very aware you are in wilderness. Real wilderness, not that Federally delineated stuff; the kind that devours any outpost of civilization, like that mining camp, or any unprepared traveler (not us!).

It was shaping up to be a fine late summer ride. It was September 16, 2007.

The singletrack was a nice warmup. Then we got down to business and started hiking.

After maybe 1800 feet of vertical, we gained a ridge and spent some time glassing the mountain side for debris. But we spotted nothing but a sinister-looking weather system gathering to the South. We retreated to the bikes, thinking we might have to pull the plug on this trip.

A few minutes down the trail, we stopped for a minute at the base of the next valley to the north. John scrambled up the scree to see if he could spot anything. Five minutes later we were all back in hiking mode after he spied an aluminum panel far upslope.

I keep telling Pearl Izumi they need to make their X-Alp shoes in a high top model: Hike-a-bikes around Salida are burly. Oh, did I mention John did the whole ride/hike in his SPD sandals? WTF.

We found this six-cylinder horizontally opposed engine about halfway up. Later identified as a Continental O-470-R.

The main fuselage came to rest far up in the valley.
One half of the wing had separated from the rest of the craft. We jotted down the registration number for future reference.
Almost there. I would have been a very tough spot to access for rescuers.
It was definitely a Cessna.
Anton spotted what appeared to be the muffler quite a ways up slope. It seems the location of impact was pretty far up from final resting place. The plane was fairly intact, all things considered. We couldn't investigate further, as it was getting much colder, and that weather system was getting closer. Time to bug out.

We hightailed it down Silvercreek Trail, headed for home and hot tea. The only thing the wilderness claimed this time was a Canon camera. Oops.

Armed with the planes N-number, John hit up the library archives, and I logged onto the magic internet box. We discovered a record of the original NTSB incident report, a bit of a trick since the the NTSB had the wrong N-number and date on the report. The crash was Sept. 15, 1964, 43 years and one day before our visit. The aircraft was a Cessna 182B, on a flight from Utah to Kansas, the pilot was a 41 year old WWII Bomber pilot. Sadly, he and his two passengers did not survive. It appears the flight encountered very similar weather to what we experienced, and at the same time of day. The crash is listed in this Google Earth file (N2390G), but since it's based on the NTSB reports coordinates (only listed to degree and minute accuracy), it shows the site to be some eight miles from it true location.

History is alway interesting, especially when you go out and find it yourself.

Monarch SnowCat, 2008

2008-02-07T12:57:00.000-07:00

Snow to date: 350 inches
Of the 62 days since Monarch opened, it had snowed on 48 of them.
Average per day: 5"+
Average per day on the four days leading up to our tour: 10"
900+ acres of sparkling, untouched, drowning-in-powder backcountry mountains.
Was it good? What do you think! A mini-featurette video is in the works, meanwhile, you don't think I would deprive you of the highlights, do you?

The talented Corry pilots the Monarch 'Cat: Bombardier with Butterfly wings.
B.C. is trying to score a test drive.

Kelly and Andy were our guides for the day; Chad (standing in the aisle), also a MST guide but off the clock for the day; he just likes hangin' out with the Absolute/Shavano crew...or maybe he was there for the best snow in a decade?

Everybody out 'da bus.

Andy lays out the plan. You want us to go where?

"Dude, dare ya to throw a McPherson Twist U-Turn Monkey Flip off that cliff!"

The avalanche danger was pretty high so the guides were up at dawn throwing bombs along this ridge to shake down any loose layers.

Meeting the 'Cat after lunch, Kelly and Andy had to dislodge some wayward hikers who were tryin' to get a free ride up to Mirkwood.

This was my first time riding big wide-open bowls like No Name. Awesome view at the top, and a little intimidating to drop into the first time...

No problem. What a great day!

Snow Meditation

2008-02-06T18:40:00.000-07:00

Although I've been accustomed through work and home life to cats of the furry feline variety, it didn't take long to get used to the purr of the monsterous metallic snow cat as it carried us straight up the mountain. The view from on top of the world was huge and white and glistening. With a roar, the cat turned and descended leaving 16 people, what would seem a crowd anywhere indoors, in complete and perfect windy and sunlit silence. My snowboard, clamped to my feet, slid over the edge into a vast vertical sea of deep soft snow-- powder shouting, spraying, curving arcs like wings on both sides of my gliding, carving board. Moments without fear, when my body, it's movement, my thoughts and feelings dissolved into the mother mountain herself, were nothing less than transcendental. Each turn-- timeless; effortless. How fast the dance, how fluid! Slowness of mind and speed of body joined as a single awesome perception of the world and self as one.

Piece of History #1

2008-02-06T07:25:00.000-07:00

This picture was taken at the Velorama Bicycle Museum in Nijmegen, The Netherlands. Three stories of bicycles from past to present, immaculately restored, in an old castle along the Waal river. Shown is a shaft drive bicycle. I didn't get the manufacturer or year of this one. I was much too fascinated by the construction and finish of the drivetrain. Sorry about that. From close to the turn of the century would be my guess. Another bicycle company from around this time, by the name of Pierce, developed a similar drivetrain in Buffalo, New York. I've also seen it called the Pierce Hygenic as well, due to the softail rear suspension. Here it goes by the Pierce Cushion. (Pierce later went on to create the Pierce Arrow Motor company. Here's a bit more on that). It had true rear suspension, with a spring inside a telescoping mechanism just above the wishbone seatstay bridge. Just above the rear axle, on the seatstays was one set of pivots, with a second pivot often concentric to the bottom bracket (crank) spindle. All the way back in 1901.

Zeitgeist.

2008-02-01T10:03:00.000-07:00

Watch it. Think about it. Talk about it. Act on it.

Things I saw on the way to work.

2008-01-24T08:25:00.001-07:00

Boulder field or sand at 100x magnification?

Ready. Still waiting.

Built to last.

The 3-Speed GT

2008-01-18T07:15:00.001-07:00

After moving into a new house, my commute to work and into town changed a bit. It's three miles, with a slight grade, instead of a dozen blocks. I'm getting more mileage out of 700c road wheels than meaty 26" cruiser wheels. This fabulous GT Vantara dates itself by way of a one-inch headset, but came to me in perfect shape, not ever having been assembled. Biding its time in western Pennsylvania, thanks to the excellent pack-rat instinct of a fellow cyclist. It made its way here, tucked in the back of a Toyota motorhome, making the slow 7000 foot, 1800 mile climb back to Salida. There's always something brewing on a low flame in the back of my mind, and at this point the metaphorical kitchen timer went off. I've always been keen on internally-geared hubs, and three-speed hubs have been around for a long time. Since at least 1902. And sitting around at work, carefully saved, was a 1986 Sturmey-Archer 3 speed hub. Single speed and internal hubs tend to have a outer locknut measurement of 110-114 mm. They fit best into a frame where the rear dropouts, the part that holds the wheel by the axle, is a similar measurement. The Vantara, being from a more modern age and designed for external gears, measured at about 130mm. Now instead of having to bend the frame together every time I took the wheel off, I decided to do it once. "Cold-set" would be the technical term. "Crush gently with a set of oversized channel-lock pliers" is what occurred. Not bad; with a two-by-four wedged against the chainstay bridge, I was able to apply a nice parallel force to the dropouts, and arc the stays nicely. 4130 Chrome-Molybdenum is some beefy stuff, I've concluded. And the spacing lets the wheel drop right in. Without any clunky derailleurs, I could now mount the chromed Royal Enfield chainguard. From a 70's era Royal Enfield adult tricycle, believe or not. Mine was green, and during the Brooktondale Bikes moving/inventory reduction, it was last seen being ridden by three neighborhood kids having way too much fun. Unimpressive trike, but the chainguard was a keeper. The GT, being so gauche as to have no proprietary chainguard mounts, forced me in an extended moment of cleverness to attach it with rack hardware to the lower seat tube water bottle braze-on, and the bottom bracket cable guide bolt hole. Solid and rattle-free. And no rolling up the pant leg, or digging for an ankle strap. The GT shifts like an old pick-up truck; you have to coast between gears, and you have to wait for a clunk, or listen for the change in the gears clicking over, before starting to pedal. With the shift cable at proper tension, it becomes second nature. It's perfect.

Winter's Snowflakes

2008-01-14T21:10:00.000-07:00

Wind, darkness, frigid temperatures and icy windshields are a typical start to my morning routine of leaving for work before the sun has rolled out of bed. When I think of winter, I feel the coldness creep into my bones. It's the summer sun, long days and dry, warm trails that I live for. Winter is about just making the best of it. And so, I do my best. Carving through a silent, powdery forest on my snowboard; walking the trail in our backyard with the dogs; dozing off in front of the woodstove--these moments of pure peace are the snowflakes glittering in the cold abyss of a moonlit night sky. In gratitude, I open my mouth and let them melt on my tongue, one by one.

The Last Fixer-Upper

2008-01-12T07:30:00.002-07:00

No, this is not our new house. . .

This is the "workshop", one of four outbuildings on our place; our compound, ranch, spread, or "bikey commune" (See Team Velveeta 17 April 2007). This building was chosen because of the combination of 7.5' ceilings, electric, concrete floor, and heat. The other buildings either have sloping ceilings that challenge my 6' clearance requirement, flammable wood floors (can't be too careful), or most importantly: no source of heat. Having spent the end of last winter in an unheated small garage with an extension cord sawing, sanding and staining an entire one-story dwelling's worth of trim, this is the height of luxury. And from that point, "luxury" becomes a flexible term. From the "luxurious" light pink walls, with delightful salmon/lavender window trim. To the short plank I nailed up which is holding up a section of acoustic tile,which had been sagging from a leak in the roof and rodent romping. And the small number of outlets that measure only 5 volts, instead of something closer to say, 110? Why is this "Luxury"? Because over the years my wife and I have moved into actual houses in similar condition, while we fixed them up. Because 100' away is a house in live-in condition, with covers on all the light switches, and trim around all the doors. Actual flooring, not painted plywood. Now maybe none of this has been updated in 30 years, and maybe my wife finds that era's colors of brown and orange less soothing, but we only have to work on it if we want to! I'm not saying we don't need a new roof in a year or two, or that the hot water heater doesn't bang away like a bowling ball in a cement mixer, but at this single point in time, nothing is broken! And a lot of the house is quite nice, and amazingly well insulated. No chance of replacing a section of flooring, and finding rot all the way through the floor joists. Not here. I have informally dubbed this compound "The Last Fixer-Upper". I now formally retire from living in a house while I'm working on it, always managing to get most of it fixed up just before moving to another house, or another state entirely. From dragging over friends and family to share in the fun, and opportunity to put more miles on their reciprocating saws and wallboard equipment. Why do they do it? Because they're good people. And, of course, it's so much nicer to help out when it's someone else's house. But my oft-repeated bit of Asian wisdom "when a man finishes his house, he dies" comes to mind. That could be a metaphor, but I'm not taking any chances (Of course, with respect to that proverb, Sisyphus must of been around for quite a while. You can't be too careful). In the meantime there are plans for expanding porches, re-building the woodshed, taking out carpet and putting a wood floor in the living room. But for now, I'll throw some more wood in the stove, watch the thermometer creep up to 60 F (while it's 25 outside) and saw, stand, and stain to my heart's content.

Don't duck the rope in a snowstorm.

2008-01-09T20:23:00.001-07:00

With all the snow the rockies have been getting this week, skiers and snowboarders (including me) have been psyched. Conditions at the local areas have been excellent. I've been using all that powder to hone my tele skills for future backcountry days. I look forward to it, but I'm in no hurry to rush it. Neither is Katie, she and Matt wisely chose Monarch over the backcountry the other day when high winds and abundant snow loaded up the mountain ridges here with hair trigger slabs. I myself have only had an informal class in avalanche safety, and have read some of the literature, but it has been enough to give me a very, very conservative attitude towards snow travel. Especially when the C.A.I.C. map is flashing red over 90% of the state.
Sadly, a skier in Vail didn't live to learn that lesson. He and his two friends were properly equipped, but just as in rock climbing, your gear should be your last line of defense. The first line is caution, knowledge, and careful decision making. Of course, it's easy to second guess someone else's decisions from afar, and after the fact. I just hope that the two surviving friends do not give up their passion for snowsports. They will be wiser after this harsh lesson.
When wearing their winter countenance, Mother Nature and The Old Man Mountain do not allow much forbearance for the ill-prepared or impetuous. Two snowboarders are still missing at Wolf Creek after they went out of bounds on Saturday. We can hope, but it's been five days...

Now, all this is quite the buzzkill, especially since I just posted a video commemorating a really great weekend at Monarch. But the motivation for this post is a notice I just received through the myspace grapevine. A couple of snowboarders, Rachael Fehl and Adam Putnam were rescued by helicopter on Tuesday after being lost in a storm for four days near Ski Sante Fe. That's good news for sure, but I'm especially happy to hear it; Rachael graduated with me from Seneca Valley. I was pretty introverted in high school, and I didn't have too many friends, but she and I were acquaintances, and I recall a climbing trip to McConnell's Mill that was pretty fun. One of those friends from school that you wonder what has become of. I'm very relieved to hear that her and Adam's story is "To be Continued..."

Powder Mission, The Movie

2008-01-09T13:28:00.000-07:00

Wave after wave of winter storms have been rolling in across Colorado, breaking on the rocky shore of the Continental Divide. Monarch has been outstanding, getting about a foot of fresh each day for the last four days. It's dumping up there again, but after sending Ed and Jeny home with big frozen grins on their faces my legs need a break from the skis, so I spent today compiling our footage. Thanks to Ed for lending some video and stills to the effort!

Plastic Fantastic

2008-01-08T18:41:00.000-07:00

This container leaches 100% pure, unadulterated Radness into my drinking water. Illegal to transport across state lines, frowned upon by the Orthodox Church of Health Hypochondriacs, and known to the State of California to induce in lab rats an irrepressible urge to shred singletrack when given in concentrations greater than one million parts per million.

Powder Mission. Staging Complete. Prepare for Deployment.

2008-01-05T23:08:00.000-07:00

GatSquad Gear, racked and ready.

I've been watching the NOAA weather report all week, tracking the approach of what should be one of this winter's best storms. So have Ed E. and Jeny, so I invited them down to Salida for some telemark sessions with the Squad at Monarch. They bowed out gracefully, with season passes for Vail in hand and high hopes for big resort powder. However, upon their arrival at that esteemed schussing Valhalla, they were immediately exposed to designer fur parkas, clear skies, and a complete absence of anything resembling fluffy white stuff falling on the mountain (aside from the owners of those aforementioned fur parkas). As Ed said, "We were uninspired." No doubt, my friend, no doubt.
A quick call to me at Squad Headquaters, and I gave Ed the scoop; "Dude! I'm looking out my window and the mountain is getting hammered!" So Ed and Jeny made the wise decision to motor for Monarch, and meet me up at the lodge.
And it all panned out. The parking lot was busy, but the weather was harsh, and for most of the day we had the place largely to ourselves. While our visiting tourist friends nursed hot chocolate or hot toddy's in the lodge, we threw ourselves down perfect fluffy runs, carving blower turns, crashing with abandon, and giggling the whole time. I aspire to Jeny's picture perfect tele form, and I'm awfully proud of Ed after watching him settle into his technique after just a few runs and making it look easy for the rest of the afternoon. What a great day!

Now we're all back home, tucking in for the night. The gear is staged in the breezeway, and we're all psyched for tomorrow--that storm is supposed drop one to four feet of snow by Monday. And the crew heading up tomorrow will be stellar: Anton and Amber, Ed and Jeny, Tom and Carl, and yours truly. It would be fun even if we were skiing on dirt. It's going to be epic. It's going to be sick.
Whoa. Let's e-brake this monologue right here. You didn't really think I'd use the terms "epic" and "sick" without some commentary on their abundant overuse, did you? Actually, the commentary isn't necessary; we all throw up in our mouths a little when hearing such overused adjectives (sometimes right after we say them). But I try to take a tolerant stance. Somehow, the spoken language seems to need cliches like these as impetus for innovation. Every generation needs a new way to say "cool!" that differentiates them from the last. Frankly, I'm sick of waiting for the latest iteration, so I'm going to go ahead and invent it. The word is epic-demic. Say the word. Use it in context; "Tomorrow's snow is going to be so sick it'll be epic-demic!" Welcome to the future. You heard it here today. Tomorrow it'll already be cliche.

Bike Vids from 2007

2008-01-03T22:53:00.000-07:00

Back in the spring of 2007, we were able to make a few mountain bike videos of Salida rides. It was fun times. Some of it is shot with a helmet camera, some is rather old footage from '05, taken with a run-of-the-mill digital camera in movie mode while riding one handed . If you haven't seen them yet, here you go! (Make sure you have the latest Shockwave player and Adobe Flash Player installed. C'mon, be patient. GatSquad is all Cutting Edge and that. Oh yeah. Please don't allow Norton permission to do anything during the installation. What a bunch of punks.)

New Years Day. 2008.

2008-01-03T09:52:00.000-07:00

Plan's to recon Loveland on the first of the year just didn't pan out. Despite a can-do attitude with regard to the forecasted 40 below wind chill, a quick consultation of the GatSquad's statewide spy-camera network revealed that I-70 had been shut down for the day for avalanche control, so the Loveland crews couldn't get to the area to fire up the lifts.

Plan B was a little hike around Matthew Winters and Red Rocks parks.
Hiking is not normally my preferred mode of outdoor travel, but it has it's charms. It's certainly easier to see the smaller details when skulking about on foot.
And I had opportunity to practice with this spiffy new camera. It takes a while to regain your "photographers eye" for your surroundings.

I suppose this one would make a good desktop background for you fans of the abstract (who don't mind losing your icons...).
It wasn't riding. It wasn't skiing. But it wasn't a half-bad start to the year, by any means.

220 Days and Counting

2008-01-02T18:22:00.000-07:00

Until the Leadville 100. The Karate Monkey patiently waits out the winter dark.
Why countdown to this race? There will be other races, other events, other rides; before and after August 9th. Rides that are more fun, rides that are longer, races that have more singletrack, races that have less singlespeeding. Definitely races with less pushing. But very likely, no rides or races that have the presence of Leadville. Presence lent by the history of the race, by the deeds of past champions, by the character of the events founders, by the dedication of its volunteers, by, most of all, the 900+ racers who toe the starting line. It's the 800 pound gorilla of marathon races.
Oh, how I tried to like the Leadville that first year. And the second. It's just hard to really get into it when you have to choose between pushing past mile sixty and checking yourself into the hospital for two weeks. Damn you, ulcerative colitis.
Then the wizards who gave you the Six Million Dollar Man ($28.9 million in 2006 dollars) got a hold of me. One TPCIAA surgery gone wrong, then corrected, then riddled with complications, and finally recovered fully from, later, and I was ready to go. All I can say is, Steve Austin got ripped off. I can do all the same cool things he did, minus that awesome "Schwich-chi-chi-sha" sound effect when I jump over things. Actually, it'd totally be worth an extra million or so to get that sound--too bad my surgeon didn't offer a-la-carte upgrades.
Anyway, back to the story. Post surgery in 2005, I was able to finish Leadville, and do pretty well, too. But I couldn't say it was really all that fun. It took until 2007 for me to realize that it wasn't supposed to be. The real challenge at Leadville isn't the mileage. It isn't the climbing or the weather. Or the endless doubletrack. The challenge is to have fun despite the fact that all those elements are (purposefully, apparently) arranged to deliver to the racer the most mentally crushing experience possible. Here's where your fellow racers come into play. As with entrenched World War I infantrymen faced with the the demoralizing affront of endless artillery barrages who might cope with their implacable situation by punching each other the shoulder and commenting with cheeky British humour about the "Bloody lousy weather we're having!" while laughing hysterically; so too do the enqued Leadville racers, faced with the appallingly distant Columbine Aid Station and the demoralizing affront of proximate lightning strikes and thunder, cope with their inexplicably self-imposed situation by punching each other on the shoulder and commenting with cheeky British humour about the "Right-crap weather we're having!" while laughing hysterically and slipping on a discarded GU package.

It's all about the journey, after all. Especially when you're hours away from the podium. In that situation, I like to chat with the volunteers at the aid stations.

Ed Ellinger Photo

Leadville has some of the best. Aid stations and volunteers. Heck, in life you hope to find friends who will support you as you seek your goals. At Leadville, for one day and for one goal, you have hundreds of friends to back you up. Thanks folks.
So,yup, finally, after five starts, I'm looking forward to Leadville. It's gonna be a fun ride.

Coaster, one speed, on ice

2008-01-02T07:52:00.001-07:00

Well, honestly it's a cup of hot coffee and a keyboard . . .

Before I moved to Salida, about four years ago, I was already looking for this place. Living in the rolling hill county of central New York, I'd started picking up cruiser bikes and frames. Whether or not you can argue their usefulness for tackling steep hills, they had an undeniable attraction. A simple testament to American manufacturing. While gathering up inventory for the used bike shop I ran for two summers, I picked up my first one. A ragged but still running Schwinn Corvette, free. Then $12.00 for a Rollfast at a police auction. That was a blast for wearing out Lodi, a long-legged hound mix we were fostering. There was a quiet rural loop nearby, with a dirt road descent back to the house. The faster I pedaled, the less effort he had to put forth, spending more time in the air and less touching the ground. Next came the $5.00 garage sale Rollfast, with a, ahem: trailing link pull-shock front suspension fork. With a built in steering lock. With the key broken off inside. An option on certain Columbia's I later figured out. The $5.00 dollar Rollfast hung around the yard for a few years, and moved here in unrideable condition, the seatpost still frozen in place despite the angry pipe-wrench marks gouged into its surface. Then came another project, a donated Columbia Firebolt, with a fork bent into a sine-curve, all the way from the dropouts to the end of the steerer tube. Amazingly enough the headtube survived. And so I gathered parts, like a collection of classy Hawaiian shirts marooned at the North pole. Destiny would provide.
Not for a greater range of coaster-equipped riding possibilities, but for as simple as finding a sense of community that can welcome you on several levels. Not just a small town, with wilderness and woods, and employment at a bike shop with epic rides above treeline. But if you ride a simple old bike halfway across town, drop off your mail, and stop by Benson's tavern, just to say hi, it's completely normal. If you work at a bike shop, the shop fridge fills up with beer in the summer from appreciative customers. If someone hears that you ride a bike, they have their own story to tell about it. That it was so cold the coaster brake didn't work right away, but of course there's a smile. I still get a bit of ribbing for wearing my shirts, though. That's how you know who your friends are.

24 Hours In The Sage

2007-12-26T23:40:00.000-07:00

We are lodged firmly in the heart of winter, it's true. The winter solstice passed a few days ago, but we have yet to feel the warming trend it portends. As much as we have have grown to love surfing the crystalline waves of dihydrogen monoxide at Monarch, despite the thrilling spectacle that is provided by such dramatic lighting as is only available this late in the year;still, we pine for the sultry days of summer. When the balmy warmth of the hearth calls to our minds that same summer heat, our minds wander back to exploits performed free of snow...at the 24 Hours in the Sage, in Gunnison Colorado!
Here we paraphrase Anton's words, from the post race email:
"So Andrew says let's enter in the 24hrs in the Sage townie bike category. Sure, but Amber and I have to work that day. So Andrew races from noon Saturday until 9pm when Amber and I finally arrive in Gunnison. It's a full on mountain bike course, with singletrack, descending, rocks, etc.; a 13 mile lap. Andrew did 8 laps, Amber did three laps, Anton did four. On cruiser bikes, with coaster brakes. With two cruisers between the two of us. beautiful riding, night laps with HID headlights (or just generator lights!~sic), listening to coyotes and drunken hecklers egging us on. With horns and bells to respond with. And we won the group townie category (24 hour Townie World Championships. Don't sell it short, son.~sic) Next year there may be more than one group though. Cheers. -Anton"

Did we mention that appropriate attire is de rigueur for this event? Anything less would be uncivilized. Amber was wearing a red miniskirt and green halter of, perhaps, Hawaiin influence.
I represented with casual shop attire, jeans a and mechanics shirt.
Anton was the anchorman with his ensemble, bringing a sort of euro haute couture slash messenger-chik to the team.
Overall, I think we managed to deftly weave the pacific rim aesthetic and Continental charm into something distinctively...PBR.
Honestly though, when tongue is dislodged from cheek, I never thought I'd have this much fun at a 24 hour race again. Having done a number of them, the inescapable fact is that you ride around in circles for a day. This race transcended that, however. We rode old technology, to strip away all pretense, to remind all that each of us came here to challenge ourselves. We passed strangers in the night on dark lamplit singletrack, so to give our new friends someone to chase through the moonlight. We whooped with packs of riders on those swooping trails, reveling in the joy of motion. We created a minor legend. When it was all done, what was it that we had done? What did it matter? We had danced all day. We had danced all night. With our new friends, we raised the bar. All of us together.

P.S. Shawn, that's about 105 miles in jeans. On a forty-year old cruiser. I'm still ready for that White Rim bet about Carhartt's. To the victor go the spoils--sixer of Pibber.

Another fine day in the mountains.

2007-12-26T20:38:00.000-07:00

Sailing up Pano and listing a bit to port...

Last run of the day.

Post ride recovery drinks, Salida style.

Chores.

2007-12-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

When half the Squad is off on diplomatic holiday missions to the east coast, someone has to hold down the fort. Fortunately, the commute to the chicken's mess hall is scenic.

Christmas Day, 2007

2007-12-26T20:16:00.000-07:00

Well, the rest of Colorado only has a few days to catch up with Monarch--we still have the best snow of 2007. Christmas day was perfect--tele turns, whiteout conditions, driving snow, and an almost vacant mountain.

Headquarters came equipped with a cat.

2007-12-24T22:58:00.000-07:00

That cat's name is Bob. Bob-Cat the Sheik of Leisure. Bob-Cat has a posse...

The post to begin all posts.

2007-12-24T18:24:00.000-07:00

Welcome to G.A.T. Squad's Patrol Log! While the Squad has been active in this little corner of the globe for five to eight years (depending on the chronological dating system of your choice), we're only now throwing our collected works onto the information superhighway. We've got years of backlog to cover, but you can expect contributions from the Squad to cover a multitude of topics. It may take a little while for us to hit our stride, but hopefully you find something interesting. We don't know if this little experiment will result in a new virtual destination, a multi-bit pileup, or just info-roadkill, but thanks in advance for visiting.