Sunday saw the Mooseknuckler-mobile out to Babylon. Shelby was hoping for some good light for some video taking. KB and I hadn’t ridden the trail so we tagged along. Unfortunately, the light was less than cooperative with the hazy afternoon and all. Despite the lack of death defyingly beautiful video, good riding was had by all. Except maybe Shelby who lugged around all his photo equipment…

Yesterday, found your Uncle Knuckler with a head full of old demons that he thought he had slain. Luckily, I had the day off and plenty of bikes from which to pick. Even with the shed full of bikes, it took a good deal of mental effort to kit up and pedal may way into the desert instead of grabbing the bottle and putting MASH on repeat. It took about five miles, but once I hit the Prospector I couldn’t help but smile and watch the clouds play with the red rocks. After that point, there was nothing that could stop me from riding as much as I possibly could. I spun out to Red Cliffs, rode the little loop in the parking lot and worked my way home, hitting every section of singletrack I could find.

Them demons been exorcised. Nuf said.

Speaking of all those bikes. It has been determined that we are at capacity.

The only good thing about that is one of the bikes isn’t ours. We borrowed my dad’s 29′r hardtail so KB could see if she needed one. So technically we have space for one more. And I guess we could always put a couple back in the drum room if we absolutely necessary…

After organizing the corral on Sunday, I couldn’t help but feel a little bad that my International hadn’t been ridden in a while. I’m not one to hit the pavement often but I really dig this bike. And she was covered in dust with flat tires. I got off a little early today and decided to maximize my time for riding and grabbed the skinny tire bike. It’s been a while, but when I got home from my road ride, I had a big smile on my face and plans of riding her again soon have been bouncing around in my head ever since.

In preparation for today’s ride, I realized I needed a saddle bag. Thanks to Scarf I had one handy that went well with the overall motif of my thoughts of road riding.

Aint she a beaut?

Anyway, my legs currently feel like lead and my good friend Jose is here to help me get through the evening. So I must bid you all goodnight, but first, the photo evidence of Babylon (yea, I know Shelby, the light is flat…).

P. L. and R.

“A semi geo-political, outdoor, fantasy, riding and drinking organization.” – Fixie Dave

“Alternative riding styles.” – Prattipus

“The path to righteousness.” – Brian Mulligan

“The inertia of MTBing in SWUT.” – Scarf

“An alliance of cyclists united for sustained cycling freedom, consumption of alcoholic beverages, and ass kicking facial hair. Now someone said there would be lobster.” – Super D.

“A bunch of dudes with bikes.” – The Rod

“A Gander of Riders that Drink better then they can ride and enjoy seeing each others Mooseknucklers whether they will admit it or not.” – Sherm

P. L. and R.

When I was but a wee lad, I spent a lot of time thinking. Most of the ideas and thoughts that bounced around in my head went ahead and bounced right out. There were only a few that stuck and a few that I attempted to see if they could be. Most of these were purely philosophical bull shit type questions. One of these questions was the existence of silence.

I thought a lot about silence. I spent a lot of time alone tramping around wherever it was that I could in search of the absence of sound. I quickly found that the colder the weather, the deeper the void of sound was.

Anyone who has spent a winter night on top of mountain where cars are not aloud, where people do not tread (at least very often) and where the snow is high, are probably the closest they will ever be to truly experiencing silence. That void of noise where all is still and all is dead. There is no motion, no disturbing sound. The waves of the air are undisturbed. Peace.

Through this time of seeking for complete silence, it quickly became evident that man cannot experience it. The world can be completely at ease but man cannot. He may sit in the middle of a meadow where nothing stirs. But the fact that he is there, means there is noise for he can never be still. He must always breath. And the sound of breath is never louder than when one is seeking for it to not disturb the surrounding solitude. It bursts the deafening abyss of sound with little respect for those around it. Hold your breath? Sure, then the noise of your head about to explode begins. The pounding in your ears will overwhelm anything that has ever come from outside them. Man cannot be still.

Silence does not exist for us.

But that doesn’t really matter. I wasn’t searching so much for the silence as much as the solitude and peace that existed in the places that I searched. Many of my favorite activities are remnants of this search. Snowshoeing, night riding, backpacking… all contain an element of the silent and all are best done alone.

P. L. and R.

“Ya vi tanta lunas que hoy ya no se si soy o fui”

Last Sunday, KB, my parents and I headed south. We didn’t quite make it to the big hole but we had a nice loop up over Mt. Trumbal and out through Short Creek. Or as the locals call it, the crick.

Space. I think that is the only word to describe the Arizona Strip.

Having my dad along was a nice trip down memory lane on two levels. First, we reminisced of other trips out yonder and how long it had been since the last one. Second, he shared some of the history of the area with us. The range wars between the sheepherders and the cattle men. Showed us Hay Rock and spoke of the forgotten spaces. Space.

And then there is this, http://columbiachronicle.com/chicagoan-pedals-across-the-americas/.

Looking at Walls

To be pulled in two directions is to yearn.

It would have been about 9 years ago. It was a summer morning in Santiago. The light was breaking through the wooden blinds that covered the hole in the wall that served as a window. As many of these mornings served, I was thinking. There were decisions to be made and roads to tread. It became painfully apparent to me that I was at a dificult crossroads. If I chose to go the way that I did, I would always be missing something. I had two families on two different sides of the world. If I was with one I was missing the other.

Divorce can cancel certain agreements but it doesn’t erase ties to people that aren’t but always will be your family. I will always be cursed with that decision.

It has been way too long since I took a picture of a sunset.

Space - A continuous area or expanse that is free, available, or unoccupied.

Yearn - Have an intense feeling of loss or lack and longing for something.

I yearn for space, open roads, open time, freedom.

If you see a bum on the side of the road it may be me, be nice.

P. L. and R.

Most of you didn’t notice, but some of you may have. The “Buy Some Stuff” page went crashing into the interweb’s abyss on Monday. I know that all of you were dying to find out what happened. So to satisfy your interest, the page basically sucked. You could only order one thing at a time and I didn’t like it. So I went and began to figure out how to get an ecommerce site that was, well, a real store.

To end this story I have one. It is called the Mooseknuckler Market. It still has all the amazingly cool things that will make everyone think you are beautiful, but as an added bonus, you can now order more than one item at a time. It’s got stuff and stuff.

If you feel like the MCA should be buying you beer. You are probably right, so add to our budget buy purchasing something from the Mooseknuckler Market or if your budget is small, simply click on any of the links at the side of the page and know that at some point the Alliance will buy you a drink.

Out.

First, DC went off with a rant about riding indoors, using crossfit and trying to get that extra edge. Which can be read here. While it is a good read and may motivate you to get out and ride, it may have the opposite effect on many other people, who in most circumstances would be trying to find some pedal spinning time.

Maybe it is the new year since my normal reaction would be, fuck yea, that is what I am talking about. If you have to watch your power meter to ride, then you are retarded. However, when I read this post it hit me differently. I thought that kind of sucks.

And again it may be my introspective nature of late, but when I received the email to a tech’s rant on MTBR, I was repulsed.

Again, naturally I understand the frustration. I understand the pain of beating one’s head against the wall of the public psyche. I get that sometimes you need to vent. But what repulsed me, was that it is this very attitude that keeps people away from cycling, out of bike shops and sitting in front of their tv’s watching bull shit.

If you ride your bike great. If you ride your bike to race, great. If you ride your bike to get to the post office, awesome. If you ride your bike to relieve the stress your cubical job gives you, even better. I honestly can’t think of a scenario when someone riding a bike would make me mad. Unless of course, you consider a mad scientist riding a bike out to kill baby seals. OK you got me, that last one would make me mad, but in all seriousness when is that going to happen.

I guess what hit me about these posts was how much it was like holding a mirror up to my own rants at times. And the realization that I don’t care what you ride, as long as your ride.

Yea, I think that is it.

Ride more. Drive less.

Out.

Here’s to finding more empty spaces, longer rides, deeper shades of orange and following every road to its end. Here’s to Peace, Love and Revolution. Here’s to super sad monkey face. Happy New Year!

If I find my way back, you will be the first to know.

Out.