I was gonna write a post for you all to enjoy, but then I got sidetracked and didn’t.

If I find my way back, you will be the first to know.
I was gonna write a post for you all to enjoy, but then I got sidetracked and didn’t.

If I find my way back, you will be the first to know.
Pursuant to Tuesday’s post about me being a big pussy, I headed out to rectify said situation. I swapped the slicks for some knobbies on the High Life, threw a pack on my bike and headed into the sand.
You may recall past Making Cycling Difficult posts about this particular area. I’m not sure what the draw is, but when the weather gets wet and cold I feel this desire to ride the sand.
It’s either a desire or my stupidity in forgetting that even when sand is wet, it is difficult to ride. But sometimes the point is to make it difficult, and this was one of those times.
I’ve attempted to make it up the Mill Creek road/trail to the wilderness boundary many a time. I’ve always turned around after about 20-30 minutes because I am a big pussy. And there are few things that can top the frustration of riding in sand.
I was determined. I had the time. I had the idea. So I did it. I pedaled, pushed, dragged, slid, and hiked my way to the boundary.
It was pretty awesome, as you can see from the photo, but it didn’t quench my thirst. Now that I’ve made it to the boundary, I want to hike to the ridge. Maybe see what is up Washington Hollow. It is a cool little cove. And no one is there which is more than enough of a reason for me to go back.
Photo evidence.



And for those of you wondering, the sand was actually a lot of fun. Would I want to ride in the sand every day? No, but once I reached the top and was able to turn around and come back down into town it was a blast. I was able to ride almost the entire way back. I swung down into the drops and just did everything I could to keep the rubber side down and the pedals turning. The squirming and washing out added to the excitement. I’ll be back.
Out.
I have been going through my old pictures.
The one above is from a poorly thought out trip from White Pine to Bunch Grass in the snow. The Mighty Green Socks, his uncle and I pushed our bikes up to the top of the climb. Then slid our way down the switch backs into White Pine. After the drop, the snow thinned enough that we could ride fairly well. The stream crossings were quite a bit wider than they usually were and as Green Socks was coming across one of the larger ones, he stalled and then fell over completely soaking himself. Mind you this was about eight miles from the car, we were making super slow progress due to the snow and now we had a soaking wet Brengelman to deal with. What a ride.
The mighty Mooseknuckler Banner that you see at the top of the page is also one of these “old,” “lost” photos. It happens to be from the first SloToJa. Neither myself nor Casey can recall which pass this is on but when we made it we had to take some pictures. My memory doesn’t serve well enough to recall, but this picture may be at the top of the climb that I walked the last mile or so pushing my bike. I rode the tour singlespeed and some of the climbs were a bit long and/or steep.
So what’s the point of the nostalgia? The point is I’ve turned into a great, big pussy. Fat, slow and unmotivated. Hell, I don’t even own a rigid mountain bike any more.
As I have been perusing through these photographs, the desire to “see what is beyond the next turn” has begun to stir within my gut. That desire that we all have to just see if it is possible. Can I turn the crank one more time? Can I do this drop? Why not ride the whole damn thing in the snow, right before sunset? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but I think it’s time for me to start asking them again.
For what it’s worth, those are my two cents.
We will be doing a night ride tomorrow. In an effort to drive less than we actually ride, we will be meeting at the Service Center at 7:30 and will ride up to Paradise, do the loop and then return to the service center. I promise to only complain about how retarded the trail is twice. And that was one. If you prefer to drive, you are more than welcome to meet us at the Chuckawala trailhead about 20 minutes later. Remember flashy lights for the road part of the ride.
Now, time to ride into the sunset.
P. L. and R.
You all may remember that I said I would have some of these gorgeous wallets available for purchase soon. Well I do. Wallet Maker Mitch handed me three of them a couple of days ago, so I have three to sell. To refresh your memories, these are locally crafted of used tires and tubes. They work great as a wallet and I can guarantee you that they will not leave your pocket without your knowledge. I have a couple Mountain King tread wallets and one Fast Trak Wallet. If you are interested, email me at lukas (at) mooseknuckleralliance (dot) org. They go for $25 and a chunk of that goes back into providing you with this wonderful website and beer after Mooseknuckler Cycling Alliance approved rides.
If you are lacking in the cool factor, these will most definitely make up for it. I can honestly say it is the only wallet I have ever owned that I get complimented on, consistently. Just think, you could be someone.
Since we are on the subject of wallets, I have been saving a rant for a while. It has simmered, aged and perfected itself. You see, I’ve been buzzed on my bike many times. So many times that I couldn’t tell you where that number sits. On occasion I have been buzzed by the same car, in the same spot, multiple times. However, there has only been one vehicle that has buzzed me that was dumb enough to have their phone number and place of business stickered across the back window. Continue reading
Today’s installation of Making Cycling Difficult, is a How to Guide on ruining an otherwise perfect ride, and in extension, a perfectly beautiful day.
If you really want to make cycling difficult, sometimes it takes some preparation. I suggest that you start the night before. Remember, nobody likes a procrastinator. So check your forecast. If you see that a day that you have off from work is going to be amazingly beautiful, the night before that day you start to party.
Now everything is best in moderation, so it goes to be moderate with your moderation and have a good time. Even better, if you can fit 2-3 parties into the night, better yet. It is also advised that on this night of ruckous behaviour, you should stay up at least five hours later than you normally do. This just adds to the difficulty. You may say that lack of sleep is over the top. Well, my response to that is, do you wanna live your entire life doing things half-ass? Didn’t think so.
Now that the night is passed and morning is upon us breaking with a bright, shiny sun, you have to make sure that you have the fortitude to stay the course. Many a lesser human being, when presented with the task you have taken upon yourself would shrink back into bed not to emerge until the next day. But nay, you must drag yourself out and start to learn to balance with the cobwebs weighing down your thought processes. This essential to actually being able to ride your bike which happens to be impossible when stuck on your backside in bed.
The next steps are easy and tend to fall into place once you have made the effort the night before, but in the interest of providing a complete guide I will enumerate them for you. Continue reading
T-bone was running a little late.
So we picked him up at his house. We found him almost ready to go. This meant that the Mooseknucklermobile was late for a Mooseknuckler Ride. All was well with the Universe and we arrived just a few minutes behind schedule to find Scarf and the Sherm waiting.
The wind was fucking howling.
If any of you remember the original definition of a Mooseknuckler from the MCA Manifesto, it had something to do with riding in all conditions, rain, snow or wind. (And can be found here, I have to admit it brought a little smile to my evil face to find that) What this means is that there was no way we weren’t going riding, even though it looked as if it would probably be a good idea to not.
As we headed out and toward Church Rocks, I tried with all of my mental strength to enjoy the kickin’ tailwind and to not think about how bad it was going to suck on the way back.
It was a hoot. Fast, dark, loose and awesome.
About 2/3 of the way to the Rocks, the wind kind of died. We chalked it up to being in a hole where the wind couldn’t reach thanks to the cliffs around us.
We finished our little ride around the rocks and headed back to the car. All of us were waiting for the wind to hit us like a cement truck and when it didn’t we all kept our mouths shut in fear that once anyone said the word it would arrive. Thank the giant lobster in the sky that it did not.
That’s right. We got a kick ass tailwind for the ride out and then ended up not having to pay for it.
Anyways, good times were had by all. If you missed the ride, don’t fret it will all be happening again next week.
Now to finish my PBR.
Out.