A) Introduce new people to mountain biking without killing them

B) Recover my confidence on a bike post crash(es)

C) Go fly fishing in a ditch when the water is exceedingly high

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A.

Chris's first mountain biking adventure

I have friends come to town from time to time and want to experience biking in Colorado.  Sometime to see me.  Or in this case one of my friends flew to visit her mother in Denver.  Obviously Katie and I rank far behind her mother, so we settled for an afternoon mountain bike ride and beer.  Now I like Chris.  She is fun, amusing, and only slightly annoying.  However she is not a bicyclist (she showed up wearing sandals, thankfully I had extra shoes) , opening the question where should I take her for the first attempt.  Marshall Mesa is obviously the answer, the trails are relatively flat, have minimal rocks/technical sections, and can be as short or long as you want.  We took Chris on the Marshall Valley, Cowdrey Draw, Community Ditch, and Coal Seam trails; that seams like a lot but in all it is only a few miles with virtually non-existent hills.  Why do I keep mentioning hills?  Well, out of towners generally are not used to the elevation and can really suffer.  Which while occasionally fun to watch, does not lead them to continue biking.  Usually.  My Trek Fuel EX 8 is definite overkill for the trail, alas.  However the Boulder Trek Store has great bikes for rent that are appropriate.

View from Coalton Trail

B.

I have been crashing on my Jamis Supernova cyclocross bike during races.  A lot.  Sometimes I just need a confidence booster.  Katie and I went out a few weeks back on one such ride.  As I mentioned above, Marshall Mesa can be extended to just about any distance you want.  We created a long loop (made longer by the 20 mile per hour in your face winds on the return half), starting on the Greenbelt Plateau, continuing on the Community Ditch and Cowdrey Draw trails.   After running into 66th, we took a right to a short trail before jumping on McCaslin Blvd.  Another right and a hill took us to the Coalton and High Plains trails, thus returning to the start.  Confused?  Check out this map.  The Coalton trail has a decent hill on it and when the wind is coming straight off the mountains, it hurts.  I didn’t fall, so overall it was a success.

Dan's Community Ditch Rainbow

C.

This has nothing to do with mountain bike.  Too bad.  Marshall Lake is private and maintained by a fishing club.  They stock a lot of trout.  And when the water gets high, the rainbows run up the Community Ditch to spawn.  I wrote about fly fishing in a ditch; it is an interesting experience.  Even more interesting when a club member comes and yells at you, even though you are on public property.  Alas, it was not my fault that the water runs high in the spring.

First Ride on Marshall Mesa

Marshall Mesa

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Katie at the top of Cheyenne Rim

Go North Young Man.

Wait a second…

This morning Katie and I wanted to ride somewhere new – most of the mountain bike trails in Boulder county have been ridden too many times to county.  To find some new trails we looked north, to the Soapstone Prairie Natural Area above Fort Collins.  After an hour and a half drive, we arrived at the park gate and asked the ranger for an 8-10 mile loop recommendation.  The ranger told us to try the Cheyenne Rim trail, a 15 mile round trip out and back.   While not at all what we asked for, the colors were supposedly gorgeous so we agreed to try the trail.

Aside from the fighting the painfully strong winds, I really liked the trail. Of course with all the cacti it probably would be wise to have a selection of spare tubes. There were almost no people – across fifteen miles we saw only six other humans.  The trail was a mixture double track and single track (really wide single track) and extremely smooth.  So smooth that I could have easily taken my Jamis Supernova instead of my Trek Fuel EX 8.  The trail had a long gradual climb on the undulating hills in the wide open expanse of plains (bring lots of water and sunblock).  The park is a great place to take a new rider, as long as they have the endurance or you the will to turn around.

If you want a technical challenge, this trail is not for you.  If you want epic climbs, this trail is not for you.  So why did I like this trail?  It was beautiful and beautifully relaxing.  I spent the entire ride (downhill included) just cruising, looking at the scenery.

Cheyenne Rim Panaramic 1

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Start of Green Mountain Sports Cross Cat 4 Race

This morning I woke up wondering why I did it.  My body is experiencing a level of soreness not remembered since college hockey games.  My back, shoulders, and legs are all blissfully sore and I have discovered an unsurprisingly large bruise on the inside of my right thigh.  How did this all come about?  Yesterday I competed in my first cycling race ever.  I have been riding my road bike for near a decade and my mountain bike for almost as long; obviously taking my Jamis Supernova that I have owned for all of a week to a cyclocross race sounded like a good idea.

Sherbert, the UrbanBulldog

I rushed out the door with Katie, late from a mountain bike ride in Nederland, and Sherbert.  Somehow we even remembered to bring Sherbert’s wagon.  The bulldog in a wagon is always a hit wherever she goes; the Green Mountain Sports Cross race was no exception.  Katie and Sherbert cheered me on to the finish.

The people were very friendly as I chatted before the start with a few racers in my group (Cat 4) and two cat three guys who wanted to take a lap to see the course.  Everyone was very encouraging, though one guy seemed to question why I would want to suffer for 45 minutes.  Reasonable question I suppose.  A few also said this was rather a difficult course to do my first race at – of course I have nothing to compare it to so I cannot say yet. Shortly before the start, an official pointed out that I was an idiot and put my number on the wrong side of my jersey; thankfully one of the cat 3 guys made the quick starting line adjustment.  This was a bit easier as I was in the back of the group.  Not near the back.  Quite literally I was the last person over the starting line.  I was told I probably would not finish last as this would give me ample opportunity to catch and pass people.  While a good suggestion I never really found a pack to cruise with – I just jumped from person to person without any sort of technique.  The gaps just got larger as the race went on.  Next weekend at the Boulder CX Series #1 I am definitely going have a better start.

Cross Barriers

The course was interesting, particularly as there was none of the mud I have expected via pictures of cross races on the internet and the 9 Ball Diaries.  In fact it was so dry that there was a dusty section that limited visibility to about almost nothing on the first two laps.  Continuing the dry theme, some of the corners were quite loose which turned into fun for me when hitting them at speed.  I only had to dab once and then I remembered how much less traction the Jamis bike offered compared to my Trek Fuel EX 8.  Somehow I managed to not crash the entire race but I certainly saw a number of falls in the corners.  There was also one short, loose, and steep decent over uneven terrain that forced me to catch my balance a few time.  Somewhere after was a steep up and down that I hit with too much speed on the second lap and caught a second of frighteningly unintentional air.

There were a number of straight-aways and run-ups; in the back of the pack these were great for helping me catch people.  Running over the barriers was a new experience and it is easy to see how one could misjudge the height and take a huge header.  I am certain that my form was questionable, though I did not seem to hit any.  The barriers also made me very happy that my Supernova only weighs about 18.5lbs with pedals – carrying your bike are a new concept to me.  Speaking of pedals, I was impressed at the ease of a speedy entry into my Time Atac Atium pedals; it is something you really don’t notice when mountain biking.  Unfortunately for me, after the barriers you had to remount your bike on the fly.  On my first attempt I landed too far back on the saddle and then had to suffer for the rest of the race with my saddle pointed up.  Of course that was not the worst of my mounts, I just prefer not to speak, or even remember, the others.

Don't Get Hauled into Juvey

Seeing as I started dead last I spent the first three (it might have been four, I was not really counting) laps jumping past small groups and individuals as gaps got larger.  Eventually I passed three guys in rapid succession and found myself with a gap so large I could not see anyone to catch.  I pushed hard for half a lap and then started to tank after doing a number of poor mounts.  The three guys I had passed apparently all had just stayed on my wheel and took the opportunity to pass and open up on me.  Going into the final lap I was by myself, no one within 150 meters of me in either direction.  I always was on the edge of delirium and really felt no motivation to push as it would be unlikely to catch or be caught.  Of course then with about half a mile to go I saw the third guy from the group in front of me come off the back and suddenly I had something to chase.  I was on his wheel going into the last 20 meters but just ran out of room.  He gave me a dirty look after we finished.  Alas.  There were 59 starters and I finished 42^nd overall; while a few people dropped out I am still assuming I beat them.  I need all the help I can get…

Dan in No Mans Land

After the finish I took my bike to the pit, promptly dropped it, and managed to meander over to the beverage tent – there were a bunch of beer from Oscar Blues but I could not even fathom the thought.  Instead I had (read slammed) some weird FRS energy drink and was jittery the entire care ride home.  At the end of the day my bike was filthy, I was filthy, and I could barely stand – it was glorious.

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Additional posts about Green Mountain Sports Cross

303Cycling

Six Degrees to Slush Photos

H-O-W-D-Y

CLIF BAR Development Cyclo-Cross Team

Official American Cycling Association Results

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View at Hosking Farm

It has been almost half a year since Katie and I returned from our New Zealand honeymoon and in remembrance celebration I am posting the last piece of our four part adventure. After the painfully long flight into Auckland we met an old friend for a tour of the city. The next morning, still confounded from the flight over, we headed to Ahipara for a week of surfing.  Returning to Auckland, we took our time to casual tour the city and the harbour. While we certainly enjoyed exploring a new city and learning a new sport, our excitement for the trip was highest heading into Rotorua to try our hand at mountain biking.

Killer Black Swan

Katie had asked if we could stay on a farm while we were in New Zealand; uncertain with the low quality of websites advertising a farmstay I opted for the one with pictures of massive brown trout, the bed and breakfast at Hoskings Farm just outside of Ngongotaha.  I cannot say that all B&B’s near Rotorua are run by one of the uniquely pleasant and heppy ladies I have ever met, have a beautiful house surrounded by meticulously kept gardens, and fields of curious cattle and sheep; the 120 acres at Hoskings Farm certainly did. Oh, and I forgot to mention the really big trout.  Really big.

Our host, Trish Hoskings, was a vibrant lady who dotted over her gardens and her guests.  Always full of suggestions and eager to offer food from her garden, Trish made our stay truly delightful.  Trish introduced us to her massive country garden, and assortment of chickens, lambs, and cattle; her pride in the land was evident.  On our first tour of the grounds we met the amusing young cattle as they would follow us to the gates between fields, hoping to get a free trip to the fresh grasses.  We amassed some impressive views, though the pool of massive trout under the bridge was edged out by the epic sunsets.

Rotorua Mountain Biking

As difficult as it was, we left the farm and ventured into Rotorua to hire (that means rent in “American”) mountain bikes for three days.  At Bike Vegas ran into a shop guy from Eugene, OR and scored a pair of modified Haro Mary XC 29ers; the front derailleur was removed, leaving us with the middle ring.  The shop guy assured us we would not need any more gears for redwood forest where we would be riding; he proved correct.  We loaded the bikes and headed over to the Whakarewarewa Forest trails with a quick visit to the New Zealand of Walmart to buy some cheap shoes. And no, I have no idea how you pronounce Whakarewarewa…

The locals claimed the Whakarewarewa Forest has some of the best riding in New Zealand; having nothing to compare and with our epic experience, I cannot doubt the claim.  The forest contains more than 70 km of trails interconnected by fire roads (that means even more available riding distance beyond the 43.5 miles of trails).  The trails were primarily flowy single track through densely treed woods; better yet they were all one way so you never had to hold back in fear of a crash.   Maps were scattered through the area, the trails were well marked off the fire road, and a smattering of water stations were available.  The was not major amounts of climbing (at least compared to our Colorado trails), but if you wish to get in more riding with less fire road climbing you can take a shuttle.

View from Riding Down Split Enz

While we did ride during the week, we very rarely met into other riders on the trails.  Those we did meet, primarily Australians whom were quite pleased that nothing in the forest was going to kill them, all exposed the same excitement as was on our faces.  The trails were phenomenal and I hope to have a chance to return and properly chronicle all of them; our last ride took us down Split Enz, continuing on the Pondy trails, and finishing on Old Chevy.  The fire road climb was long and we passed a few groups of Australians before finally reaching the trailhead for Split Enz.  The trail is tightly built with fast flowy curves swooping through huge trees.  As difficult as it was to stop, it was well worth it to see the gorgeous views.  Upon being dumped out to the Pondy system we had some slower, gentler grades of curves with moments of downhill speed.  We came out on Old Chevy, an up and down trail with more fast curves.   All combined, these trails were the single favorite ride of my life.

Fly Fishing a Spring Creek Near Rotorua

On a ski trip in the Colorado mountains shortly before we left for New Zealand I fell ill and spent a day perusing the fly shops in Summit county.  At the time, the only travel fly rod I possessed was a Fenwick 5 piece 5-weight that my father had built in the 1970s; I needed a better rod.  I picked up a fast action Sage FLi in an 8’6″ 4 piece 5-weight with a Sage 1850 reel for $200 on clearance.  Like most fast action rods the FLi can really punch out a lot of line, however I was more interested in the backbone to handle large New Zealand browns.

The country is fiercely proud of their fisheries and go to great lengths to protect them by restricting what gear you can bring into the country – I took the rod, reel, hemostats, leaders, and tippet material figuring I could buy everything else in-country.  I picked up about two dozen flies, some floatant, and some split shot before heading into the water. From the top of the steep banks I spied a plethora of browns and rainbows, ranging in sizes from around 12 inches to the largest trout I have ever seen in my life.  Along with the impressive size, I have never encountered such a concentration of large fish – it felt like walking along a fish hatchery. The New Zealand trout however were a lot smarter than their counterparts raised in American hatcheries.  My first challenge was hot to approach the fish; with the high banks I could not easily drop in behind them and spooked quite a few trout in my attempts to do so.  Eventually I made my way in and started working upstream.  Notice I have mentioned nothing about waders; I had none.  The spring creek was cold.  Very.  Cold.  Of course after a few minutes my feet and legs had gone completely numb so it no longer mattered.

The first day I spotted a few feeding fish but was unable to get them to take.  The next day, after a brief consultation with the fly shop, I purchased some 7x tippet and headed back into the water.  With the smaller tippet I was able to coax a mid-sized rainbow into taking a midge on the surface.  Unfortunately I discovered another flaw in my system – I had no net and the steep banks offered nothing to work the fish onto shore.  After a solid fight, the rainbow broke off as I unsuccessfully attempted to land him. I continued the trend with a few other small fish, breaking them all off before I can land them. Then it happened; I hooked a massive brown easily approaching 30 inches. The fish pulled me up and down the stream for well near 10 minutes before beginning to slow. The first time I got her close enough to touch the fish took off for another minute of sheer running; the second time I started to get my hand under her when she sprinted again and broke the line. I will definitely need to return for a rematch.

New Zealand Café

So what about the town and food? On our way into town we stopped for a bite of lunch – we ended up at a quaint, garden covered café.  The food matched the gardens in quality – fantastic!  In Rotorua each day we would eat a late lunch and pick up some bread and brie (with Trish’s garden vegetables) for evening snacking.  Given my love for lamb chops, I was amazed that it was the end of the trip before I finally had a rack of lamb.  With the outdoor activities, food was an afterthought though everyone we spoke to in town raved about the culinary options.  The town itself was very attractive – it was definitely a touristy/outdoorsy town but with the friendly New Zealand atmosphere.  Hot springs were on the edge of town and afforded a pleasantly casual stroll.  The lake bordering Rotorua was gorgeous but apparently the black swans are killers…  We heard that there were tons of outdoorsy activities to do but limited by our time and endurance,  we stuck with mountain biking and fly fishing.

Unfortunately our trip had to end and after two weeks in country we began our journey home.  On our way back to Auckland we stopped in the minuscule town of Tirua; they have the quintessential tourist trap in form of a massive corrugated metal sheep. We initially pulled over for the i-SITE visitors center but wondered into the Big Sheep Wool Gallery. One of my goals for the trip had been to acquire a new fly fishing hat, while I had successfully found a suit and a cycling jersey it appeared no hat was to be had. But then I was saved by the metal sheep! I found a great and airy Selke hat, just what I was looking for; Katie acquired a warm lumberjacks hat.  With our heads covered, we boarded another Air New Zealand flight for home (and failed attempts by three different flight attendants to get my entertainment system to work).

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Abandonment at Picture Rock Trail (Lyons, CO)

Over the past four weekends Katie and I have been neglecting our mountain bikes; I spent a long weekend fly-fishing, we fled our mold-infested apartment (part of the wall in the bathroom literally fell down), and we have been preparing for Katie’s Alaska backpacking adventure with a backcountry trip in Rocky Mountain National Park.  I cannot remember what happened with the fourth weekend, but it was undoubtedly equally awesome…  We woke up to a brisk morning in the high 50s, which could be considered brisk given the normal summer temperatures in Boulder, and decided it was time to resume mountain biking.  Unfortunately, after such a long break and moving, it took over an hour to find and load my truck with all of our bikes and gear.  Eventually we said bye to our bulldog for the morning and headed north to the Picture Rock trail in Lyons, CO.

The trailhead parking lot was only about half full – rather surprising for a weekend however we suspect a lot of people were either at SPAN the Rockies or the Muddy Buddy.  We unloaded our bikes, my Trek Fuel EX 8 and Katie’s Specialized Epic, and headed up.  The trail was pretty awesome (assuming you are not in need of bombing the downhill and have healthy respect for blind turns), particularly after a break from riding.  The beginning section is flowy, placid singletrack through high mountain prairie grasses.  There are a number of rocky turns mixed in; just enough to keep you from staring off too much at the cliffs and mountains in the background.  After you have ridden a few miles and started wishing you were riding a cyclocross bike, the trail reminds you why suspension and fat tires are quite desirable.  The second part of the ride can be defined by tight turns and lots of rocks.  A few sections are somewhat technical, and require some momentum, but nothing is remotely comparable to the rock garden at Hall Ranch.  Like the lower section there are a number of blind turns that ensure you are paying attention to avoid oncoming riders; thankfully there were very few people who passed us on their way down.  After topping out and feeling nowhere near tired, Katie and I tacked on the Wild Turkey loop.  Quite a bit smoother than the latter section of Picture Rock with a significantly lower grade, we flew through the trees on the trail.  There were a few switchbacks mixed in, but nothing too tight as to lose all your speed.

Katie Mocking Me On Her Descent

After returning to the top of Picture Rock we ran into a guy with a pretty new titanium Moots YBB resting on the trail sign; I am still uncertain if he was just showing it off or actually riding.  The bike had been converted into a single speed rig, though the gentleman had an internal rear hub in at the time.  It looked so smooth, simple, and shiny – I drooled a little.  We chatted briefly; apparently two weeks ago he broke his handlebar and subsequently smashed his crank, frame, and massive amounts of skin.  Without a bike and the SingleSpeed World Championships rapidly approaching, he bought the YBB as an emergency replacement.  Unsurprisingly his wife was incredulous when he told her the price; I am uncertain if that is good or bad.

After leaving the Moots guy, Katie and I headed back down where we quickly learned all of our handling skills had evaporated; it was possibly one of the slowest descents I have ever made.  I would like to blame it on my legs being exhausted from speedskating on Saturday but I suspect that was not the case.  Thankfully everyone who was headed down on our climb appeared to have turned around for another lap, allowing us to pull off frequently; however it gave pause to consider our drastic decrease in skill as the riders passed, again.  Maybe next week’s awesomeness will involve less falling.

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