Daylight Savings = Post Work Rides

Losing one hour of sleep is a small price to pay for an extra hour of daylight in the evening. The warmer temps, melting snow, and extending light in the evening are all good things (Dug- yes, this means I am losing interest in backcountry and getting more and more excited for mountain biking. Deal with it).

Yesterday after work, Jamie, Tony and I met for a mountain bike ride in Corner Canyon (Draper). We rolled out of Jamie's driveway by 5:45 and rode for about 1.5 hours.

I was surprised how dry the lower trails were. We only had about 5 or 6 snow patches to navigate and they were only about 20 feet long. The rest of the trails are in great shape.

I lost another sprint to Jamie at the top of the jeep road climb. One of these day's I'll learn how to knock him off his line before I put the hammer down.

With the temps this warm, I'm thinking more and more about breaking out the lights.

Palm Desert Day 3

The guide books say that Palm Desert has the best mountain biking in So Cal. If you would have asked me if I agreed with this statement on day 1, I would have spit in your face and laughed.

Ask me after day 2 and I might have agreed. But if you asked me after day 3, I would have given you a "Hell Yeah".

Day 3 started out with Jamie and I making a quick trip to the local Kinko's to print out a full 11 page description of the trail complete with color photos (which actually came in handy because the first trail sign we came to was laying on the ground and had 2 arrows pointing in different directions. We actually found the picture of that sign on the print out and figured out which way it should be facing). We also printed 2 pages of topo maps with GPS coordinates. As we drove to the Kinko's in our golf cart, we let a local mountain biker draft off us as we picked his brain about the trail we were about to ride. I remember him saying...."it's probably not a good idea to go up there without a local showing the route. It's easy to get lost". Gulp.... Great, I thought. Better find a way to carry a 3rd water bottle this time.

We ignored the local's advice and decided to ride the trail anyway without bringing a local. My memory is already starting to fade but I think the trail we rode on day 3 was called "Palm Canyon". It was described as mostly single track that rolled along about 30 miles and dropped us into Cathedral City. We asked Jill (Tony's wife) to drive us about 20 miles up highway 74 and drop us off at the top of the trail head. I'm normally against any kind of shuttling but the route was described as having a lot of downhill with about 2,000 ft of climbing. So it wasn't like we were getting off easy.

Immeditaley, we found the trail and started to realize what a great day this was going to be.

This trail had it all. Tight single track, switchbacks, river crossings, technical rock sections, and amazing views. The trail was fast and not knowing what was around the next corner made it totally exciting. But the best part of this ride was when we saw the only other mountain bikers of the day. They were on freeride bikes and one guy was missing half his front teeth. We stopped and talked for a minute and realized one of the guys was the same guy we saw in the bike shop on Day 1. He was trying to get us to hire him as a tour guide for the weekend and kept mentioning something about him being a "Freeride Champion" and a pretty big deal over in Germany. We ignored him and figured that was the last we would see of him.

When he saw us on the trail, he looked down at the single speeds and said "Dude, you guys are hardcore. Look at you....all in shape and everything".

The trail eventually dropped us into a wash and turned into a 3 mile sandy climb. It was like riding on the beach but uphill. It was hard because you had go fast enough to keep the momentum in the sand. If you stopped, it was hard to start back up again. Head down and legs burning, we made it up the climb and back onto the Dunn Jeep road. I knew what was ahead. The Hahn Trail. I pulled up along side Jamie and made sure he knew it was a race to the top of the jeep road. I'm pretty sure I'm 1 for 50 against Jamie when it comes to a sprint finish to the top of a climb. I think we have about the same gearing on our SS but for some reason, he can generate twice the speeed.

After 3 days of desert riding, I was amazed that none of us had a flat yet. The trails were lined with cactus and thorns. We were all riding tubless with Stans which was the right way to go. We tried not to talk about it but eventually it happened. With about 7 miles to go, Jamie flated, then Jon, then Jamie again. Between the 4 of us, we had enough tubes and CO2 to fix the flats and make it home to the wives. Just in time for diner and a movie.

Special thanks to Tony and Jill for the invite. Good times!

Day 2 - From Hell to Heaven

Note: If you plan to ride mtb in Palm Desert, I highly recommend arm warmers and leg warmers for protection against cactus & sharp bushes.  My arms and legs looked like I got into a cat fight. 

Note #2: Despite running out of water on day 1, Tony still refused to slap a second cage on his bike.  (Tony, check your mailbox, I'm sending you something).

Note #3: If you don't have tubeless, stay home.

 

Day 2-

Needless to say, the next morning, we were very cautious with our route selection.  None of us were up for another epic day in the heat and our legs were still burning from the effort the previous day.  But more importantly, we couldn't let the wives see us get lost again.  We spent most of the morning hydrating with Diet Coke and water and more Diet Coke.  I was just trying to get to the point where I could pee again.  I must have lost 5 lbs of water weight from dehydration from day 1. 

With Jamie as our guide, we looked over the maps & guide books and mapped out a shorter ride that only had a 2.5 mile climb on the jeep road before it turned into single track.  2.5 miles?  that would be a piece of cake, right?

The day before, we were so anxious to ride that we left right from the house and rode from town on our single speeds up the pavement to the trail head.  This day; however, we threw our bikes into the mini van and drove to the trail head.  I'm not a big fan of mini vans but I'll admit they are very handy.  4 guys and 4 bikes all inside the van and enough cup holders for a small army.

We found the trail head and started the ride. within minutes, we found ourselves on a steep, sandy, nasty climb that had us second guessing ourselves.  The thing is, in Palm Desert, every ride begins with a grunt.  I guess it's how they roll in So Cal.  These grunts seem to weed out the weak and spoiled which is probably why we saw only 5 other bikes the entire 3 days of riding . 

After 1.8 miles of lung busting climbing, we noticed a trail head which could have been what we wanted (Goat trail I think is what it's called) but we decided to keep climbing until we got to 2.5 miles (as described in the guide book) just to be sure we didn't take another wrong turn. The problem was, we never saw another trail until mile 4.  After working our way to the 4 mile marker, turning around seemed silly.  We topped out at the "oasis" where we made the critical decision yesterday to go left instead of right.  I couldn't help but laugh.  To think we could have stayed right and had 4 miles of downhill into town instead of 27 miles of hellish climbs.

After Jamie and Tony double checked the maps, we decided to gamble and try the Hahn Trail which started from the Oasis at the top of the climb.  We had no idea where the Hahn trail would take us but it looked pretty good.  

The Hahn trail took us on a short climb to an overlook.  The overlook revelaed a huge single track downhill loaded with switchbacks. We weren't exactly sure where this huge downhill would take us but it would have been a sin to not ride it.  Every few minutes we would stop, regroup, and look down at the valley floor below and shrug.  Someone would throw out the comment "I'm sure if we had to climb back out, it wouldn't be that bad" or "look at all the tire tracks, this must be a popular ride.  We should be okay".  Not knowing if it was a mistake to go all the way down.  It would have meant a brutal climb back out despite our attempts to rationalize.  At one point, we had stopped to discuss our options again, and we noticed there were only 3 of us now.  Jon couldn't help himself and he took off downhill and never looked back to see if we planned to follow.  I can't blame him.  I think we all felt that we had earned the right to some sweet downhill after all the climbing we had logged.  The rest of us watched him go down and down, weaving back and forth in and out of switchbacks until he disappeared into the valley below.  At that point, we were all committed.   No turning back now.

We got lucky.  The downhill dumped us into a wash which rolled along the valley floor until we hooked back into the Goat Trail (our original planned route for the day).  We eventually connected back to the jeep road.  Jamie wanted more and he went exploring while the rest of us worked on our sun tan.  5 minutes later, Jamie came back and we coasted down the road back to the car.

The Hahn trail would make its way into day 3.  It was THAT good. 

The Definition of Epic

This is a guest post written by Tony Parkinson

I'm guilty of using the word epic to describe 2+ hour rides up American Fork Canyon or the mountains of Park City/Deer Valley. Both areas I know very well, and plan my rides accordingly with plenty of food and H2O.

This past weekend, the true meaning of the word epic was revealed to me, and has forever changed my perception of what an epic ride consists of.

I enjoy the benefits of having in-laws that have a vacation home in paradise, otherwise known as Palm Desert, California. Frequently during the winter months there is an open weekend that I can enjoy a boys trip, or as the case was last weekend, a couples trip with my wife and a few of our close friends.

I frequently had traveled with my road bike down to the desert to spin out the winter cobwebs from my legs. However, it wasn't until I read an article in Mountain Bike Magazine regarding some great trails in Palm Desert and Palm Springs, that I had thought about riding my mountain bike in the hills that border the cities to the East.

Rick, myself, Jamie Pogue and Jon James thus endeavored to explore a few of the trails most mentioned in the article. One in particular, was the Art Smith Trail, which is an 8.5 mile one-way, or 17 mile out-and-back that includes some steep terrain, awesome views, a palm oasis or three, and gnarly trail features. The trail head began at 307 vertical feet with nowhere else to go but straight up. See the attached photos for a visual depiction of the trail, (ie; gnarly trail features, palm oasis and awesome views.) You thought I was embellishing?

After two hours, 8.5 miles and 2,000 vertical ft, we found ourselves at what was a critical junction in our ride. The Art Smith Trail "T'd" into a fire road which is known as Dunn Road. We had a decision to make which would be the defining moment of the day. The results of which would lead to the inspiration of this post.

We had 3 choices: 1) Ride straight onto the Hahn Trail, which is a beautiful single track. (More on this trail later in a post by Rick.) 2) Go right on Dunn Road, which unbeknownst to us at the time, descends only 4 miles into Cathedral City, where we could have simply called our wives to come pick us up; or 3) Go left and follow Dunn Road back to Hwy. 74 where we started. Sounds like a no brainer right? Well, had we known that the fire road which led us back to Hwy. 74 was a 27.5 mile, 2,000 vertical foot climb, we would have gladly chosen another route. Unfortunately for us, but fortunately for you the reader, we chose to ride the Dunn fire road back to Hyw. 74.

Every climb in the remaining two and a half hours of our ride was marked with anticipation that just over the pass would be civilization. Did I mention that there were at least a dozen more climbs, for a total of approximately 2,000 more vertical feet in elevation? Long climbs that would taunt me by disappearing over the horizon. But each time I approached what appeared to be the summit, I found a false flat or a quick descent into a sandy wash with another steep climb following. Pffff! That was the sound of the hope leaking out of my soul at every false summit.

No man uttered curse words like those out of our mouths that day. I was out of water long ago with only one water bottle cage on my bike. I took both drink and food from Jamie and Jon, and still needed more. Rick and I began to recall various episodes of Man vs. Wild and suspected that we may have to put the lizard/scorpion/beetle eating scenes into play. Jon was cramping bad, which required him to sit down frequently. We were all happy to wait with him and walk beside him, despite being anxious that we were burning precious day light. To be fair with Jon, we all probably walked as much as he did as we were all on single speeds. Although I don't have any evidence, Jamie walked too. Don't let him tell you any differently. Things were bad with no end in sight.

With the day expiring quickly, I pulled out my cell phone to call my wife and tell her that we were lost, but thought we knew where we were headed. I made sure that she knew we were on Dunn Road and expected to come out on Hwy. 74. Techno-geek Jamie went one step further by telling his wife our coordinates from his Garmin, hoping she could find us with the GPS unit he had left at the house. Little did I know that the sound of my voice, in addition to the knowledge that we were out of water, and quickly closing in on dusk, worried my wife enough that she and the girls began seeking advice from Coachella Valley Search and Rescue.

Finally, it appeared that our luck had turned as we began to descend without another climb in sight. Like a literal oasis in the desert, we rolled into a rural subdivision and desperately sought evidence of someone home via an open garage. We rolled up to a worn woman and her child in their yard and must have startled her as she held back her barking dog. Her husband who closely resembled "Dog" The Bounty Hunter, came out to greet us as we described our desperate situation and asked for some water. At least a dozen water bottles later, and a couple of photo opportunities for his kids who wouldn't believe "the day the mountain bikers visited", he pointed to the exit of the subdivision and said the most beautiful words I'd heard that day yet: "1 mile to Hwy. 74".

Once on Hyw. 74, we descended rapidly back home. We had called our wives earlier upon descending into the subdivision and they met us and followed us home in their mini vans full of damp towels, water bottles and trail mix for their weekend warriors.

As I said to begin this post, epic has a new definition in my vocabulary after this ride. Epic rides must include cramping, fear, the lack of provisions and fluid, and the stakes are doubled if you become lost. Never again will I be caught using that word for any Saturday morning rides near home.

P.S. I'd like to thank Rick for making my dreams come true by being his first guest blogger! Good times bro.

I Feel 18 Again

I visited a chiropractic physician today to get my back adjusted. I've gone 35 years and have never had this done before. I'm here to tell you that you have not lived a full life until you've had your back adjusted (and I mean really adjusted). I'm pretty sure the receptionist who was on the other side of the door and 20 ft down the hall heard and felt my adjustment. Immediatley after, I jumped up off the table and felt like a new man.

I've always been reluctant to go to the doctor or take any medication unless I really needed it. I'm starting to wonder what else I've been missing. Maybe I'll try an Ambien tonight?

I'm back in business and ready to ride. Good luck to all who will be racing the St. George Intermountain Cup this weekend. I'll be out of town but have my eye on the race in April.

Bad Mood

It's been 4 days since I've done anything active.  The past 3 days have been spent at an offsite company kick-off event (10 hours of Powerpoint for 3 days straight).  And as soon as I got home, I sprained my back.  I haven't been able to do anything but lay around with a bag of ice on my back.

It seems like it takes months to get into shape and less than a week to lose it all.  

I'm about to crack.  If someone has a gun and wants to come put a cap in my head, please do.  

Value Meal

Last year, I spent $26 on a 5 lb bucket of whey protein shake.  I was pressured into buying this because EVERYONE at work had at least one of these 5 lb buckets in their office or on their desk.  It didn't matter if that person was skinny or large, everyone was on the whey protein.

The label says it contains 79 servings.  But every time I open the lid to make a shake, it seems like the protein powder has multiplied overnight and I still have a full bucket.   Should I be concerned?  Does this stuff have an expiration date? 

Check my math here but if divide $26 by 79 servings, I come up with $0.329 per serving.  That's less than half of any any item on the Wendy's dollar menu.  Where was this stuff when I was a starving college student?  

I guess the only problem is after about 10 shakes, I start to crave a different flavor.  Anyone out there want to trade buckets?  I hear the berry flavor is almost as good as Pepto-Bismol.