2 States, 2 Countries, 2 Posts!

Well this is a little odd for me, but there's just no way around it. Two posts under the same date. Give us a break we rode all the way to another country and back...we deserve TWO posts!

So if you're following along you know how the trip began. Keys, bag, passports...Yeah. Now let's get to the ride. The goal is simple...Vermont to Canada to New York and back to Vermont. In one day. On mountain bikes. With one tube. Ah....yep.

I carry a (1) tube and tools and a pump. The girl does not. I know this about her....or at least it's a really good guess. But I still only carry for myself...knowing full well if anything happens it's on me no matter who goes flat first.

So she's up ahead cruising down the hill and as I catch up I start to hear (to me) the unmistakable sound of a flat tire happening. I check my rear. My front. I'm good. So I ask the girl, do you have a flat? She says, no but there's a rattlesnake in the weeds.

A rattlesnake?!? Did you see it? And are you sure you don't have a flat? The noise is still there. The snake is not. She is convinced of both. Snake in the grass, air in the tires. Okay, I pass her and pedal on. I hear her call from the back, falling further behind, I think I have a flat.

Ah...yep. So we pull over and I start to dig into my bag...being extra special careful not to lose the passports.  Meanwhile the girl surprises me by taking off the rear wheel. I should hope she can change a flat, after all most of our beneficiaries can and she is my wife. Found the tube and levers, but I now notice the girl is removing the tube from the tire....Strike that, removing paints an incredibly toned down image of what was happening.

She is actually snatching the tube from the rim where it is being held captive by the nasty tire. Baby, what are you doing? You have to remove the bead of the tire from the rim before you take out the tube. I've never done this before, she quips. NEVER? Well, clearly, duh.

So here we are on mountain bikes being passed by 700c if at all and my one tube is already put into play. And we haven't even left Vermont. I'm a little panicked. What if we get another flat...in Canada? Do we walk back to the States, well, yeah I guess we would. Round trip was about 30 miles and 15 kilometers. Be a long walk. The girl is oblivious.

I actually assayed the situation and thought in a pinch, no pun intended, I could take the duct tape on the edge of her seat and possibly patch a tube if it happens again. If it's simple like a snake bite, that pun WAS intended.  But that's as long as I can get to her before she puts a choke hold on the imaginary rattlesnake and tears the living schrader out of it.

Passporting the Buck

It would be remiss of me to not include this story for the blog, although most will have already heard it in person had we met. It involves border patrol, passports, and visiting a foreign country...permanently.

Have I got your attention? I thought, what a great tale it would be - movie even - okay, the movie would be mediocre...but wouldn't it be funny if we rode our bikes all the way to Canada, got in, and then, lost our passports out of our backpack or something...it's always the or something that gets you.

What had happened whaz...we rode our bikes all the way to the road and we stopped. Still in the U.S. of A. mind you. To check the map. The girl wanted to go one way and I was sure the map said the other way. I'm usually wrong so I pulled out the map to check. Well, I went to remove my pack to pull out the map and the keys to the car swung around and whapped me in the face. Before I even opened the pack.

 

I looked at the girl. Who was last in my pack. And I remembered saying, be careful the passports are in there. And sure enough the pack was wide open, passports blowin' in the Vermont breeze. See now, I was already whining about riding my mountain bike all the way to Canada and how I was going to regret it on the way back...and already we had to make a detour...back to the car.

 

Because then the girl says, do you think the car is locked? Really? Do I think it's locked? When I clearly impatiently rode away before you were even out of the car! No, it's not locked. It's wide open. And I feel like there was a moment of hesitation when the girl actually thought, do we need to lock it? No, on second thought I'm quite certain that actually came out of her mouth.

 

See the irony of the whole tale is I just spent a buttload of cash fixing a window because I was afraid we would drive to Canada and it would be stuck open with our masses of personables trickling out of the Civic. And here we were about to consciously drive away with the car absolutely unlocked. Exactly how lazy are we?

 

We rode back and it wasn't as far as I thought. Together. We rode together, because we are a team. We both left the car unlocked. We both left the pack unzipped. We both rode back to fix the problem. It's not like we were in the wrong boat or something!

 

Oh, and that window I had fixed just for the trip...did I mention it's still broke?

Name That Road

I don't care much for technology when I'm riding...besides the essential phone that is. I have no idea how fast I'm going or even how far. I certainly don't know what street I' on or where I'm going. Just riding.

In the country it's no big deal. First of all, you really can't get lost. Too many rides marked right there on the road for you. Problem is you might have to ride the entire Seagull Century before you get back home. And FYI...there WON'T be a pie and ice cream stop.

But at least you'll never have to worry about turning the wrong way and being faced with a giant hill. No 35% grade in this corner of the country. Not even a .35% grade.

Here's the best part. You can always phone a friend. Every try this in the city? Where no one is FROM. They are likely to not know the next street over from their house. In the country you can give a cross street and the person on the other end of the phone will know EXACTLY where you are WITHOUT consulting a map.

In fact at one point today when I was on a long stretch of road and wanted to know where I was, I noticed there was never a street sign that named the street I was actually on, only the cross streets. I considered calling the girl at work just to read names off the mailbox to see if she knew where I was. Like a party trick. I bet she could have done it!

Hard Head

Recently we made some additions to our helmets in the city. For the events mind you. But she said, hey let's leave them on, they make people smile and maybe it's harder to be angry at someone with a monkey on their head.

Well I'm not sure about the last part, but they definitely do make people smile. Including myself as I passed under the parkway the other day, entered the tunnel, and ducked like a pterodactyl was about to take off my head. RAH RAH! Six more weeks of spring...the scaredy-cat cyclist was afraid of her own shadow.

So, in light of my better judgment I left the aeronotsodynamic hat at home on a recent trip to the windy country. Didn't need my head tossed around like a bobble head. Tragically, some other cyclist had 'borrowed' my helmet upon my arrival, leaving my melon unprotected.

She says, what, there are several motorcycle helmets laying around surely they must be good enough for bicycling. Ah, a smart ass, yes, but I would have been off with a parrot on my head! But if I put one on, it would at least get to leave the house this spring...on a bike that moves. Touché.

Really I could just take one of the 18 kitty litter buckets adorning the yard and cut eyeholes in them. I mean now that muscles figured out how to get the lids off!  I just pulled my Dr Pepper hat low over my eyes and tried to forget about it. I did well, minus the handful of times I tried to buckle my non existing strap. Ask me about my refreshing Downy water.

Stumped

Day 3 on the trail handed me an obstacle. Really the whole experience has been nothing short on obstacles. It's one obstacle after another. It's what defines the trail.

We are referring to the Day 3 Obstacle as The Rake Incident. And it has a tree by which to lay offerings. And I suggest you lay offerings. To be on the safe side.

The trail is defined by stump holes. It's why the trail twists and turns. It's why there are logs to jump. It's why you probably shouldn't walk the trail, only ride...and it could swallow your wheel. Be Ware. No, No, DON'T be Ware...good lord!

I did fall in my share of holes the last few days. Swallowed whole. By a hole. Really, these are no joke. To the knee. To the hip! It will drop you an easy 2-3 feet. But it doesn't hurt. Like they said when I jumped out of a plane...you need actual ground to be afraid, or get hurt; without it you are just falling. Tree Falling.

 

Day 4 was slow going. I miss the rake. I can't seem to get anything done without it. I mean I pushed on, but it wasn't easy. I'm back in the city now and can't wait to get back to my trail. Which is somewhat crazy...there are perfectly good trails here, no rakes required.

Tedi's Timbers - A Work In Progress

Well I've had it with Eastern Shore living. I mean it's wet like all the time. Every day I wake up, wet. Foggy. Icy. Dew. Wet, wet, wet. That small town barber must always be late for work!

Then the sun comes out and it's gorgeous. I grab my gear, load the bike, drive entirely too far for a mediocre trail...only to get there and guess what, it's raining.

It's unpredictable. Unexplainable. Inexplicable.
Done.

But you can't win that easily with me. I'm gonna out trick mom nature and build my own trail in the back yard! Yes. That is what I'll do. And I'm just stubborn enough to pull that off.

So that's what I did, started clearing the backyard. After a decade of neglect it really wasn't so bad. Gives me something to do. Will give me somewhere to play. And the pup and me can run off leash without anyone yelling at us.

I'll admit, it's not the best trail. The turns are tight and the ground is mushy. But, it's. right. in. my. back. yard. It's doesn't get any better than that. Unless your backyard is Allegrippis, that would be better.

Come to think of it Gambrill was in my backyard and I never even went there then, so it doesn't hurt to make a day of it. Load up the car, ride til it hurts, stop at a bar, drink til it feels better...

That's What You Get For A Dollar

Today I took my bike for a ride. In a car. I took my bike for a drive. And I wasn't happy about it. But it rained so I guess it doesn't matter anyway.

So instead of a nice leisurely, flat ride on the laid back Eastern Shore...cuz let's be honest the only place you can get a nice, leisurely ride on the Eastern Shore is in the woods, deep in the thickly populated dense forest, protected from the harsh flatland winds...I digress...

So anyway I got some sketchy directions. And let's be completely frank, I only blame myself because clearly I wasn't paying close enough attention. I remember something about a Y. But the girl does talk to me like I sprouted from a local country field, trolled the beaches since I was knee high to a praying mantis, was perfectly pooped from a purdue chicken butt. "You head toward Pocomoke..." I mean really, I have a 50-50% chance I guess and I know it ain't north. She's right I ought to know...But I never found the forest.

Instead I ended up making a circle and wound up right back in town. Otherwise known as, Route 13. Here, for miles and miles and miles, one can embark on the Dollar Tour. Dollar Tree, Dollar General, Family Dollar, Dollar Store, there's even one called Family Dollar Store. And this is in no way to be confused with Big Lots or Ollies Bargain Outlet.

So instead of doing ride bys of deciduous trees we were doing bargain buys at Dollar Trees. Not quite the same. It wasn't a good day on the Eastern Shore. I'm not sure if the rain made it better or worse. wah, wah, wah.

Back In Time

Like a trip in a time machine. A broken time machine. Today I went back to where it all began. When I first started mountain biking. When I was riding dirt along Naylor, no trails or trail heads. Back on my black High Plains.

Traversing Salisbury without touching pavement...well, sort of.  On some of my old routes...almost. Cutting back by the ball field...you can still launch off the old sand pile. That's where the fun started. Twenty years ago.

It's also where the fun stops. Jump forward to 2013. Well it was fun back in the day. Drop down by the zoo, weave through the trees just beyond the park. Cross the street and go at it some more. By the lake, pause on the dock, go all out weaving trunks and foliage.

Not so much any more. You can ride by the zoo, on gravel, no bobbing, no weaving. Unless you count the meandering dog walkers who have complete disdain for sharing the trail. Makes me have a new found appreciation for the city.

And I've spent many a year accepting the fact that I AM a vehicle. Here all the paths are marked Official City Vehicles Only..is that me? Is it not? Am I a vehicle? Can I use this trail? I have no freaking idea.

By the pond...it's completely unmarked. I guess? I can ride there? Back there where the magic started. Back where I actually helped blaze the trail a couple decades ago. But it's hard to say. Now it's Salisbury University's. Some kind of Frisbee playground. For adults. Where adults throw discs free of dogs...and probably bikes, but I couldn't be sure. There were no signs, but I was in constant danger of getting whacked in the head by a flying disc. And I'm not overly sure they cared for me ramping off their tee pads. Tee pads? Really? Whatever.

I had more fun riding over the curbs in the EVO parking lot really. Even if I did eat gravel on one of them. Just goes to show the riding is more technical in a parking lot than the actual single track of the big city. Truly, I'm not sure why I went with a 29er...really a niner would have been sufficient!

Sunday Roll

I know I promised all these blog entries about our upcoming riding adventures, but it turns out the girl can hold her own. Not that that should surprise anyone. I think in some instances she has redirected her emotional energy inward so I just don't know she's dying on the outside.

I, on the other hand, wear mine on my jersey sleeve. Today was just that day. And I have no excuse. I might as well have been riding an Amish bike for as well as we did.

I really think that's unfair to say now that I said it. We finished. We finished within the allotted time in fact. We even placed. Last. Yes, we were the last three riders back in the parking lot. But as you can see, we stopped often to take pictures and eat jelly sandwiches.

Thankfully the rest stops all waited for us before packing up and heading home. The last three stragglers. Out for a Sunday roll. But why then did my legs ache so? Oh, you think I'm kidding? You should have seen the sag wagon circling us like a vulture atop its prey. Patiently waiting for the twitching entree to die. "Okay, die already!" so says the girl; she should totally have her own blog!

It was a 'Rec' ride. I had no idea we would be racing against serious riders. Perhaps it's the lack of hill training we received on the Eastern Shore? I knew that would be back to bite me in the ass. I just had no idea two riders on Elliptibikes would dust us. 72 miles on a StairMaster! But I'm telling you the girl rocked!

Ride and Seek

Either you already know me and are full well aware of this or you've been following along and can naturally assume...I've found the love of my life. Problem is she lives over there. And I live here.

Up to this point we have been juggling nicely. In this corner we have the city closet and the other the country cottage. I'm fairly certain all the pets would prefer to reside freely in the country...just maybe not all together.

And I think both girls would also like to reside in the quieter, calmer country, even together, just one of the two gets bored. I'll let you figure out which one. That one complains about lack of activity, lack of excitement, the bugs, the wind, the straight, flat, boring rides. Oh, and the pillowcases the other one keeps trying to pass off as actual fortified pillows.

But I'm, I mean, she, is trying. Okay, it's me, I'm the complainer. But let's focus back to trying. It was windy as hell yesterday...and I couldn't wait to get there and throw the bike to the wind. I'm gonna beat that beast! Now I knew the wind was behind me, but it so rarely is here. So I went with it.

And went. And went. And went. I also took the ipod. Oh, yeah, that is a must have addition. Both ears, I don't really want to hear the car about to run me down on those curvy country roads, sorry Baby. And no GPS, I'd rather get lost.

And lost, I got. Well, not really, I'm not sure you can get lost there. First there are all these seagulls all over the road. White. Yellow. Teal. Full on green. SB, I followed that once too. And the sun and the wind and the tried and true, satellite dish. Clear view of the southwest sky. You can't get lost, but you can get good and far from home, quick, depending on the direction of the wind. And I say, ride with it!

So I did. And then I looked at my phone and realized I was nowhere near home and the girl was about to get off work. I was about to mess the whole night up as I was out trying to turn my bladed spokes into a kite! So I snapped a picture of the cross sign nearest me and sent it. Come find me! And she did. If you did that to someone in the city (in their same neighborhood) they wouldn't have a clue as to where you were! I'm just saying...

Okay, now go on and grab yourself a seat for this one....Are you ready? I love this girl so much I am about to propose....

....a compromise.

From now on I head out on the bike and ride with the wind until I either run out of road or time. I send pix of street signs and landmarks to the girl until she gets off work. Then she comes to find me, like a scavenger hunt, throws the bike in the truck, and takes me out for a beer. Yeah, I think maybe I could get used to the country...there's just that small hitch of a job....

Did I mention she stopped and bought me chocolate milk without prompt? That's my girl.