Tam' Slam...

....Well, not quite a slam. But we did get slammed by the heat. As Scott so eloquently put it "I feel like a bug in a jar right now..." Yep, it was the weekend and time for more dirt riding. I met up with Aaron and Scott in Mill Valley, mid Sunday morning. Our plan was to replicate a ride we'd done a few weeks before and climb Mount Tamalpais. Its been a while since I've ridden with these lads. Aaron took a school trip tumble a while ago and popped his shoulder so has only just started riding again.

We ended up taking a different route to last time. The heat was killer so we needed to find fun without so much of the climb. The vertical itself isn't so brutal, but when you're breathing from an open oven door it tends to deplete the energy and spirit. En route we passed one poor soul "calling to dinosaurs" - (copyright A.Aubrey 2010.) Still, we hit the very top of Mount Tam and headed on our giddy way back down to the railroad grade trail.

don't recall what trails we took. But I do recall the speed we took them at! Scott is like a genie on the trails - all you see is a puff of smoke (or at least trail dust) and he's gone! The trail started out full of baby head rocks - made me appreciate the plushness of 6inch travel - and eventually evened out to steep rutted fireroad. Great fun. Made more so by my recent addition to the MTB arsenal - eyesight! Yep, I wore my contacts for the first time and it made a big difference. No longer was I focused 3 feet in front of the front tire. Now I could confidently look down the trail and let the bike and body instinct do it's thing.

We finished our ride with a spirited run back to Mill Valley and then onto the Marin Brewco for burgers and beers. Perfect. I'm already looking forward to the next Lemurian Brother's reunion ride!

Over the Bridge

Its the countdown to Downieville, so in anticipation me and Spangles decided to get some mileage and footage under our wheels this weekend. Downieville starts with a brutal climb. I'd been googletubing videos in the week and simply watching was enough to make my legs tremble. Fun shredding would have to wait. We needed to feel some pain!

With this in mind we decided we should hit the Marin headland trails. I'd heard good things about this area and, on paper, it looked like a good, long ride with some nice steep climbing. Its also very close to home so we could roadie style it from my place. After a quick fuel up at the Chestnut Bakery (great coffee) we were ready. Riding over the GG Bridge is made a little more technical by dodging all the tourists and road bikers. But its a good way to warm up. By the time we hit dirt we'd already covered 8 miles.

We took the coastal road down to Bunker road and hit the Rodeo trail before bearing right onto the Bobcat trail. The first of several long climbs taking us back up to 1000ft or so above sea level. From there we rode to the Tennessee Valley Trailhead and picked up the Coastal Trail. The flavour of the day was to be climb, descend, climb, descend - and repeat. This was perfect.

The Coastal Trail is closed to bikes on certain sections which is a shame - but understandable given the number of pensioners and toddlers en route. That kinda technical I don't want to deal with. So we took the coastal fireroad to bypass (and add some more climbing) and then re-connected near Muir Beach. This short section of the Coastal Trail gave a cruel taste of how fun it COULD be.... lots of ruts and whoop de doo's .... but lots of families and rogue dogs. So we had to exercise restraint. Maybe a mid-week or early morning session is in order to really take advantage of this place...

Once we hit the trail to Muir Beach, we peeled off to the Green Gulch trail. Through the Zen centre and then onto a nice, steep technical climb. This one caused my all too familiar cramping and burnout to kick in. But a couple of minutes rest and some Sharkies later I was good to go. Before it gets really brutal, the terrain levels out and the heart rate goes back to normal. Once we cleared Green Gulch, we stopped to sort some mechanical issues and scoff scooby snacks before the climb up Coyote and on to the Miwok trail. Now, Miwok is fuuuun! Deep ruts, lots of jumps and - thankfully - few hikers. It even throws a few tight switchbacks at you to keep things interesting. My technique was a little less than fluid on a few of the jumps and I hit a few smack on the front side. But it was no bother to the Nomad's stride. 6 inches of travel will do a lot to smooth out shabby trail riding. Speaking of which, with all the climbing we were doing I really noticed how great the pro-pedal is. Its only once you unhinge the Nomad's plush suspension do you realise just how firmed up the arse end is by the pro-pedal. Impressive stuff. But I digress.

So, we'd had our fun. Back to the meat of this ride ; climbing. Our descent had taken us to the Tennessee Valley trail head. Now we needed to head back up to the Bobcat trail. A quick before and after Garmin check verified my guestimate - we had a good 1000ft of straight climbing ahead. No worries. By now, we were 25 odd miles in and feeling pretty good. I'd been playing with a new pedaling technique all day which seemed to be reaping rewards. I normally just huff and puff and stab my feet south to get through the climbs. But the Nomad is an unforgiving beast when it comes to climbing. She's no slouch, but she aint no mountain goat either. So better technique was called for. I focused on using my upper legs to "kick and scrape" through the pedal cycle. It feels a little strange, but works a treat. Every time I nailed it, my cadence got faster, smoother and less strenuous. But its not quite hardwired yet. I need to work on making it my default stroke - especially when the going gets tough and steep.

Anyway, all these thoughts of technique and analysis are going through my head as I spin the granny gear up the climb. Like all the ascents that day, the grade wasn't steep enough to warrant resting - "no one got stronger from stopping" I kept chanting to myself. But it was long enough and intense enough to lay down some solid foundations for Downieville and beyond - I hope.

We hit Bobcat and rode back to Rodeo and onto Bunker road for the climb out, back to the bridge. Just in time too as my camel sack was run dry and we'd finished the last of the scooby snacks. Riding past the tourists gathered at the look outs, I took stock of all the epic views we'd seen that day - A fringe benefit of enjoying our sport and something I'd otherwise miss out on. Another good reason to get out and ride :o)

After five and half hours, 36 miles and 5500ft of climbing, we arrived back in the city. Confident we'd reap the rewards of our graft later. But also aware that we'll need to get a couple more sessions like that under out belts to make Downieville as pain free and fun as possible.

Orange

No "real" riding this weekend. Just a treck around San Fran on my trusty Orange hardtail. The P7 really is the perfect city bike. Yeah, its a bit heavy but it climbs the hills of this place no problem. And those lovely big, flat DMR V10's are a great platform for urban riding. I finished up riding on the trails near the Golden gate Bridge. Gentle single track, but great views. I did briefly consider kitting the P7 out with some panniers or a rack to add some practicality to these city jaunts. But then I remembered the countless trail miles I'd ridden on this bike, including a few races, and decided she wasn't ready to be put out to pasture just yet. ;o)

6610 : Tamarancho Dirt Classic

The weekend of the 6th June saw me, Spangles and Rosson head to familiar territory for the Tamarancho Dirt Classic race. Car mechanicals and sunburn conspired to halt me and Spangles in our pursuit of dirt but thanks to Rosson giving us the keys to his truck, and aloe vera, the day was on! Now, I've said this (to myself) time and time again ; always, always carry a spare pair of gloves in your camelsack. Always. That was a lesson well learned at Napa. Not going to make the same mistake again. Nope, this time I won't bring ANY gloves with me instead. What a fool. I left all FOUR PAIRS of my gloves in the truck. Something I realised 20 minutes before the start and after 2 miles of climbing from the carpark....... My lizard skins were already dripping with sweat. This was not a good start. Luckily, lady MTB luck decided to step in, or at least Jason's mate did, and handed me a pair of fingerless gloves for the duration. Sorted.

After limbering up in the gorgeous sunshine and chatting to a few locals (including a fellow Sheffielder who, at 49, didn't look a day over his mid 30's - a great advert for riding and Cali' weather) we were all set! The race was to take in most of the regular Tamarancho loop with a few additions. The direction of travel was oppposite to what I'm used to riding which threw up a few pleasant suprises. The tough, tight switchbacks normally tackled on the climb are great fun on the way down. And the infamous Rock is far more manageable when riding down it's imposing face. It shone new light on an old friend, but I still had enough local knowledge to know when to keep my kung fu wits about me.

The main difference between the race and the regular Tamarancho loop was the inclusion of the Dead Heffer climb. I'm not entirely sure were it got it's name. But, it feels strangely appropriate. Your, once nimble feeling, bike soon feels like a hellish dead cow when you're at the pushing stage which - for me, was not long into the race. I did have a decent ride though. Really had my wits about me and enjoyed the flow of Tamarancho's perfectly groomed single track. The switchbacks were especially satisfying... keep off the front brake, let the bike track through, use momentum, point the bike and it'll go, use the back brake to skid out the rear a little - nice!

But the climbing killed me. Especially as we had to do the Dead Heffer climb 3 times. Three!?!?! There's a special place in hell for the person who thought that would be a fun addition to the race. The first climb was a "warm up!" After that we proceeded, heads bowed and panting, to push our steeds up it's unforgiving fireroad. Well no amount of sugary goodness in my camelsack could save my legs from fading fast. And then the cramps kicked in...... So any chance of a decent time was screwed. But this didn't stop me enjoying the course and the general atmosphere. There really is no better way to spend a sunny Sunday than riding hard in the company of fellow MTB enthusiasts. Although the day wasn't without its casualties. Navigating tight switchbacks and baby head rocks with the flutter of a rescue helicopter's blades in your ear is a visceral reminder of the dangers of this sport.

Still, we finished the race, a little more sunkissed, tired and happy. Spangles did a great job. The times haven't been posted as I write this, but he finished a good half hour ahead of me. A cracking job for his first race. We're doing Downieville next month. I think we (ok, I) need to get some conditioning in to cope with the climbing. Maybe a Mt Diablo ride is on the cards....

May's End 2010

During the memorial day weekend me and Spangles took a trip to Mikes Bikes in San Rafael for a snoop around. Whilst there, idly perusing the magazines and energy beans I spotted a poster for the Tamarancho Dirt Classic MTB race. In my head, I thought the race was at least a few weeks away..... but on closer inspection (ie, reading the details properly) I realised it takes place during the first weekend of June. Ie, next weekend. So, instead of spending this particularly leisurely long weekend taking pictures like this :

I decided I really ought to be out on the trails getting some mileage in. So me and Spangles decided to tool up and head to China Camp for some much needed shredding. China Camp gets several mentions on this blog. And with good reason. Its such a great place to ride. Swooping, fast trails and some fun stuff to session when you feel like it -ie, the Nike drops at the top of the dyno' climb*

I had hoped to get a cheeky Tamarancho session in before the weekend was out, but a creaky hub put paid to that idea. The Nomad is currently in the shop having this seen to. They're also dialing in my suspension for me. I wonder if they can dial in these (still) bruised ribs while they're at it.

* Dyno climb ..... strangely pleasant.

Quantum of Solstice

I've been MTB riding for exactly two years now. For the most part I've enjoyed leisurely weekend rides with good mates on my Orange hard tail - no dramas, just good fun and fitness to boot. Moving to Cali' has inspired me to be a better rider. The trails out here really deserve no less. I apsire to ride with more finesse, definitely more speed and with enough skill to elevate me above the weekend rambler level that I feel stuck at right now. I've been riding with highly skilled people, signing up for races and devouring MTB literature in the hopes that my abilities would improve. So, I'm at a point now where I know where I want to be and I know where I deffinitely am at. The problem is there's an aching chasm between the two. Each weekend spent trying to bridge it inevitably leads to swapping some DNA with the trail and nursing another harsh lesson through to the next ride. (For the record, this week's injury is nice set of bruised ribs.) Still, all I can do is learn from the mistakes and take it to the trail the next time. Oh, and keep buying new bits of body armour.

The penultimate weekend before my 33rd birthday. The weather in Marin is beautiful. Perfect conditions to hit Tamarancho for a quick spin before being introduced to pastures new - the Solstice trail. Me, Jason Spangles and my good friend Jason Rosson met up at a teeming Fairfax java hut on the sunday. Us and dozens of roadies and dirties all getting limbered up for a solid day's riding. Solstice was heavily anticipated. Jason usually rides it at night with his hardcore downhill buddies, so we knew it was going to be tough. But I looked forward to the challenge on my (still) new Nomad.

Tamarancho was its usual mix of fun and technical challenges. It was Spangles' first time riding there. He's also doing the Dirt Classic so it was good for him to get a taster for the terrain. Once we'd ridden most of the loop, we headed out along B-17 and Porcupine towards the start of the Solstice climb. Porcupine really is a great way to end a Tamarancho session. A good way to give the legs one final stretch and to warm down the bike kung fu on the lovely sweeping singletrack.

The climb to the Solstice trail head is borderline brutal. Borderline in that its very long.... veeery long, but its a constant grade. So once you find a good cadence you really have no excuses but to push on and enjoy the view. Rosson - with his single speed legs - soon left me and Spangles behind. We eventually caught him at the top. Whilst we took in the stunning Bay Area panorama, Jason - a veteran of this climb, tinkered with pixel pets on his iphone.

We'd climbed for a reason. We were about to meet that reason. Rosson is an excellent rider. And he's a good guy too. Always happy to offer advice and tips to help your skills. His best advice of the day (appart from his post ride pub suggestion) was to use speed for stability. This is advice I knew well. Coupled with confidence, speed will get you through many a sketchy moment. But its hard to apply it 100% of the time. My problem was, I decided to disregard it at the exact moment that we crossed a ditch. Target fixation, not enough momentum, thinking about what might happen instead of where I wanted to put the bike - all school boy errors which led to me falling, ribs first, into said ditch (at a -40% grade - thanks for that handy piece of info my Garmin friend.)

All this was before we'd hit the scary stuff. By now, my mettle was well and truly shaken. But we cracked on. A few stumbles and a nosebleed were had, but nothing major. The waterfall section of Solstice is where Jason's friends strap on armour. That gave me and Spangles some idea of what was to come. In truth, I wasn't really feeling it. I rode part of the steep, rutted stuff, but played it safe and walked down the really sketchy sections. It left me frustrated at myself, but keen to come back and tackle it with fresh confidence.

Its not hard to be taken out of your comfort zone in this sport. That's a big part of the appeal for me. But I need to get some confidence sessions in to up my game. Momentum and confidence. Sounds simple when you write it down, but its amazing how fragile those words become when you're poised at the top of a trail that will either lead to a huge grin or a night in A&E. For now, I'm checking out body armour online and hoping my ribs heal before the next weekend's ride.

Spangles Knows His Onions.....

Leafing through my iPhone pictures I came across these little beauties. Taken on a fairly un-blog worthy ride a couple of weeks ago up in Santa Rosa We were all set for a day's riding in the sun, but mother Annadel had other ideas and decided to turn our sunny climb into a quagmire descent. We were completely ill prepared against the cold and wet but, Jason just happened to have his onion goggles with him. After my experience at Napa a few weeks before, I'd always fancied a pair of onion goggles. I was convinced they were the perfect solution to MTB mud and rain riding ; clear eye protection with absorbant matte black sponge creating a seal against the fizzog. So we made the best of a bad ride and let Jase guinea pig them for us. Result? They don't work. Still,that shouldn't stop us from enjoying the sight of Spangles styling them out on the trail.

Henry W Coe State Park

So, I bought this book here and started ear marking trails that I want to hit over the summer. Three routes are suggested for Henry Coe state park. I picked the hardest looking one and hit the road out towards San Jose way with Jason Spangles and our rides. We didn't know exactly what to expect but felt well prepared with our guide book and route maps. The terrain was 70% single track stretching for 16.8 miles with about 3000 feet of climbing. All figures I hoped to verify on my new Garmin Edge 500. A nifty piece of kit that I paired with a heart rate monitor. The Garmin appeals to the inner Knight Rider fan who wants their bike to tell them how fast, far and high they're going - as well as giving a friendly beep when approaching cardiac arrest. After a couple of mechanical issues (notably a burst camel sack) and equipment/gadget checking, we headed out into the wilderness.

Now, I'll start this record by stating that the book has the whole route arse backwards. I'm relatively new to mountain biking Norcal style, so I'm by no means an expert, but I always thought single track was fun to ride DOWN and fire road was bearable to ride UP...... Not according to our trusty route master book. Unfortunately, for all its sophisticated GPS intel, my Garmin couldn't warn us of this. Our fate was set. And so it was, in the baking Californian heat - with compromised water supply - we rode into Henry Coe to tackle its 70% worth of uphill single track.

Now, don't get me wrong, Henry Coe is a great place to spend the weekend. It has beautiful lakes and epic vista views..... But these days I only care about "epic" when it's in the same sentence as "trail". The single track climb was relentless and frustrating. We both found it hard to keep a steady cadence and kept getting outwitted by soul sapping steep ascents and devilish switchbacks. Once you finally reach the top (after several false summits) you have a few reasonable downhill sections, but its mainly just fire road. A good place to practice some bike skills, and for me to allow my new avids to break in, but not enough grin factor to make you forget about the heavy slogg getting there.

Still, it was good training for Downieville (our route was slightly longer than the book's 16.8 miles - we were closer to 22 miles.) AND we managed to avoid the parks famous inhabitants - Tarantulas! ...... Glad I knew about those fellas AFTER I sprawled about in the long grass trying to get cool pictures for this feckin' blog!

I rounded the weekend off with a short loop around Tamarancho. We have the dirt classic coming up very soon so I wanted to work on my switchback and technical skills. Tamarancho has some outstanding terrain. The single track really is quite amazing and its very easy to be whisked along and forget how demanding it is. Well, on this day I was reminded with a bump. Towards the end of the ride I lost concentration - and a lot of elbow skin - to another lesson learned : keep your weight balanced and centred and focus on the trail. Oh, and if you have elbow pads - they're really no use sitting in the car......

Weapon of Choice

So, May started off the way any birthday month should start - the purchase of a new ride! I've spent the past year researching what full suss' bike to get. I looked at the Yeti 575, a couple of Treks, the Blur.... all sensible XC bikes that would serve my purposes adequately. However I'd always get drawn back to the Santa Cruz Nomad. Something about it made me want to ride it. The raking head angle, burly frame and graceful geometry arcs just look great. I've tried to justify the choice to myself and others by saying things like "the 6 inch travel will give me confidence to ride harder and faster.. blah de blah" but the simple truth is, I think it's one hell of a sexy looking piece of hardware. And I wanted it.

I picked it up from the Family Cycle Centre in Santa Cruz. A very nice, and knowledgeable bunch of folks. I chose the X9 build kit with a couple of upgrades. I flirted with the idea of the new carbon frame, but decided to rein in my spending. The SRAM X9 build on the aluminium frame isn't exactly featherweight, but I'm used to heaving my cromo steel Orange up slopes so I figured it'd be ok. I went for a Chris King headset and the Fox DHX 5.0 air shock. I also chose the Lyric solo air fork option. Powdercoat black. Crank Brothers Acid pedals and, to top it all off, a Gravity Dropper Classic seatpost.

The Nomad's maiden ride was to be at China Camp state park in Marin. A favourite playground of mine full of nice, sweeping single track and some decent, rutted downhill. There's also a cheeky selection of near vertical drops next to the rocket launch pad to test your mettle kung fu (which we did - all of them - with the Nomad barely hitting the full 6 inches of it's silky smooth compression.)

It's going to take me a while to dial the Nomad in. I need to get used to the feel of full suspension and longer travel before I can tune it to perfection. But I'm totally smitten. Racing down twisty-turny singletrack, is a dream like waltz. Every subtle shift is transmitted through the geometry allowing for tiny balance corrections to be dialed back in. However, when things get sketchy, you can use the Nomad's as a brutal, blunt instrument to carve through and sort it itself out to safety. Both these qualities instill an enormous sense of confidence both in the bike and the trail. I've never ridden as well or with as much enjoyment as I did the first time I took this elegant brute out. Roll on the weekend!

Night Rider(s)

So, April proved to be a pretty epic month ride-wise. Me and Jason Rosson decided to see it out with a bit of night riding. I bought a nice Exposure Lights Diablo light last year and never used it. I thought it about time I cracked it out of its blister pack, strap it to my head and make haste to Camp Tamarancho.

I haven't done night riding since me and the Aardman fellas used to spend cold, muddy nights together riding Ashton Court. I'd forgotten how unnerving the forced tunnel vision is, or how ruts and rocks can suddenly come out of nowhere. Its also the first time this year that I've braved Tamarancho. Either I'd forgotten just how technical and challenging that place is, or the winter has not been kind and made it extra specially rutted and tricky. Either way, I made my way round like a freshly squeezed out bambi deer, desperately trying to stay upright.

I'll definitely make the night ride a part of my weekly routine. We have the Tamarancho Dirt Classic coming up soon. I can't think of a better way to sharpen my Tamarancho kung fu than by squinting my way around it with a couple of torch lights for company.

Shasta La Vista Baby!

The weekend of the 24th April saw me, Scott and Aaron travel north for the Lemurian Shasta Classic. A 26 mile race which starts from Whiskeytown lake, climbs 5200 feet up Mount Shasta and then takes you alongside Brandy Creek to the finish. With numbers like "26 miles" and "5200 ft" floating around, liquor is the last thing you're thinking about. Instead we opted for a quick motel breakfast and headed to the lake.

The race was organised into categories, but it didn't matter as we all took off in one big huddle. The first part of the course took us along the road to the trail head. 350 plus mountain bikes of all persuasion hurtling along must've been quite a sight. One guy shouted "Hear the knobbly roar!" which instantly became the quote of the day.

Once we hit the trail head the warm up began. A grueling slog up a few miles of fireroad. My bike - fresh from the tune up shop - clearly knew it was to be replaced very soon with the Nomad. The front derailleur refused to give me the granny ring and the rear couldn't decide what gear to settle on, so gave me a few choices whenever I put any sort of pressure on the cranks. Typically, it settled on the gear just hard enough to force a dismount. Not fun, and something which made me seriously believe the bike had a heart blackened by jealousy as the ride progressed.

Once over the first big climb it was time for some downhill. Some nice, rutted single track to warm up the bike kung fu skills. After that, a long, steady single track ride through amazing scenery and a few refreshing creek crossings. Its at times like this, out in the fresh air, rattling along in the open countryside, that you really do wonder what you did before you discovered the joys of 26inch wheels. The next bit reminded me. I used to avoid excruciating pain. Now, for some reason, I spend my weekends in it.

The second big climb was the longest I have ever pushed my bike up. I might've had a fighting chance of riding it had my gears behaved. But the biggest handicap was cramp. If you've ever seen the stiff legged goats on youtube you'll have some idea of how I looked. I wasn't alone though. The trail sides were littered with us poor soles, hunched over and looking bewildered at our squirming thigh muscles.

After a few rest stops and a few more Goo shots I reached the top of the second climb. I'm not sure how many miles we had to go as my trip computer had given up in disgust. It felt like it should be the home stretch, and it was. The descent back to the lake was a mixture of some serious X and XX grade drops and some epic technical single track. Putting mechanical issues aside (both bike and body) I grinned through the technical stuff and took in the awesome beauty of Brandy Creek.

I finished the ride just shy of the five hour mark. A good hour or more longer than Scott and Aaron. Its a fantastic race, but one you need to prepare for. I need to start hitting those San Francisco hills to build up some strength. Its Downieville in a few weeks for more of the same (and a couple of extra miles.) As I crossed the finished line I thought the best was over. Until I saw Scott and Aaron who welcomed me with a prize! yep, I'd won a T and a beanie in the raffle!

Whine Country

So, this last sunday (11th April) was the annual Napa Valley Dirt Classic MTB race. My good friend Doctor Jason Rosson told me about it - wide eyed. I checked it out online - looked fantastic. So we signed up. Having done my research, ie watching a few youtube vids, I had it in my head that the race was going to be 22 miles of buttery singletrack, riding in the idyllic Napa countryside with the sun on our backs. We'd stop every now and again to nab some grapes and congratulate ourselves on how well we were riding. An amazing day was guaranteed.

Cut to sunday am. Driving to Napa, relieved that I'd packed warm riding gear (including a spanking new Canondale jacket.) Its heaving down with rain. No worries I thought, the website said "rain or shine." It must be designed for this kinda weather..... Oh how wrong I was.

Within about 6 or 7 minutes of arriving at Pacific Union College I'm soaked wet through. I meet up with Jason and we hang around the start line until its time to go. I'm still optimistic and he's poised and confident. No ideas of the horrors we're about to endure. Jason's riding single speed so he heads off. 10 minutes later me and a bunch of other 19-34 year old males are heading through the college towards the trail head.

Now, I won't labour over describing the ride. The part of my brain that deals with trauma has blocked much of it out. Needless to say it was, as the locals kept saying "brutal." About 4 out of the 22 mile track was fairly decent twisty single track that held up well in the mud. The rest was uphill slog, pushing the bike against a torrent of muddy water. The trails were seriously rutted which made the downhill switchbacks especially challenging when you're fading into a hypothermia induced delerium. I lost count of the number of poor souls I saw at the side of the trail shivering, waiting for the nice man with the quadbike ambulance and blankets. By mile 15 everyone's legs were getting cramped, but survival instincts kicked in and we pushed on.

After a few hard falls and some hairy muddy descents, I arrived at the finish line. Glad I'd made it one piece. I really didn't care about my time (which was just as well as I finished last in my category as it happens.) I found Rosson, shivering in his truck. He rolled down the window and I was horrified by his blood red eyes. He learned to wear goggles on a muddy ride the hard way. Jason saw my disgust at his eyes so decided to distract me by displaying his hideously disfigured hand. The poor fecker had dislocated a finger! (but still managed to finish ahead of me!?!) I offered sympathy to the poor dude.... but then realised I'd suffered an injury even more tragic. On one of my many high speed (ahem) tumbles I'd put a feckin' hole in my new Canondale jacket. Gutted. Jason shed a tear. We tried to console eachother. It was a great jacket.

Trail Fruit

When out on the trails, keep yer eyes peeled for these little fellas. You can't miss 'em. They're about 8 inch long and bright yellow. The locals refer to them as "Banana Slugs." We had no idea why until Jase had the idea of peeling it from the arse end. Sure enough, it had a firm pulp for insides that tasted just like banana! Who needs Cliff bars and gel shots out on the trails when mother nature provides the avid rider with such a bountiful selection of natural treats? Marvelous.

April 2010

It turns out California also suffers from April showers. Nonetheless we set out, one wet Sunday in April to make fools of those who say "you can't ride Skeggs in the rain." Well.... they're wrong! You actually can't ride Skeggs when its wet, slippery and full of soul sapping mud! See, Skeggs is full of epic climbs. Epic is a manly way of saying "really feckin' hard" Those climbs become even harder when you've only got one pack of Sharkies between the three of you. Imagine the Travelator on ITV's The Gladiators - its like that. Except the Travelator is covered in mud and roots and you're running up with with a bike that - in my case - weighs about the same as a Wolfman. You get the picture.

Still, we discovered the South Leaf trail (which they thoughtfully put right below the North Leaf trail.) Definitely one to hit in the dry. Some very challenging, technical climbs and great descents. Come on Cali'... where's the feckin' sun? Still, on the bright side, the drive back on the 101 cleaned the bikes up proper job.

Mikey's Blog

Mikey Ford has been riding bikes since before you could get them in colour. He's a true vet' and an all round great guy. He lives on the doorstep of some truly epic scenery and trails. He's been kind enough to give us a little insight into his world here :

http://www.tastypixels.co.uk/blog/

Mount Tam'

For some strange reason, I'd avoided riding mount Tam until now. I'd always imagined a brutal climb, nice views, a quick fireroad descent and then home for an early bath. One weekend in March I was proven wrong.

Me, Jase, Scott and Aaron parked up in Mill Valley and started the single track ascent to West Point (about 1700 feet.) The climb was relentless and had some extremely tough technical sections but was consistently pleasant as long as you had the stamina. Luckily I'd had the foresight to pack some sharkies so I didn't need stamina - I had gelatin and sugars to keep me going.

The views along the way were beyond the scope of my poor iphone. It couldn't do them justice. Needless to say they're spectacular and worth the climb alone. The whole bay to breakers vista is outstanding on a clear day.

Once we hit West Point, we started the descent towards the general direction of Stinson Beach. The descent starts with some fun, fast fireroad and then turns into some epic single track where your only choice is to batten down the hatches, hold on and grin!

We then climbed our way back to West Point and descended back to Mill Valley the way we came. Again, great fun - but beware of hikers and sunday cyclists. The technical sections going down were no easier than coming up. A couple of tumbles were had and blood was spilt, but all in a days work.

Mount Tam - 1700 feet (x2) 25 miles....... and another cracking ride in the bag. Nice!