Well, THAT was fun (Pt. 1)
For the last four months, my life has revolved around one thing - my bike. That, and getting ready to ride the Kokopelli Trail. The Kokopelli Trail is a 150 mile trail from Fruita, CO to Moab UT. If you know anything about mountain biking, these two places are very important places in the sport. Kind of like Lambau Field is to football. Or Madison Square Garden to basketball. This year is different, though. I've ridden the Koko twice before. For my third try, I've decided to ride it on a 29er singlespeed. I bought a Redline Monocog at the end of 2009, and fell in love with it. In early 2010, I found a smoking deal on a Gary Fisher Rig, and sold the Redline. Regardless, I haven't touched my 26" bike since.
To get ready for the trail, I've put off a lot of things I really should finish. Like the bathroom. For the past year, I've been putting new greenwall and tile in. I've had some really good excuses for not finishing, though. The original tile was a bitch to match - that took some time. Putting in greenwall was another thing altogether. I finally got the backing in, and the tile matches pretty well. All that's left is to grout the tile, and remove the plastic sheeting I put on the wall. I've put off doing something with the yard. My excuse is the yard is dead, but in reality, it just needs some work. A little raking, some fertilizer and seed... I might have a nice yard.
The ride is the last week of April. Three days to do the entire thing. I spent money to do this supported ride. There are companies that do this trail in 5 days, and they cost an arm and a leg. The company I ride with describes itself as the 'HomeDepot of bike tours - everything you need, nothing you don't'. They get your gear to each campsite, bring plenty of water and cook pretty good meals. All out of the back of 2 big Budget rental trucks.
The first year I rode Koko, it rained every day. Not the soaking rain you might imagine if you are in the east coast. In fact, the rain is not the bad part. But when it rains, the ground turns into one big mud pit. There are reasons they made houses from this mud! I remember being totally demoralized. The weather would be clear in the morning, only to have clouds gather in the afternoon for an extended rain shower. In fact, we weren't able to ride the mountain pass out - it snowed 6" the night prior, and we had to go back the road we came in on. The road was a red soup of mud. And then you'd go through wet creek crossings. Rumor had it there were 24 crossings, all wet. I didn't count, but it was then I realized how wet the desert could be.
Along with the weather, I rode a totally stock Gary Fisher Tassajara. So it was HEAVY. One of the first things I did to upgrade this bike was to buy a different stem. A 100mm Ritche stem. It replaced the stock stem, which contained the warning "May disintegrate if exposed to off-road trails" or something to that effect. Trouble is, coupled with a longer Fisher top-tube (that's what they call 'G2 geometry'), I was stretched out on that bike way to far, and spent the entire trip off the bike laying in my tent popping muscle relaxers.
When I went the next time, I had totally upgraded my bike - new brakes, front shock, wheels - everything. I'd gotten my fit fixed (mostly), and the weather was pretty good. I had about 1000 miles on my legs, and I was ready. Despite my buddy breaking his collarbone on the first day, then leaving the trip (he was also my transportation home), it was a good ride. I had pretty severe knee problems the second day, but some Motrin and an adjustment to my seat allowed me to continue. The last day, on the last climb (17 miles of climb), the weather drama hit. Hail, rain and lightening, all coming down as hard as it can on an 8000' mountain. Absolutely brutal. I made it over, but barely. On the descent, the storm had dropped the temperature by at least 20 degrees. Coupled with the monsoonal rain, wind and my speed, I wound up with mild hypothermia in the company's bus before I could make it to Moab.
So this year, I was ready. A new bike that fit, warm clothes, and an attitude going in that I could do this. If only the weather would cooperate.
About that.
I check Accuweather.com two days out, and was greeted with the headline "Hurricane force winds slam the west". A quick check of the map, and I saw western Colorado directly in the line of the storm. There was hope, though. It appeared the storm was tracking slightly north, and if we could get through the first day, we might be OK.
My buddy and I had decided we'd camp at a nearby state park. We drove out seperately, and the entire drive was nothing but a severe headwind.
This is not good.
We got to the park, and set up camp. The weather was a little chilly, but great riding weather. We were going to sleep in his late-60's VW van. Dinner was fixed, and a ride was gotten. Just a quick one to make sure all the parts of our bikes would stay attached. We started a fire in the fire pit, and that's when the wind kicked up. I'm not sure of the best way to describe this wind, other than heavy. Heavy as in 'tie down everything that's not attached to something heavy'. Heavy as in 'don't stand up or it will knock you over'. As the night wore on, it got colder. I was good - I had a warm coat - I was prepared! We finally gave up and put out the fire, and headed into the van for some sleep. I got the top 'bunk'. It really was just a canvas stretcher, but with my pad and sleeping bag, I was pretty cozy. The wind continued to howl. It was so bad, I thought the van might tip over.
And then it stopped.
Just like that. I woke up about 1:00 am, and the wind was no more! If a person can be joyful at 1:00 am, I was. Until I heard the rain. Not big drops, mind you. More like dainty little drops hitting the canvas sides of the pop up. Plip! Plip! I tried to go back to sleep. Maybe I was imagining it. I'd go back to sleep, wake up and the weather would be perfect.
Yeah, right.
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I stepped out of the van. I saw the worst thing I could imagine. Wet bikes. Wet everything. Remember what I said about the mud? The trails would be impassable. There would be no way we'd ride the Kokopelli Trail if even a little bit of rain had dropped south of us. Looking around, we saw clouds in all four directions.
I muttered several deleted expletives, and got into my (warm) riding kit. We ate breakfast, and packed up. As we drove to the meeting site, I knew no good could come of this. We pulled in and saw a couple of people waiting. We parked, and I got out of my truck.
My foot sank into the mud. With every step I took, more mud would adhere itself to the bottom of my shoe. After about 10 steps, I felt like Frankenstein walking in big hob nail boots. We found out the ride had been postponed until noon. A group of us decided to try the trails anyway. The sun, after all, was trying to peek out.
It turned out the the trails weren't too bad. We got a nice little 10 mile ride in, and returned to the parking lot. I was hopeful the weather drama was over. The owner of the company showed up, and the trucks showed up, and the riders gathered around the sign up table.
And it was good.
As the owner gave us our instructions, I felt a little moisture on the back of my neck. Then a little more. Before I knew it, dark clouds had screamed overhead, and it was snowing. It was still warm enough that the snow melted before it hit the ground, turning the previously semi-dry parking lot into a squishy, muddy morass. The owner took one look at the sky, then looked at the riders assembled before him, and made the announcement everyone was dreading.
The ride is canceled.
People were mad. People were disapointed. The owner offered two options. Come back next week for the second ride, or go with him to Moab for an impromptu ride.
I chose the latter.
As I thought back today on why, I realized it was the weather that had beat me. I was so tired of the weather drama. This trip is a great ride, through some of the most amazing scenery I've ever seen. The thought of slogging around Moab during a winter storm in May just didn't excite me. I'm very lucky I have an understanding wife and boss. I'll be back next week, and I'll ride the trail in perfect weather.
At least, that's what Accuweather.com says.
To get ready for the trail, I've put off a lot of things I really should finish. Like the bathroom. For the past year, I've been putting new greenwall and tile in. I've had some really good excuses for not finishing, though. The original tile was a bitch to match - that took some time. Putting in greenwall was another thing altogether. I finally got the backing in, and the tile matches pretty well. All that's left is to grout the tile, and remove the plastic sheeting I put on the wall. I've put off doing something with the yard. My excuse is the yard is dead, but in reality, it just needs some work. A little raking, some fertilizer and seed... I might have a nice yard.
The ride is the last week of April. Three days to do the entire thing. I spent money to do this supported ride. There are companies that do this trail in 5 days, and they cost an arm and a leg. The company I ride with describes itself as the 'HomeDepot of bike tours - everything you need, nothing you don't'. They get your gear to each campsite, bring plenty of water and cook pretty good meals. All out of the back of 2 big Budget rental trucks.
The first year I rode Koko, it rained every day. Not the soaking rain you might imagine if you are in the east coast. In fact, the rain is not the bad part. But when it rains, the ground turns into one big mud pit. There are reasons they made houses from this mud! I remember being totally demoralized. The weather would be clear in the morning, only to have clouds gather in the afternoon for an extended rain shower. In fact, we weren't able to ride the mountain pass out - it snowed 6" the night prior, and we had to go back the road we came in on. The road was a red soup of mud. And then you'd go through wet creek crossings. Rumor had it there were 24 crossings, all wet. I didn't count, but it was then I realized how wet the desert could be.
Along with the weather, I rode a totally stock Gary Fisher Tassajara. So it was HEAVY. One of the first things I did to upgrade this bike was to buy a different stem. A 100mm Ritche stem. It replaced the stock stem, which contained the warning "May disintegrate if exposed to off-road trails" or something to that effect. Trouble is, coupled with a longer Fisher top-tube (that's what they call 'G2 geometry'), I was stretched out on that bike way to far, and spent the entire trip off the bike laying in my tent popping muscle relaxers.
When I went the next time, I had totally upgraded my bike - new brakes, front shock, wheels - everything. I'd gotten my fit fixed (mostly), and the weather was pretty good. I had about 1000 miles on my legs, and I was ready. Despite my buddy breaking his collarbone on the first day, then leaving the trip (he was also my transportation home), it was a good ride. I had pretty severe knee problems the second day, but some Motrin and an adjustment to my seat allowed me to continue. The last day, on the last climb (17 miles of climb), the weather drama hit. Hail, rain and lightening, all coming down as hard as it can on an 8000' mountain. Absolutely brutal. I made it over, but barely. On the descent, the storm had dropped the temperature by at least 20 degrees. Coupled with the monsoonal rain, wind and my speed, I wound up with mild hypothermia in the company's bus before I could make it to Moab.
So this year, I was ready. A new bike that fit, warm clothes, and an attitude going in that I could do this. If only the weather would cooperate.
About that.
I check Accuweather.com two days out, and was greeted with the headline "Hurricane force winds slam the west". A quick check of the map, and I saw western Colorado directly in the line of the storm. There was hope, though. It appeared the storm was tracking slightly north, and if we could get through the first day, we might be OK.
My buddy and I had decided we'd camp at a nearby state park. We drove out seperately, and the entire drive was nothing but a severe headwind.
This is not good.
We got to the park, and set up camp. The weather was a little chilly, but great riding weather. We were going to sleep in his late-60's VW van. Dinner was fixed, and a ride was gotten. Just a quick one to make sure all the parts of our bikes would stay attached. We started a fire in the fire pit, and that's when the wind kicked up. I'm not sure of the best way to describe this wind, other than heavy. Heavy as in 'tie down everything that's not attached to something heavy'. Heavy as in 'don't stand up or it will knock you over'. As the night wore on, it got colder. I was good - I had a warm coat - I was prepared! We finally gave up and put out the fire, and headed into the van for some sleep. I got the top 'bunk'. It really was just a canvas stretcher, but with my pad and sleeping bag, I was pretty cozy. The wind continued to howl. It was so bad, I thought the van might tip over.
And then it stopped.
Just like that. I woke up about 1:00 am, and the wind was no more! If a person can be joyful at 1:00 am, I was. Until I heard the rain. Not big drops, mind you. More like dainty little drops hitting the canvas sides of the pop up. Plip! Plip! I tried to go back to sleep. Maybe I was imagining it. I'd go back to sleep, wake up and the weather would be perfect.
Yeah, right.
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I stepped out of the van. I saw the worst thing I could imagine. Wet bikes. Wet everything. Remember what I said about the mud? The trails would be impassable. There would be no way we'd ride the Kokopelli Trail if even a little bit of rain had dropped south of us. Looking around, we saw clouds in all four directions.
I muttered several deleted expletives, and got into my (warm) riding kit. We ate breakfast, and packed up. As we drove to the meeting site, I knew no good could come of this. We pulled in and saw a couple of people waiting. We parked, and I got out of my truck.
My foot sank into the mud. With every step I took, more mud would adhere itself to the bottom of my shoe. After about 10 steps, I felt like Frankenstein walking in big hob nail boots. We found out the ride had been postponed until noon. A group of us decided to try the trails anyway. The sun, after all, was trying to peek out.
It turned out the the trails weren't too bad. We got a nice little 10 mile ride in, and returned to the parking lot. I was hopeful the weather drama was over. The owner of the company showed up, and the trucks showed up, and the riders gathered around the sign up table.
And it was good.
As the owner gave us our instructions, I felt a little moisture on the back of my neck. Then a little more. Before I knew it, dark clouds had screamed overhead, and it was snowing. It was still warm enough that the snow melted before it hit the ground, turning the previously semi-dry parking lot into a squishy, muddy morass. The owner took one look at the sky, then looked at the riders assembled before him, and made the announcement everyone was dreading.
The ride is canceled.
People were mad. People were disapointed. The owner offered two options. Come back next week for the second ride, or go with him to Moab for an impromptu ride.
I chose the latter.
As I thought back today on why, I realized it was the weather that had beat me. I was so tired of the weather drama. This trip is a great ride, through some of the most amazing scenery I've ever seen. The thought of slogging around Moab during a winter storm in May just didn't excite me. I'm very lucky I have an understanding wife and boss. I'll be back next week, and I'll ride the trail in perfect weather.
At least, that's what Accuweather.com says.
posted by Videopelli at
17:08
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