Outside work

Today we spent several hours preparing for the fast approaching Spring season. We don't have students until March, so all that we've been doing is staff training. This afternoon there was a pause in talks and demos for those who will be teaching the academic courses like myself, rather than the adventure activities (i.e. high ropes, climbing, kayaking, etc.). So sheds were cleaned out, gardens were tilled, animal pens swept, wood cut & collected, and sport facilities stocked. The Mesquite down here is brutal to saw; so dense and hard. Like everything else down here, it has thorns too. Huge ones. My hands are all sorts of cut up and rough (from riding this weekend too). It's a great feeling.

The coolest thing that happened today was saving a lizard. While cleaning out the little shed that housed the tennis rackets and balls, we found a foot long spiky reptile on a racket. With further inspection we realized that it got stuck crawling through one of the square holes of the racket. Its hind legs would not squeeze through. Knowing it was in trouble, it patiently waited as we figured out how to free him. The first thought was to force him to move back through the hole, but when we picked up the racket to take a closer look we saw how big his scales were. Going that way was not an option. So I started pulling apart parallel strings to open the square. That did the trick and he scurried away. Neat little guy. Mostly tan and black with light blue stripes on his side and belly.

It's these little experiences that might not be framed as educational or are necessarily part of our training, but serve to familiarize us with our surroundings. To work with your hands in your surroundings, getting dirty and scratched up, having unexpected run ins with wildlife...this is how you learn a place, how you come to appreciate it for what it is. The task will be to correlate this learned appreciation into the lessons I teach and experiential education I put forth.

Hill Country Riding... WOW

Guess what Central PA Mountain Biking elitists. There are rocks in Texas too. Not the kind we're used to. Not long jumbled stacks of Glacier waste that get dusty, grey and white with wear. Not trail after trail of body contorting, torque grunts. The difference is that they're interdispersed with fast, loose, sandy stretches that blur the Prickly Pear cactus and Mesquite trees. There are long, bare bedrock stretches where the line is not so apparent. The rocky sections are technical, challenging, and lo and behold, damn fun.

I've done two mountain bike rides since I've been in Central Texas. The first was in Muleshoe Bend, a pay-to-park hive of trails run by the authority that looks after the series of man-made lakes strewn along the Colorado River. $5 got me a freshly printed map and trails reminscent of PA's beloved Raystown Lake and a delighful smattering of tricky bits similar to those found in the Cooper's Gap region of Rothrock State Forest. That's right. Raystown AND Cooper's Gap. Two of the riding gems of Central PA. Minus of course layers of snow and ice, and plus tons of shit with thorns. The singletrack isn’t as wide as it is in most of Raystown but would open up to a picturesque Lake Travis every once in a while, similar to Rays. It is only an 8mile loop and I had plenty of time to complete one and a half laps before I left. I was pleasantly surprised. Riding round here was off to a good start.

Today, almost on a whim, I went to Reveille Peak Ranch, just North of me. From my searches of nearby trails, I’ve gotten the sense that open access trails are not nearly as common as places like these. Luckily, since their grand opening was last weekend and they’re still trying to attract riders, they were offering free access all weekend. So I loaded the Selma back on the truck and drove up past the county seat, Burnet towards Lake Buchanan (pronounced Buck-canon down here, as opposed to Bew-canon). After getting lost a bit (which was enjoyable, because I got to see more of the lake), I rolled into a red dirt lot alive with mountain bikers. The single speed, full rigid rig on my truck captured everyone's attention. I got talking with Russ and Jamie who seem to manage the place and immediately got solid vibes. This was the sort of place where killer weddings go down. The lot was adjacent to a "spare no expenses" outdoor kitchen, bar, stage, pool and sand volleyball court, all overlooking a beautiful little lake tucked in granite and green hill sides.

When I finally pulled myself from all the friendly people (including both the trailbuilders/designers of this place AND Muleshoe!) and told them my story, I rode double track around the water into something like 20 or so miles of spectacular single track. Up and down granite outcroppings. Round and through junipers. Switchbacks to vistas. Short grunting rises. Across exposed bedrock in streams....I forgot to drink water; I was having too much fun. I'm going back tomorrow. It's the kind of place that would certainly get me in shape when ridden frequently. And I hope to. A guy back in the parking lot, from Austin, made the bold statement that it was the best Texas had to offer. I'm ok with finding it this soon! Plus, the cook hooked it up and took three dollars out of his tip jar so I could afford a burger. Nice. Oh...and they plan to add 40 more miles of single track. Very cool place.

1st Impressions

1.) They don't know how good they have it down here. Leaving in an ice storm that locked up the entire Northeast made this even more apparent. It is temperate and comfortable down here. Downright beautiful compared to the miserable winter I left behind.

2.) I know absolutely nothing about the flora and fauna down here; especially in Texas. My second day in Raleigh, I rested at a lake on the NC State campus and watched the birds. Other than a few mallards and Great Blue Herons, I didn't recognize any of them. There must've been six different kinds that I saw. Now in Texas Hill Country, it is painfully clear that I am in a foreign land. All through the Northeast when out and about, I remained enthralled by my surroundings, but was rarely surprised. Down here, the trees, the birds, the dirt, the general geography, is all so different. Are there bears down here? What are the major predators? What should I look out for? What plants should I not touch? Which ones can I eat in a pinch?

3.) Where are all the bikes? On the entire drive down to Raleigh, then Athens, then Houston and now up to Austin and Marble Falls, I saw maybe five bikes on cars. In Raleigh and Athens I barely saw anyone riding. It wasn't until Houston, on the bike paths in between homebase and trails, did I see a number of roadies and tri riders. This goes back to numero uno I think. Most cyclists are probably still hybernating.

4.) I'm not sure what the general environmental ethic is down round these parts. The trails I rode in Houston went alongside what they call a "Bayou". I would call it more of a hybrid between a stream and a canal. The Houstonian's must think "bayou" is French for "drainage ditch". I rode over countless culverts, dumping fluids of all sorts. One rivulet appeared to be flowing with a mixture of Windex and Simple Green. I can't imagine it's all that different in Texas compared to Pennsylvania. I suppose I'll learn in the coming months. The contrast really was that of a rural area like State College to an urban, sprawl of a city like Houston.

5.) I stick out! My red half-ton pickup with two bikes prominently posted on the back. PA plates. My cycling cap and sandals. I probably sound funny to 'em too. Yea, I get stares.

Houston and Onward

So I got sick once I arrived in Houston. My body must've known that it arrived at a familiar, comfortable place, and it just gave in. It has been freezing all week here, so it wouldn't have been much fun to go explore anyway. I spent most of the week inside, playing with the nephews, sleeping, and eating...a lot.

Yesterday it got warmer finally and I forced myself to get out and ride, eventhough the flu wasn't entirely kicked. In Houston, a place that always gets a bad rap in my circle of friends, I was able to leave the front door, ride a few miles on a bike path and find a network of trails that were challenging and fun. I was impressed. And I was pleased to find out that Houston isn't completely hopeless. This site helped further ease my mind. This place has more green spaces than I previously thought.

Tomorrow I head to Marble Falls and begin staff training. But before I get there, I'm stopping at another pocket of trails called Muleshoe Bend. It's right across Lake Travis from where I'll be working. I figure it'll be a good way to start the big day. Get my head on straight.

Everyone has been telling me that I will love it where I'm going. Finally I get to find out for myself.

Raleigh to Athens to Houston

Thoreau wrote as part of a rich discourse on the idea of walking that a 'saunterer', someone who meanders with purpose, is someone who has "no particular home, but equally at home everywhere". I often apply his thoughts on walking to traveling in general. Whenever I travel, this idea comes to the forefront of my mind and I realize how at home I feel on the 'open road'. This time around I forgot how much I missed the feeling; to have everything you need in motion with you. Whether that be in a backpack or in this case, in a small pick-up truck. Living off of the land you find yourself in; water from a spring, coffee from a gas station. Sharing food and laughter with friends or strangers.

My travels to Texas led me to Athens, GA to spend time with close friends Casey, Travis, and baby on the way. The three of us know eachother from thru-hiking the AT in 2004. We spent time drinking and eating together, catching up, listening to music, walking and taking it all in. We made a delicious corn and potato chowder Saturday night before I left. It was nice spending time in their space, seeing how their lives are unfolding, witnessing the beginnings of a young family.

In Raleigh, my first stop, I visited my old boss and friend Susanne with her kids Marcos and Jenna. Sadly, no pictures from there. As soon as I got to Raleigh, Susanne and I went for a run in the unseasonable warmth. We all walked just down the road later on to get pizza in a cool place called Five Points. The next day I explored NC State, the bike paths, and the greenways by bike. All in all a brief but splendid visit, with great solo explorations and collective conversation.

This drive South so far has resembled a shopping trip. Going from cool city to cool city, having close friends show and sell them to you. "If you lived here, you can do this...you could live here...you'd hang out there" and so on and so forth. It's great. If and when I head back East, Raleigh, NC and Athens, GA are high on the list.

Today I awoke to the voices and garbles of my sister and nephews. Here in Houston for a week. We'll see if Houston can make the list. Having been here before, I doubt it will.

State College to Raleigh. Contrast.

Yesterday I woke up to a place covered in spongy ice, holding water that refused to freeze. Damp, dreary, and depressing. Monochromatic and uninspiring. I arrived in a place full of warmth and fervor of life. Within minutes I was on a run in shorts and a tshirt in a byzantine maze of town parks, bike paths and historic houses all framed in deep coniferous greens.

Texas.

I'm finally moving. Here.

Iron Cross XXX Edition

With the NUE series and the summer with it all but a distant memory now, the plaid army has been waiting for the right race to invade. We salivate over the long, epic style events. Must be something in the water. So the not too far 8th annual Iron Cross had us storming down from Central PA like rabid squirrels after a bowl of nuts. Trail riding on a cross bike? Long fire road climbs and super fast sketchy descents? That's just another day in Rothrock for us. Off to Michaux!

We were rolling deep in the single speed division. Feeling fresh and fast from this years Month of Mud, Jordyn Drayton was ready. Back in town and back on a bike, Eric Roman came down for his first race in a long time. Looking for something longer than Cross Vegas, Bill Alcorn of Bikeflights.com fame, showed up primed. Then there was the idiot doing it on a fixed gear: me. Vicki Barclay was feeling strong and looking good in the womens field. Chris Ruhl, with purple hair and fresh tattoo, and the tall glass of water, Rich Straub were our men-with-gears division. We were armed with an assortment of rigs; from Roman's classic pink IF, Chris's touring Surly Cross Check, Vicki's fresh and super light Ridley, to my loud lime All City Nature Boy. For us, our cross bikes are more than just racing bikes. They're commuters, touring bikes, and death march crush machines. But I digress...

The woods of Michaux were on the cusp of full blown Fall foliage. The sun was burning clear and the air was crisp. It was a fine day for a bike ride. Race promoter Mike Kuhn could not have picked a better day. October, 10th 2010. 10/10/10. X.X.X.. Choose you're own "extreme" pun. That day, if they weren't spoken, they were thought. Brutal gravel climbs, a loose scramble up a gas line, and tight single track, not to mention, for some, the formidable distance, were plenty to call it extreme.

The race began with nearly three hundred pairs of cold legs sprinting into the "spiral of death", an open grassy field taped off in classic cyclocross style. With 62 miles ahead, blood still in your core and not in the muscles where you need it, the early up-hill barriers were walked over rather deliberately. Everyone went round and round, riders going the opposite direction only a foot or two away. It spreads everyone out then dumps you back on a gravel road to get into a rhythm. No significant elevation changes for a while, just a sandy beach to navigate and a stretch of the Appalachian Trail to poach. Long pavement stretches followed with some stiff climbs and scenic orchards. Aid Station 1 at mile 13 showed us that this race was well stocked and well staffed. Many thanks to the fantastic volunteers that day! Onward and upward we kept going. The trail sections were fast if you've ever been on a mountain bike. Roadies were easily spotted as I rode past and they walked rocky sections.

Then there was Wigwam. Quite an innocuous name for what it proved to be. Every cross race should have at least one run up. This tended to be more of a crawl. With bikes on shoulders, people scrambled up like ants up a wall. The view from the top was incredible if you cared to look behind you. It wasn't actually the top though. Another shorter walk-up slowed everyone again. Aid 2 awaited at the real top. The air was cooler up there and it became clear that you've gained quite a bit of elevation. Riding towards the next station was more of the same gravel rollers and country roads. The one long trail section was tight and twisty, with slick peanut butter mud, making it quite the grunt.

After winding round a bit on those country strips of asphalt, a quiet Aid 3 appeared. It sat there at the base of a beast. 5 miles that went up and up until you wonder if you're still in PA with elevation like this. A singlespeeders delight. A geared riders test in pace. You either let it defeat you early on and suffered the rest of the way or you blanked out your mind and took one pitch at a time. I chose the latter; zig-zagging up the steep pitches to make them more gradual. With this hill slayed, after several false summits, only a few small, yet challenging obstacles lay ahead. Much more taxing trail stretches. Another hot, exposed, eyes squinting from sun and sweat, walk-up (with the sweet nectar that is PBR handed out at the top). And more beautiful stretches of road to take in the colors.

The finish was back in the field where it all began. Only a few twists this time and one set of barriers, with everyone watching. You could either look the fool hobbling over these or try to show off for the crowd. Either way, it was hard not to finish with a smile. 62miles of grueling yet down-right gorgeous riding completed. Custom engraved wooden "medals", an ice cold Coke, a sweet tshirt, and a selection of Hammer recoverite were handed out. Cha-ching! "Don't forget to get your burrito and sweet tea!" they told me. Even better!

'Twas a good day for the plaid invasion. Vicki rocketed herself into 1st place for the ladies. Straub got himself a top twenty even after fitting in some modeling. Chris was our top finisher, proving to everyone that he still got the skills. Jordyn, Roman, and Bill rounded out the top ten in SS. I finished; which was really all I wanted to do on a fixed gear. I never knew spinning out while going down bumpy gravel roads can make you go temporarily cross eyed...

As if we didn't get enough, Kuhn had himself a schwag toss and raffle for the crowd of tired souls. Good stuff. Then the awards. Vicki climbed herself to the top of the podium and as a team we stood next to it in Second place. The winning team got two cases of Sam Adams and we walked away with a far superior case of Troegenator, so we at least felt like we won.

Photo's by Abe Landes over at www.aelandesphotography.com.

The 'Rock star' route at SMT100

Still disappointed and feeling like a fool about my DNF down in Georgia, I rolled into Stokesville, VA unsure of whether or not I really wanted to ride another 100miler. The NUE series has taken its toll on me and general exhaustion crept into my body like color seems to be creeping into the leaves 'round these parts. All I wanted to do was finish and be done with it. Shenandoah 100. This was the final race on the NUE calendar. With no chance of placing in the series (you have to complete 4 out of the 8. I only had two finishes.), I didn't care much about who I finished ahead of or behind. Finishing strong always feels good but so does having fun. Traveling to Fool's Gold and now this race with long-time NUE SS racer and fellow team mate, Matt Ferrari, I got to hear plenty a story about doing these races. My interest was piqued when he told me about the seemingly under-appreciated, somewhat covert "Rock star" competition. It takes into account the full experience and looks back to the glory days of mtb racing. Why travel so far to merely ride your bike, when you can party it up the night before as well? Starting a 100mile mountain bike race fresh is so overrated. Why not start it a bit blurry and really see how bad-a** you are? Ah, yes. This seemed like a far better plan. "Let's enjoy ourselves", my inner dialogue said.

My resolve was only fortified after we got our warm-up ride in on Saturday afternoon. I had nothing but lead in my legs and questioned how much of it would melt away on Sunday. So we got back to camp, we cleaned up, we got dinner, and my Dixie cup stayed full until, well, I honestly can't remember. Good 'ole PA boys Buck and Harlan were present so I knew I was in good company. The party ensued under the pavilion until the lights went out; then the few of us that remained moved to the fire light and under an incredible blanket of stars. Was there four of us there round the fire light? Three? Five maybe? I am quite unclear. Not everyone there was racing, so it's hard to say. In a sleeping camp of well over 600 people, only a few remained awake (though only semi-conscious). The stage was set. The carbs consumed. All we needed to do now was ride ourselves to sobriety and beyond.

I awoke unsure, clueless actually, of how I got in my tent the night before. Somehow, deep down inside, I pulled out the will to go forth, prepare myself for a long day, and get on my bike in the crisp, early morning, still dark air. I awoke in similar shape once before for a race, and to date, it was the only race I've ever won. So I knew I could pull through; maybe even do well. There wasn't much analysis of this sort going on at this hour however. I was on auto pilot. My body knew what to do if my mind wasn't quite there yet.

Coffee. Check. Muffin...slow...get a little more down...Check. Chamois on; without falling over. Check. Lube undercarriage. Check. Fill bottles. Check. Roll out.

The first 20 miles are unclear. All in all, I was in a great mood. I was joking with everyone around me. I don't think anyone really took me seriously when I told them what kind of condition I was in. I rode myself into a rhythm and the mindset to finish. My mood was exponentially improved with every single track descent. Hands down, some of the most fun riding I've ever done. The course consisted of climbs that wound up and up until the flora seemed stunted from oxygen deprivation. Then the trail dropped. Sweet, sweet, bench cut descents. If you weren't smiling at the bottom of these, there was something wrong with you. Good times. Aid stations were friendly and well run (Thank You!). I knew what I needed and did not waste anytime at them.

About two thirds into the race there was a long hill that everyone told horror stories about. I tried to get a pace line going on the gradual stuff with some geared riders, but every time I relinquished the front and got behind someone, the pace dropped. It took too much effort to hold behind someone and sacrifice my momentum/rhythm. Single speeding is all about the momentum and rhythm. So I moved on and up on my own. I was really feeling strong at this point. If I saw someone ahead of me, I passed them. I was a bottle rocket. It was awesome. I must have caught 4 or 5 single speeders on that power climb. I kept looking back on every road section after that, hoping I could hold it.

On the second to last long descent, I was riding just ahead of a full squish rider. Once we got to the bottom, he told me that he couldn't hold my wheel and apparently I kept pulling away from him. What followed was one of the coolest things I ever experienced in these races. After complimenting me on my descending skills, he proceeded to pull me in his draft, checking to see if I was still there, on a flat fire road section for several miles. I barely had to pedal. Talk about comraderie! Right on. Thanks man.

I passed one other single speeder in the final few miles. He was struggling up the final climb and my adrenaline was still pumping. "Finish strong" I told him; I knew I would. Then the final drop, looking out over the Shenandoah Valley. It was the perfect way to finish this race. You bomb straight through the camp, into the wide open field, launch off of a series of grassy rollers, then smile. Just smile.

9:42:36 was my finishing time and what a good time it was.

Good Job to Vicki Barclay, Rich Straub, Matt Ferrari, Erik Lenzing, and Eric Nord, all putting down solid times and placing well.

More Mud @ Mohican

The NUE Series continued last Saturday with more muddy conditions and torrential rain. Bikes and bodies were tested over 100miles of surprisingly hilly central Ohio country-side at the Mohican MTB 100. Team FTC rolled into Loudonville, OH on Friday only to be greeted with golf-ball size hail and heavy sheets of rain. Just when the sun shone through the clouds and we thought we could get a quick pre-ride in another thunderstorm would come ripping by. The harsh weather was reminiscient of Cohutta, the last NUE race. It was hard to stay positive about the long day of riding that loomed ahead of us. We all fell asleep to the sound of water on the roof and visions of mud under our tires.

We awoke to more rain but the rain actually subsided for the first half of the race. Sloppy mud turned to slick peanut butter, which was even tougher to ride in. It all washed away (from our bikes atleast) when yet another rapturous gale either re-energized or restrained riders mid-day. Personally, I loved it and was able to spin faster on the long flat rail-road grade section. This was the type of elevation I was expecting from Ohio. What we got was a course that included plenty of hills that, atleast around me, took both single-speed and geared riders off of their bikes. Short but steep. If the mud wasn't forcing people off their bikes a number of the hills did.

The trail sections were unexpectedly fun with some neat features. Worth checking out again when they're dry. The first 20-30 miles were an almost continuous rollercoaster of singletrack. It was hard to pace yourself for a 100mile race when the riding was such a good time. The road sections stayed interesting with random backwoods broken down mobile homes, friendly religious camps, swollen rivers, and a nerve-racking suspension bridge that went over one.

Team FTC proved yet again that mother Nature can't slow us down. Vicki Barclay earned herself an impressive 3rd in the Womens field. Erik Lenzing overcame a serious mechanical early on in the race to finish 7th in Mens Masters. I was disapointed at first with my time, but pleased to get 15th in the Single Speed field. All in all a good day at the end of it.

Full results here.

A week of firsts

Yesterday I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time. I was in a true West Coast city for the first time (San Francisco). I saw Chicago and Lake Michigan for the first time. Friday, I competed in my first ever National Championship (Collegiate Mtn Bike). It may have been my first race in which I got pulled out by an Official. Thursday I stood at the edge of Lake Tahoe for the first time. Late Wednesday night I landed in Reno, Nevada, making it my first time West of the Rockies.

All in all, this past long weekend has been a flurry of new experiences. I traveled with three others to represent Penn State at the National mountain bike championship in Truckee, California. I only raced the XC race on Friday. It was rather disappointing to be whistled off the course after completing only two of the four 7.5 mile laps. The officials did this to about half the racers to prevent us from being lapped. Having flown across the country to race this event, I thought that it was absurd that I wasn't able to continue on. It is even more upsetting to see the results posted incorrectly. I'm placed behind riders that only completed one lap and who were physically behind me on most of that first lap. It is disheartening to be an entry level USA Cycling Official myself and see people with more experience than me not only cheat racers like me out of being able to finish a once in a lifetime race, but also botch the results, which should've been easier to calculate by pulling people. I think I'm going to take a lengthy break from any USAC events. This race has left me bitter.

5 years and yesterday.

Five Years ago today, I walked up a mountain, just as I did almost every day in the six months prior to then. It's been five years since I finished the Appalachian Trail. With friends I made in Georgia, I climbed Katahdin in Maine. It's been five years, but it's still fresh in my mind...

Looking forward to reminiscing with some of those friends in a couple weeks. Two friends, two thru-hikers, Travis and Casey are getting married in Tifton, Georgia. Can't wait.

Autographs upon request.

You may stumble upon this picture in either a Dirt Rag or Mountain Bike Magazine. Yeah...that's me.

To my surprise, the pictures that my friend Abe took of me while riding at the new Allegrippis trails at Raystown Lake are now being used in advertisements for the trails.

So what if you can't tell it's me?!

101 Pictures

Tom, Eric, and Jeff brought the lady CoCo out for good luck.


Me, rolling down Beautiful Trail, across the river, and at Three Bridges.

10 hrs 5 min

Yesterday I spent 10 hours and a five minutes mountain biking. My ass hurts. My finishing time is nearly 3 hours faster than last year and just a few minutes over my goal. I'm happy. Don't have much energy yet for a full race report. More soon...

Thanks to Abe for this sweet photo!