What do you do for fun in February when you can't ski or ride?

Well, of course, you must MUD!

Because the doofuses are not content to lay about on the futon all day like this:

No, at around 2:00pm they tend to stare at me and eventually guilt trip me into taking them outside to one trail or another.  We no longer go for walks near our house, because (a) they are a nightmare on-leash, since they have to sniff every goddamn thing, and (2) if I let them off leash Paddington will catch and kill another duck, probably while horrified schoolchildren look on.

(Side note: the ducks here are defective.  They don't fly away when Paddington swims after them, they dive and swim like two feet and come back up, at which point Paddington sees them and grabs them.  Back in Colorado, the ducks would just sort of roll their eyes, take off and fly to the other side of the pond, and Paddington would get tired and come back.)

Luckily for us, there are several options for hikes in the near vicinity of Pocatello.  The trails tend to be pretty empty during the day, too, because all the Mormons are gainfully employed and everyone else is at home collecting disability checks for their smoking-related health issues and morbid obesity.

(I'm sorry, that was mean.  Unfortunately it's also pretty close to the truth out here in LDS country.)

For most of the winter, the trails were in decent shape for hiking, and even for biking if one has access to a fatbike.  However, since spring has arrived three months early. the trails are now an utter mudfest and riding bikes on them would be downright unethical.  Walking on them is even an unpleasant proposition, so the solution is to stick to the jeep roads, which are made for tearing up.

This, of course, does not solve the problem of all the mud wanting to come home with us.  

Do the critters care that the mud, which is peanut butter-esque in texture, clings madly to the fur between their toes?  Have they given thought to the fact that we did not have space for our shop-vac, with which we could have vacuumed the mud out of the vehicles once they have tromped all over it?

Do they mind that our vacuum cleaner, forced to contend with years' worth of Paddington's copious shed fur, has started making a funny noise and barely collects any dirt from this godforsaken carpet? Does it trouble them that they like to jump on the bed and paw the covers into a heap in the middle, thereby distributing the dried mud throughout the bedding?

No, no, no, and not even a little bit.

But they are much cuter than I am, so they win.  (Also, no matter how much of a pain they can be, it helps me to remember that they are approximately eleventy billion times better than having human children, which I'm told require things like "time" and "effort" and "vegetables" and occasionally "bail money".)

Awwwww so cute.

Anyway.  After the snows that fell in December and the subsequent rise in temperature, for a while the trails were basically just chutes of terrifyingly slick ice:

But they were still somewhat navigable with quick reflexes and shoes with good traction.

After a few days of rain, however, they turned to mush that tried to suck the shoes off my feet.  So I dug out my gaiters for a stroll up the Cusick Creek fire road earlier this week.  Here was our glorious goopy view from the trailhead:

And our "before" photo of Paddington's normally white feets:

Since we started frequenting the trails (once the weather turned cold, thereby avoiding rattlesnakes), Paddington and Ellie have discovered a penchant for catching field mice by digging into their holes:

And her face looks much like this after every hike:

I think Paddington mostly enjoys the thrill of the chase, but Ellie, chronically hungry as she is, takes great pleasure in eating the mice.  I guess it qualifies as lean protein...

It was a scorching 45 degrees out that day, so Ellie was on the hunt for patches of snow to roll around in.  Finding none, she settled for watery mud:

Then about half an hour into our walk, we came across these small bare human footprints in the mud:

They appeared in the middle of the road, coming from nowhere, and disappeared again after 4 prints.

So that was mildly creepy.

Another of hour glopping along, and I had my fill, so we turned around and went back to the car.

Now for Paddington's "after" photo:

Still a little white peeking out there.

Natually, the mud was promptly spread across the car, futon, floor, and bed.  I now understand both the existence and importance of a mud room, and the next time I live in a house that consists of more than three rooms, I plan to designate one of the rooms as such.  First world problems, I know.

That is all!  Enjoy your weekend!

I'm Going (Going) Back (Back) to Colorado (Colorado)

At least for a few days, because the trail conditions are terrible in Pocatello, and I miss my Rowdies!

It was my first time out on a two-wheeled conveyance other than the intrepid cruiser Stella Seahawk since riding Hall Ranch in December.  I had visited Erin in Salt Lake City for a day of skiing, and since I was already almost halfway to Grand Junction anyway, I decided to join up with a few other friends going there for the weekend.

The sun was getting fairly low as I rolled toward Fruita, so I turned off at Loma for a quick pedal on the Kokopelli trail system before dark.  There weren't many people around and I had no idea which trails went where, so I just started climbing up the first one I got to (later I described it to Trevor, and he said it was Moore Fun).  It was a little on the technical side, with handlebar-height rock outcroppings that tried to knock me over and a few tricky uphill sections, and I rode like total crap because I had apparently forgotten how to ride bikes in the past month, and I didn't check my suspension before starting (rookie move).  But at least I was back on an awesome bike with bright yellow wheels, on dry happy trails in a beautiful place; it could be much worse!  Of course, since I wasn't Strava-ing, the ride never actually happened...

I would be staying at Sienna and Trevor's house in Grand Junction for the weekend, but since Sienna wouldn't be home from work until 8pm, I stopped by the locally famous Hot Tomato Cafe in Fruita for a pint of New Belgium White IPA, and then again at Qdoba for some nachos. (Pro tip: to really get your money's worth for the nachos, have them put on ALL OF THE SALSAS. Trust me.)  One last stop for a six pack of Baba Black Lager to share, and I arrived at the Martins' and was immediately accosted by Remmy the Enduro Dog and Cayman the Caymanator.

Kelly and Sienna arrived shortly after that and we made plans for riding the rest of the weekend.  Both of them had only recently been cleared to start riding bikes again after their knee surgeries to repair torn ACLs, so Kelly wanted to keep it relatively moderate.  Sienna had to work again on Saturday, so she went to bed fairly early, and Kelly and I stayed up until sunrise, drinking whiskey and breaking things.  No we didn't, we're over 30 and too old for that crap.  Remmy sat on Kelly for a while and then we retired.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

The next day, we had a leisurely morning and made our way over to Kokopelli around 11:00 when it was acceptably warm.  I hadn't been there in at least two years, but I remembered a few features like the sketchy drop-in to Horsethief Bench and a section of Mary's Loop that goes right along a rocky ledge over a 15-foot drop-off.  It's not actually all that bad, but someone felt it was scary enough to create a barrier with some large boulders.  I can't decide if that qualifies as sanitizing the trail, because it didn't change the trail itself, it just made the move less mentally intimidating.  A huge part of mountain biking is getting out of your own head and looking at where you want to go, not at the drop-offs (whether real or metaphorical).  I suppose if it gave new riders the courage to try the section instead of walking it, it's probably a good change.

It felt really good to be back on my bike, and Kelly was very pleased with how good her knee felt while riding.  She tore her ACL last summer, during the last stage of the Durango Big Mountain Enduro race (and still came in 5th!).  In fact, several friends sustained injuries during the last riding season, and we missed them sorely during their recuperation.  Fortunately they are all back to shredding in one way or another!

Crushing it!

Afterwards we decamped to the Hot Tomato for beers and an ENORMOUS pizza, of which we could only eat two pieces and then wrapped up the rest for leftovers.  

Om nom nom.

Then it was back to Sienna's for naptime until dinner.  Liz returned from her training ride and Sienna arrived home from work, and we went to Bin707, arguably the best restaurant in Grand Junction, with trendy cocktails of locally sourced spirits and hipster-friendly small plates. It was quite good, and I recommend checking it out if you are in the vicinity.

Next morning, Kelly made us all an excellent veggie frittata, of which Remmy stole the remains from the kitchen counter when no one was looking. He didn't seem the least bit ashamed of it, either. But that is probably because he is a cartoon, not a real dog.

We piled in the cars and headed east toward Palisade, a small town known in the rest of Colorado for its excellent peaches.  To me and most folks from the Front Range, it also signaled increasing proximity to Moab and regaining 4G and wireless signal as we left the river canyon.  However, there are a few hidden gems of trails at the mouth of the canyon, and Trevor and Sienna first led Liz, Kelly and me on the Palisade Rim trail on the south side of I-70.  It's mostly moderate, switchbacky singletrack up to a couple of lollipops, and had some nice interesting technical features on the climb.  Being on the north side of the cliffs and out of the sun, it must be an excellent ride in the summer, but in this case it meant that there were several patches of ice on the trail, deceptively hidden under a thin cover of dirt. It was somewhat disconcerting to try and put down some power to get over a ledgy rock and end up sliding sideways instead, but we eventually made it to the top of the first climb without incident.
Near the top, there was a small drop with a very smooth transition, and Trevor set up to take photos if we wanted to try it.  Liz hit it like the pro she is, and I rolled up to the edge to see which line I should take.  It was about the easiest drop you could ask for, but as I backtracked along the trail to give myself some room to get up speed, I still felt nervous, because I have the most uncanny ability to make a complete hash out of almost anything.  But I started pedaling, and committed, and went for it, and it worked out just fine:

Oops, sorry, that's actually Rachel Atherton being the total badass she is.  Here's me:

The socks are key.

Thanks Trevor for playing photog!

Of course, even that little bit got my adrenaline up, but it felt good to get the season off to a successful start.

A little ways up the trail, there were some rock paintings of unknown age and provenance.  Here's Liz taking an action packed shot of them!

Enduro rock photography!

Here we see the aftermath of Trevor suggesting that Sienna's helmet might clash with her Shredly shorts:

"How dare you!" *slap*

This was quite upsetting for Cody, who needed a quick snuggle before we could start the descent:

Luckily, the ice we encountered on the climb was much less of an issue on the downhill (just don't brake on it).

Back in the parking lot, we met up with Shannon and Adam, who had come out for the next ride we had planned that day.  Sadly Kelly decided that she didn't want to risk aggravating her knee with more riding, and she set off for home.

The rest of us made our way toward the relatively well-hidden start of the Stagecoach trail on the north side of I-70 which DEFINITELY DID NOT involve hopping a fence onto private property and crossing the railroad under the highway.  There was a good amount of steep hike-a-bike up from the road, but holy cow was it worth it!  Excellent winding singletrack with incredible views and minimal snow.  We kept up such a good pace that I only had time to take this photo of Liz and Shannon:

Once we got back to where we started, Sienna talked us all into riding another 4 miles up to the American flag that adorns the cliff overlooking Palisade. I was painfully slow on the climb due to my chronic wimpiness, and this last hike-a-bike up icy snow-covered rocks just about killed me:

Then upon reaching the flagpole, Liz and Sienna decreed that we should make Trevor and Adam's day by taking a "free the boobies" picture:

'Murica!

Lucky for us, it was sunny and unseasonably warm at that point in the day.

The flagpole sort of lies off the beaten path, so we picked our way back down to where the main trail should be, which involved lots of fun bunny-hopping off of ledgy rocks and swerving around patches of cactus.

The day ended with a round of beers at the Palisade Brewing Company, and then a round of spirits at the Peach Tree Distillery (it was right next door to the brewery, how could we not?).  Afterwards I packed up the Tahoe and made my way back to the sloppy mudfest that is Pocatello with great regret that it is not closer to Grand Junction.  Hopefully I will have a reason to go back soon! President's day weekend, anyone?

Thanks for reading, and remember: safety third!

Colorowdies Burning Bike 2014 / Strider Huge Rock Enduro / Desert Glow Stick Dance Party Moab Weekend Report!

After the success of last year's First Annual Burning Bike and Strider Huge Rock Enduro, the organizers and participants realized that it would be difficult to outdo ourselves this year.
But we did.
By gosh, we did!
The Striders were newer and free-er, the glow sticks were more numerous, the fire pit-jumpers were more intoxicated, and the podium prizes were swag-ier.  The injuries were gnarlier as well, but if you want to make an omelette, you have to wing some eggs at a police cruiser and then get assigned as a cook in the prison mess hall.  Or something.
Some Colorowdies were lucky enough to get into town on Thursday night, so a Whole Enchilada shuttle was organized for Friday because, miraculously for the end of October, the top of Burro Pass was snow-free.  We met up at the Rim Cyclery and loaded up on the three vans for the hour-long ride to the Glacier Pass parking area, then all waited in line to use the single toilet in the tradition of "I drank way too much coffee before and during the shuttle ride".  After taking care of business, we donned our tutus and began the pedal up to the top of Burro, which is only a mile but always feels much longer.
Once there, we posed for the obligatory 'start of the WE' photos:

Tony: "Do your best raptor impression!"

Gotta have a jumping photo

Get ready to get rowdy.

While Eric took a surreptitious backside shot of the rainbow of tutus:

And then we were off!
The dirt on the descent was just about perfect, even slightly dusty, which was extremely odd since at that time last year the pass was under several inches of snow.  The first wave of Rowdies tore down the trail, one after the other, roosting the corners and splashing through the creek crossings, and regrouped at the beginning of the climb to Hazard County through the aspens.

A few folks in the group elected to wait for the rest, but those of us who like to take their time climbing started cranking up the trail at an easy pace.
We stopped again in the parking lot at the bottom of Hazard, assuming that the ones behind us would catch up momentarily.  After twenty minutes passed standing in the cold wind, Tricia and Yann decided to start pedaling up again to keep warm.  Another half hour went by with Spicy and me trying to take cover from the wind behind a van, the rest of the Colorowdies finally rolled in.  The problem: one girl's front brake cable had been neatly severed almost immediately after starting the descent down Burro.  Since a brake cable is virtually unfixable in the field, and there were plenty of steep sections remaining on the 20-odd-mile trail, it was very inadvisable for her to continue riding, and she had to bail out and take the road about 30 miles back to town.  We bid her good luck and kept on.

That's not supposed to look like that.

Hazard County was, as always, fantastically fun, as evidenced by Taylor's and Tony's smiles at the start:

And here are several more photos from the rest of the ride:

Unfortunately, though we started with 15+ people in our group, several had to break off due to mechanicals and needing to get back to their dogs and not feeling well, so there were only seven of us that popped out of the tunnel at the end of the Porcupine singletrack (not including Zach, who broke his chain at the start of the singletrack and Stridered his way out).
We pedaled back into town, drove back to camp, prepared dinner and readied ourselves for the dance party that would begin once everyone was properly costumed and intoxicated.
Yann Ropars, a veteran Burning Bike participant, wins for getting the best photos of the proceedings, and you can see more of his amazing work here.

When Rowdies go camping, you either hate us or join the party.

Photographer and fellow attendee Eric Rasmussen also got some great shots:

There was also a practice session for the following evening's Strider Huge Rock Enduro:

When jumping a Strider over a fire pit, remember that it's always important to wear proper safety equipment: helmet, gloves and flip-flops.
The festivities were still under way when I eventually stumbled off to bed, and the next morning I was acutely reminded of the bottle of tequila that had been passed around during the dance party, and of which I had apparently partaken a bit too much.  Even coffee, a bacon muffin and a Wescial burrito at the Love Muffin cafe did not make a significant dent in the hangover, so I took a nap in the van until about noon, at which time we finally mobilized for a ride at Amasa Back.
We had a fairly large group again, but this time we stayed together on the climb, and mercifiully there were lots of water and snack breaks because the pedaling made me feel like puking.  Of course we had to stop at the Jackson's Hole overlook for pictures:

#ladyshred

Now everybody take five steps back...

When we reached the turnoff for Jackson's trail, most of the group was tired of pedaling and ready for the descent, but seven of us elected to continue up Amasa and take Rockstacker over to Jackson's.  I was still hurting at that point, so calling it a day sounded quite appealing, but I caved to peer pressure and kept climbing.
I'm glad I did, because I forgot how much fun Rockstacker is.  Here's Leigh cleaning a section near the start that I've always been afraid of for no good reason:

Ain't no thang.

After that we just kept moving, so no more pictures for you!
Finally, when we got back to the parking lot, my hangover had more or less abated, and it was time to go to the brewery!  Apparently we had had our fill of biking for the day, because the dinner conversation was dominated by talk of skiing.  I got some beta on AT ski bindings from Donny Roth of Independent Descents, and also heard the story of the (only) time he was caught in a slide, which was terrifying.
Then it was time to go back to camp and register for the Strider Enduro!

Kelly and Tony worked the registration table, handing out glow sticks and event T-shirts.  Liz and others outlined the courses with tape, flagging and more glow sticks, and the racers busied themselves walking and preriding the lines. Stage 1 was similar to the previous year: moderately steep ledgy rock and sand.  The middle section of Stage 2 sent us on a meandering line through the Tent City:

Then we would have to stride vigorously up the dance party rock to the final descent down to the fire pit and the finish line, where most of the carnage would happen due to soft sand and high speed:

There was one rough faceplant on the first stage that had us thinking we should make full-face helmets mandatory for next year, but otherwise injuries were kept to a minimum.

Also, a brief intermission was required between stages to get the bikes back to rideable condition:

I mean, they are designed for 6-year-olds...

Finally, I give you the women's podium:

1-Taylor 2-Erin 3-Liz

And the men's:

1-Joey 2-Jeff 3-Ryan

Ryan and Jeff are both awesome riders, but it is slightly possible that this will be the only time they share a podium with Joey Schusler...
The girls received jewelry made by Leigh and the boys got Michigan pickled asparagus and the number plates from the Striders, and they all got various swag supplied by First Chair Clothing.
Then the girls stole the number plates because girls are better:

Pirates?

Then we all signed the eponymous Burning Bike before chucking it in the fire:

 A burnt offering to the trail gods.

The festivities continued until 2am, at which time Daylight Savings turned the clock back to 1am (if you're curious, iPhones just go straight from 1:59 to 1:00) and most of us made our way to bed.

In the morning everyone slowly dispersed, already looking forward to Burning Bike 2015 and dance parties in the desert.