We Plan Fun Rides and then We Do Them

Our new slogan, "We plan fun rides and then do them" is most apropos for our latest bicycle excursion. I say "our" because I include myself in this little merry band of adventurous cycling friends. I actually didn't come up with the slogan, I just stole it for the title of this blog entry. I have to give the credit to Cynthia, or Cyn, as she is known to her friends. Frankly, it all fits with Cyn because she can find the fun in just about any bike ride. As a case in point, this ride was formally known as the "Nipton Loop", named primarily for the middle point of the ride, Nipton California, which oh by the way, is a little oasis hole-in-the-ground smack dab in the middle of the Mojave preserve. If you ever wondered where the hell "the middle of nowhere" is, it is Nipton, California. Cyn renamed the ride "The Mad Creek" ride. You see we're gonna stop at the 100 mile point and have Gyros at the Mad Creek restaurant in Stateline, Nevada: Yum, Yum! Well, as it turned out, they were in fact, "yum, yum!"


"The Kid"

The one thing that I have learned about living here is the indisputable fact that one can never count on the actual weather being anything like what is forecast. Usually this time of year brings pleasant temperatures, clear skies, and little, to no wind. What we've had lately has been an extraordinary mixture of: cold temperatures, rain, and bizarre, strong winds. So, when the forecast called for a reeeeeeeally nice day, we, or I especially, showed a bit of skepticism. As things turned out though, the day started a bit on the nipply side, but ended quite nicely: temps in the 70's, clear with some high cloud, and very little wind.a very nice bonus.


The Downhill run into Nipton

I showed up first at Saxby's followed shortly thereafter by a guy named Stephen. I noticed he was quite young (22 to be exact) and was sporting one of the local race kits. My first thought was, "great, a hammerhead, this is gonna be fun." Stephen voiced his excitement to me that this, "is the longest ride I've ever done." Well, after that statement some of my fears abated but not all. Tracy rolls up, followed by Al and Shelly, who was then followed by Loon, aka Scott. Just a little about Scott here. This guy is a true locomotive on a bicycle. He is the former Canadian Time Trial Champion, Furnace Creek 508 Veteran (several times), RAAM (Race Across America) Veteran, HooDoo 500 veteran, and all around way-strong dude on a bicycle. As things go, Scott is a true gentlemen on a bike, but if you throw down the hammer, you better be able to pick it back up again, because Scott will give you everything you ask for and more, that's for sure. As we all commented on the ride ahead and the expected weather, some of us peeled off few layers as it was agreed that we were a bit "over" dressed given the day's forecast. Turns out that I sure could have used that vest for an hour or so...damn it was cold!


Scott a.k.a. "Loon"

We blasted (literally) out of the parking lot about 15 minutes late and my first thought was, "man I sure hope we don't try to keep up this pace for the whole ride, after all, we still have 126 more miles to ride." We let the ponies run as we took the turnoff down towards Searchlight on a bomber downhill of about 5 miles. As predicted, the inversion layer caught us and trapped all that wonderful "cold" air near the surface of a try lake bed that joins the highway. Loon and Stephen had long left us by this point but we finally come upon them trying to fix a "tubular clincher." For those not in the know, a tubular clincher is actually a tube and a tire, all in one. If you can't repair it, you are screwed. Many attempts by Scott to pump air into this thing finally resulted in success, and we at long last get going. Then "bang!" our second flat of the day. Not even 20 miles in and Cyn blows a tire big time. That's two! I look at my watch and think, "This is gonna be a long day." Well, we get that fixed and about 3 miles later on a small but rather long climb, I hear "twaaaaang" look down, and see Scott's rear wheel wobbling severely from side to side. I get Scott's attention, we stop, and both say, "oh shit." Turns out he popped a spoke, and on further determination we discover that he actually cracked the rim! Scott decides he is a "mort", calls momma for a ride and sends me on my way to catch the group. I finally catch up and we cruise uneventfully into the booming metropolis of Searchlight, Nevada. On the way in, I say to the group, "you watch, Scott (Loon) will get a new wheel and catch us before we get to Nipton!" Looks of disbelief that say, "ya think? Na no way!"


Shellie chows down on her Nipton pickle

Searchlight, Nevada is one of those, "ya gotta be shittin' me" kind of places. I've been there twice, both times on a bicycle, and my reaction is always the same. It is a giant freakin' trailer park with a fast food restaurant or two stuck in the middle of the treeless desert. I guess they used to mine stuff there way back when because there are all these abandon mine shafts "eye-sores" all over the place, accompanied by an endless array of trailer homes, and not the nice ones either. We all grabbed some liquids and fuel from the local "stop and rob", shoot a few hero photos and discover, you guessed it, another flat. Seems that Shellie's rear tire shit-the-bed slowly on the way in, and finally died peacefully while we were all rejuvenating. Al does his now famous, "I can name that tire change in 30 seconds" routine and we leave Searchlight behind or so we thought. You see, Shellie has some of those 3-gazillion dollar, super deep-dish carbon wheels and her tire decided it didn't like the way it was situated on the rim. Looking like a rugby scrum we all lean over the wheel saying, "oh my, what's wrong. I can't find the problem." Well, we finally determine that the tube inside the tire is not "seated" properly around the rim. We then proceeded to prove ourselves right by going through 3-4 CO2 cartridges in attempt to fix the problem. Somebody says, "hey how many bike shops are there in Searchlight?" Cause we all know there aren't any in Nipton! (looks of impending doom shroud our faces) Well you guessed it, there are ZERO bike shops anywhere on our route! The closest one is in Boulder City, 50 miles back where we just came from. Great Boy Scouts all of us, eh? So, after getting all this mess sorted out, Shellie's tire fixed, etcetera, we take stock of our repair supplies and decide to continue the adventure. Swords drawn, we mount our steeds and shout, "On to Nipton!"


On the road to Nipton, California!

Stephen, appropriately nicknamed by the group as: "The Kid" decides he is gonna try drafting a semi-trailer that has somehow managed the turn towards Nipton at the same time as our group. So, off goes The Kid down the long ribbon of road to the horizon. About ten minutes later, we finally catch up to him, regroup and proceed westward. The Kid, looking like a worn out Cheetah who just missed his prey, leads us on what seems like the Battan Death March to our much awaited descent into Nipton. Since there's not much to look at except mangled asphalt, Joshua trees, and dirt, you just lose yourself in your own thoughts, put your head down and grind your way onward. To the contrary, the descent into Nipton is quite a rush really. I'm not sure how long it is, but hauling ass at 30+ miles an hour seemed to go on for a really long time. I thought to myself, "man there sure is a whole lot of nothin' out here!" One can literally see the entire Mojave preserve, bordering mountain ranges on all horizons, as well as the two tiny dots that are casinos forming an oasis at the California/Nevada border. We aren't in Nipton but for a few minutes when, you guessed it, Loon rolls in. I said, "see I told you guys he'd be here!" Looks of disbelief all around. Nipton isn't much to write home about, but it does provide a nice respite after 67 miles, and the "stop and rob" has these really huge pickles you can buy (that is if you are into eating pickles on a bike ride). Just like in an movie or something, you pull one out of this really big jar and eat it! Nipton also marks the "half-way" point of the ride so that fact always is a morale booster on these long rides. On just about all of our stops, we all seemed to leave together, but inevitably the major group fractions into a few smaller ones. This one being no exception, Loon and The Kid took off on a battle for "King of the Mountains" points while the rest of us settled into a nice semi-aerobic climb to our final turn towards Vegas.


Yeah, I sure could use some of that lottery money!

Several miles and minutes later, we met Loon who was waiting patiently for us at the top of the climb...sans The Kid. This was really a pretty cool spot. To the east you could see the expanse of the terrain just covered, cut only by a small ribbon of road you were just on. To the north was
I-15 leading to first, Stateline, Nevada then followed by Jean, Nevada, both large gambling oasis out in the middle of nowhere. Turning north on I-15 towards Stateline was a lot like bombing down a toboggan run on a bicycle. What was equally amazing was the fact that you were going so fast that the cars passing you to your left didn't look like they were going that much faster than you!


The View from Nowhere, actually I-15 and Nipton Exit looking towards Vegas.

Aaaaaah finally, the Mad Creek restaurant! Man were we hungry, especially me. This place was amazing. You can get just about any kind of Gyro at this place. I settled on the Veggie burger because a big 'ole hunk of meat in any form just didn't sound all that good to me. Cynthia and the rest of thegroup chowed down like big dogs, especially Loon...man can that guy eat! What also amazed us when traveling down I-15 on a Sunday was how many Californians there were heading south back to LA. The parking lots at Stateline were jammed, and south bound I-15 was moving at a snail's pace.It's a damned good thing we were on bicycles heading north.


Cyn at the Mad Creek

The rest of the ride was rather uneventful with one exception. The Kid decided to "attack" the peloton at the 110 mile point! He looked back kinda like Lance Armstong, except the kid had one of those, "I dare ya" smiles on his face and just takes off. Remember what I said about Loon and the hammer earlier? Loon looked at me, I shook my head and off we went to the races! We got into this friggin' rolling paceline at 30 miles an hour into the wind for the next 15 minutes. Al and I pedaled our asses off just to stay on Loon's wheel. I'm muttered cuss words under my breath the whole way back and kept thinking, "can't we just end this ride with a little civility...Nooooo...we have to race...shit!

Rough Riders, Are you game?

I've always toyed with mountain biking but never took it seriously. And...after purchasing two mountain bikes, watching them hang on my wall for over two years, I finally gave them to my son and his friend. Well as fate would have it, I recently discovered a website, while I was reading about one of the San Diego Randonneurs, that appeared to be a little between cross-biking (never got that bug either) and mountain biking. It is appropriately named "Rough Riders." Chris Kostman, the same guy who started AdventureCorps and who is also synonymous with the Furnace Creek 508, started this fledgling group. I instantly became curious and started reading the myriad of information, as well as enjoying all the photos he, and several others, have taken of their Rough Riding experiences. The thought of taking a "road bike" off road always appealed to me but I really wasn't quite sure if I wanted to risk all that expensive componetry, not mention expensive wheels, on a whim. So, I did the next best thing! I bought another frame! Go figure. Well, this one was quite a deal from Nashbar ($139) so I couldn't resist, so to speak. I had some extra components lying around gathering dust and I also had a pair of wheels I scammed from a guy at work for $50 bucks. So, I said, "self, why not become a Rough Rider." Well the rest they say is history. And now, here I am now waiting for all the goodies to show up so I can at least become a "poser" until I get everything together for a good 'ole Rough Rider day.

Remember, we enjoy getting "out there" by riding roads, dirt roads, trails, and paths on whatever bike we happen to be on or have handy. Sometimes the pavement's long gone and we're still on our "road bikes" or some bike that would be commonly considered inadequate for the job - and that's just fine by us! Rough Riding is not defined by the type of bicycle or type of riding surface. Rough Riding is a state of mind, a riding style with limitless freedom and an all-pervasive sense of adventure. -- Chris Kostman, Rough Riders

The whole framework for the Rough Riders is centered around the slogan, "Any bike, any where" and falls directly in-line with Chris' philosophy of adventure, in any form. For some odd reason this just appealed to me. Not because I'm bored, but because I really have a sense of adventure, even though I'm a little cautious about how much adventure I really do take on these days. Sloggin' through mud at 3am in the rain is not my sense of adventure, but cruisin' the back woods on poorly maintained, or dirt roads sounds great! At least as long as there is a shower, warm bed and beer at the end!



Like I said earlier, the frame is Nashbar's cross-frame, made primarily from cast aluminum tubing. A 56cm is to my liking and I added Nashbar's carbon cross-bike fork for the front end. Aluminum may be kinda rough on the bumps, but I wasn't looking for comfort on this type of experience and besides, you can't beat the prices! I had a 48x38x28 triple crank lying around that I'll use and I'll strip the Kestrel of the Dura Ace triple shifters to complete the brains of the drive train. I opted for a 11x32 cassette as the workhorse on the rear and we'll be mounting some 700x38 cross tires for the trails. The plan is to keep this ride on fire roads, graded trails, sidewalks, and paved roads. None of that rock infested single track stuff for me this time around. If I encounter that crap, the Rough Rider becomes a Rough Walker. At least until I can find suitable riding conditions again. Sounds like a plan, eh? Click here for a detailed listing of the trails we plan to ride in and around Henderson.

Here is a photo like the one I'm planning to build. Should be a sweet machine. Specs include Dura Ace Triple shifters and brake combo. Shimano Wheels, 11x32 Sram 9-speed cassette. Nashbar cantilever breaks, Cannondale suspension seatpost 27.2, Deore 9-speed rear derailleur, Dura Ace Triple front derailleur, and a 48x38x28 Triple chainring combo. Should be plenty for them thar' hills.



Here is the frame sans fork. The rear drop out measures out to 130mm, unlike a lot of cross bikes that are 135mm. This is nice because you can just swap out a regular set of road wheels. Most of them are the standard 130mm dropout measurement.



And the tread! 38mm treking tires from WTB via Nashbar. Got these on sale for $10 a piece. We'll see how these hold out on the trails around our house.

Mike Pooped a Bee!

It is 3 days since Turkey Day and I’ve had enough Turkey! How about you? This is also the last day-off before returning to that thing called work, ugh… Today was a magnificent day here in the land of lost wages. So, we thought we’d take a tour around the Lake for the umpteenth-million time. Actually, it was a great day. The local lake ranger Nazi bitches weren’t on post today. Only the nice, courteous, young up-and-comers were there. No doubt because the old guard had seniority, thereby making the young bucks pay their government dues by working a holiday weekend.

In all my days and miles of riding a bike I witnessed something today that is no doubt a first. Mike got stung by a bee today. Well, not stung as in the usual sense. You know, on the arm, leg or torso. No, Mike got stung smack dab in the middle of his tongue! He said he felt something fly into his mouth and immediately closed the old throat sphincter so as not to swallow the unwelcome little pest. Upon, expectorating the remains, he noticed a funny taste and a stinging sensation on his tongue. That wasn’t all bad of course, except for the fact that he had fallen behind and had to ride a good mile before any one of us could help him out. To make matters worse, the little stinger, left behind by the since half-digested culprit, was stuck smack dab in the middle of his tongue and certainly not easy to get to. Since Mike’s wife Lisa was there for emotional support, we drafted her as chief surgeon, or maybe she self-appointed; I got to the accident scene a little after the discovery. Anyway, we all claimed no medical knowledge whatsoever dealing with tongue bee stings. As I fumbled around in my seat bag for my miniature Swiss Army knife tweezers, Lisa performed the most amazing combat field surgery I’ve ever witnessed. With the finesse that only females have using their finger nails, she snapped up that sucker with precision. Be gone pesky little stinger, be gone! Mike was now the prize winner and recipient of a nice swollen welt. Dr. Mozam, me, jumped in with a little expert medical advice and prescribed multiple washings and flushing using the medicinal wonders of Gatorade. Since Mike had no better ideas, he followed Dr. Mozam’s advice and recovered nicely for the rest of the ride.

Drama, it’s just part of life. And…it can be very interesting sometimes. Just when we thought we’d seen enough from our bee sting experience, we had a rather nice encounter on our way out of the lake on the Boulder City side. It appeared that the Bighorn Sheep community spread the word that the GV peleton was coming through and the call went out for all to cheer us on as we made our way up the hill and through town. I quickly, and quite professionally I might ad, whipped out the ‘ole camera and got some really good shots (all of which you can see here and some of which you can see in this Blog entry). As I was snapping away, Sig (Siegfried) said, “hey, I hope they don’t turn on us and ram the bikes.” Suddenly, I got that, “I’m on the wrong side of the lion’s cage door at the zoo” feeling. So, with that thought in mind we inched our way past the herd and made our way quietly up the rest of the climb.



I can’t remember when I had a more interesting day, especially on the bike.