Another trip, more boring miles, more sand, more crazy drivers. but after having fun exploring for good photos on our Thanksgiving trip, I got inspired to take photos during my drive down to the guard shack to bitch about people setting off fireworks.

A Sunday ride, the best kind, the Americans are all hungover and the Mexicans are all in church.

safety is the new word in heavily-trafficked Las Conchas

err…not there yet

wait for it…

finally! but right into a fence?

i went looking for this trial to hone my aerial skills

at least the sign is good

ciclovia

wtf? are they marketing to Superman?

i got your tower of solace right here

they don’t mention these projects in the marketing materials

fixing the cistern tank in my Tower of Solace

its wildflower season in Mexico too

and weed season, holding the dune together

another exciting promotional campaign!

another disappointment

after 3 years, i finally figured out a safe route up the point

this actually was a tough little 5 minute grunt. and by stringing together a few of the scratches of construction roads at 100-150 vf each, I was able to get about 30 minutes of legitimate mtb’ing complete with rocks and mild danger. The hill has the best view in the city – it looked down over Las Conchas to the left and Old Port to the right, and offered a nice view back across Sandy Beach, the harbor, and Cholla Bay. Funny to think that I am one of the few people who bother to get up here. other than the future residents of Solace Tower.

not quite solaceful yet

back down the point towards Las Conchas

footpath 150 ft. down to the beach – totally ridable!!!

Tacos Gnarly?

no doubt a freudian slip from the thrill of finding an actual challenge, and the san serif font being a bit ambiguous at 28mph when you are swivelling your head looking for cars. I was so desperate for elevation change and that I simply refused to brake on the descent, which was actually somewhat sketchy at that speed.

another clip-art add. world’s most dangerous gangster will serve us pizza.

i had to outrun this when merging onto the shoulder on Blvd. Fremont. another day of urban freeriding!

I ride in Rocky Point 10-15 times a year. the riding sucks. I have concluded wearily almost a year ago that there aint shit worth riding there. So usually i go round the Las Conchas neighborhood, which is hardpack dirt roads, pretty and fast, but you can see all 10 miles in an hour or less. Its safe(r), and easy, and certainly has its charms.   But I’ve done it so much lately I’ve gotten totally bored. the other options are to go urban freeride in town, which can be fun if you get up early — lots of foot-high curbs to jump, broken sidewalk, traffic, and packs of dogs to chase you down the street.   but is totally defensive take-your-chances anytime past about 8am.   Sometimes i ride a 2ndary highway to the south, again its sketchy unless its way early. Or you can take your chances riding off the big sandbar that Las Conchas sits on, and plunge down into the estuary. After many forays into deep sand and mud, I’ve gotten sick of the estuary quad trails and made it across it successfully maybe 2x out of 10 tries. Every other time has at best been a Laurence-of-Arabia march, or at worst a slog through a bog.   But, like I said, today I was bored sick of spinning in the neighborhood.

So I hammered out Las Conchas towards town, down the secondary road that skirts the estuary, and into the estuary from the north to check out the oyster farms. Its about 10 miles from my house to the entrance since you have to go all the way down the sandbar then around the estuary, but maybe 2 miles in a straight line.   I told Beckie I would be back in exactly 1 hr, cause she was waiting on me to work out.   First mile in was sandy but passable, then I hit mud. I thought I saw it stop about 200 yards in, foolishly forgetting the full moon would lead to high tide and no chance of dryness. The spot that I thought looked sandy was just a dusting on top of more mud. At this point, I was about 1 mile from my house, and had a clear view of the cell tower I use as a landmark. It would be 40 min back, or maybe 20 to push forward. Fuck it! I’m bored, the route is direct, and I don’t want to ride 10 miles back the other way. The mud was unridable, but fortunately I was ready for this after TOWN 2006. So I resolutely started pushing forward towards the cell tower, home and an afternoon of drinking on the beach. A few spots the mud was so sticky the wheels froze, but mostly it was a slow steady jog.

I was committed by now, and my feet and shoes were totally mudcaked.   The bike was about as bad as it would get, which was not that bad.   So I continued slogging, no point in turning back now as every step forward brought me closer to the cell tower and donw.   The estuary has channels that get enhanced with the tides. Think of them as trenches, and each one now held water up to my waste with slick mud banks on either side, and hordes of little crab-like critters out on the banks having lunch.   Three times I had to ford the inlets, almost losing my shoes and sliding on the banks.   But as long as I didn’t dwell on things, I kept on keeping on.

It ended eventually, got most of the mud off the wheels and arrived home in 1:07 — not bad.   The hose spigot out front for some reason has stopped working, and the valve in the pvc was broken off.   I don’t know if Seaside did this after we complained, or it just was a coincidence, but no water was coming out.   No great loss — the Mexican workers use it more than we do.   So I ran the line from the shower head out the ground floor bathroom window, hosed off my bike, then misted almost everything in WD40.   It was ugly but effective, hardly any rust on the chain or anywhere else when we arrived home, which is key when you consider the possibilities of what could (and has) happened driving a salty mud-encrusted bike home through salt air and sandblasts at 75 mph.

No more experiments with the estuary, from now on I’d rather be bored.