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.