Month: December 2008

NRA Cherry Popped

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After picking up the full-face and the flats at the swap meet, it was just a matter of time. Chongoman and I circled the Sunday after Tday on the calendar, and planned on a short spin up the north face of Pass Mtn to the saddle as warm up. I love riding with Bob – he and I are so compatible in just about everything, we had a hoot spinning up 40 minutes and down 30 back to the NRA pit.

NRA has become a huge draw for the gravity and freeride crowd, the best site in the Valley. Up til recently it was outside anything i wanted to try, even though its only 10 minutes away. They have recently built a beginner line, and Bob had been there a few times enough to know 10am on a Sunday we would find some of the regulars willing to show us around. The only thing scarier to me than my first willful jumps since i smashed into Mark Croce’s mailbox when i was 10 was doing it without anyone to show me the way. As we rolled up, KennyB came flying down the trail on a Yeti hardtail with a gold set of rings and electric blue pedals–sweeeeeeeet bling. Kenny gave us the tour as we headed up the hill to the starting point of the B-line, and there is some incredible shit out there — things i do not see myself ever wanting to try — but awesome to watch and learn.

The first thing i noticed was there were very few natural drops in the trails Clockwork and his regulars cut into the hillside. It was mostly built-up dirt jumps with gaps and landings. I had never done this, and between the sharp angles of the takeoffs and the downsloping landings, I knew my goal for the first day: go off a ramp, come down without breaking my neck.   The beauty of my “no crashing” rule is that it make identifying stepping-stones very easy.     Anything beyond this would be a goal for another day; all i wanted was to learn one new thing and escape this session a better rider than before.   If i followed my fundamentals (pump, stay-centered, head up, stay off the brakes) and went the right speed, the bike would take care of the rest. But convincing myself of this strategy was an entirely different thing. never really happened, as I flew up 30 degree slopes that felt vertical to me, and over exposed rocks and bushes. I sweated each early jump, but knew that once i lined it up there was really no braking or turning back. The easiest way out was through, hesitating would lead to eating shit.   Getting paced by Bob in front helped a lot – i knew i really just had to follow him and stay within my discipline.

Bob and I hit the beginner line about 5 times.   It started with with one of the few natural drops, to an obscured landing, over some plants onto the curving trail. The scarier take off line led to the easiest…well, flight…and easier landing.   It was a proper litmus test for the run to be able to fly the 5 feet, or not. Looking at the jump, it became the primary question of my morning: are you gonna hit this, or are you gonna go home?   I was scared, but training got me through it and into a nice landing. There is a big bermed turn soon after, and Kenny told me to stay heavy on the fork to keep from drifting out — indeed he was correct, a bonus lesson for the day. This led to about 6 more jumps, some with easy and some with rockier gaps, a few bigger than others.

I struggled with keeping my feet on the pedals and landing on the nose, I struggled with self-doubt, but i was happy to see after a few runs that the jumps i was still struggling with were the slightly harder ones that I should feel no shame not hitting on day 1.   I hit one of them twice; the first time a nose landing, the second a near slide sideways – both times survived by just being cool honeybunny.   The last run Bob wanted to go up off a wooden ramp gap jump, and he nailed it, and then ended with a long leap that trannied into the pit.   It was fun to watch, I think i might have made them both, but refusing to fall was the motto, and i wanted a good finish to a good day.

Today I went through the pit while doing the Hawes-Pass Mountain Loop.   I decided to hit the easiest stuff on the b-line, enough to give me a few reps but not get stoopid without the right gear and warm-up.   Right at the start off the drop over the rocks, the landing felt stiff.   Duh! I left my fork locked out from the XC climb up Hawes, but it was cool to have come back a week later and not fretted that one.   Through the bermed turn and a few small jumps and i felt good.   The largest ramp, all 2 feet of it (which Eabos and Kenny will laugh their asses off if they read this), was a small act of faith to point up it and go, but i had the right form and it was no problem.   Its kind of a rush.

The cloud behind the silver lining was the Forest Service is planning to bulldoze all the jumps.   They recently plotted an extension to Wild Horse trail that will bypass the pit proper and parallel Ellsworth another mile up the pass.   I rode it today, and it will be a fun little XC trail like Big Rock, but nothing special.   And totally redundant with the existing trail that runs through the pit and out to the road, which has a ginormous shoulder and bike lane and is very heavily used by bikes already.   I don’t understand where approval comes from, if its from the whim of the FS Land Manager?   Tearing down something unique that a lot of people enjoy…why?   I’ve heard people on MTBR complain about such-and-such changes to such-and-such trail, but the closest i’ve come to this was the mile on TRW they shut down.   This pisses me off, and I’ve only been there twice!!!     Sometimes i just hate the government.

The Snoring Noise

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G talked Beckie into draping a sheet over some high-back chairs.   She wanted to go rough it in the wilderness.   Some pillows and a cat bed ended up under the sheet.   Then G invited me into her tent.   She said it was time to go to sleep, proceeded to lay down in the cat bed, and then made the snoring noise.

I need to know where she got this from!!!!!   I plan to interview the teachers, study some DVDs, and maybe ask her as well.

I need to know.

Seems Like Old Times

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For one night at least, the Rocket was back!

Poor Kila – she is getting on 8, and bears her share of Genevieve’s monopoly on the schedule. Each year she seems to get a little slower a little sooner, a little gimpier a little easier, a little less eager to run and run and run. She still gets run almost every day, almost. But more and more they are my weary walks in the desert for a mile or 2, or maybe a short walk to the park with an unclear delineation between freedom to nubby-nose and wanton leashing. Or sprints to the park on the bike, followed by boredom, followed by sprints home; and sprints on the road just beat her up.

The other night, i came home full of Xmas party food and Jack Daniels and no workout, to an un-run dog that was deprioritized.   It was brisk, i grabbed the Heckler cuz while i was far too drunk for tricks i wanted to sit on the bike that felt most like the couch. When we got to the pink park, i realized i had forgotten a leash, just as i remembered i had stuck a fresh bourbon in a water bottle in my back pocket. It was late, and cold – the only thing i could hope for to make this night more deserted would be a drizzle.   Kila has made it almost a mile without even raising my concern – i knew no leash would be no problem.

So the mandate for a Jason\Kila connection was established, and Kila did not disappoint.   We rolled through the park and the church and the drainage basins and the dark places off the road that are kind on her paws, skulked our way onto the Red Mountain Ranch golf course where i was treated to the pounding of her feet across the fairway, again and again and again, through the spinklers and the patches of light, with her ears pinned back and her dog-smile ablaze.   Go Dog Go.   We used to have runs like this a couple time a week, and as we crept past the Walgreens and back through the neighborhood, i wondered how many great dog runs we will still have?

Many.

Newsworthy

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I just heard about the Mumbai attacks tonight on the Daily Show. It took me til the evening of 9-11 to hear about the Towers, other than some blurb on espn.com about games being rescheduled.   None of this affects me as much as what new trucks are up on CraigsList; i’ll find out soon enough commiserate with its impact on me. I knew about the first Phoenix Light Rail accident very very soon, and i usually know pretty quickly what is happening with group rides on MTBR.

I love how technology frees us to craft and filter what we experience.   RSS, tivo, do not call lists, bookmarks – the world is mine, exactly how i want it!   While there is something to be said for common experiences and some degree of homogeneity across a society, it blasts to hell any notion of one monolithic media voice. There may very well be a Fox News conspiracy, but who cares?   There are thousands of outlets empowered to deliver their own conspiracy.

The independence goes beyond the experience or the editorializing; it is independence to prioritize something’s importance to you.   I click my mouse and tell all the Presidential candidates to go to hell, I would rather follow football.   Beckie and her family drift into a very high and mighty attitude towards their wonkishness, thinking that the content they follow somehow is more important.   Just because “significant” content is available non-stop does not mean I need to follow it.   Do i really need an election timer countdown, or need to know the latest plot development when i’ve already made up my decision? Anything news-worthy I will still hear about, and the truth rises out of the swirl, like a feedback rating from 1,000 users eventually leaves the correct impression.   The abundance leads to the distillation.   What’s left is for the individual to form their own opinion, if they want to, or not.

Phon D to the River

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There is a little trail that cuts over the hills from Bush Highway to the Phon D rec area on the Salt. No one ever takes it, its not something you would seek out to hike, or even share with others. I hit it a couple times a year as an alternative to Tower Trail or Wind Cave; its perfect to get a little workout, unleash the dog, and despite its distance is actually kinda hard: 1000 feet in 3 miles, over very steep and degraded jeep tracks.

G hiked most of the way in, with careful spotting and deposits into the backpack when i panicked on her behalf. G did amazingly well; all her skills and patience came to bear in almost 30 minutes of non-stop walking and concentration. The kid is fit, too! It made me so proud to see how much skill her tinyBrain has absorbed and her tinyBody has learned. But i constantly fret that her competency is only a stepping-stone from one short-lived safe haven to the next more dangerous challenge. And, like me who has tumbled 3 times on the Las Sendas staircase recently due to arrogance, she is getting downright cocky. While walking the downslope and holding our hands, she developed a tinyGame of purposely skidding, knowing Beckie and I would pull her up. How to convey to her that her parental bungee chords will not always be attached, especially when she is having fun? The walk was accompanied by tinyPlayByPlay and tinyColorComentary: “I’m ok! but my leg has ouchies. I gotta be careful. Rocks give me ouchies. look horses!!!” and so on.

Next day, she specifically requested we go to the Pink Park where she conquered one of the few remaining trials that has thwarted her: an arched set of monkeybars. I spotted her as she timidly approached the highest rungs. She wanted to step on my arm, but I kept telling her use the bar use the bar until she quit relying on my safety net. At the last rung, she needed prodding to lean forward and reach her leg out for the platform. Its a move of faith when you are only 3 feet tall and anticipating that you will fall forward safely onto solid ground, much like i felt hitting small jumps for the first time at NRA that morning. After two attempts she was climbing up and down like she’d been doing it for months; far more progress than I made dirt jumping.

I let her fall off the platform once – she didn’t actually fall, but was leaning back and let herself go on purpose, thinking but not certain I was going to catch her. A two foot drop on her back into sand with a resounding thud knocked the wind out of her, and hopefully some sense into her. You gotta play with fear and arrogance.