Rocky Point – May 28-31

sunset during the drive on Thursday evening

G started calling our Mesa house “the other white house”, or maybe it was the beach house she meant?   For a while she was a little fuzzy on Mexico=beach=beach house, but after 3 trips in 3 months she has a perfectly clear understanding of the different locations and how we travel back and forth, how it takes time, how she gets to watch DVDs in the car.   Hooray – she is as smart as Kila!   and ironically, woke up Friday morning pretending to be a dog.

I spent Friday morning courting danger traversing downtown and back and back again buying cheap booze, silicon sealant and vainly shopping for a kite.   Re-grouting the kitchen sucks ass, Mexican traffic sucks ass, finding an unlimited supply of t-shirts and blankets but not a single kite sucks ass.

The Osprey Talon, however, continues to impress.   As does the view from Whale Hill.   Guess how much for 2 liters of dark tequila and a liter of kahlua?

Every ride now in RP I’m looking for new urban freeride challenges, and once you start opening your mind to what is rideable, everything starts looking pretty interesting.   All the Mexicans surely think to themselves ” ¡Gringo Loco!”

Rocky Point’s first (and only) log roll.

If you could nail something on one bike, but do not have aforementioned bike, can you say you can clean it? This drop comes at the bottom of a smooth 100-yard ramp winding down from the whale skeleton.   But a little too big, the wrong bike, the wrong pedals, landing in sand, alone, in Mexico = an elaborate excuse for a non-attempt.

After rolling the steps and convincing myself to pass on the jump, I circled back 30 minutes later having hitched up my drawers and ready to try again.   I got a puncture while climbing the steps which took a few hours to fully seal, an omen to leave this one for another time.

The next day I got some validation by cleaning this after 4 tries with different combinations of suspension and gear choice.   No one picture really shows it well, but you drop down about a 30 foot steep hill, build as much speed as possible while the grass steals it back, then wait for just the right moment as you’re stalling out near the top to make 1-2 pedal strokes and get over the hump, across the bridge to a fast escape by boosting 3 steps into the parking lot.

it sure felt vertical as I shot up it and approached the top.   My first 3 miscues were like missing a climb on Slickrock, but without the road rash.   Knowing I’d tumble on grass was very emboldening, kinda like riding in Flag.

aim for the bridge, as fast as you can!

This next one drops in from an unoccupied house’s patio.   It is across the street from our house, tempting me to start each ride with a ride down a 10-stepper, a 20-stepper, another 20-step spiral staircase, then onto this. Hopefully their rentals will continue to suck just like ours.

Other than riding, we all the rest of the weekend at the beach, otherwise never leaving the house or moving the car.   Great fun was had with all my girls.

The first not-horrible picture G has ever taken. She understands using the screen on the camera to set up a shot, but still wants to look through the viewfinder to shoot…I blame outdated cartoons.

ready for the beach!

everyone passed out on me!

not quite everyone

Genevieve 6-24-06.   Almost 4 weeks older, but thinner and with less hair than Alana

back at the house each night G and I played in the buggy.   Byron allegedly had it working for a few days last weekend, then it promptly broke again.   Its all good for G – we still had spirited adventures with all her pals Little Kila, Parroty, and Nene.

As G has gotten more confident around water and the ocean, she enjoyed getting taken out on the raft.   This made Kila very very uncomfortable.

Exiting the water in the surf   made G very very uncomfortable.   But she was pretty optimistic later while I was commiserating with her, saying “I’m going to get bigger.”   I tried to sell her on the idea of becoming a better swimmer.   She is struggling with this – she knows she can’t really swim, but I can sense her disappointment in thinking that she already can.

hurt feelings were mended by the first tentative forays into the world of citrus

Alana about to suffer her own trauma – hurling herself out of her chair and faceplanting in the sand.

no mess no foul