Weekends in Hell IV: RP

June 27, 2013 / chollaball / 1 Comment

so far, so surprisingly awesome. ask me again on 8-15 how I feel…

May 31 – June 1
picked kids up from school on bikes for shenanigans in the golf course sprinklers, water fountains, golf course lake. ghetto is fine with us if its wet.

Saturday: more keepin it realz at Wet & Wild, stared at lots of boltons and tats. â€¨Sunday: paddle Lower Salt with Sam Schoch, the Phx lowclass summer trifecta!

June 7-9
Friday: When was the last time you ran under sprinklers? Whatever your answer, its been too long. it doesnt take a child to show them the light, it takes a father who wants their kids to not complain about the heat to trip into facilitation genius. Saturday: Scottsdale Might Mud Mania. Sunday: Pool at the gym and hot tub.

June 14-16
Wet and Wild after school, 3…count them…3 swim\parties, then we all slept late hid inside and cooked on father’s day.

June 21 – last-time-til-soccer-season-ends beachtrip

2 powder days in the estuary

G gets a turn with the SLR

high tide after the solstice

little blond shovelers

ducks

Los caballeros parked their horses in a copse of trees behind our house.

I’ve never seen him do that before. Fortunately we had a pile of carrots we’d been hauling up and down the beach all weekend trying to feed them. Some backstory – the kids were out in the water both days the horses came by, and lamented their lonely horses, after missing them last trip as well. Such wpp, 3 whole months without duddy and mummy buying them pony rides. A black kitten with white mittens 2 days in a row appeared in our kitchen, G spoilt it with milk dubbed it Mittens the Kitten. Struck she was with prepuvettant hormones.

Our last night i came a’flying down the beach, exploding my calves in my toe-shoes after 2 days of running and climbing dunes and paddling with flippers, upon rendering myself hobbled for 3 days i cried thusly ‘the british are coming!‘ i had 6 minutes to find that line, and i thought – on the whole – it killed. I even fake-panted while i croaked it out a final time.

Beckie cracked the tiniest hint of a smile, at least my devastated reaction to her reaction led to a 15 minute civics lesson for the kids. The horses still weren’t there. They got so busy with their other colonies, the sun did set on the British Empire, we were out of beer, and had a lot of seafood and salsa back at the house.

good irony

Is Spring Break Germane to the Unemployed?

March 28, 2013 / chollaball / 1 Comment

Yes.

I worked harder, despite my unemployed effort baseline being disappointingly high. Every last screw in the house has been tightened, I sucked from the public teat for 3 weeks, and did 10 rides with the girls. 3 days of snowboarding and the trip to Sedona were restorative but not restful; driving is tiring, as are fear and stoke. I would have enjoyed another month off. I am grateful to have snuck in Wolf Creek and Highline.

It was all boot camp for 9 days of Xtreme parenting that left me sortakindawanting the relief of work. Not included in the pics below are soccer, the GROAZ Day at Somo, more soccer, and a marathon trip to the zoo.

Spring slush at Snowbowl for the kids, beers and laptop on the deck for me. I negotiated my salary for an offer while riding up the magic carpet with Alana while carrying an SLR. That has got to be some new kind of dooshbaggery.

rode the Hart Prairie lift and came down by herself. Not bad for a 7 year old on Day 7. I asked her if she could doo eet, she said yes. Her first run took 40 min, and she had “an epic wipeout”. She wanted to squeeze in 2 more runs, but only got one.

Next day in Mexico.

The jump line was still there, and The Guardian in his elf suit.

I scoped it out the first morning, on the Bird but only for recon with no pads or fullface. The dirt on the takeoffs and landings was much firmer than last time, but the wood was falling apart. Jump 5 had warped into a half bow and split the run in two, the droppin wobbled badly. So instead I came down the alternate 100 yard entrance of chunky sandy singletrack into 3 small jumps and the 4 big ones I tiptoed around last trip. I thought about jump #1 all evening, and pedaling over the next morning was feeling so groovy i thought i’d simply roll on up and send it. It still took 3 tries til i could shut down my brain enough. Just send it you dork. I was sure I’d wake up in a shitty mexican hospital, but the landing was perfect and half a second later I had to prepare for the big turn, the hipper at its exit, the next jump, and the next one, and keeping enough speed up for the next one.

Felt like more than 30 seconds.

The beach was sweet, chilly, and calm. We paddled a lot, tinkles took willpower.

Hash Run

I rode the fatbike. This terrain was awesome and joy and nerve-wracking, could not unlook it for a moment. I will come up with more judicious descriptions on future trips when i am not crapping my pants, assuming i do not first break my ankle and can upgrade my brakes to BB7s.

My tracks and the Ice Cream Man’s. It reassured me i was in the most efficient spot to traverse the beach.

Ice Cream Man is a sun-baked beefjerkyish dude who drags his cart for miles over sand. Sometimes I see him rolling up to Las Conchas when I’m rolling out. He doesn’t talk much and doesn’t waste a lot of energy and doesn’t seem comfortable unless he is plodding ahead with his cart. I understand, on long rides your equilibrium freaks out if you stop pedaling when your mind is intent on pedaling pedaling pedaling until you are finally done.

G gets a fistful of mexican coins and she comes back with some fewer and ice cream. I hope he overcharges us, or finds peace in honesty.

I spend some with Antonio, El Caballero, who likes my fatbike.

Alana rode for the first time holding onto G, but got skeered and didnt want to do it again the next day. Petting the baby was enough.

Kila agrees

Holiday Highlights

January 7, 2013 / chollaball / Leave a comment

Alex on a new-to-me slide down PMP.

My friends at Sunday Cycles put on a Bike for Kids charity. We bought a kid a bike, and i helped wrench for a couple hours

K-Trail, with Yuri, Travis and Lisa

This worked up an appetite for Bavarian Point.

Short trip to Flagstafrica

for a ride on the Polar Express

Rocky Point for New Years. Less beach, more art.

twas a group project

G taught Alana about the zombie apocalypse

4 days of stillness, never seen so little wind

bike rides

Bad Jumper Jumps Jump Line

January 3, 2013 / chollaball / Leave a comment

A tale of Mexican gnar.

No phone, no help, no health care, no buddies, and no beta. Just me and esta lÃnea I found two trips ago. It dictates a methodical approach to risk. It also requires I not be hungover in Rocky Point.

The line has 9 jumps, and at first all but the smaller bottom three looked sketchy. I’m in awe of guys who can manufacture vertical and distance, as I am not one of them. I’ve seen riders fly level to the roof of the cruiser shop at Rage on a tabletop I can barely clear. Even with my Firebird, full-face, and stormtrooper pads I was skeered and stupefied with where to begin.

I picked the 5th jump, since unlike the four jumps above it, it could be approached outside of the track to build speed, and offered the easiest landing.

The approach was the puzzle. All the ‘trail’ sections between jumps were powdery, with a combination of embedded rocks and shattered glass.

It took three tries til I found the sweet spot of speed and pedaling position enough to commit, and was rewarded with a soothing baritone rumble of my wheels on plywood, a brief silence, then a bass reply.

The next jump, number 6, hid a view of the bottom until you were committed.

and it looked intimidating to a bad jumper (sideview).

other sideview

It was in fact easy if I snuck a quick pedal on the approach, the soft landing was a more delicate problem.

It took til my 4th or 5th rep to stick it without sliding sideways. It gave me little time to recover for this natural jump with a nasty lip, that after 10 tries I could not hit smoothly.

The bottom two were fuuuuuuunnnn.

A good start for my first session. With a 30 min beach-town pedal to get there, and 30 min back, this would somewhat balance no fluids but coffee and beer.

I worked up the top half of the hill. Big no on this one.

deteriorating lip, long gap, exposed landing…

and soup to build speed in! Bypassing the jump made it a fun bit of techy singletrack to end the top section and transition to the lower five.

I wanted this one badly (#3), but plushy big bike much harder to toss around than my Malice.

and I didn’t like the soft bump at the entrance or the ramp’s wiggle. Still kicking myself, the Firebird could have handled it, but Mexican gnar requires a different sort of humility.

Number 2 was awesomesauce, everything just mild enough that the powder didn’t dampen my aggressiveness. I kept thinking I was gonna case it, and kept going far enough. OMG, *confidence*, quite powerful stuff.

oh yeah!

The top jump looked ugly just like #4.

The dropin was fun

all about finesse

and another single track approach

A few more runs, and I had plenty of candy and contemplation til I came back in 2 days for another great session. I was ready to try the top jump with a tow-in, and would have had #3 on my next run. I found an alternate entrance that had some hard jumps and a fun ~150 yard technical approach.

I hope it lasts til our next trip. It needs some attention, and its doomed without water. There is a new water tower on top of the hill, construction started about when the line appeared, and now the water tank is done. Irony. Maybe its crew rides dh bikes? Don’t snicker. Two different Border Patrol Agents knew the FatBike by name when they saw it taking up the other side of the rack. I find my 2-wheeled passion in odd corners too.

They Never Anticipated an Attack from the Sea!

October 25, 2012 / chollaball / Leave a comment

FATBIKE IN DA HIZOUSE!!!!

and even with a fatbike, horses suck

Sam came to visit and paddle. He made a beautiful vid of his day, shamelessly inserted below.

Sunday the winds were hellacious, so at low tide we hiked in estuary, in the lee of the peninsula.

Lots of dunes, lots of mud, children in the forest.

Sam’s most excellent vid

GnarGnar RP

September 6, 2012 / chollaball / 1 Comment

A 10-jump DH line with ramps and berms on top of Whale Hill.

I would have expected bike lockers at the Malecon before expecting this. Almost 75 rides in Rocky Point over the last 7 years, and never saw a single local mtbr. Then suddenly a significant piece of work, expense, balls and building expertise. Who can afford a DH bike down here, let alone bother the riding is so crappy?

#WHAT.THE.FUCK
#WHAT.THE.FUCKING.FUCK

It was so unexpected, I walked right by most of it and never looked up, which forced me to pinch out 1 pathetic timid run at 10:30 under a scorching sky, instead of 2-3 somewhat timid runs at 9:30 when it was only 95.

When I rolled over the top of the hill, I saw a new layer of plywood over the boulder line and barbed wire fence i’ve never found a way around. That it had a gap in the middle i attributed to wind and shitty mexican labor running out of materials. I wanted to boost it on the approach but couldnt get enough speed. I never looked over my shoulder up the hill.

There was a new cinder block foundation on the left, which i assumed caused the new washout on my right. The next large boulder was oddly packed in at the front, and the second one one i noted to pop off next time down. The subsequent boulder launched into a gapper that could not be ignored even by a hungover stoned xc weenie like me. The final one trannied out 5 yards from more barbed wire. 3 fun ones to hit on the way back, 3 only dumbass mexicans kids would try — still a helluva find down here.

ego-stoking on some strange, before knowing the top was there.

2012 0901 RP 03 from Jason Alexander on Vimeo.

The third time i pushed back up, I spotted the unnatural bulb of a jump, and traced it uphill to another and another. I kicked myself for an hour wasted hitting Old Port again, and dove in while go-rounding the ramps. The 29er is fine for finesse moves, but sucks in the air clipped-in with no pads. I still got a healthy kick ripping a beautifully built hipper out of the largest berm.

Thank you, mystery builder. I hope to meet you and pitch next trip when i bring the Bird. I’d never strand myself like that, but karmas this trip also brought the bike rack, G’s bike, the Blur and the 2bike. Choices will abound again next trip, with pads. Thank you, mystery builder .

El Sombrero de Queso Pequeno Rivera

June 30, 2012 / chollaball / 1 Comment

We found a kitten.

He was outside making a nuisance of himself, like desperate cats will do. Dogs won’t. Quite a smart thing. If he was scooped or inched in willingly, i could not tell the difference. He was happy and eating within moments. Odds are against him at our house, but better than they were.

This title could never be his name. Kitten names must be morsels. but if I start mucho grande i might negotiate down to Eduardo. Or Jesus. Or Arpaio. So many difficult choices. Like how to explain to Genevieve her role in our smuggling cartel.

Me: You’re going to have your dvd player on, really loud, with ‘Bolt’ or ‘Tom & Jerry’.
G: What did you say about the bag?
Me: Don’t think about the bag. Think about your dvd, and laughing really loud. But not too loud.
G: he won’t like it in the bag

G is fatal to a conspiracy, but we had grand fun scheming about it for 3 whole days. That we pulled it off is a tragic indictment of the Customs Bureau and Border Patrol. If they can’t stop a kitten and kindergartner giggling babbling ‘there’s nothing in the bag, bro‘, we are destined for nuclear winter or zombie apocalypse. I’ve got back fat for the former, cardio for the latter.

Beckie says I’m a pessimist, but I prefer to consider myself wary and prepared. I had to work all weekend steering an e-commerce train wreck of myopia and acquiescence just long enough to not get fired. Surprisingly, being filled with charity and simple warmth and fuzziness, it was one of our best trips evah!

Alana woke up and said ‘Cybro’s home!‘ It was so sweet in a pet cemetery way.

we still luv you Kila

kite taking Alana for a walk

6 times i parked outside the sports bar and covered my TPS report. All my riding was to the stoop outside the bar, with my laptop. A pic would have made a nice capture — me sitting in the dirt ganking signal on the day i decided i’m quitting PayPal, but this was much less wallowish:

G spent her time constructively. handwriting has gone to shit in a month, but summer adventures help her discover writing.

smugglers

El Cabrito

May 20, 2012 / chollaball / 2 Comments

Spring has peaked, Arizona Aspen, perfect time in Mexico

We brought the boat

Twas a huge success

Yuri joined us too, and brought his family

Good times had by all

4 in a kayak is not an easy feat, especially when 2 of them are sloppy drunk. Its like a Downs Syndrom child leading a yoga sequence. But after tipping many times on day 1, we figured out how to secure our drinks and keep our cores centered despite BAC. Every day we had hour long paddles with the whole family, G and Alana swimming in open water back to the intertube we towed. After maybe 5 uses in 6 years, the kayak is finally back in the rotation.

Yuri also brought a fat bike. Salsa Mukluk.

*WANT*

the fatbike was more fun than anyone should be allowed. No worries, no cars, just beer and pedals and water. A guy came bolting down from his beach house to ask me about tire width. A security guard swung his ATV over and asked to take a picture. A woman with a great fake rack asked if it was a custom frame, I asked her the same.

I got out to some places i dont haven’t gotten to. Saw an American Oystercatcher for the first time

And some of this

Los caballeros asked me about it 2 hours later while G was riding their horses and the bike was headed back to Phx with Yuri. A fat bike is what it takes to get noticed by the mexicans.

Me: como se llama amigo
El Caballero: Antonio
Antontio: How long you ride bikes?
Me: mi todo vida
Me: How long has your son ridden horses. Su hijo, los caballos, cuento?
Antonio: seis anos. How old the girl?
Me: Seis, bicicleta para cinco.

I foresee more horse rides in our future. I got money to spread, i take care of my bros. I got no pictures. The moment was just that awesome. I reminded Antonio when his youngest horse kicked G, and we all laughed.

With kayaking and fat-biking, the only workout of the weekend was highland games dragging the boat up off the beach

On Day 3 i went for a run, and heard a squealing while hitting hill repeats on a dune near Casa V. It came from under a dessicated, thorned shrub. When i looked close i saw a low path into the undergrowth, just worn enough for dogs. The squealing continued, and enraged my estrogen-saturated alpha male. I ripped the bush apart, coughing up powder and rot with every pull, sinking splinters in my hands that took a week to surface. Just when i saw the small brown pup, three dogs of mixed breeds barked from atop the dune. Great…momma does care, and she is wild and she brought friends. I left the little guy and ran home, returned with a half lb of dog foot and a pint of water. He eats, momma would eat, or everyone would die anyway, but at least I’d tried to make my incursion right. I heard a distinctly adult growl from the brush when I placed my offerings, and retreated wishing them all god-dogspeed.

Everyone loves their children

Snow and Sand – Spring Break ’12

March 14, 2012 / chollaball / Leave a comment

Brougham – I Walked In

Steamworks after a long drive. ‘Life of Pi’ audio was great, other than the accents giving me work flashbacks. I got more out of the peanuts than the kids did.

gearing up

morning games while waiting for the Spring snow to soften up. We stayed in my buddy’s over-garage studio – 5 min from downtown, along Junction Creek

Spotted Alana coming back from her childcare’s snowmen-making. She had no idea it was me

no day riding is complete without apres ploughmounding

Animas River Valley

Sunday morning

conditions were bony and only tolerable from 10:30-3. Most everything but the groomers was gangbanged and hard. Lots of edges. Proof was had that a bad day snowboarding is still a good day.