The past year has been a tumultuous time for the workshop of Velo Exploration. For the good part of two years the operation was housed in a snug single car garage complete with custom made work bench, large wired speakers, insulation (in 2 walls) and even a retired bottle cage beverage holder. All this five feet from the kitchen. The occasional blast of winter spindrift under the gap in the door and clandestine mouse drop from the neighbor cat were a small price to pay. This was as close to bike workshop Valhalla as I have known. Then, like all good things, it ended. The setup was hastily condensed to the back of a pick-up truck and ultimately onto a matt in the corner of a 3rd floor white carpeted apartment 3000 miles away. Painful. Needless to say this configuration did not last. The next stop for this traveling velo outfit would be a slightly bigger corner of a slightly smaller apartment with much browner carpet. This was home for a while until what should present itself but the ultimate: a large, detached shed!

But like many things in life, this fine four walled out building was not without its strings. Upon opening it’s ancient whitewashed door in quickly became apparent that owner of said structure had a vastly different view than the cyclist as to what proper use of a shed entailed. Piled precariously to the rafters was all manners of flotsam and jetsam spanning generations. Old doors, lawn mowers, a soiled mattress and empty paint cans unceremoniously teetered across the dreams of a half dozen bikes and a space deprived mechanic.

At the time of this writing some progress has been made. A portion of the shed has been liberated from the rubble and dedicated to the Velo Exploration “workshop”. It is functional but sure has a long way to go. There is hope that more rounds of negotiation with shed owner will yield further progress in restoring the dignity of this stout, slightly eastward listing structure. A day may come when a fully appointed shop is realised inside these walls. Until then the cranks will continue to turn as they always do and memories of those dark days in the white carpeted apartment corner will slowly drift out through the knot holes in the leaky room of the new bike space.

Spring has a tendency to offer a string of balmy, still days tempting rides high into the hills visiting terrain not ridden since last fall. Then with ferocity winter is back in one massive upslope storm dumping feet of wet snow all over thoughts of summer.

While engaged in the singlespeed tuck on a recent decent of a favorite mountain road, during one of these peaceful weather interludes, I was reminded what it is about spring in this part of the world that I like so much. The anticipation of a new run of adventure on the bike. Winter certainly is a time for two-wheeled exploits but these are of a different genus and an entirely different story best told when gold comes to the Aspen leaves.

Back to the promise of summer; Looking off to the South West the speed blurred view of my riding territory opens up. Memories of summer rides out the back door flood back with a glimpse of a thawing ridgeline and the smell of water-logged plant matter newly released from the melting snow pack. These windows of pristine weather allow the mind to wonder back to the routines of summer riding and to look back on the disappearing dark season with satisfaction of another one passed comfortably in the saddle. Pulling the fenders and studs off the commuter and giving it a thorough cleaning under warm spring sun is for me the symbolic end to the season. Another one in the books, it was a hell of a time but bring on the alpine ramblings.

Back down into the neighborhood and off of the mountain decent the warm Chinook wind blows hard in my face re-affirming the weather report I read but promptly dismissed as lies on account of ‘it’s spring damn it!’

The snow will be back at least once more before winter recedes for another edition. Though with each passing morning of carbide studs crunching on asphalt, days of pine laced singletrack, and wide open alpine speed draw ever closer.

“the Practical Pedal is a magazine, a website, and a blog or two for anyone who thinks bikes make great transportation.”

While checking out the latest offerings from Cetma Cargo the other morning I was fortunate enough to stumble upon a link to the Practical Pedal. How I am just now finding out about this publication I do not know but I highly recommend checking it out. Started by Wiley Davis the Practical Pedal addresses a variety of topics all stemming from the promotion of the bicycle as a practical and viable mode of transportation. Unique in this budding era of online only publications and zines Davis provides his offering to readers either via PDF through Issuu or in an actual newspaper format (yes it still exists). Readers can subscribe to the print edition at any of five nominal fee levels: free, $3, $7, 9$ or any amount. But why offer a print edition? Davis addresses this question here in the most recent issue. He talks about the inherent benefits of the printed page in presenting analytical content vs. news. Getting the publication and the resulting “cycling goodness” into the hands of someone who would not necessarily seek it out on the web is another reason behind the print edition. The Practical Pedal even gives supporters the option to receive a bulk shipment of the newspapers for only the cost of shipping for personal distribution in their area.

Another unique and interesting aspect of the Practical Pedal is what Davis calls the “Incubator“. Through this process The Practical Pedal presents topics for articles to appear in the upcoming issue.  Followers of the site are then invited to post their thoughts and comments on the subject at hand.   This provides a multi perspective discussion which eventually culminates in a published article.  A pretty cool idea if you ask me.

Certainly check out the site if you have not already.  The current issue contains an entertaining and cleverly written review of the Surly Big Dummy and the Madsen cargo bikes as well as a cool little piece of fiction.  Keep up the good fight Practical Pedal and may your readership grow.  Anyone who feels the need to publish a review of Paul Thumbies is obviously on the same page as VeloExploration!

With only a few days left before departing Boulder for California and a high pressure system firmly planted over the Front Range I decided it would be a good time to see if I could pull this off. As frequently happens, my “alpine start” turned into a mid-morning start. Normally I would have been worried about getting shutdown on the peak by afternoon thunderstorms but forecasts called for almost no chance of storms this day. So off I went.

I decided to ride up to the Peak to Peak Highway through the old mining town of Gold Hill. This route, while steeper than the main alternate Left Hand Canyon, is nearly all on dirt which, in my mind, beats riding my knobby tire shod singlespeed up a long gradual road climb. At Gold Hill I stopped to take in some food and snap a few pictures. I have ridden this route countless times and know the topography between Gold Hill and the Peak to Peak Highway well. I settled into the climbing at hand while reminding myself that I was planning to climb a peak at the top of this road not just descend back to town like usual. Energy conservation would be my mantra for the day. After over three hours of climbing from my front door I reached the Peak to Peak highway. From here it was a road burn slightly uphill to the town of Ward where I turned left on the access road to Brainard Lake Recreation Area, the gateway to the Mt. Audubon portion of the Indian Peaks Wilderness.

“Are you watching the Tour? What do you think of Lance’s comeback? Wow, you cyclists sure are tough.” This burst of rapid fire questions and exclamations came from a kind southern accented gate attendant at the entrance to the Brainard parking area. As my oxygen starved brain struggled to catch up with her I couldn’t help but marvel at what Lance Armstrong has done for our sport as far as bringing it closer to the mainstream, but that is a different story. After bidding farewell to the gate attendant I headed up to Brainard Lake to re-fill my bottles and fill my 100 oz. bladder for the hike portion of this little endeavor.

Upon reaching the Mt. Audubon trail head the elapsed time on my watch read four hours exactly. The mosquitoes were swarming after a late, wet winter so I wasted no time in the transition. I stowed my bike, shoes and helmet under a fallen pine bow just above the parking lot. I traded bike shoes for trail runners and helmet for hat. I also took a moment to inhale a peanut butter and jelly burrito and an large amount of Redvines. My favorite endurance food.

The trail up to the summit of Audubon is four miles long and reaches tree line just about a mile and a half in. I figured I could reach the summit and be back down in less than four hours. It being a Thursday the traffic on this normally packed trail was light. Just the way I like it. I cruised along through though the cool pine forest keeping an eye out for the black bear mother and cub the gate attendant told me had been spotted here recently. Soon I found myself at tree line looking back down into the brown smog cloud filling the Boulder Valley on this hot windless day. With not a cloud in the sky I continued up into the alpine past the first of the Pika colonies along the way. I have heard that due to rising winter temperatures Pikas are being forced to move their colonies up in elevation. Sure enough this first colony that I have seen bustling with these rabbit like creatures on several occasions was silent. Farther up the trail I heard the familiar Pika squeaks coming from the scree fields a good one hundred feet higher in elevation. Continuing up the rocky trail toward the summit I couldn’t help but think about cars, gas, global warming, and the idea of fossil fuel free recreation.

As I reached the final push up the steep boulder field to the summit I cranked my Ipod to fend off my increasing faigue. Looking back down at Boulder far bellow I began to feel pretty satisfied at the distance I had covered under my own power. From the summit ridge I was treated to an amazing view of Long’s Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park to the north and the pyramidal ridges of Paiute Peak to the west. At just about the six hour mark, according to my watch, I reached the summit. After searching in vain for the summit register I took a seat in one of the half circle rock shelters. The warm mid-day sun and amazing views out over Colorado’s eastern plains began to lull me to sleep. I shook myself awake with the realization that there was no car waiting for me back at the trail head and that while it was 8,000 + feet down hill from here to my house the journey was really only half done.

Back on my feet I downed a Gu and some Redvines, admired the view one last time and began to pick my way carefully down the boulder field. After reaching the relatively smooth trail I was able to get into a good downhill rhythm and reach my bike in just under 3 and a half hours elapsed time from when I first stowed it. Climbing back onto the bike I struggled to change gears from hiking to steering a bike down a steep traffic filled mountain highway. With the singlespeed geared at 32×20 this would be a long, slow coasting decent. Upon reaching the top of Lefthand Canyon I assumed the aero singlepeed downhill tuck and before I knew it I was back down in the 90 degree heat of the valley cruising down Colorado 36 on the final leg towards home. As I reached my morning commute route I looked up at the peak nearly hidden in smog and heat. Knowing I had finally reached the summit under my own power gave me a great feeling of satisfaction and I assured myself this would not be my last bike assisted peak ascent.

I rolled into my backyard at just over nine hours elapsed time. A log day at the office for sure! I opened the door to a worried girlfriend, a delicious dinner on the table and a copious amount of cold hoppy bevrages in the fridge. Life is good!

I have always been intrigued by what gear others carry and why. I occasionally stumble upon discussions and sometimes pictures addressing this topic. I find this type of information invaluable as I refine my own kits over time. I also feel these types of gear discussions provide interesting insight into an aspect of everyday cycling that is often overlooked. No one wants to be stranded on a dark highway shoulder on their commute home because of a broken chain or left shivering high on a mountain pass because of inadequate clothing. It is to avoid these scenarios that we all put at least some thought into what we carry. For me this is one small element that helps make up the fun of the cycling experience. So without further rambling here is the first installment of “What are you carrying?”

This is my “go-to kit” for most of my commuting which usually involves some sort of lengthening of the ride home. I also use this configuration for longer off-road rides in backcountry areas. Everything is carried in an Osprey Stratos 24 pack. I have found it to be very stable and perfectly suited for riding. I chose the 24 liter size over the 18 liter version so as to be able to fit clothes and other bulky items that I usually have to carry on my commute. I think the Stratos 18 would have been better suited for most of my rides but the 24 just adds to the pack’s versatility without adding much weight. A wealth of compression straps keep the pack stable even when nearly empty.

Osprey’s Air Core back panel creates a gap between the back and the pack allowing for good air flow. The zip mesh pockets on the waist belt are great and allow me to keep food easily accessible for on the fly fueling. In the past few years Osprey has started incorporating stretch fabric pockets into their packs. These are really sweet. The Stratos 24 has a large one on the back panel which I usually keep a wind shell in. It also has two side stretch pockets which work well for bottles, food or glasses and can easily be accessed while moving. This pack works well for my purposes and I frequently use it for non bike related activities as well. This one is a keeper.

The following image depicts the items that I always keep in this pack. Obviously the tube changes based on which bike I am riding and I sometimes carry a bigger pump when weight is not really a concern. Not pictured are a set of arm warmers and a wind shell that generally live in the outer stretch pockets. During the rainy season I always have a pair of rain pants in the main compartment. Clothing, food and water are added depending on the ride.

This base kit has served me well and I have used it on all types of rides from my short daily commute to a W.R.I.A.D ride. Versatility is key for me and this setup is exactly that.

Hopefully someone will glean some useful info from this write-up. I would love to feature other’s setups in the future. Let Velo Exploration know what you are carrying and we’ll post it up here.

Keep ridin’…

As apex predators Mountain Lions play important roles in the eco-system of the Front Range and other areas in which they exist. They are largely solitary, nocturnal creatures and as a result contact with humans is rare but not unheard of. Recently in the northern section of Boulder abutting the foot hills a young lion was tranqualized and re-located after eating a domesticated cat. Incidents such as this are occurring more frequently in the Front Range and other wildland-urban interface areas as human populations further push into once undisturbed big-cat habitats.

When traveling within areas known to contain Mountain Lions it is important to be aware of the proper steps to take if a big cat is encountered. The City of Boulder provides a helpful write-up entitled What to Do If you Meet a Lion. They also provide a link for reporting sightings which provides vital information to researchers tracking lion populations in the area.

While all trail users in lion country should be prepared and educated, the chances of an encounter, let alone an attack, are very small. Clearly, getting in the car and driving to the trail head is far more dangerous than venturing into Mountain Lion habitat.

I grew up recreating in the prime lion territories of California and have logged countless trail hours both there and here in the Front Range. After all these years I was finally treated to sighting last fall. As dusk was just turning into darkness I was turning onto the top portion of Boulder’s Creek Path on my mountain bike. One hundred yards in front of me sitting right in the center of the path was the unmistakable silhouette of a big cat. I instantly stopped , got off the bike and slowly walked backward they way I had come. The Lion made no moves toward me but also showed no sign of fear or intentions of yielding the path. It appeared as if the animal was just crossing the path for a drink from the creek when I showed up. The encounter left me a little shaken but also in awe of the majesty of these animals and the fact that they still co-exist with our noisy civilization. I feel fortunate to have seen the cat I hope that others get the same opportunity while maintaining a healthy respect and knowledge of how to travel through their lands in as safe a manner as possible.

More information regarding Mountain Lions and their need for protection can be found through The Mountain Lion Foundation

- Official race description

Sounds pretty enticing huh? That’s what I thought. After having to pull out of the Gunnison Growler with a Moab induced clavicle injury I was looking for something to fill the void. The 1st running of the Fat Tire 40 looked perfect. I had never ridden in Crested Butte and figured this event would provide a pretty good tour. So, registration fee paid (very reasonable) and truck packed I headed to the Butte. The five or so hour drive from Boulder passed quickly and after a covert bivy somewhere near the start line I found my self straddling a bike with 95 or so others ready to ride some epic singletrack as fast as the engine would allow.

At 8 o’ clock sharp, after a brief rundown of the course and some words of encouragement, organizer Dave Ochs led the pack out on a neutral start which immediately crossed a nasty cattle guard. Before the guard a couple of riders right in front of me touched wheels which caused some excitement but fortunately no one went down. Once everyone had crossed the cattle guard safely Dave let the pack go and the race was on. The road section was done with in maybe 400 yards max and we funneled into a switchbacked climb of some smoothly buffed singletrack. All this changed as we entered an aspen grove at the top of a small ridge. The trail turned to rocky ,root infested ,up and down technical fun. Everything was still slick with morning moisture and precipitation from the previous day’s rain. This turned the pack to mayhem. I have never seen more mechanicals in the first mile of a bike race! The grove echoed with the grinding of gears and the yelling, both excitement and agony, of those privy to the knowledge that 42 more miles of this brutal perfection lay ahead. After the brief initial section of singletrack we were spit out onto a dirt road that would get us to the next stash of sweetness. At this point I had some time to recover from red-lining it at the start and take stock of the situation. Observations/realizations: This ride is going to be a beast! It is going to hurt bad with a rigid fork and single gear. Bad call there grasshopper! I am about to ride some of the best singletrack I have ever seen! All of the above proved to be true on many levels. From here on road sections were short and few as promised. I got lost in a world of amazing terrain and views while enjoying the cool shade of the pain cave. The course had a little bit of everything from open gradual climbs, ideal for the rigid singlespeed, to steep technical descents, not so ideal.

After the madness of the start I was able to settle in at a pace I deemed acceptable given my current lack of fitness and healing collar bone. Excuses, excuses!! I fell in with a group of guys that I would leap frog throughout the race. I would make up time on the climbs and they would blow me away on the descents leaving me struggling to remain in contact. Fun stuff! Some battles were won and some were lost but a hell of a time was had. Upon reaching the final singletrack section the race which lead up and over the Crested Butte ski area I found my self maxed out. The legs were done and my hands could barley hold onto the bars after 40+ miles of only the suspension travel provided by my 2.3 Exiwolf tire. I made it up the climb by the skin of my teeth and started the singletrack decent down to the finishing road. At this point I was trying to hold off a couple of guys who were chasing. I knew there wasn’t much chance with my descending the way it was. Sure enough they got me near the end of the singletrack section. They were gone for good as my 34×20 gearing would have me spun out on the flat finishing straightaway. After nearly laying the bike down on a sharp gravely turn transitioning from trail to road I was on the final push. I was able to find the strength to put in a good, though goofy looking, singlespeed sprint to hold off a few challengers at the line.

Quite a ride! Much harder than I expected but the most enjoyable race I have ever done for sure. 4 bottles, 4 GUs, a bunch of Honey Stinger Chews and no cramps. At the end my computer read 44 miles and change. I was later told that the overall vert. gain was pushing 8600 ft. I’m not sure if this is accurate or not? It sure felt like a lot of climbing either way. After some cold New Belgium Mighty Arrow and Pizza from the Secret Stash I began to feel human again. Thanks to those I rode with as well as Dave Ochs and Scott Still for putting this thing on. I hope this is the beginning of a long running event. I am now amped for the rest of the season and confident that the collar bone is good to go. Thanks for reading. Now get out and ride!

All photography courtesy of Joanna Nasar.

Looking down on the rim from Green River Overlook

The Ride:

Joanna and I were lucky enough to score a campsite at Willow Flat campground. This is a really nice little spot. It has some small juniper stands that provide a good amount of shade and wind relief. Green River Overlook is just a short walk down the road and offers a great view down onto the White Rim and out to the Needles and the Maze Districts beyond.

I decided for no particular reason that I would ride the Rim clockwise. Starting at Shafer Trail and ending up back and our campground. This would necessitate a 13 mile or so road burn from the end of Mineral Bottom Road back to Willow Flat but it would also make Joanna’s life easier as she would not have to wait around for me.
After a fairly restless night due to excitement, nerves and an ill placed rock I was ready to go. Joanna dropped me at the trailhead and fueled by some fruit and a can of espresso I dropped into Schafer just as the sun was beginning to rise above a fin of rock to the east. Instantly the nerves were gone and I knew this was going to be an amazing ride.

Rollin' out

Before I knew it I had bounced my way down the schwitchbacks of Schafer Trail Road past it’s intersection with Potash Road on its’ serpentine course into Moab. Just as I crested a small rise the sun slid above the distant rock shelves instantly reminding me that I was in the desert. I stripped off layers as I admired the sandy White Rim Road unraveling in front of me to the horizon. This is what its about. Time to get rollin’.

As the sun rose higher and temps climbed I began to get in a rhythm. Never had I been this alone and remote on my bike. I was loving it.

Schafer Trail Road w/ Potash Rd branching left

Hourly Gu shots and supplemental intake of equal parts beef jerky and Redvines were proving sufficient at keeping me fueled. Cruising along the rim on my rigid rig I saw no one. Every now an then I would blow through one of the campgrounds along the route. In the distance I would get a wave from the campground residents doing the route in multi day fashion. A novel idea to be sure.

The White Rim corridor is a stair step of sorts. The road runs along the middle of three steps sitting bellow the red cliffs of the Island In The Sky and above the deep canyon carved out by the Colorado and Green rivers. As a result the White Rim Road is largely flat excluding the climb back up to the Island in the Sky as well as the occasional ridge shooting perpendicularly across the road’s corridor. The most formidable of these ridges is Murphy’s Hogback. The climb is not particularly long but it is fairly steep and loose. My gearing choice along with other engine related factors had me walking the last bit of this climb. Climbing and descending the hogback had me over my major mental hurdle for the route. After the decent I realized the river I was skirting was now the Green. I had left the Colorado behind a ways before Murphy’s Hogback.

Murphy's Hogback seen from Green River Overlook at dusk

There is only a small portion of the ride in which the road is not directly above or next to one of the two rivers. The confluence point of these two massive waterways sits a ways south and slightly west of the White Rim Road between the Maze and Needles districts of Canyonlands. Exploration for another time.

This realization that I was now following the Green River gave me new energy as I continued to cruise along the rim trying not to crash as I took in the views. I knew my next challenge would be the sandy bottoms encountered in the second half of the ride as the rod dips off the shelf and down to the banks of the Green.

The Green River just before the sand started

I hit my first pad patch of sand at Potato Bottom. It got pretty deep at times but didn’t slow me down too badly. Four or five flops into the sand box later I was through the bottoms and at the base of the final climb out of the canyon. Horesethief Trail, while steep, is a well graded and smooth dirt road. As a result, sitting at the bottom of the climb I found my self surrounded by more humanity than I had seen in the last seven hours. The remote section of the ride was done now it was only a matter of getting up the final climb and completing the road burn back to camp where Joanna and food would be waiting.

Horsethief switchbacks

By this time the day had heated up to around 85 degrees. Not hot by Canyonlands standards but plenty hot for me. Looking up at the climb I could see the corner of each switchback held a precious piece of shade. Hoping from cool patch to cool patch provided a much needed mental distraction and had me at the top in no time. On the way up I was passed by two groups of people in cars both of whom offered me a ride. I must have looked pretty beat!

I was now back up on the Island in the Sky and faced with peddling the straight but rolling remainder of Horsthief Trail to its invisible terminus at Mineral Bottom Road and eventual intersection with paved highway 313. This stretch of dirt road proved to be the hardest section of the ride for me. The relentless false flats had my already tired legs screaming. This final 13 or so mile push to the highway seemed to take forever and had me thinking I was seeing mirages on the heat distorted horizon.

Done and done!

Cruising onto smooth asphalt after 8 hours on rough rock and dirt has a way of changing one’s mood. It was now into single speed aero mode for the final push back into the park. As I passed a group of grazing cows on the side of the highway all I could think of was the burgers I would cook over the fire back at camp. After a brief delirious chat with the nice ranger at the entrance station I could smell the stables. I took the final turn towards the campground and sat up to see our truck with Joanna behind the wheel cruising towards me. She had just begun her search! Perfect timing. She turned old blue lightning around and escorted me into camp where the consumption of protein and frosty, malty, adult beverages began and lasted into the wee hours. The White Rim in a day was in the bag and the season of big rides had begun.