Moving content?

I'm thinking of moving stuff over to Michaux Mayhem.

If you want to see posts about our MTB trip to Scotland, check them out over there!

We Were Somewhere Cool Last Weekend

But, damn that Rainbow Brite Forgetting Wand...I can't remember where.

It was the apotheosis of mountain biking. There will never be anything eclipsing the ride last Saturday. For one sweet, sweet morning, our lives were wholly complete, souls' wishes fulfilled, our proverbial cup did indeed runneth over.

Now, here I am back in the dreary mundane world of the rest of my existence. Cursing the Fates that so cruelly do mock me. I was treated to a vision and a brief visit to the Shangri-La of mountain biking. No experience will ever again transcend it.

AND I CAN'T REMEMBER WHERE THE HELL WE WERE!!!!

damn you, donnie.

There is no point. All future mountain bike rides will be hollow shams of uselessness.

I'm going to go burn the tires off my bikes.

2010 TTT

Thanks, Ray and Karen. Great time, once again.

Dickinson Commencement 2010

I'll save the details. Here's the important stuff:

Congratulations, Jake! Congratulations, Alyssa!

Jake, it's been great to ride with you these past few years and watch you improve as a rider and grow as a person.

Alyssa, we're glad we got to know you--you are a wonderful, kind person--we hope the two of you are happy for a long time!

Best wishes to both of you in your next steps.

Yes, they are actually hoods, in case you weren't sure. It was cold in medieval times.

Uh...

If you ever think you are a good speaker, read a transcript of yourself. This isn't me, but it is a possible candidate for governor of this fine, fine Commonwealth.

"Well, I uh supported President Bush, uh in his education reform, no child left behind. I thought that was uh, sensible. Uh you know, setting up standards and uh, requiring testing of school children. And uh, I thought that was an important step very early in his first term. Uh, the problem with that is that it wasn’t properly funded, uh once that law was started. Uh, but I worked in a bipartisan way and worked in the House to uh get that through and get that enacted in the law. Um, but it’s never quite been met its potential. Fundamentally, there hasn’t been enough money for the remedial programs that were needed for the kids that don’t measure up on the testing. I think testing kids on uh, uh standardized tests is a fine thing and an important thing to do. But if you don’t have remedial programs to help the kids that fail, then the whole thing’s a waste of time. And that’s where uh, no child left behind has fallen short."

Stolen from witf.org.

And no, I am not implying that I am any better.

That being said, today is election day. Educate yourself. Go vote.

Upgrayedd

Spelled thusly, "with two D's, as he says, 'for a double dose of this pimping'."


The Blackbuck received some additions this spring. Looking forward to trying them out. First off is from my wife, who totally rocks.

She got me this for my birthday. I had no idea I needed it until I opened the box and saw it. It is so going to Scotland with us. Combined with the bottle opener on the seatpost, I'm beginning to think it'll look like mountain biking is simply an excuse to drink...

Should I be worried?

The other bit is an IGH rear wheel with a Shimano Alfine 8-speed hub. Faux-SS. I'm hoping it's up to the task of wheeling my pimp-ass around. Tomi did the legwork last fall so it was pretty much plug-and-play for me. He took the pain. Thanks, Tom.

What else? Oh yeah, scored some Middleburn cranks, too.

An finally, more cushion for the pushin' . . . Maxxis Ardent 2.4 rubbers. Tubeless in the rear, tubed up front. Meaty beefy big and bouncy. I read that somewhere. I think on Mike Curiak's blog but he was referring to another tire. I just liked the way it sounded.

That is all.

Now I just need to ride it.

xkcd

more here.

Break in the Action

A crew from PMBA brought their big bikes to Michaux for the weekend so we switched up the schedule from firewood to riding to show them around both days. Had two great rides with a bunch of really great people. Saturday was a tour of Rattlesnake, V2, Corkscrew, Bitch, the enduro stuff, Loop to No Where, then got friendly with the fisherfolk out to Dead Woman's, Grave Ridge both ways, up DWH, out 3 Mile, over the ridge to finish on Deer Bingo (call it whatcha want).

Sunday was a shorter jaunt from Big Flat out Camp 3, then new moto rockgarden love, in the doubletrack to Abby, down to the Res, across Loon/Breast (call it whatcha want), then had to bail back up the road due to time constraints. Still a hoot.

And there's a sweet new rock line on Abby, thanks to idle hands during a flat change. Enjoy.

Thanks, PMBA, for looking us up--we had a great weekend.

Slackin'

this happened back in March...just now getting a pic up.

it was a good night with neighbors.

bolognese made with elk, venison, and veal partnered up with homemade pappardelle,

a damn tasty salad,

homemade bread,

and blood orange polenta cake for dessert...with a rum tasting sesh thrown in.

the oldest bottle was 20+ years, i think.

and it was among the tastiest.

Still the Ant, Not Yet the Grasshopper

therapeutic after wrestling with computers all day.

i split many laptops and bill gates last night.

all this was not last night.

it's the continuing culmination of quite a few sessions with the maul.

Springtime in Michaux

Sunday morning we rode trainers in the basement and watched Idiocracy. Had no idea how it would hit home later in the day!

I was suffering from cabin fever so we took the truck out for a mosey around the forest to see what conditions were like.

We started out Ridge Road and got a hundred yards or so past the double yellow gates, when we decided going forward would be foolhardy. Still lots of wet, heavy snow you could easily sit the frame of the truck on and be very, very stuck between there and Woodrow Road. This is where the road had been drifted shut bank-to-bank and then run down by snowmibiles. Then drifted shut again. And then run down by snowmobiles again. At its deepest before the melt, the snow was probably 4'-5'.

Up towards Woodrow, we saw a Jeep Cherokee in the road, facing us, pretty obviously not going anywhere. We turned around and headed back and down Michaux, intending to loop around and up Woodrow to see what was up with the Jeep. On the way up Woodrow from 233, as we climbed towards the very steep right-hand switchback on the south face, we see a blue Ford F350 long-bed crewcab with its rear end down over the bank against a tree and its front end pointing up around the corner. We pulled to a stop, and I got out of the Cruiser to hear the driver of the Ford saying, "We're really pissed!"

I thought, gee, I would be, too, if we were in their situation.

I offered to try to give them a hand and the driver got out of the truck. Once he was on his feet, I realized he wasn't mad, he was just about falling down drunk. Yeah, he was "pissed"!

He asked, "Is that a Toyota?"
"Yeah."
"Waddya know...a Ford getting pulled out by a Toyota" He kinda chuckled to himself.

We drove up to get a good pulling direction on the Ford, put the Toyota in 4L and locked all the diffs. The corner was slimy, crappy mud--better on the high side with the lower gutter looking pretty treacherous, which is how the Ford slid backwards and off the road.

Without making a fuss about it, the Ford driver laid down in the mud to hook the snatch strap to his truck...which was good on him! Don't make the guy helping you get in the mud! I shackled the other end to one of the rear recovery points on the Cruiser and jockeyed the truck into position for a yank.

It took about 4-5 good jerks to get him completely on the road, with all four wheels of the Cruiser flinging mud in the slop. Part way through, another Ford pickup with a small dump body came down Woodrow from the top and stopped to watch. We got the F350 up on the road and Pissed Guy offered us $10 for our efforts. I told him that if he would be the one to get in the mud again to unhook the strap, that would be payment enough. So he frolicked and cussed in the mud again. At one point, he stepped backwards and nearly fell on his butt in the ditch. This guy was pretty much plastered!

I threw the muddy strap in the back and we started up the road to go around the other truck. We stopped to say hi quickly, and find out that these guys were called to come pull out the F350...and then they couldn't get the dump Ford started again...We kept going at that point.

Up and over to Ridge Road, then a right turn to see what was up with the Cherokee. No one was with it. Abandoned. We stopped where it still made sense and I walked out to the Jeep. The snow pack was so dense that the Jeep was sitting ON TOP of it. It wasn't cutting through it. Bone stock Cherokee. With half-worn out street tires. The right front wheel was dropped off the snow pack into the ditch. And that was why he was stuck. With that tire hanging, he had no traction on the front right and the rear left. So, without differential locks of some sort, those wheels just spun and the Jeep didn't move. We guessed this was the offal of drunken hooligans from Saturday night.

We backed out and headed back over Woodrow Road. When we reached the Ford hairpin, we saw the dump Ford now sitting abondoned on the shoulder and the F350 no where to be found. And of course, a pile of Bud Lite cans in the road where Pissed Guy ditched the evidence. Idiocracy.

We picked up the cans and threw them in the dump bed of the other Ford, saving one to put under the windshield wiper for them to see and continued on our way.

I love the creatures you can find in Michaux in the spring. We really need to remember the camera next time.

In My Head Today

Back to Being the Bridesmaid

Two sweet, sweet storms this week. Both way too far North.

Of course, there's part of me that wants to get in the truck and chase down the pow.

They're calling for 2-3 feet in Burlington today.

And another doozy in a couple days...Mad River Glen and Stowe would be rockin'!

Not to mention the 'Dacks...

Quick Pics from the Weekend

The ridge behind the house:

Skiing on Ridge Road--the drifts were pushing 4+ feet deep in spots. No one will be driving out here for a bit! Drifted shut bank to bank in spots.

On Monday took Z out on his maiden xc ski on my really old gear.

Some of which didn't last the whole trek.

Thank god for zip ties.

Professor, What's Another Word for Pirate Treasure?

Why, I think it's "Booty"!

Booty!

That's what it is.

All major storms have tales of woe. Some can't be helped, and some are self-manufactured. And sometimes Snow Pirates profit from the misfortunes of others.

This story starts as a good pirate tale should--with a rumor of buried treasure. We received a garbled, incoherent voicemail on Sunday night from one of our friends, at some bar, in some state of mind, rambling on about people she knew, a snow storm, Humvees, Michener cabin, and a sled of goodies abandoned in the snow during the retreat from a failed expedition...

We had to call her back to get a slightly more coherent telling--it wasn't much better, but enough to set off scheming for a treasure hunt.

It all started on a dark and stormy night. In this case, it was last Friday--you know, two storms ago--like eternity, almost. Four fine folks from Harrisburg (why can't the city start with an "F", too?) rented Michener Cabin from the PATC for the weekend. On Friday evening, in the gathering snow, they hiked the one mile downhill from the trailhead on a Michaux forest road that would not see a snow plow under normal circumstances. Friday night was a raucous good time, with wine and cheese and other sundry delights, ensconced as they were in their warm and snug little refuge, while the snow continued to pile up outside.

They awoke Saturday to a winter wonderland of deep, deep snow. The reality of the storm set in, and this, coupled with their uncertain firewood supply, drove them to mount a retreat back to their vehicles at the top of the mountain. So they packed up their gear, shouldered their packs, and loaded their sled with their chest of goodies. Alas, dragging a sled of goodies uphill in deep snow while post-holing proved to be too much. The sled was was probably falling over every few feet as it tried to track in the footsteps that were too narrow for it, causing it sit very off-camber and off-balance. The fearless four decided to jettison the chest and save themselves. Back to the cars they post-holed. It couldn't have been an easy slog, uphill most of the way and with the burden of loaded packs.

Of course, when they reached the cars, they were really no better off. They couldn't get out. Snowed in. Somehow or another they finally contacted someone to inform them of the situation and the National Guard was dispatched in a Humvee to rescue the errant woodland merry-makers. So, now the folks were safe from their predicament, but their cars were still stranded almost a mile in from where the last plow blade touched.

Sunday they returned to the scene and hired a local with a plow to open the road into their cars. I have no idea how much that cost...but they were able to retrieve their vehicles and fled back to the relative safety of the town again...and a warm, jovial bar...where they could get happily inebriated and regale the dumbstruck crowds with the tale of their misadventures over the previous 48 hours. Which leads us to the voicemail from Sunday evening.

And our scheming.

Monday didn't work.

Tuesday evening it started to snow again.

Wednesday we considered making an attempt, in the midst of the blizzard, but saner heads prevailed. Good thing or we might have been constructing our own tale of woe.


Thursday dawned clear and beautiful. After working, digging out, and taking in some sustenance, we decided it was time. Wait too long and some other dirty pirate may beat you to the prize. Can't trust pirates, you know.


We drove to the end of the plowing, turned around and parked the snow schooner. A quick, fortuitous discussion with the resident there confirmed the story of Humvees and a hired plow. And so we started breaking trail. It was work, even on powder snowshoes. But it was beautiful work.


We assumed we would see some telltale lump in the snow that would tip us off. Where it wasn't drifted, we could still see the slight depression of the foursome's tracks out. Down, down the whole way to the cabin we went with nothing to show for our work, except for a nicely broken trail to go back up. No lumps, no bumps, nothing.


We conferred. It made no sense that they left the chest in the cabin. Based on the description of the contents, they would not have simply left it without making an attempt to take it along. It had to be up the trail somewhere. Probably not that far up, based on how much of a pain it would have been to pull it without a snowshoe-wide track to guide it. Definitely no further than the steepest pitch. We decided we would take our time on the way back up and look closer--perhaps they moved it to the side of the trail--and also poke and prod with our poles in case there was no discernable lump in the snowscape. Having a broken track to follow out would help this as our work would be cut in half.

So back up we started. With every step we poked the snow to either side of the track. We scanned the surrounding bumps. Is that a huckleberry bush, some low laurel, or a treasure chest? About 150 yards up from the cabin, my left pole made a very different sound. A hollow, plasticky thump. Could it be? I unstrapped the avalanche shovel and started to dig. Sure enough, we found it!


Many "Aye, Mateys" were exchanged as we took inventory of our booty. We tied it to our sled and started back up the mountain, triumphant, but with almost 2 miles of snow slogging back to the schooner. Back at the truck, we were triumphant, tired, and happy. This pirate treasure was no tall tale!

Getting Closer...

Camps, methinks we need to take a stab at THIS over the weekend.

For a more geeked-out status report, check out the Tractor.

Firewood is being back-burnered. Time to ski and board.

Hopeful Redux

Maybe this week...

Tomi will want to move to WG if this keeps up.

And we may have to trade in the chainsaw for skis for a weekend.

Yes.

Here's the beginning of the answer to the question.

Maul added for scale.

The pile is going to get bigger before it gets smaller.

And on another topic, congratulations to all the Snot Rocket racers--looks like it was epic conditions for the later races on Saturday in VA.

Hopeful

Please let this system get far enough north to slap us on the ass and call us Sally.

Musical Interlude

Since I keep forgetting the camera to put something up about WG part deux, here's a link and some lyrics for you to chew on.

So gather up your axes,

Forget about paying your taxes,

And hack your way to the root of the industry.

--------------------

http://hootsandhellmouth.com/music.php

Root of the Industry

by

Hoots and Hellmouth

---------------------

Thanks, Chili, for the link this morning. It fits well with my ongoing disgust concerning corporations.

Converted

What a freaking life changing weekend. We went to Whitegrass with Chili and Ricky Brown for the first time, in what some said were the best conditions in years. D and I have been talking about wanting to change up our winter sports of choice. She gets too cold riding lifts all the time and we both like the idea of going anywhere we like, both up and down. Kinda hard to do that on a snowboard. We've owned XC touring setups for a few years, with seldom ever enough snow to actually use the damn things locally. And we balk at paying so much for a whopping several hundred feet of vert on local ski bumps.


So, all this led to a greater interest in taking XC further, into backcountry, and maybe even tele. Doesn't help when you know this guy and this guy and have to look at pics and hear about it from them all the time. And hearing about it inevitably leads to Whitegrass--a far cry from the what can sometimes feel like a lift-served douche-fest of the baggy-pantsed. Chili and Rick were interested in heading down again, having not been there since at least last year, so we planned our maiden voyage with them.

It got increasingly snowier on our drive down and we pulled into a winter wonderland at WG. D and I opted for a lesson because I readily admitted I could learn a few things. The biggest revelation? The easiest way to get up after falling down on XC gear. It was so appallingly obvious after it was demonstrated to us that I had a head-smacking moment at the simplicity of it. We tooled around near the base of the slope both before and after the lesson, and I know I felt much more relaxed afterwards. D bemoaned the lack of metal edges on our touring skis and missed the edge bite she was used to from her downhill gear. We decided to rent on Saturday.

We stayed at the Purple Fiddle in Thomas, a bit up the road from WG, but nice accommodations, good food and brews, and great music on Friday night, with The Whiskey Rebellion. Camp rolled in with O during the first set so we got to hang out for a little bit before calling it a night.
Saturday was cold again, and it snowed even more overnight. Beautiful. We broke our fast and headed for the shed at WG. We were early--apparently they didn't officially open until 9:00--but they took care of us anyway and hooked us up with rentals--BC skis with 3/4 metal edges and NNNBC bindings and boots. The goal that day was Bald Knob--the tippy top of the hill. Almost a 1000 feet of vert. It started well enough, but unfortunately, about half way up, my left boot started eating the arch of my foot. The scenery was awe inspiring and we were tremendously happy to be out in it--I just had to grit my teeth in some sections to keep my inside edge buried and my form right. XC gained a new meaning--Xtra Cussin'. At the top, we bumped into Tomi, admired the clouds, snow and wind, I checked my foot and applied a bandage and we began the descent. We opted for the easier 3-Mile trail to go down--pretty sedate overall. By the time we got back to the lodge, I was more than ready to lose my boots, sit inside, and drink a frosty beverage or two. D and Rick headed back out to the main slope because Donna wanted to try more downhill turning. If this was typical lift-served, I know there would have been no way she would have headed back out.
I was out of the mix for Sunday and it ended up that everyone else decided not to ski again, too. So, on the bluebird day of the weekend, we loaded up and headed north.

But we'll be back. Oh yes, we'll be back. This clicks so much better than the typisch downhill scene.

We may have downhill gear for sale soon. Anyone interested?