Notes from Dejay

Dejay through this up as a Comment to my last post, but considering it's a novel, mostly written by Rudi Nadler, and a good read, I thought it best to move it to a full post. Word.

yes S.I.R. is in order, after climbing 7000+ft and ripping down hill single-t, the niner is rockin. The ridged fork shocked me at first but then started fllexing a bit, maybe do to the way i slammed it into a rock when i fell during a hike-a-bike, which bent my rotor and busted my knee, here is the full report from Rudi:Where is my mind" The Pixies

Sometimes going over the top really means going over the top. The AFD Society test out a new twist. Not as many miles as last weekends 130 plus mile ride, but equally as long in time with the added twist of miles of Holy Grace Mother of What Have I Gotten Myself Into downhill singletrack. Ride like this make for lounging about on Sunday quite the reality. Mark C, Dejay B. and yours truely met at six am at local Coffee Exchange. David B. tried but had forgotten his shoes, and had to race back home to get them. He'd planned on this ride and was not going to miss out on the foolish fun factor. So three of us left heading down Grant Rd. At Country Club we added another happy member to the days pleasures Matt A. Surprizingly Matt had decided to ride today with just two water bottles and pocket of food. A bit scare, but then after last weeks ride which we covered many more miles the cool temps kept the need of H2O to a minimum. But then it was warm this morning, even for Tucson in the winter. Basically an almost balmy 45 degrees. Last week was a touch cooler 25 at start time.

Hitting Mt. Lemon we had about 30 miles of climbing. No cheating today we were going as far as the road goes. Up to the Steward Observatory. I made the mistake of riding in to tall a gear, and pretty much suffered all the way up. I was happy that Dejay was not on his best so I didn't feel like I was the anchor quite yet. Mark flew off having a great day of finding rhythm after last weeks bonk. A coupl of turns and he was out of sight. Matt was in party mode and just road bunnyrabbit style up down round and round Dejay and I. He was making the climbing look way to easy. About three miles up David showed up. His partner Denise had kindly brought him to us. He really wanted in on the fun. Now the five of us, all on singlespeed continued our way up and up and up. I'll have to admit I seem to need more food on these rides than before. I feel like every five minutes The Hunger comes knocking at my door so I was happy with a stop at Windy Point where the views of Tucson was majestic and mmmmmm mmmmm the cliff bars are tasty. It's funny how I tend to think of Windy Point as the end of the climbing but the miles after always remind me that the next 14 miles can be rather draining. We made a brief stop at the Iron Door Cafe for a regoup and watering and then finished off our last few miles of climb, some of the hardest, to the summit.

Here's when the fun really kicks in. If you have a freewheel. For me it was the land of sphinter tightening forearm busting terror. I'll start right now by apologizing to the trail and mountain for what I was doing on the way down. The earth was so dry and the traction was so minimal that I was surfing more than riding. No good for trails. The boys dropped me as they rolled down and I face steep water bars and switch backs that left me in fixed gear fear. Riding the front wheel after going over steep water bar drops can be done, but I would not call this type of riding graceful by any means. They where kind to me and often waited not far ahead, calling out to me as I struggle bounced and walked this trail which brought us back to the Iron Door where a fit of eating insued. After this was the Red Ridge trail. Last time I rode Red Ridge was at least for years ago and now I remember why. Funny, I had a freewheel last time and and the trial was not bone dry dust and rock. I even thought it was fun. Well, except for the hike-a-bike to Charleau road. If I thought is I was surfing before now it was really true as I again beg the pardon of MTB's everwhere. With my legs locked and my brake on I faced the lack of any traction by shredding trail with skid that was beyond embarassing. Then even walking would have been skidding. Between the fires and the drough the trail was full of downed trees that impeded and impaled ( Dejay) forward momentum. At one point I even found a large boulder to test my thigh muscles. I'll be nursing this bruise for at lest a week.

After the the what seemed like 15 miles of Holy Shit riding we the descending became less tretoruous. The trail offer a new gift. One David aptly named "Hate Bushes." This is the point where the blood and dust began to really mingle. The mauling that took place was unequal to anything I'd experience in the past. Our legs began to glow as the nerve endings in our skin became exposed through the tearing action of the thorns we pedaled through. And it was here that the trail would disappear and reappear with random frequency. Mostly frequency. The 1.5 miles left to Charleau Gap dirt road was a long march. It was here that Dejay, albeit not riding his bike, fell down a pile of rock and bashed his knee and brand new bike up. Well, the bike had to be tested. His pain passed and soon we arrived at Charleau Road. Charleau Gap road is a at times steep, loose, yet more ridable than I fear. Still this three mile climb left us shaking and hungery again at the top. We took a few minutes to consume as only a cyclist can. Food, more food. Water, yes please. Gummy Bears. I must admit Gummys have a sweet place in my heart. Then down Charleau toward Cherry Creek and Catalina. Matt and I found our spirit animal for the ride going down Charleau's loose and steep turns. May the spirit of the Skunk be with you. Today the skunk let us pass without a wiff, just the beauty of his black and white determine body as he too descended the Gap. After one false start, I found the correct turn off to Cherry Creek and led the boys to the singletrack. Sweetest of the ride. While they flew off, was happy to be riding not sliding on this wonderful long and fun descent. Everytime I caught up with them the glow of Nirvana was in their eyes. Nothing better than a couple of hours of singletrack that is challenging and in comparison health to make the suffering on Red Ridge seem like a thing of the past.

By this point we were pretty much all out of liquid, and instead of the heading into Catalina State park we opted to go straight out to Golder road and the convienience store. Did lemonade ever tasts so good. We were at about 5 pm at this point. And we quickly got on Oracle road for a final touch of road riding. Spun out fixie and spinning out singlespeeding down to Ina where I left the boys and headed with my tired, brusied, and bloody body to my parents house for a dinner party.

Postscript: After arriving at my parents, I showered up, and had a glass of wine while waiting for dinner. Thing were going fine till I had my glass filled again. Somewhere around the time of having half of that second glass and getting up for food the alchol and my metabolism kicked in to high gear. While standing in line wait for one of my cousins to put salad in her plate one leaf at a time the world began to spin. I turned vivid shade of green, the darkness swirled in on my eyes. I'm not really sure how I got back to my chair, but when I got there I realized the whole party was staring at me. Well after some water and a large place pasta, meat balls and eggplant, I had quickly recovered. Well except form my thigh. That'll take a few days. Well, see you all at the 24 HOP course.

MmMm, cow Rrose Selavy (Eros, C'est la vie)

Rudi