The pointless search for the fork less tarnished

It came to me that a new fork was really the thing for the Fat Chance. I can't get one right now, but in a few months maybe.

I ended up on the White industries webpage, where I found some sweet carbon 29er' forks. Really nice, but no 1 inch steerer tubes.


I have been thinking of turning the Fat Chance into a 69'er. It really boils down to finding the right fork. I have a Kenesis 700c cyclo cross fork somewhere. I just don't know if it it will be wide enough for the knobby. I have been running a 1.9 in the rear due to the narrow chainstays, and not to mentioned the fact that they are shortened.

I then decided to go back and look for forks from certain bicycles of the same period.
It didn't take long before I was looking at forks from Bridgestone MB1's. There was of course the strange, double crown version. And the other fork used was the Ritchey Super Logic.

So I turn my head to the left, and look at my bike, and what do I see? A Ritchey Super Logic. Isn't that a bitch? I turns out that the fork I bought on a $25 dollar Cannondale mt bike is exactly the fork I should be running on this bike. It actually had weeds growing around the fork when I got it.

Of course I have long understood the quality of this item. I recognized it when I saw the bike in the weeds. And it was strange to have the internet remind me of just that fact.

I of course would love to have a Fat One fork, or a Tange Switchblade. Bontrager also has a decent looking for out there.

As for the 69'er fork? It will come to pass, and this could be the finest hour yet of the Ole Fat Chance. It will pop the geometry up just a bit, and put more momentum up front.

Joy.

Over The Shoulder

After the frustration of Thursday's ride, I spent a small part of Saturday night working on the Fat Chance. I installed a Selle San Marco Rolls "Due " saddle, and went over the bike. There is virtually no clearance between the rear tire and the chain stay, so if the wheel goes out of true, which it always does, I need to re-true it to get it to clear. This of course would turn out to be the least of my worries as I headed out Sunday afternoon.


Ward Rd. is right by my house, and a quick trek along the most dangerous stretch of road in Clark County put me at a right turn onto Davis Rd. I took Davis out to 112th avenue, and turned left for a couple of miles.

There is an old garage at the intersection of 112th avenue and Powell RD. I stopped here to refuel, drink, and sit in the sun before entering the trees just ahead. Powell is a fine ride, but preferably down, as the road from there just climbs and climbs. I stopped by the fire station and took my first pic of the day.

From here Rawson Rd. keeps climbing. Past the gun range, the fence of which is in the next pic.


From here one must continue on up, but will soon come to a rolling section of smooth asphalt. This was laid not too many years ago to replace the old gravel forest rd.

I came to the sign stating I was entering the Gifford Pinchot forest, and decided to make a safety stop. And what do I discover when coming to that stop?

My front brake bolt has rattled out entirely, and the brake is hanging in the wheel.

I ended up disabling the brake, and using one of my pump straps to attach it back onto the post.


This will hold well enough to get home, as long as I don't try to use the front brakes. The idea of this is not fun, as the hills I have chosen to descend are serious business.
The rolling hills along this stretch of Rawson Rd. are relaxing, with some long uphills, and nice downhill cruises.


It seemed like, after the braking incident, I was at the top in no time. I suppose it must have been victorious for everyone there, as there was shooting and hooting and hollerin' going on all around me. (Why do people feel they need to shoot at rocks? Or anything for that matter.)

A on board shot. I had just really hit the snow line here, but was rolling along so well I didn't want to stop.


Ironically, the no shooting sign seen here, right where the people were shooting....
I wanted to linger here longer, as much as I love gunfire. But the sun was going down, and so was I, as this Forest Road loomed before me.
This is Forest Road L1400. It is a combination of fun, hard packed dirt downhills, climbs, and mellow riding across a ridge.


It soon turns into L1000, then begins to drop quickly. My front brake being useless, my speeds were very quick, and my knuckles very white, as I flew past the junction of L1000 and Livingston RD. MY brakes howled as I turn at speed onto 53rd St. This is near the start of Bradford RD., that I had climbed on Thursday, and dropped down like a rock today.

In no time I was somehow on Fourth Plain Blvd, having missed my proper turn. It had taken me 2 1/2 hours to do the traverse, even with my small gear. Fully satisfied, I rode home, sat in a chair, and did not move for two hours or so.

These training rides up the hill are leading to a bigger, better goal. I have my sights set on a three county traverse, from East of Washougal to Moulton Falls, North of Battleground. Therte is still too much snow on the mt. to scout the trail routes yet, so I use Google Earth till the spring thaw.

Temptation explained, frustration refrained, success gained.

I don't know how many of you know what this is we are looking at here. It is the greatest temptation in these parts, full of great fishing, hiking, mt. biking, and lots of wildlife.

This is a picture of the promised land, with an open gate. Camp Bonneville. Located kiddie corner to the family compound, it has always called to me. While I cannot comfirm nor deny the existence of sweet trails, hillclimbs, fire roads and stocked trout ponds, I can confirm that you should in no way enter Camp Bonneville.

Hence my issue when standing in front of a legitimately open gate. A fire road turns right a mere ten feet inside the gate, and I know it winds around the SE side of the camp, but sadly brings you back around to the center of camp, where the trouble lies.

I had ridden my Fat Chance single speed Mt. Bike out there, with the intention of turning back around and riding home. But just seeing that taunting open gate put a fire under my burner the likes of which I had not felt in a while. I turned south, with intent, for if I wasn't going to be allowed to ride through the camp, I would just damn well ride around it.
" This is Livingston cemetery just east of the main gate to Bonneville."

After relaxing at the cemetery for a few minutes, I headed around the south side of the camp, somewhat remembering the layout of the roads. I was planning to go up the side of Livingston Mt., but ended up taking an earlier turn, in my quest to hit the dirt roads as soon as possibly.

Bradford Rd., on the way out, has nice, steep climbs, which really tested my gear ratio, choice being one of course. The turn I took uphill contained even steeper climbs, as turned to gravel sooner than expected. I was on Haddock road, just below where it runs into Livingston, and had reached my turn around time. I had to be in town to meet my parents, as I was dogsitting for them this weekend. I could see the houses on top of Livingston Mt., which meant that the fire road across to Larch Mt. was just beyond today's reach.

I adjusted my brakes, and turned down hill, for a great, fast downhill experience. The ride back down Livingston and Bradford was exhilarating, and I was back in Hockinson in what seemed to be no time at all.

I went home and vowed to return in mere days, and conquering the shoulder of Larch and Silver Star Mts, circumnavigating the promised land of Camp Bonneville.

I

Temptation, then frustration.

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Helmet law in Vancouver

Here in Vancouver they are working on making the helmet law for bicycle mandatory for all ages.

On that note I present someone else's hard work.

Wooden BIke

This came across the wire today. Check it out. Click on the title above to go to the link.

I shall note that he wisely decided at one point to steer away from a Direct Drive system (fixed), and constructed a ratchet for the rear wheel.

I doubt the wood chain would hold up to the forces of stopping the direct drive. He states it was so he wouldn't have to pedal down hills.....So funny, why would you want to coast down a hill when you can go faster still?

Tougher in Alaska

It came across the messenger wire today that Kirk, a bike messenger from Alaska, is going to be on a TV show called "Tougher in Alaska". I have seen the ads for it, looks good.

Here is the nice, self humbling note from him about it:

Along with getting married I spent a good chunk of
last month dealing with an outfit called "Moore
Huntley Productions" they do stuff for the History
Channel. I'm not sure if I'll be on the show it's self
or just a web feature. The show is called "Tougher in
Alaska" here's the description I got from the producer
I dealt with.
"Everything is tougher in Alaska.  From the way people
earn a living, to how they bury their dead, making a
go in the far north requires the ability to adapt to
extreme conditions.  The series focuses on the way in
which life in Alaska is harder than anywhere else and
explores what it takes to survive there.  In a land
where severe weather, vast distances and rugged
terrain shape everything about life, man has a long
history of trying to overcome adversity, conquer the
land, and adapt to or simply survive the extreme
environment."
It should air sometime in March. Just for the record I
can think of a bunch of places where being a bike
messenger is tougher then Anchorage.
                       Kirk in AK.

Pictures

The picture quality isn't so good on these first couple of shots, but the content is priceless.

I was preparing to leave the house to ride on Thursday around noon, and part way through dressing the snow started. By the time I was ready to go it was really coming down, and I had to add layers.

I headed out down the country road, big white flakes falling in front of me, "Mates of State" playing on my IPOD. There is not much I like more than riding through the country in the snow, no matter how cold it is.

After a few short miles, the snow tapered off, leaving me rolling through the crisp air.

As I passed along NE 99th St., I looked for a familiar site. There is a great blue heron that for years has appeared to live in one big field, so I tend to look for him.

Instead of just seeing the heron, I saw the scene below. I willl relay the content as the pic quality is bad (sorry)

The one pic shows a Snowy Egret (which I have never seen in that field before) with a coyote hunting about 20 feet away. To boot, my old friend the Heron was about 50 yards away, watching with interest it seemed.




This next one is of my niece Lilly Grace, and my nephew Jaxon at Christmas.


These were taken on a hike in Vancouver on the Tarbell Trail. This section is the logged out piece that is actually the finest riding on the whole trail. Due to the logging, it is not so accessible. And due to ignorance, people were riding their four wheeler's on the closed trail, ruining it for years to come. I did have the opportunity that day to run into the four wheelers and give them a piece of my mind though.

The 37 Minutes of Moab

Bruce from Tuscon in Durango, at the top of the Hogsback downhill.
(Photo by The Republic of Doom!)


The lack of wireless in Colorado has not surprised me anymore than the quality of riding. It has left the outside world without a hint of what we have been up to, while the latter has left my lungs empty of air, with a huge grin on my face.

Our first riding destination on this trip of death was Moab, Utah, home of the famous Slickrock. (pics to come, my camera died, so no pics from me. I have gathered some togteher others took and will post them soon.)

We arrived in the evening, and dined at a place that sounded great, Eddie Mc Stiff's. Sounded exactly like Team Wreck material.

What a disappointment though. The service was lousy, the lettuce was watery, the beer 3.2, and the wireless was slow as crap.

After surviving the lows of dinner, we found a great campsite on the Colorado river. Rapids filled my ears as I drifted off to sleep. I think they must have popped early in the night, for I woke up hearing a large animal crossing the river right there.

I had not seen the river yet, and I was confused as to why a bear would be crossing it so late in season. I imagine hibernation would be right around now.

The reality of the situation was a little different. I realized my ears had popped, and was simply properly hearing the water flow. Safer, but I wanted to see wildlife too.

The morning brought great weather, fabulous views, and an opportunity to check out a local bike shop. The bike Ryan had brought for the Rev. turned out to have entirely broken front brakes, as in the press fit coming apart. Phil has never ridden off road before, and he needed the brakes. My alternative plan was to remove mine for his use, which would later turn out to be lucky not to happen, as the terrain I will be describing in future posts is outrageous.

We walked right into a shop called Slickrock cycles, in a town where the last thing I imagine would happen, happened.

A man asked if he could help me, and I held up the brake, and said I needed a vice. He actually pointed back to the shop, and walked away, pleasantly. I could have not been more impressed (up to this point in the trip) with the help, and the vice mashed the brake together nicely, forcing me to do the same to the now weaker other arm.

Coffee and pastries procured, we drove out to the famous Slickrock trail. Our schedule was tight, and we established a turn around time. The trail was smooth, fast, and fun, and Phil was really impressing me on his first Mt. bike ride ever.

We rode a total of 37 minutes that morning, an epic period of time. Back to the car, onto the road, and off to Durango, Colorado. The "Tour De Mort" stage of the "Ride of the Dead", was going off at 6 sharp, and it was going to take everything we had to make it on time.

Bikes, Bungees and Beer, Oh My!

Saturday morning, I felt pretty bad. The combination of Stoli rocks and Mirror Pond is hard on my melon, and mornings are the worst. I drank a big cup of coffee, and watched some skateboarding on dvd.

I wanted to race at the velodrome, and in order to do this I was going to need to work the crap out of my system. The route I chose to the track took me through the NW hills and onto Skyline. Another cup of coffee at Sylvan, (cooled by ice cubes double tiny latte) so I could slam it, and it was down the big hill and over to Alpenrose.



I had brought my shoes, my pedals, and clothes to ride on the track, and felt real good when I got there. But, I was late, and they were already a few races in.
This gave me a perfect chance to just hang out and relax.....

The racing was great, with Zac and Sharky taking first and second in the main.









We started migrating to the park near the velodrome for an after party, at about 2 in the afternoon. About six of us played some impromptu Frisbee golf , then I got into a heated game of Frisbee 500 with Kelsey, Mess Man, and Luciano. There was mid air checking, and face masking. Me need beer.

Well, that put me in the great opportunity to try out the Beer Bungee. This one was well managed by Joel Metz, and lasted longer than most do. I took one run at it, and ended up sprawled out, with my fingers and toes ( I was barefoot) dug in. This left me crawling towards the beer.
A quick note here. It is very important, when doing this "Extreme Beer Reaching", is:

In no manner do you want to fail in getting the beer.

This drove to towards it, and as before, I took a minute, thought about it, then moved in.

That last reach for the beer, and it was mine. Joy.

I have quite a few pics of this I will be downloading soon, but for now watch these. It is video but from my point and shoot, so you know, not the finest.
Dr. Doom can show you how to manage the beer bungee here.
The best part is right at the end.



And another:



Leland on the way in.


I got a whole series of pictures of Casey taunting Velo. I hope I don't have to use them to protect myself in the future.

This

The before and after effect of these next two doesn't show the lunge, but the result of it.

This was taken at the Thunderdome under the Burnside bridge. I really like this shot.

West Side Invite 2007!

Here I sit, Tuesday afternoon. It has been a while since I remember being so completely tired, aching, hurt, and heavily bruised, at the same time.

The 2007 WestSide Invite was a smashing success. We all met up on Thursday at Damien and Gary's pre-party, also known as the barbecue they have every other week. This was a good time. I had picked up some Mediterranean Lamb sausages for C. Murder (Big Chief Can Whoop Ass) and I. The Bear cooked a big slab of fish, which was enjoyed by all..

What it is with these slanty yards and parks in Portland? I spent the weekend on a slight angle, putting too much weight either on my ass, which has no padding, or into my toes, which due to poor circulation made my feet fall asleep.

I should have just carried around a lawn chair the whole time.

Friday night we went to the Ash Street for registration and drinking. The stoop was full of familiar faces, from as far as London, and as close as mere blocks away. Registration was on the back "patio", which is where I got these nice shots of Sharky and C. Murder.





I just got my camera back from Sony, and it is supposed to be fixed. They said I smashed the lens assembly, but also pointed out that it is very difficult to do this on my camera, as it is internal.
The pictures aren't coming out great right now, and I apologize for that. I took at least 250 during the last two polo games on Ryan's camera, some of which can be seen on The Team Wreck Blog.




The Friday Night Alleycat went off, thrown by "Alleycat Inc.". It had the potential to be a good race, and we had a Le Man's start from the stoop, to the parking lot across the street. It pretty much went bad from there.....

Off to the pump house by PSU, where the trick is to go to the bottom of the stairs where the clue is, then leave by the top of the stairs and down the hill. So, of course I did the exact opposite, with Lucky and someone else behind me. They must not have known the way if they followed me. Then it was over to Couch Park in the NW, for another quick stop, before flying across the Broadway bridge. The next stop was on Swan Island, and when I got across the bridge I could see the big pack. They had gone way past the turn and up the hill a ways, by the time I turned down interstate the right way. This was not the first time I had seen them, so I now knew I was in front of them by a bit, with two other riders visible in front of me. This turned out to be Dr. Doom and R. Kelly.
It was here my race went bad, within a shout of the finish. The Swan Island stop was silly, wonky, and not at the spot indicated really. We spent a lot of time there, as did most everyone.

It was then to the bluffs. I decided to go straight up the path I had come down during the Logan's Run race. This is steep, steep like pulling yourself up with trees barely. Then there are the sticker bushes. Bobbie folllowed me through, even after I had warned him it would suck. he is a trooper, and beat me to the top.
Leaving the bluffs, and to the going street bridge for the sign, which turned out to be a "Bike Trash" sticker, was gone. This was a bonus that could have helped me out, and I was bummed. I think someone pulled it down during the race, but who knows.

Over to Dee's house to have the manifest signed, and off to the Florida Room. It was during this stretch that I could see quite a ways ahead of me, and realized I could get DFL if I just slowed down, which is exactly what I did. Ryan even called mne to actually see if I was ok as I had not shown at the bar yet.

Into the bar, get a drink before going to turn in my manifest, and all appears well on the last place front when, out of nowhere, or twenty minutes later, the real DFL comes into the patio.
My glory is doused .........

R. Kelly of TEAM W.R.E.C.K. won, and of course there were prizes

There was fun, there was booze, there were tots. More tots than you can shake a stick at. I had mine with cheese melted on them, but sadly, the critical error of under cooking a order of tot's ordered crispy will never be good, no matter how much cheesy goodness is on top. This is by the way only the first time I have not enjoyed my tots there. Since they get so busy, I find this to be a positive way to look at it.

Hat's off to the Florida Room!!!

The Strip Club classic went off at ten, and the first stop was the Dancing Bear. Not a very exciting place at all, though I must admit that some of the talent there was very interesting, to say the least. After an hour at "The Bear", we rolled off to NW and "The Magic Garden", with a fun stop in Overlook Park added in.

The Garden was fun, and my old best friend Mike from Astoria met us there too. We were loaded, and tired, and decided as a group to roll by the stoop (of course), and the on to the playground known as "Union Jacks". This is where a total of about 50 of us drank and cavorted until closing.



Jesus De' Beefa

Tall Joe
Dr. Doom and product




Alor with the ball for a Seattle team.
Strolling in the park


Matt Case


Three from Seattle go at it


More of the same...


Instead of circling when you dab.....


Jason, Peter and MessMan



Jason ditches the bike quickly


The cage.