Brandon Le, aka Dirty Drifts, is known in northeast Ohio, Southern California, and world-wide as one of the most likeable people you’ll ever meet. As far as mountain biking and snowboarding go, he’s literally been there and done that.

But he won’t tell you.

If the Rik and Egg and MCFlow know everybody there is to know in the mountain biking world, Brandon knows them and everyone else, too.

But he won’t brag about it.

Full Disclosure: I was……miffed at Brandon for awhile because, in a moment of classic Pops grumpiness, I blamed him for not taking care of my dog on a trip to Durango. He’s certainly put up with his share of my shit:

• That time in Whistler BC when I left him a slightly nasty voicemail because I thought he had shown up in town before me and wasn’t doing anything to find us a place to stay for the night. Turns out that he was actually still driving and that I had arrived in town first.
• That time he ordered a full greasy chicken dinner just before we were going to ride the classic Guacamole Trail in Hurricane, Utah.
• I could go on and on.

I’m sure he could, too. But he probably wouldn’t. After all, he’s dealt with tougher things in his life than some cranky old fuck being mad at him.

BUT…I could also go on and on about our adventures together:

• Brevard/Roanoke/Massanutten
• St. George/Hurricane
• Fernie/Nelson/Whistler, British Columbia then Bellingham, Washington
• a big Colorado loop with Cousin Dan
• more Colorado then up to Whitefish, Montana
• still more Colorado
• U.P. Michigan trip in there somewhere
• Plus all the other trips he’s been on with everybody else

A STORY:

Speaking of putting up with shit, there was that one time during the big Colorado loop with Cousin Dan when we were camped outside of Salida. We had previously ridden the trails at Nederland and Buffalo Springs, and we were getting an early start for our drive to Crested Butte, after having ridden the Monarch Crest CT section the day before. Now, this was The Notorious Yoshi’s first trip and everybody was learning. Before we left, I decided to pinch one off, and walked up into the hillside undergrowth. I didn’t realize Yoshi had followed me until about mid-performance. I knew, as responsible dog owner, that as a dog, Yosh might want to sample/luxuriate in what I had just deposited, so I shooshed him away and told him to go back to camp. Which I thought he did. Turns out that he waited for me to finish and walk away, and then he did what dogs do. Back at camp, Yoshi couldn’t be found, so Brandon called for him and he jumped into Brandon’s Tacoma and everybody started the drive toward Gunnison in their own vehicles. Not long into the drive, Brandon texted me that Yosh must have rolled in shit or something and he absolutely reeked. I thought for a few minutes before texting him back, and came to the following realizations: a) what Brandon was smelling was actually MY shit, and b) that telling him would just make the experience more unpleasant, so I decided to have a heart and spare him the horror. Needless to say, it was a long drive to Gunnison, with Brandon raging to Yosh about how bad he smelled and poor Yosh pressed as hard as he could up against the passenger door. I felt bad but fortunately, the incredible scenery distracted me. In Gunnison, Brandon took Yosh to a doggy boutique for a bath, and I toured the cool little downtown, stopping by Double Shot Coffee and Bike Shop (probably and unknowingly talking to one of the Gods of Mountain Biking, Jefe Branham, who works there).

All in all, I thought things turned out pretty well for everybody!

(Not sure how long I let that one go before I actually told Brandon the truth)

BUT…those trips are but a footnote in Brandon’s extensive journeys throughout the world. For example, I once sat in wonder as he and our friend Matt talked late into the night about navigating the cities of Southeast Asia.

Get this guy going sometime (if you can) about the places he’s been, the things he’s seen, the people he’s met. You’ll be amazed at an incredible life.

Without too many words, here’s a few “Best Of” lists and plenty of pictures to document the cool life of my friend Brandon Le:

Favorite Bikes:

#1: “I love my steel Ritchey hardtail”

#2: Ibis Ripmo

#3: “One of my first bikes, a Gary fisher superfly singlespeed that I raced the 2012 Mohican 100k on” 

Favorite trips:

#1 Solo trip to western Europe to snowboard in the Dolomites and Julien alps. Ended up staying for months.

#2 Canadian Whistler trip. That was awesome. The Canadian Rockies made me cry.  

#3 New Zealand for a month. Probably some of my fav trails I’ve ever ridden.

 

Allegedly, Brandon’s favorite songs from the 80s:

#1 Come on Eileen #2 Eye of the Tiger #3 Total Eclipse of the Heart

Favorite Cars:  

#1 1982 Porsche 911. Driving this in SoCal along the coast is a dream.  I love the 80s!

#2 My Toyota 4runner since it’s taken Me and Yosh to so many cool places. 

#3 1984 Datson truck 4×4 since crazy things happen in your first car.

https://bikepacking.com/plan/rigs-of-the-san-jose-del-pacifico/

https://www.singletracks.com/mtb-trails/3-reasons-you-should-go-mountain-bike-in-oaxaca-mexico/

Anybody wanna go??

Thinking about this for spring break: https://www.goshdarn.org/

And what’s up with Garbaruk cassettes?

Winter Gear: Just Go, Man

So I made three New Year’s Resolutions: give books another chance (since that’s what I’ve made my living from over the last three decades), do another Dry January, and do more riding in cold weather.

If you know winter, and riding bikes is part of who you are, you know that getting all geared up to ride in the the winter is a royal pain in the ass. Which is why I Zwift. Which BTW is an incredibly good workout. Which is slightly less abominable than riding an Ebike. But, ultimately, which also locks me into an artificial world that….well, more on the Zwift thing in an upcoming post. Let’s just say I promised myself that I’d suck it up and ride outside whenever I could this winter.

Afterall, sometimes winter riding yields this:

So I was pleasantly surprised when the young lady at the bookstore counter gushed that Jody Rosen’s Two Wheels Good devotes a paragraph or two to winter riding and “will make you want to ride your bike.”

Turns out that Rosen is plumb amazed that people ride in the winter. Also turns out that Two Wheels Good is everything about bikes that you probably didn’t want to know or could have Googled yourself, if you’ve been riding bikes for more than a couple of years. I’ll go all retro-grouchy about Two Wheels in yet another upcoming post. Now, on to the point, Pops, and without further ado!

#1 The Head

The head is the smokestack, and although I rarely ride without ending up with a sweaty head, my beloved Carharts hat always keeps the noggin warm (I’ve been tempted to cut some ventilations holes in the top, though). A Buff underneath sometimes helps keep the ears protected, and for coolativity, add one around the neck. Anything warmer than 50 degrees and I’ll just go with a doubled up Buff under the helmet; anything below 20 degrees and I’ll start thinking about going full-on balaclava. But there’s no helmet in the pic, Pops! I refer you to Bikesnob NYC for the definitive answer. Given my history, I probably should’ve been wearing shoulder pads, anyway. Suffice it to say: I take it slow in the winter.

#2 The Torso

The belly is the furnace. Of course layers. Of course breathable fabrics, but sometimes a good old windbreaker. And I’ve found that a cheap cycling vest works as both middle layer or sometimes an outer layer. Here’s a tip: Partially unzipping my middle layer provides a good vent for the build up of heat on my chest. Then, I zip the outer layer up or down for wind protection as needed. The temperature in the above picture was about 20 degrees, and I decided to flip the process cause I’m adaptable like the dog in To Build a Fire. I’m wearing a long sleeve inner layer, a Patagonia Fleece and a black breathable jacket to soak up the sun’s glory.

Sometimes, though, it’s the HiViz Life for me:

#3 The hands

I’m Going to Reveal a Secret: Black Diamond Windweight gloves.  Apparently, you didn’t hear it here first because REI keeps an entire rack of them. I wear them anywhere from 15-20 degrees all the way up to the 50s. So versatile, so fine. A sauna for the fingers. In a distant second place are SSG’s 10 Below, gloves that my wife and I found at a tack shop for riding horses in cold weather. Of course, I’ve accumulated a vast and senseless array of gloves for all occasions and conditions, but for winter riding, I always go back to the Black Diamonds. Their only downside is that they make it hard to give the finger to an asshole motorist.

#4 The legs

I’m Going to Reveal Another Secret: leg warmers. They rule. I know from hard-won experience: like you, I’ve had bouts of IT Band soreness that sometimes crop up mid-ride. I’ve found that not only do leg warmers keep the joints warm (more on that in a bit), they also have miraculously eliminated my IT Band issues on long, cold rides. Listen to me now, believe me later. Lined pants below freezing, tights (the cheap kind from TJ Maxx, but make sure they’re flexy around the ankles) above and into the 50s.

Yes, I know: the cut-off shorts are just a little too cool, but at least the tights cover all my hipster leg tattoos.

#5 The feet

And Now for the Biggest Secret of All: Socks with toes cut out. Recently, Mike Kazimer from Pinkbike suggested that the origin of cold fingers is cold wrists, and he advocates cutting a slot in a wristband and inserting a chemical handwarmer, because the blood travelling to the fingers is so near to the surface of the skin at the wrists. I’m a believer — at least as that theory is applied to cold feet. Blood is cooled at the ankles, then makes for cold tootsies. Forget heavy, expensive winter riding boots, forget toe covers, forget plastic bags, forget shoe covers.

Instead, take a pair of heavy socks and cut off the toes. Pull these over your favorite pair of warm socks. Then place a toe warmer OVER and slightly wrapped around the toes. Guaranteed toe toastiness.

And finally…

#6 The bike

The Only Good Reason for an Ebike or a Fatbike. Not bad for $1800. But the Stache, with big ol’ 2.8 Maxxis Rekons, is, as they say, ALL YOU NEED. I bought the Stache when 29+ bikes were cool, and I’m keeping it even though 29+ (and me) are no longer cool. The original Chupacabras were the best tire ever made, and it’s good to know that Surly still sells the Knard. But then there’s my beloved Rusty Nutz, the Ultimate Up North Ice Road Trucker:  

Dude from Two Wheels Good apparently thinks it’s the most novel thing that people resort to putting studs on their tires (he also writes about bikes as sex toys, and he believes his derailleur sings sweet poetry to him or some weird shit). Anyway, I’m gonna keep reading it, mostly because I wasted $30 bucks, and I need to fill in some beer drinking time. I hope you stay warm out there!

Winter riding from Cousin Dan’s neck of the woods.

FISH

Although it has nothing to do with fish other than the central character is probably now swimming with them, Ben McGrath’s Riverman is a book I find hard to peel from my not-cold, not-dead hands. Kind of an Into the Wild mystery about a guy who was into rivers. I always thought that Chris McCandless might still be alive today had he discovered mountain biking.

Next up: Local Legend Brandon Le

Dry January went so well, that I think I’m extending it for a month…and maybe more. That sentiment is not going to make me any friends. It’s kinda like asking somebody if they want to hear all about your divorce.

But seriously, I think I’m done with drinking alcohol.

My wife and I went out to eat with our family last weekend to celebrate a relatives’ hard-won sobriety and our four full weeks without alcohol. I had not one but two drinks, then eventually a third. The first drink went immediately to my head. Which made me order a second drink. Then it was time for an apre Moscow Mule and the drive home. Then the old paranoia set in of looking in the rearview mirror all the way home, and the buzz that ruined the mental clarity that I had really gotten used to and appreciate.

But the guilt of giving in and going back? I don’t have to deal with it. Plenty of other worries fill my 59-year-old brain.

All the wonderfully enticing colors of the beer cave just turn me off now.

The bite of ginger ale, or orange juice, lime and water does the trick.

I just wish Athletic Brewing didn’t coast as much as a six pack of craft beer.

BIKES

Me and beer go way back. As a child, I remember reaching up and taking a sip from my father’s Pabst Blue Ribbon as I watched he and my uncles play euchre deep into the night. I remember my teenage weekend ritual of two 40 ouncers of Colt 45 Malt Liquor, as my friends and I taunted full-blown delinquency. Fortunately, my scrawny 20s and early 30s were less alcohol soaked, but I remember buying a six pack of North Peak Brewery’s Diabolical IPA (6.6%) nearly every night as I entered my late 30s. And as I approached my 50s, I remember driving back late at night from a friend’s house after a ride with my buddies, unable to focus my eyes, try as I might, on the quivering road signs.

And just recently, I remember vividly the day I joined my son for the last 60 miles of his 100 mile ride, commemorating his 100th day without alcohol.

I’m no stranger to substance addiction and kicking a habit: At one point in my life, I was chewing two cans of Kodiak a day. I remember sitting at a bar smoking a cigarette and throwing in a dip. My last thought most nights was how I got to wake up the next day and feel that wonderful sting as the nicotine kicked in.

My come-to-Jesus moment wasn’t after the second time my younger son took a swig from my spit bottle, mistaking it for Dr. Pepper. Selfishly, it was probably when the dentist told me that my gums were irreversibly receding; he showed me the exposed roots of my eye teeth and predicted my future.

A year later, I crushed a final, full pack of Marlboro Ultra Lights and threw it out the window. I still occasionally have dreams of of spitting out chewing tobacco and teeth.

Then this year’s New Year’s Eve afternoon: two Twisted Teas, a Tallboy IPA, a double shot of Maker’s Mark, the last three fingers of a bottle of wine. That stream continued into the night with more whiskey and beer. Disturbingly, I woke up the next day feeling fine. I had emerged from my first and only previous Dry January a couple of years ago with a firm resolve to cut way back on my consumption– you can see how that worked out.

This article helped get me going this time. The author examines his relationship to alcohol as a long distance backpacker, but also the larger phenomenon of excessive drinking among outdoor athletes. I liked this paragraph especially:

“This isn’t some call for prohibition or even temperance. I have had far too much fun for far too long with the aegis of alcohol to criticize anyone else or even suggest that they change, and I don’t know really know if I’ve had my last drink. Maybe this is my self-righteous phase, conveniently backed by science? But drinking, and drinking hard, often seems an ineluctable part of distance-hiking and sports culture at large. I think it’s worth having a conversation about the compromises it entails and what we may gain when we back off or away.“

The first two weeks this time have gone amazingly well, except for the to-be-expected sugar cravings. Athletic Brewing’s Hazy IPA certainly helped. And these:

Then Some…Sobering News. So it came a shock when I read this during the third week of my Dry January. The author examines the marketing relationship between what I’ll call Big Alcohol and outdoor athletes. Interesting: I didn’t know that Phillip Morris, the tobacco company, bought Miller Brewing as an attempt to diversify after word got out that cigarettes will kill you. Today, “Sports have since become a cornerstone for alcohol marketing….Most importantly, associating with sports helps alcohol companies achieve the same goal the tobacco companies once had.”

Then the mirror glass description of the drinking habits of Mark Taylor and Mia Phillips, as well as those in their mountain biking circle of friends.

That’s me in those descriptions.

Most of my friends, too.

Those habits and behaviors, which once defined my identity as a rider, now make me feel like a stereotype and a cliche, an even greater cliche than just another person jumping on this year’s trendy Dry January bandwagon.

It’s a good article, if you have time to read it. Made me think. But in the end, even the author admits that she’s not sure if she’s had her last drop of alcohol, despite all the alarming statistics. And neither am I….maybe.

So here’s how the past few weeks have gone for me. This time around, I’ve tried to identify my cravings as just that: cravings. Once I’ve labeled and objectified them, they seem easier to get through.

Then there’s the occasions for drinking.

• After work
• Tinkering in the garage
• Going out to eat
• Going on a hike
• Fishing
• Horseback riding
• When I’m bored
• When I’m watching tv in the evening
• When I’m writing my blog
• When I’m driving, as embarrassing as it is to admit
• When I’m riding with my friends
• After a ride, the most difficult craving to resist

I’ve tried to approach each as a milestone, again objectifying them. It seems to work.

The results so far: marked increase in mental energy, and my wife and I had one of the better weekends of our wonderful marriage. I’m not expecting instant miracles. One month off won’t really have any physiological effects, but maybe it will?

Now here I am feeling strong going into the last few days. Ironically, this weekend my wife and I will be celebrating a family member’s hard-won sobriety, after his long history of bottoming out, resurfacing, only to bottom out again.

One last thought, though: as I’m about to leave this keyboard and engage in another obsessive behavior, jumping on the indoor trainer (even though I could probably use a rest day), I wonder if cycling is just another……nah. Easy does it, Pops.

FISH

A River Runs Through It

(After spending too much time reading Pinkbike and VitalMTB, and listening to The Adventure Stache’s podcast interviews of “famous” riders, I realized that I have some really cool and interesting friends/acquaintances that people might like to read about. Hopefully, this will be the first in a series)

Local Legend: Egg

Dave “Egg” Osterhaus is the co-founder of 2ton30inch, a brotherhood of like-minded manchildren, as well as Eggwerx, a garage workshop where his many friends gather occasionally to bungle their way through bicycle repairs. He’s a man of deep faith, a devoted father and husband, a ride curator and all-around good guy.

Young Egg:

I started off riding BMX and raced from 1981-87. Started mountain bike biking in ‘88 with old friends Pat Patonic Tony Kington Matt Bishop. My first mountain bike, a GT Timberline, came from Schneider’s bike shop in Cleveland. Our early mountain bike spots were Rocky River Reservation, Psychobabble, and the Cuyahoga Valley National Recreation Area.

Eggstyle:

I’d like to stay smooth. I try to ride clean, and pick good lines. Love a technical section.

Dave’s Trusty Steeds:

Favorite bike from the past: Trek fuel EX was real nice

Current favorite bike:  the Superfly I’m currently riding

Dream bike: Santa Cruz Tallboi or Transition Spur custom build (that’s what makes the dream part). Honestly, I could probably build an aluminum dream bike.

What’s in your stable?

Ibis ripley AF, Trek Superfly, 9er rlt, Trek rig, Nashbar cyclocross ss, Giant Defy road bike, Mongoose Kos cruisers

Trails and Rides:

All-time favorite rides:

Hmm… Davis weekend ‘20, first Rimrock with Adam, NCTs with Hess, most 2Ton adventures. Brandon’s going away ride 3.0

Davis trip was rad. Mid July, few shirts worn, many brews consumed.

Coldest Ride:

-11 Huffman trail. Maybe 2019

All-time worst rides:

No bad rides. Seriously, the end of a couple early Mayhems were pretty miserable. 

Those particular Mayhems were muddy. Heath dragging a bedraggled group 8–10 more senseless miles. Derailleurs skipping, chains sounding like a Panzer division rolling into town. [The Muskingum Mayhems, put on by Heath and Rae Gandolf-Boedicker and Appalachian Outdoor Club, were group rides through the trails and AEP lands south of Zanesville in 2000s.]

We’ve climbed that ravine out of Twin Falls in the valley, we’ve slogged through countless swamps, Walsh and I had to carry our bikes above our heads through water, we’ve survived the tunnels under the I71/Turnpike interchange tunnels. But no bad rides.

Favorite Trail Systems:

Rimrock/ Morrison, Pa. Wayne Marietta District. Kerr Scott Trails, NC. 

Rimrock is the real deal, 6-8 different experiences in one ride. The fact that Adam and I discovered it makes it special, too. Love taking people there. It’s a magical place.

Also, Connector Trail is the best local trail.

Deep Thoughts with Dave:

Ebikes: yes or no?

NO! 

Were you born to wheelie?

Why yes! 

SRAM or Shimano Drivetrains?

SRAM

Favorite Gear:

Shimano MTB boots. 100% Brisker gloves. Crank Bros multi tools.

Current favorite tire is the Maxxis Dissector for trail. Maxxis Pace is great for rambling of all sorts.

Favorite Tool:

Sette chainbreaker

Why do you ride?

Therapy, camaraderie, adventure

If you know Egg, you know about:

Dead Man Floating: Dead man floating is a party trick I do for the camera that involves beer and floating lifelessly in particularly foul and/or cold pools of water.

Trains: I’ve been enamored with trains since I was a wee lad. So much power.

Always, ride bikes to see trains if possible.

Hair Shirts: The Hair Shirt was originally about comfort. I run hot due to the aforementioned hair.

(Hair shirts are currently available in the Travels with Pops Online Store.)

I bet you didn’t know: sometimes Egg listens to classical music

Why do drop bars hate you?

Drop bars look real cool, but I can’t find a comfortable position on them.

Why do lycra tights hate you?

Not true. When I’ve raced, I usually wear the devil’s trousers. 

Have you ever met a briar patch you didn’t like?

(no response)

Why do you hate dogs? Supai? Yoshi?

Cats are cool. They’re low maintenance, and I think they’re smart. Never been a dog person. The slobbering and whatnot.

Did Terry ever thank you for saving his life at that Mayhem ride?

I don’t think so. ( Dave once saved a man’s life by throwing him in a tent after he consumed too many handfuls of potato salad on a very cold night).

Rumor has it…

You once slept in a ditch:

I’ve spent plenty of time in ditches, but I’ve never actually fallen completely asleep in one.

You secretly Zwift.

Not entirely true

Your wife Kelly once said before a ride: “It’s one thing to be a child at heart; it’s another thing to act like one.”

I don’t remember Kelly saying that. I love her, but I don’t subscribe to that statement.

Tell us about your extended family, particularly about how most of your sons are older than you.

It’s a huge responsibility, but never a burden.

“A man is rich in proportion to the number of…”

Did you ever apologize to Ray Petro for spray painting 2Ton 30inch at Ray’s MTB?

You don’t apologize if you’re not sorry.

Egg’s Reads:

Stories From the Dirt by John Long is an entertaining read. Reading Halford’s 2nd book currently.

One Album on a Desert Island:

Rush, Moving Pictures 

Neil, Alex, or Geddy?

I’d say Neil, but unfortunately he’s gone.

Really respect him. He wrote most of their lyrics and was a most excellent player. Also, he was a wanderer, on a bike, and later an adventure motorcycle.

One of Egg’s few redeeming qualities is that he rebuilds trash bikes and gives them away. How many have you built?

12 that I can think of. The most random was one for Gus Michaels (the famous fixie rider).

Egg’s not getting any younger. What more does he want?

Get Jr. to come out more, I like to get down by Roanoke, maybe north Georgia, Kentucky/Sheltowee. Get on the bike as often as possible: more adventure rides, less hamster wheel.

Egg’s Advice to You:

Get out there, on a bike, on foot, in a boat, whatever. I think society would be in a much better place in so many ways if more people did. Also, unplug. Electronics are the bane of society.

Fish

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TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THE UNUSUALLY WARM WINTER WEATHER, THE RIK, EGG AND I RAMBLED INTO THE RUBBER CITY DARKNESS

RIK SAYS IT KEEPS HIM ENTERTAINED: As we rolled out of Highland Square, I found myself enchanted by the sidewalks, houses and apartment complexes of this typical urban neighborhood, and wondered how cool it might be to live there, instead of the safe but isolating exurb where I’ve spent most of my adult life. We waved to a young couple sitting together and enjoying a smoke, and when Rik said their names and told us that they’re avid riders, I suddenly realized that I follow them on Instagram, but I had never actually met them in person. Urban living. Real people.

BUT DON’T GET SHOT: We followed Rik thru neighborhood shortcuts, backways and sidewalk connectors, and found ourselves outside a small storefront on the ground level of an apartment tower. Dave knew it as the home of Kevin Butler’s 22Six Sources Bike Shop. We knocked on the door…and walked into a mountain biker’s dream. Kevin does high-end custom bike builds and sells carbon wheelsets. His curiosity shop is filled with unique brands and oddities only enlightened bike nerds like us would appreciate. Most people probably walk right by his store without realizing the extraordinary world hidden inside.

A DESCENT INTO THE UNDERWORLD: We made a stop at a bootleg skatepark hidden behind a burial vault-manufacturing company. Apparently, even death can’t stop a determined group of mutant ninja turtles.

Allegedly, a certain famous NBA star once roamed this apocalyptic landscape.

Paint job by Ratz

DARKNESS FALLS: We descended into the valley and entered an area known as The Chuckery, riding alongside the Little Cuyahoga, the “most important creek in America,” according to William D. Ellis’s book, The Cuyahoga, since its canal locks made possible the first modern transport route from the Great Lakes to the Mississippi River.

HE’S GETTING LOFTY: Passing the maw leading into the heart of the Akron subterranean sewer world, then a near mountain of man-made land that is the sediment of the recent unwilding of the Akron city point-source pollution nightmare, we headed over to check out the progress of the upcoming dam removal in Cuyahoga Falls. Once completed (supposedly in 2027) it will represent one of the most significant urban rewilding projects in North America.

IT’S HAPPENING: It’s exciting to think about what lies in the gorge concealed behind the old Ohio Edison Dam. Its impounded water flooded what was once a tourist destination known for its grottos, caves and waterfalls. Patagonia’s short film Damnation is an excellent primer on the movement to remove thousands of decaying or unnecessary dams in our country.

Ripe for an SUP First Descent

CHASING THE GREEN LIGHT: After a fairly butt-puckering ascent of one of the best urban technical sections of singletrack anywhere, we rode through the revitalized downtown of Cuyahoga Falls, a resurrection story in its own right. Plenty of high-end eateries and shops and BMWs, just a stone’s throw away from a class V whitewater rapid. A beer stop then over the river to check out the multi-million dollar homes alongside Silver Lake. Apparently, the rich and famous Rubber Barons needed an occasional escape from their Stan Hywet mansions: Silver Lake’s pastoral cottages gleam “like silver above the hot struggles of the poor.”

A TRAIN BUT NO BRIARS?: Rik led us down a bootleg jump line woven through forgotten trees next to some railroad tracks. My decision to go with flat pedals on the Stache did not mix well with the doubles and table tops, and reminded me why I ride with clip ins. But for non-technical winter off-road riding, flats are a good way to roll

Dave trying to get a toot

A BIG OLD PENIS: The next stop was one of the greatest follies of modern America: Ernest Angely’s Erection. Ernest’s Envy is a 495 foot column of useless concrete.

A crown of thorns?

THEN: It was time to start making our way back to The Rik’s. What came next was a set of events at once completely butt-puckering, amazing and humiliating. Rik led us onto a path newly legitimized by the Summit County Parks, ending with a gnarly descent that years ago I remember having to walk. But not The Rik. As I saw him disappear on his 40mm-tired gravel bike and then appear again at the bottom of the hill, I heard the PSTD-informed voice in my head tell me, “no way, dude. You’re not The Rik. One collapsed lung, 14 broken ribs, one permanently separated AC joint, and two ketamine trips is enough for one life.” Then I saw Dave at the bottom and thought, “Oh what the hell.” Next thing I know, we’re enjoying a beer stop at a beach alongside the Cuyahoga. Unlike the Chromag Rootdown (which is currently for sale), the Stache has never let me down.

PATHETIC: Then the Parkour climb. The Rik nearly made it. Dave’s climb was a sight to behold, weaving upward among rocks and roots and ruts, finally topping out and continuing casually on. I did the walk of shame, blaming my failure less than halfway up on my flat pedals.

THEN: A tour of the old million-dollar rubber-mansion neighborhoods, and a dose of my own envy. Rumor has it, though, that local KOM legends Paul Martin and Rob Sroka were dot-following us the entire time.

BACK AT THE RIK’S: We compared estimates of total distance and time. I’m usually uncannily close to both, but I under- and over-estimated. A mere 23 miles and almost three hours. It felt like more and less. A buddy texted us afterward, and asked, “How was it?” The reply was, “Good as usual.” Something felt wrong about that statement. It was a usual ride, but also far from anything usual. As Warren Zevon said before his untimely death, “Enjoy every sandwich.” I have to say, that sandwich was tasty.

FISH

A HOPEFUL OMEN: Recently, some kid caught a Big Mouth Buffalo further downstream in the Cuyahoga. And then there’s this.

NEXT WEEK: A local legend named Egg

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