A couple of weeks ago, I headed south to go fishing with my son, Chris. Dave, our guide from Southeastern Fly Fishing, took us for a float on the Obey River, northwest of Knoxville. This little brownie started off my best day of fishing ever. Last fall, Dave guided us on the Elk River, where we caught at least 30 smaller stocked rainbows. This day was different. Many of the fish we caught were 10+ inches with a few in the 15-20 inch range. And my all-time best, a 21 inch beauty. The fish were fat and colorful, and spring was in full swing in Eastern Tennessee. Dave is a great guide and he was happy to answer all my questions about drift boats. He has a cool podcast, too:
Then it was on to explore another section of the Sheltowee Trace Trail near Laurel Lake, Kentucky.A nice place to have a houseboat!This segment of trail leading to Van Hook Falls was one of the most beautiful short sections of trail I’ve ever ridden The controlled burning of the undergrowth gave the lakeside trail a smokey aura. The Sheltowee Trace is a hiking trail, and some sections just aren’t rideable, but the hiking is just as enjoyable.
I stayed at the Bee Rock Campground near London: small, clean, well-maintained, and right alongside the Cumberland River. I took a morning hike to the Rockcastle Narrows Rapids, and for a moment, it felt like wasn’t in Kentucky anymore.
Kentucky came back with a vengeance, however, when I drove northward to check out another section of the Sheltowee. The sketchy remoteness of the forest service campground combined with the dog-on-duty pickup truck that blew by me and the (I hate to say it) general ugliness of the area kept me driving northward back home. I’m probably done with my Sheltowee Trace explorations, unless I go with other people. I’m not done exploring the rivers of Eastern Tennessee, though!!
“Invisible Sun” by the Police: “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life/Looking at the barrel of an Armalite”
So I’ve learned a few things about AR 15- type rifles lately:
AR originally stood for Armalite, but now has become known to many people as America’s Rifle
A round from an AR is no bigger than a round from a 9mm pistol
I recently went to a shooting range with an acquaintance (disclaimer: I do not own a gun) and stood a few feet away from a group of shooters practicing with an AR-type of rifle. I was startled and amazed at the power and sound I felt as they shot
An AR produces a higher velocity than a typical pistol, creating (along with a higher capacity magazine) a much greater destructive force
This force creates a “cavitation effect” in the human body which results in devastation to hard and soft tissue much more severe than a wound from a pistol
Fans of violence might find that fascinating, but I’m horrified to imagine what that power does to the body of a child.
I read somewhere that a gun salesman said if you want to sell something to an American, tell them they can’t have it.
These facts have been on my mind this week as I think about the retired police officer sitting on his ass at the end of my hallway with his eyes glued to his phone. Would I feel any differently if he were patrolling the halls with an assault rifle and body armor?
Kudos to those teachers who have risen up against at least some of the destructive power of a crazy person with an AR 15 and the people who allow this to keep happening. It’s one of the things that makes our country unique.
Various pics from Hess Army, Egg, A Duie Pyle, the Rik, Ryan H, MJ, Matt O, Kidder
Nine riders, same place, same time, started and finished together, and it wasn’t a race.
The downs were worth the ups. It actually seemed like the payoffs were longer than what we earned with the climbs.
Couldn’t have asked for a better crew.
Rene ruled the day.
Egg plucked all the low hanging plumbs.
The beginning of the heinous climb out of Glenmont.
We thought we had avoided the Killbuck Creek flooding, but near mile 35, things got moist.
That truck turned around
One of the best rides in a long time! Kudos to whoever made that route. Big time climbs throughout, high speed descents, just enough pavement, one last ball buster at the end, and a high speed rail to finish it off.
I guess it’s time I finally bought one of these things:
I’ve rolled the dice and only lost once, and I feel damn lucky that my one major incident happened five minutes from my house.
But over Spring Break, I’m gonna get relatively “out there” by myself and do a couple of days on the Sheltowee Trace in Kentucky. Somewhere around here:
Hopefully, I don’t get rained on or chased by dogs again.
I ought to bikepack those sections. Afterall, I religiously read bikepacker.com every day at lunch, which makes me an official bikepacker. But so far, I’ve only done one real bikepacking trip:
A three-day excursion in northern Michigan. This was a campsite along the Big Manistee, complete with a bald eagle nest on the other side of the river, and a pair of beavers who woke me occasionally with their territorial tail slappings on the water.
This summer, it’s another trip to the San Juan mountains of southwest Colorado. Last time was Hermosa Creek and a failed bikepacking trip from Silverton to Durango on the Colorado Trail.
This time, my son Adam and I will be riding near Creede the first couple of days:
Something from sections 25-28, Molas Pass to Durango. All shuttles will be provided by my lovely wife, who will be attending a writer/riders conference with one of her favorite authors near the Great Sand Dunes National Park the following week.
I discovered this while searching for places to stay:
It should provide us with access to the CT and a glorious place to view the San Juans after a long day in the saddle. I think the inReach will come in handy if things get weird.
Turns out I was on Girl Scout camp property and a troop was hiking and singing and having a good ol’ time. I apologized for trespassing and left immediately, but like Camp Christopher, it seems…a shame?…that such a cool place is on private property.
A good day to test out the new Shimano PD-EH500 pedals. They rule. I noticed that they have screw holes for pegs. Hmmm….
I’m being hypocritical, but I’ll call this thoughtful poaching. It’s actually a horse trail, but you’d have to be nuts to ride a horse here.
Plenty of people have taken pics of this spot, but I couldn’t resist
It goes without saying that we are fortunate to have the CVNP
.
Finished up in a near snow storm. But then the sun came out as I got back to the truck
COGitations and Perseverations:
Turns out that Shimano included posts with the pedals!! Didn’t notice them in my hasty unpackaging. I’m kinda fired up about the possibilities.
Caught Myself Judging the Cover This guy popped up on my Youtube feed. He actually has some really interesting (and funny) things to say about bike touring. Every time I was gonna click away, he reeled me back in (mandatory fishing reference).
A Little Bummed I reached out to a few of my acquaintances recently about profiling them on this blog, but no takers, which is unfortunate because they have really interesting “biking careers.” I get it, I guess. I do, however, want to give kudos to Brandon Le and Egg for allowing me to tell part of their story. It’s not easy to put yourself out there.
No Chamois, No Beer, No Problems I am currently on my third month of a) not drinking by myself, and b) not wearing chamois when I ride. The beer thing has been greatly facilitated by Athletic Brewing. I’ve found the most apparent effect has been my increased mental clarity. The chamois thing was inspired by a pair of cyclists who are riding from Alaska to Patagonia. They said that it took about two weeks to “break in” the butt cheeks, which I have found to be true. I miss the chamois less than I do the beer – which honestly, isn’t all that much.
Serotonin Shots These songs helped me ride out a cold, dreary day :
Anthrax, Gang of Four
Never Again, The Sadies
Ol’ Nick, The Hackensaw Boys
The Sadies, 1,000,002 songs
Minimalaction, Stefano Barone
No Island Lost, Robin Trower
Can’t Catch Me, Hackensaw Boys
Desert Raven, Jonathan Wilson
Better Way, Watchhouse
Deadweight on Velveteen, José González
The Giver, The Dead Tongues
Mother of Earth, the Sadies
Hard Drugs and Long Relationships, Ryan Gustafsson
City of Stone, Del McCoury
Down In Flames, Dead Boys
California, Tangleweed
Riverview Fog, The Sadies
Haste Make, Watchhouse
Bombast, The Fall
Nashville Cats, Del McCoury
Fever to the Form Nick Mulvey
Wheels of Confusion, Black Sabbath
Batman, Stefano, Barone
Auctioneer, R.E.M.
River Lea, Nick Mulvey
Night Flight, Led Zeppelin
To the Grain, Junip
Oak Ridge, The Sadies
Idle Tomorrows, The Sadies
Jars At Home, Trampled By Turtles
Here’s Where You’re Wrong, Jon and Roy
Like a Force of Nature, Todd Snider
Ain’t Like You, Mac Saturn
Thoughtful music and exercise does wonders for the attitude
Now that I have all my late-winter smug bitchiness out of my system, here’s something nice: The Aberration
“Aberration” is not necessarily a positively connoted word. But it is the name some egg gave my old Raleigh XXIX (maybe he was referring to me?). And things need names.
It’s the bike I’m most interested in riding at this point in late winter, when everybody just wants to get out, when it’s too cold for fast road riding and too muddy for trails.
It’s, dare I say, just right for gravel** (see note below).
It started off like this:
2007, singlespeed, steel frame, 29 inch wheels at the beginning of the 29er revolution
Then it started turning into something else:
Notice the carbon fork and mismatched wheelset (which was fine with me, but horrified my friends). Not sure what happened to the PBR waterbottle or my svelte figure and matching shoulders.
Then the frame cracked, but it got warrantied quickly. Unfortunately, the replacement came in robin’s egg blue, which I got painted a manly UPS brown. It sat for awhile watching as I acquired these:
Trek 69er (Trek’s early stab at a mullet)
Scott Scale (shoulda kept it)
Trek Stache (kept it)
Knolly Warden (really shoulda kept it)
Santa Cruz Hightower (spent more $ than I ever thought I would on a bike)
Chromag Rootdown (now that the fork has been serviced, it rides like it was designed to)
Vitus road bike (yes. a road bike. and yes, I wear lycra tights. go screw yourself. just don’t hit me)
Then I looked at the Aberration one day a couple of years ago, and the wheels started turning, Gears and new handlebars and shazam!! A new bike!
Now it is a droopy bar, cranky old fuck, like me.
I can take it just about anywhere, and it’s the oldest bike I own.
It’s got:
Vittoria Mezcal 2.3 tires, which are quickly becoming cliche according to the COGnoscenti.
WTB wheelset, probably too narrow for the tires but they’ve been working fine so far!
Recently handed-down rigid aluminum fork (who even rides an aluminum fork? Hey, it was free!) that replaced a 10+ year old, never-serviced RockShox suspension fork
Handlebar pads made out of slices of 1/4 inch sleeping pad. No need for suspension now!!
Revelate frame bag which holds all the Athletic Brewing I could possibly need for a ride (how about a sponsorship, Athletic Brewing? Maybe just a discount? Sobriety aint cheap!)
Old, rusty, serviceable brake rotor
The Aberration in a slightly older iteration:
Seized Thomsen seatpost, which remains seized
SRAM Apex doubletap drivetrain (I think)
Crappy old saddle
Crappy old SPD pedals recently upgraded to these with my REI dividends, cause I’m bougie and just don’t care
40mm Ramblers on which I ate shit
Truvativ Crankset, which if you look closely, is the only remaining part in this ghost of a machine
Now that I’m done virtue signaling, what’s the takeaway? Well…
Everybody has an old frame hanging on the wall, and some people are resurrecting them. I’m part of that stereotype, bro. And it’s ok. You’re ok. We’re all ok.
It would just be nice if I had some gravel to ride on.
**Sometimes my friends and I are forced to “explore” the gravel roads and paths of Hinckley and the Cuyahoga Valley since it’s illegal to ride anywhere besides pavement in most of our parks.
In Michigan it takes about five minutes to find gravel roads, but in uptight Ohio you’ll get a ticket or worse for venturing off designated mountain bike trails or pavement.
So if you see me or my friends rambling on a “exploratory ride,” please aim high and trust that we’ll be gone without a trace.
AnnoyingThings Mountainbikers Say…(I won’t make any friends with this post)
Just listened to the latest Pisgah Podcast and heard a familiar voice: Local Northeast Ohio Legend Mike Colonna, who is now a Pisgah Local Legend. Hopefully, we’ll read more about Mike in an upcoming post. One of the guests on the podcast, some dude from Santa Cruz bikes, used the term “give ‘er the beans.” It was the second time I’ve heard that term used lately. So I looked up its origin because I’m a big nerd.
All I got was this: An Irish term that means “hit the gas” or “give it a full blast effort.”
Such as:
Should I chug this pint of fine beer?
“Give ‘er the beans, bud!”
Should I smash this prick’s windshield?
“Yes. Give ‘er the beans!”
To a fat guy on a Rockhopper climbing the first hill at Mohican:
“Give ‘er the fucking beans, man!!”
Ok, that last one was a little mean.
Anyway, I’m gonna give ‘er the ol’ beans and bitch for a few seconds about words I’m a little tired of hearing.
Whilst: it’s while.
Yew!: you know, what a bro yells at a bro who just stuck a two-foot drop. Unlike that old guy who looked at my shoulder after I didn’t stick a two-foot drop at Austin Badger, which probably sounded more like “Ewwww!”
Always satisfies: Blue Knob always satisfies. Satisfies what? Your Blue Knob?
Never disappoints: Blue Knob never disappoints….that CAMBA chick who looked like Dee Snider????
That was mean, too. But she did.
Zone: it’s actually just an area, a network, a region, a trail system. “Bro, let’s hit the Medina zone.” Pro tip: we live in Ohio, not the Yukon.
Down country: I actually like this because SO many people hate it and I have oppositional defiance syndrome. I was born with it. SO satisfying.
Shred: Here’s an idea: everyone in your exclusive local riding club should have a Strava name with some variation of the word “shred” in it, like “Shreddy Van Halen” or “Shreddy Fender” or “Prince Shredward.” True story.
Slay: It’s ok in my book to say, “We’re gonna slay East Rim tonight, then sit in the parking lot and get drunk.” You know, like that irreverent GWAR song.
I guess it’s also ok to Mash and Shralp. I can still mash the singlespeed…a little. Last time I tried to Shralp, though, I nearly shralped in my pants.
Group ride: supplied by my disgruntled son Adam who only rides by himself now. But he’s right. I dare you to try to organize a group ride. Go ahead, make God laugh. You’ll have to charge people $45 and call it a gravel ride.
Ya’ll: the good old boy from Southeastern Fly Fishing can say that. He’s from the south and he knows where the fish are. You’re from Colorado. And probably really from Ohio originally.
Fer sure: Man, my dumbass high school friend was saying that way back in the late 70s, and he got a D- in English class.
Yeah: people use this word at the beginning of sentences as much as my Bosnian friend Denza uses the word “fuck” as a comma. “Yeah” should never be confused with “Oh yeah, yeah, yeah!” which is the sincerest form of commiseration you can get from The Rik.
Bentonville: Bentonvile.
Collective: I want to be in a collective, so I can drive my $150k Mercedes Sprinter van to Garretsville, Ohio for a road ride. “Program” was getting a little annoying there for awhile, too.
Sick: Telling people that you’ll clean out their Beverly Hills pool so you can skateboard it is sick. Riding East Rim Phase 2 counterclockwise is not sick.
Rad: I might lose friends over this one. I’ll just keep it out of my mouth.
Goodness: That triple hopped quadruple IPA has SO much foamy goodness! My Athletic Brew has SO much foamy goodness! My AG1 has SO much foamy goodness! SO epic!
Bits: My testicles are my bits. My stem is, well, my stem. My crank is down to about 165mm these days.
Stoked: I’m SO stoked to do some shuttle runs at Jake’s Rocks with ya’ll!
Technical gravel: so bring a freakin’ mountain bike!!!!
Shenanigans: reminds me of my Spokejunkies days at Blue Knob with Dee Snider
Goon Squad: we should just let the old-guys-riding-dirtbikes crew fully adopt this one
Zwofting: the sound your ass makes when you decide not to lift off the saddle when farting
How about Fair Enough? A multi-tool expression: It can indicate oppositional defiance or good-natured agreement. “I’m gonna take your picture because you’re riding a muddy trail.” “Fair enough!” Or “I’m not gonna get shit-faced on the ride tonight.” “Fair enough!”
SO lastly, Snookium. Now there’s a fresh word with genuine meaning. My friends coined it to describe the grime and goo, slime, funk and general filth that I scrape off my bits after a year or so of shredding. It never disappoints, fer sure! Yeeeww!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Snookium. Otherwise known as the chili I spilled on my shoe at the Road Apple Roubaix. Custom-cut high-viz roadie spats available on the travelswithpops webstore.
Amish just stare at you as you ride by. I know what they are thinking: “We ride bikes, too, but we aren’t miserable as we’re doing it”
How many freaking Amish are there in Geauga County??????? I think they know something we don’t.
If you need ice in Geauga County, just stop by one of the many ice machines in front of select Amish farms
Don’t pull out in front of an Amish buggy. The Amish are a vengeful breed, and they can fucking haul ass!
That horse laying stiff in the sun behind the Amish barn was experiencing the next level beyond miserable.
I wasn’t actually miserable despite the fact that I rode the Aberration, my “gravel bike.” RidewithGPS don’t lie: 70% paved. And that’s a conservative estimate.
It’s a road ride, folks.
But if you want to see all the latest expensive gravel bike stuff, show up at the RAR next year.
Good to see The Rik and Mike ($160 ticket is just bullshit) and Tim Si and Matt O.
Be careful when you gesticulate while holding a bowl of chili. It might just end up all over you.
Perfect group/event ride. Adam dropped me within minutes at the start, which I expected. I got to ride at my own pace and push things for about 3 hours, but not too hard. And we all ended up in the same place and got to shoot the shit.
Conclusion: no matter how they promote it as scenic tour of the gravel roads of Geauga County….it’s a road ride.
Sledgehammer when a toothpick would’ve worked nicelyPro tip: don’t ask the local high school cross country team if they’re handing out beer at their aid station. They’ll look at you like they’re Amish. The day was not lost: A cool house I saw along the way. Perfect design for our Up North cottage.
Travels with Pops 