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grrgoylFirst, thanks for all the input on my poll. I have to admit, I kind of like one that combines suggestions from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mmmrorschach and my non-LJ (but no less wonderful) friend Harold: Rojo A-go-go. It sounds a bit stripperish, plus starts off sounding like "rogue," plus rhymes. Of course, I've been referring to it as she so I suppose it should be "Roja," but we'll overlook that for now.
This isn't to say you shouldn't expect to see some of your favorites pop up from time to time either. If my cat can have 12 names, my bike bloody well can too.
I did have an adventure this week with her. The thing is, there are two types of adventures: Enjoyable ones that you wouldn't mind having again, and the ones that leave you happy to be alive to tell the tale. I had one of those.
Well, before I had the Adventure, I did take Rojo to Cherry Creek for her maiden voyage. It was quite fun with the road tires, which are totally smooth unlike the semi-slicks I had been using. She felt speedy and nimble; if anything, a little TOO speedy and nimble. People pay top dollar for bikes that weigh almost nothing. A few times when taking a turn she felt like she might slide right out from under me. That feeling must be 10 times stronger on a featherlight racing bike. No thanks.
It was a great success. I don't know if my thigh muscles are now so massive I can crush your head like a walnut, or it's just the tires (it's probably the tires), she goes a bit faster than Rogue Leader. I've had to graduate to the highest gears just to get the resistance I'm used to. It's quite a feeling of accomplishment, even though I'm sure it's just the tires.
And I have to say, the feeling of stopping at an intersection and knowing with 90% certainty that my rear tire isn't going to fall off is worth every penny of that $100.
~*~
Anyway, The Adventure. Waterton Canyon, which remember was essentially a dirt road, was given a difficulty rating of 1 out of 5 in "Mountain Biking Denver and Boulder" by Bob D'Antonio. Deer Creek Canyon was given a 2-3. Based on this, I have to assume he reserves the 5 score for biking around the rim of an active volcano.
Beautiful, right? No indication of the terror within
The trail starts off deceptively easy, maybe not dirt road easy, but manageable. Then it starts taking sharp climbs like this one, at which point I thought I might be in over my head, not realizing that even this was not that bad next to what was to come:
Yes, this was the easy part of the trail
It's like this for a little while, then it's like this only covered almost completely in rocks, when I decided to walk for awhile. Then it's covered in rocks, boulders, and huge logs buried across the path for erosion prevention, all at about a 60-degree incline. There was no hope of riding through that, so I just kept walking.
Some gorgeous views at least. Don't know if they're worth risking your life for though
I essentially walked, pushing my bike laboriously, for about a mile. I had more fun biking behind Ryan's rollerblading friend, Chris. Then I hit what I now know is affectionately called "The Wall of Shame" by enthusiasts.
Ummm, guys? You forgot to build a path?
Notice the staircase to the left for hikers.
This guy makes it look pretty easy:
Poor Emily didn't fare as well on the way down, though I admire the hell out of her for trying:
Anything that has earned a nickname, and a series of YouTube videos of people trying (and mostly failing) to navigate it, is waaaay out of my league. It was right about here I said "Well, FUCK THIS NOISE." The entire trail out and back is supposedly only 7 miles, and I had my ass handed to me in just the first one. Sad, but I blame Mr. D'Antonio's grossly misleading rating system.
In case you haven't grasped the terror of this trail, check out The Wall from the top stair:
We're gonna need a bigger bike
The way down was even scarier than up (and not just because of the Great Whites), which I knew it would be. If nothing else I got a great upper body workout from trying to keep the bike from breaking free and heading down without me. A few times the path was so treacherous I almost fell. The worst part of all was I was sweating so profusely that a huge drop of sunscreen ended up in my right eye and I just couldn't clear it out, so I was basically half blind all the way down (thanks to Camelbak's advanced spill-proof spout, I couldn't just squirt water into it, since turning the bottle upside down shuts the spout automatically. DAMN YOU CAMELBAK). Hope this guy wasn't (blind, that is):
A few times the path looked like it might be slightly more do-able on the downhill so I gave it a shot, standing on the pedals and squeezing those brakes like my life depended on it, which I'm sure it did. You've heard the term "deathgrip"; they would have had to modify my coffin to make room for the handlebars.
The trail I told you about, the one that put me over my handlebars long ago? That trail was Deer Creek Canyon's infant baby brother. For Deer Creek you need one of those fancy shock suspension forks on your front tire, which I of course don't have. Oh hell, as long as I was wishful thinking, a handicapped ramp wouldn't have gone amiss either.
I also couldn't stop thinking about the fact that I'd owned this bike two days and had no idea of her limitations -- and this trail sure didn't seem like the smartest place to push that envelope. Would I have felt safer on Rogue Leader? Probably, before learning he needed four major things replaced.
Two miles (there and back). I would guess maybe a thousand feet of it actually spent on the bike. For those thousand feet, I'd say Rogue Coffee Maker performed admirably. I didn't get a flat tire (though the knobbies were from Rogue). I need to learn to trust that this is what mountain bikes are designed for. The problem is, my 41-year-old bones aren't.
I've never been so happy to see a parking lot before. At least the last part of the trail was mild enough that I could ride in, appearing as if I had been on the bike the whole time.
The things I did right on this trip:
Things I learned for next time:
My next adventure hopefully will be at Elk Meadow, which sounds slightly more peaceful and restful than Deer Creek Canyon (Colorado has a thing about wild animal names). I'm encouraged by the fact that our aging friends Chris and Liana have done it and liked it. And this time I'll let RedRum go over some rocks, I promise.
mmmrorschach and my non-LJ (but no less wonderful) friend Harold: Rojo A-go-go. It sounds a bit stripperish, plus starts off sounding like "rogue," plus rhymes. Of course, I've been referring to it as she so I suppose it should be "Roja," but we'll overlook that for now.This isn't to say you shouldn't expect to see some of your favorites pop up from time to time either. If my cat can have 12 names, my bike bloody well can too.
I did have an adventure this week with her. The thing is, there are two types of adventures: Enjoyable ones that you wouldn't mind having again, and the ones that leave you happy to be alive to tell the tale. I had one of those.
Well, before I had the Adventure, I did take Rojo to Cherry Creek for her maiden voyage. It was quite fun with the road tires, which are totally smooth unlike the semi-slicks I had been using. She felt speedy and nimble; if anything, a little TOO speedy and nimble. People pay top dollar for bikes that weigh almost nothing. A few times when taking a turn she felt like she might slide right out from under me. That feeling must be 10 times stronger on a featherlight racing bike. No thanks.
It was a great success. I don't know if my thigh muscles are now so massive I can crush your head like a walnut, or it's just the tires (it's probably the tires), she goes a bit faster than Rogue Leader. I've had to graduate to the highest gears just to get the resistance I'm used to. It's quite a feeling of accomplishment, even though I'm sure it's just the tires.
And I have to say, the feeling of stopping at an intersection and knowing with 90% certainty that my rear tire isn't going to fall off is worth every penny of that $100.
~*~
Deer Creek Canyon; or, perhaps I want a road bike after all
Anyway, The Adventure. Waterton Canyon, which remember was essentially a dirt road, was given a difficulty rating of 1 out of 5 in "Mountain Biking Denver and Boulder" by Bob D'Antonio. Deer Creek Canyon was given a 2-3. Based on this, I have to assume he reserves the 5 score for biking around the rim of an active volcano.
Beautiful, right? No indication of the terror within
The trail starts off deceptively easy, maybe not dirt road easy, but manageable. Then it starts taking sharp climbs like this one, at which point I thought I might be in over my head, not realizing that even this was not that bad next to what was to come:
Yes, this was the easy part of the trail
It's like this for a little while, then it's like this only covered almost completely in rocks, when I decided to walk for awhile. Then it's covered in rocks, boulders, and huge logs buried across the path for erosion prevention, all at about a 60-degree incline. There was no hope of riding through that, so I just kept walking.
Some gorgeous views at least. Don't know if they're worth risking your life for though
I essentially walked, pushing my bike laboriously, for about a mile. I had more fun biking behind Ryan's rollerblading friend, Chris. Then I hit what I now know is affectionately called "The Wall of Shame" by enthusiasts.
Ummm, guys? You forgot to build a path?
Notice the staircase to the left for hikers.
This guy makes it look pretty easy:
Poor Emily didn't fare as well on the way down, though I admire the hell out of her for trying:
Anything that has earned a nickname, and a series of YouTube videos of people trying (and mostly failing) to navigate it, is waaaay out of my league. It was right about here I said "Well, FUCK THIS NOISE." The entire trail out and back is supposedly only 7 miles, and I had my ass handed to me in just the first one. Sad, but I blame Mr. D'Antonio's grossly misleading rating system.
In case you haven't grasped the terror of this trail, check out The Wall from the top stair:
We're gonna need a bigger bike
The way down was even scarier than up (and not just because of the Great Whites), which I knew it would be. If nothing else I got a great upper body workout from trying to keep the bike from breaking free and heading down without me. A few times the path was so treacherous I almost fell. The worst part of all was I was sweating so profusely that a huge drop of sunscreen ended up in my right eye and I just couldn't clear it out, so I was basically half blind all the way down (thanks to Camelbak's advanced spill-proof spout, I couldn't just squirt water into it, since turning the bottle upside down shuts the spout automatically. DAMN YOU CAMELBAK). Hope this guy wasn't (blind, that is):
A few times the path looked like it might be slightly more do-able on the downhill so I gave it a shot, standing on the pedals and squeezing those brakes like my life depended on it, which I'm sure it did. You've heard the term "deathgrip"; they would have had to modify my coffin to make room for the handlebars.
The trail I told you about, the one that put me over my handlebars long ago? That trail was Deer Creek Canyon's infant baby brother. For Deer Creek you need one of those fancy shock suspension forks on your front tire, which I of course don't have. Oh hell, as long as I was wishful thinking, a handicapped ramp wouldn't have gone amiss either.
I also couldn't stop thinking about the fact that I'd owned this bike two days and had no idea of her limitations -- and this trail sure didn't seem like the smartest place to push that envelope. Would I have felt safer on Rogue Leader? Probably, before learning he needed four major things replaced.
Two miles (there and back). I would guess maybe a thousand feet of it actually spent on the bike. For those thousand feet, I'd say Rogue Coffee Maker performed admirably. I didn't get a flat tire (though the knobbies were from Rogue). I need to learn to trust that this is what mountain bikes are designed for. The problem is, my 41-year-old bones aren't.
I've never been so happy to see a parking lot before. At least the last part of the trail was mild enough that I could ride in, appearing as if I had been on the bike the whole time.
The things I did right on this trip:
- Put on the knobbies. I was picturing Waterton (which remember is a schoolyard comparatively) and almost went with the semi-slicks. That would have made what was only a disaster a catastrophe
- Took along two water bottles. It turns out pushing 50 pounds of steel up a mountain in the middle of July is thirsty work
- Swallowed my pride and turned around when I did. I got home and spent the rest of the day utterly motionless
Things I learned for next time:
- For the love of GOD, take it easy on the sunscreen around the ocular area. Sunburns come and go. Retinal damage sometimes needs surgery
- Don't trust Bob D'Antonio, who is clearly a sadist, quite so blindly. From now on no more adventures without scouting out some YouTube videos first
My next adventure hopefully will be at Elk Meadow, which sounds slightly more peaceful and restful than Deer Creek Canyon (Colorado has a thing about wild animal names). I'm encouraged by the fact that our aging friends Chris and Liana have done it and liked it. And this time I'll let RedRum go over some rocks, I promise.
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no subject
Date: 2010-07-14 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-14 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-16 05:58 pm (UTC)I love all your biking posts though- you're inspiring me to get over my wussy fear of falling down from moving things and just start riding already.
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Date: 2010-07-19 04:12 am (UTC)Have I inspired you? How flattering! I can't imagine what it will take to learn as an adult. I recently tried to master "Heelys" (sneakers with a wheel in the heel for coasting like roller skates. Kids (who are immortal) make it look very easy) and never got there because of fear of falling. I hope to hear of your success soon ; )