Riding with Dog - MTB among the Trees with Shelter from Winter's Wrathful Winds

Dog biscuit bribes no longer needed, this dog is ready to run.

Constantly amazed at the number of things I "need" to make a winter ride with dog happen. Poo-poo bags are a must, though there are some at the trail head, (one doesn't want to be caught short), riding leash, winter riding gear, water for dog, bribes for dog*, ultra-succulent uber-bribes** for dog.

Getting ready is all about the preparation. Get everything prepared first, so that the last thing to get in the van is the dog. Last thing you want to do is have to chase a dog in hot pursuit of a squirrel into the street while trying to get bikes and gear into/onto the van/rack.

Here, she wears her doggie seat harness. Afraid of windscreen wiper noise, yes, but very at home on the trail, where she runs behind the bike at a predictable and organized pace, in the zone.

We had not done the Stillwell beginner loop for year or so ... so this was going to be a reintroduction to riding behind the bike but on a perfect length of leash.

Does she want more? Let's go!! Temperature right freezing;
people need extra clothing, dogs ... the same ol' fur will do. 

She can run wihtout the leash, but it's been a year or so, so no point in risking her forgetting and running off after the first chipmunk.

So we did a couple of loops with the leash to reconnect with the mind-set of running behind the bike. The leash is held just lightly enough to prevent entanglement, but just connected enough to provide directional input. If it were too tightly held I could be eating dirt, if too loosely ... it's hard to hold it too loosely.

Keeping an eye off-piste, before the
 run resumes.

Trail queen? 

About 5-7 seven feet seems to be the the sweet length of leash for us. She runs just to the side of the rear wheel about two feet to the right.




* Old Mother Hubbard's Just Veggin/Original Assortment
** Blue Buffalo Salmon Sticks

Winter Has Its Charms I guess - More Trail Walks, Rides and Runs

Jan 15, 2017. This part of the trail ... looks like the entrance to
 the magic kingdom, couldn't have planned it better. 

 Was this morning as good as it looked? Yes, I'd say so.

 Was that afternoon as grim as it looked? No, not really.

 We got out together, that's the first part;
not too much snow, that's next.

 Blue skies, check;

 Cold enough to keep it from being slushy, check;

On a clear day you'd be looking at Manhattan in the distance.
But foggy days have their special charm, especially by
the water. Jan 22, 2017.

 Not all good bike riding, running or even walking days are sunny -- or windless. And if it is windy, then the shelter of the reeds and trees can take the edge off, or even transform it to calm.

 This bike ride, however, started out with a couple of familiar questions — "Damn, this is painful! Remind me ... why am I doing this again?" and "What the heck do people find fun about dressing up in layers to go riding in near freezing weather?"

 But as most cycling addicts know, those two questions usually become less persistent within a few miles, and the needle subtly, imperceptibly shifts from shades of discomfort toward almost pleasure.   

One way traffic round the point. Windblown and overwash sand.
A touch of the Hamptons within 20 miles of the city, rather than 120.

 This day was neither sunny nor windless.

  In the morning, we had walked in the gray gloom on the shoreline trail, then taken a break for lunch. 

 But the week and the start of the weekend had been long and crazy, and the urge was strong to get back out there and clean the mind completely with a ride.

 To be honest, 45F and gray did feel pretty cold after a week with unprecedented, almost historically warm, sunny days in the low 50s.  But there was another motive at work: the gray skies and a growing northeast wind that was filling out the flags, portended a massive 'Noreaster.

 By midnight the trees would be roaring in the wind and the raindrops would be flying horizontally for the next 48-72 hours. So yes, if I wanted to ride at all in the next few days, I better do it now, while the mood is still mellow. 

Victoria: Chartist Insurrection

Watching Victoria tonight ... the Chartist Insurrection came up.

The photo by W.E. Kilburn is from the time. Sad that in this day and age it looks part artifact, part photo. We've been spoiled by modern technology, maybe.

A distant relative was a Luddite, exiled to Tasmania, and returned to England after all was said and done. And the world continued revolving, and little is learned of history on either side of the issues.

Next up Automation 3.0.

By William Edward Kilburn (1818 - 1891)Details of artist on Google Art Project - 0AEKD91yT2VH9g at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21977388

Upgrading a Blah Day with MTB, Beer and Cider

Biker's reward, to share with guests. (Seems I was
attracted to a certain color scheme. All are solid choices.
Yes, even the excellent DuClaw Neon Gypsy.)

                                             • SYOSSET
Cool, damp, threatening rain — one of those weekend days that was in danger of just slipping by — until you realize, "Uh oh, if I don't get outside and do something soon, I'm going to be stuck here with a no-longer-scratchable case of cabin fever."

So, with the regular road bike in dry dock for repairs and the rain bike giving me bad neck pain, I figured an MTB ride was the best option. Do I ride locally (OK for training hill repeats, but a bit boring) or drive 35 minutes to the trail?

M mentioned the weather, so checked the radar and the answer became clear. A huge claw of rain was reaching up from the south-southwest,  and its talons extended from the general direction of NewJerDelWare. If I didn't get moving, soon the day would be a total rain out.

Going further east looked like the best bet. That would probably buy me an hour of rain-free time -- just enough for a nice MTB session.

 No point wasting time zooming the radar out to the wider region, the rain was coming. I grabbed the mini wallet, a water bottle, couple of layers, lights, the trusty old Garmin Edge 305 (which is really feeling its age) ... and plunked the aging Specialized Rockhopper FSR on the back of the van and headed for Syosset.

Stillwell Woods here we come. Hadn't been there in a year; it would be a bit like starting mountainbiking fresh.

The soccer fields there were awash with a league's worth of teams, supporters, parents, cars. There were cop cars and traffic cones, and it looked like we might not even be able to get in. But the south exit was open and once through the throng, there was plenty of parking down by the trailhead. No problem here, and fortunately a few other MTBers for company.

I came dressed to ride, so no time wasted with clothing or pumping tires. We were on the trail in double quick time (I need to do that more often).

After using a road bike almost exclusively for a year, the MTB felt a bit foreign: I really didn't have a feel for pace anymore, or what speed I would roll, so as not to blow up too soon. The Garmin had crapped out, and all I had was a GPS watch on my wrist or a cell phone. Neither would I check while pedaling. Maybe that was a good thing, as I rode fast and things went smoothly.

The first lap was a solid 11.2 mph — not bad for slightly lumpy terrain, with a few features and a couple of hard gravel climbs.

The easy green trail here has a bit of a feel of a pump track to it, so if you get up a head of speed it can be easy to carry it through a few humps. in a few places I was flying and had to scrub off speed as bike got squirelly in the gravel. This was very nice riding.

Third lap -- mix in some favorite blue trail features. The bike swooped and felt at home. Wasn't sure if I could chew as much riding as I wanted to bite off, but it worked out.

"Fast up, fast down" and its companion climb went smoothly, a good sign. Short but difficult climbs. Glad I was not on a road bike, nice to have the extra gears to spin up those steep climbs.

On the third lap I dropped down a wide but slippery gravel chute that leads down to a piece of singletrack, which leads to some tough climbs. I was not pleased with my wind, but I put my head down and took it slow and steady. Yep, I was out of breath, and glad of a downhill section, but the skills were mostly still there, even if the lungs weren't.

Yep, it was the kind of ride that makes you want to celebrate, and with guests waiting at home, I picked up a few hard ciders that tasted like old family-style homemade cider from France, and a few good beers.

Tip for the ride home. Go to Seven-Eleven instead of CVS, or you might end up doing a whole load of fill-in shopping.

  

Bikes, Tyres, Inflation, Compressor, Home Brew Lube, The Old Trek

The old trek rolled nicely, but the lower bars are too low
for my neck.

Red light. Time to check the bump, bump, bump coming
 from the rear tire. Inner cords are broken. Ride this high-
pressure tyre much farther, and it would blow big time.
Time to go back home and get the backup bike.

So the plan ... the plan ... was to get the "rain/flatland" bike back into working order for  bikepath rides near work. And basically all that entailed was pumping up the tires, and squirting on a bit of chain lube. Nine years since I last rode it, and that was all that was needed.

That was the "plan." So first things first, pump up Trek's tires, and top of the air in Leader's tires. Then.go.ride before the rush hour traffic got into full swing. Save the the lube chores for later.

Well, I have this "pancake" compressor for hobby power tools that needs to justify its existence, so I used it to inflate the four tires, just because it's there.

But, as I was inflating the blue Leader785R's tires, I had my fingers on the tires and I felt a strong jolt. I just figured it was the blast of air, nothing more.

I put the red Trek 660 in the back yard and went out to ride the blue Leader.

At the first traffic light I felt a bump, bump bump, coming from the Leader785's back tyre. WTF could that be? An acorn? -- nope not unless it is stuck to the tyre.

I got off the bike to check it out. and this is what I found (photos)

October 6. Uh oh, too much air too fast.
Tire is borked.

Uh oh! What did I do to this inner tube/tyre combination? These are high-pressure Serfas Secas that run at a max 130 psi (crazy eh?). I typically inflate to 110-120 psi.

I was pumping in about 10 psi at a time, with each trigger press, so it should not have been a big deal, but the tire is 7 years old, and the inner cords might have weakened after so many huge pothole hits.

Air n Sports bicycle tyre inflator attachment.

Returned home, got the old Trek out.

Shit, no lube!

I could ride it as is, but that would be cruel and unusual punishment to a 30 year old Campagnolo Nuovo Record drive train, so I whipped up a quick batch of home brew out of chainsaw bar oil/motor oil and mineral spirits, and we were just about ready to roll.

I forgot my recipe. So I winged it — a couple of ounces of Master Mechanic chainsaw bar oil, an ounce of Castrol motor oil, and about and ounce of mineral spirits to aid penetration (all funneled into an empty bottle of ProLink Gold and shaken, not stirred). If I'd have had more mineral oil I'd have added a bit more, but that was all that was left in the can. That ought to do it! It flowed on easily enough.

Back in July I had tested this compressor on tires up to 130.
(That's the max for the Serfas Secas, and I like 'em firm.) 

The home brew laboratory. Not shown Castrol motor oil.

Next, move the lights, Garmin Edge 305 and saddle bag over, and ride around a bit to test the "clipless" pedals again.

The old Specialized Bike BG MTB clipless shoes were as comfortable as they were 9 years ago - amazing.

I could get used to clipless again maybe.

Very quickly got the pedaling style back, although it took a most of the ride to get fluid with the clip-ins.

The downtube shifters were very stiff. I hadn't used them in years, either, so each shift took a few seconds extra time. But aside from that, the bike rode really, really well, and in places, it was just fantastic, felt very alive. You better believe it — "Steel is real," as its fans like to say.

Mental note to self, "if in doubt, clip out" and when approaching intersection that might require a stop, "clip out first, shift later."

For the 53+plus guys (who don't bounce as well as they once did)  it's just not worth the risk of falling because you took too long to shift a downtime shifter, and didn't have time to clip out before you stopped, capiche?

Yes.

Two boards, three boards, four boards ... loading ... wind chase on ...

The "water bikes": two boards.
one spare tyre. All loaded up.
Fading wind to play with.

So the wind chase was on. Phone started ringing early. "Wanna take a ride out to Bayville? when are we sailing?" said Lenny the Squid.

"Urgh! Last night was rough." Such is life with teenagers in the house. Expect a disrupted routine. Comes with the territory these days. You're blessed and lucky if there is no trouble. 

Hurricane Hermine was supposed to hit Long Island — and still could — as a tropical storm or tropical depression. 

three boards, one spare tyre/tire. loaded.

The weather was fine, the breeze was looking promising for a perfect day of windsurfing. A can't miss affair. Warm, windy, sunny - like a day in Hawaii. 

So, having just emptied the van of all equipment to take R. back to college, I set about reloading it with all the stuff you need for a major day of windsurfing. 

But that bit about the wind...?

"it's filling in!" said Lenny. And he was right. For half an hour he was right. And it reached its climax ... and pooped out.

four boards, one spare tyre/tire. loaded ... still
plenty of room for 5 sails and 3 booms. minivans getting it done.

If all else fails, go paddle. sometimes it's just the ticket.

The best laid plans of windsurfers, mice and men. Our phone chain fizzled as the wind faded. Bruce is on a 7.8. What??? That was the death knell. "A complete bust!" said Domer.

The text messages stopped, and some of the boards went back into the racks. (To be replaced a a few hours later with the standup paddle board). Some will stay in the van just in case tomorrow morning or tomorrow after work delivers the goods. 

But it's not looking likely. Hermine has tracked further east, and truth be told, that's fine with me. 

Paddle upwind, paddle downwind,
paddle all around; whichever way takes your fancy

I used to drive into the teeth of tropical storms and get busy. On the ocean, distant hurricane swell and wind was best. Windsurfed or surfed quite a few of those. 

But these days I've had enough of hurricanes, especially after Irene, which took our buddy Joe Rocco, and Sandy which put the region in the cold and dark for weeks.

So if the wind does not go nuts I'm OK with it. Plenty of porch repairs to do, and really don't need any rain there to screw things up any more than they are already. 

Think I'll crack open a cider or a beer, or both, and bathe that splinter in my finger with a bit of tequila Jimmy Buffet style.

Check out that Oldsmobile in the background -- learned to
drive in one of those in 1985 or so. Good to see one still
in service, and pulling a boat trailer no less.

It's what you make of it ...

Town dock can be kind of loud, people passing by in all directions, conversations everywhere, music blaring out of cars and boats, almost like new york city in a lowercase way. And as the light fades you can see the twinkle of some of NYC's bridges and skyscrapers in the distance if the humidity is low and your prescription or eyesight is good enough.

But with a sunset view like this, it's easier to filter out the commotion ...

Bike take you to places that never seem to get old.

 I can't believe I got jaded to the town dock experience for as long as I did. In the work rut I missed thousands of sunsets, paid them scant notice. And windsurfing sunsets were of a different ilk .. more charismatic and energized than calm and contemplative.

Lost the sweatband - time to crack out
the pirate bandana. 

This was much enjoyed moment after a day of working on porch flooring in the heat. But I can't complain, it was fun, as was this noontime's ride to the end of the point.

Of course, where would we be if we had not kicked things off properly on hot and steamy Friday evening on the porch with an ice cold vermont cider. The mighty Woodchuck. As viewed by the mighty BoZena.

So ... is that for me? No? OK will you at least
 leave me some? No? Then let me taste, just a drop?

Checking for fit. Fits mostly. The work that goes into fixing
or restoring is sometimes a lot more than what goes into
originally creating. This was harder than it looked.  

"M. is cracking me up. That's enough

selfies -- get back to work!"