Aristophanes and the Perks of Biking

Ancient Greek drama isn't exactly a biking kind of topic for a lot of reasons. Among other things, I have biked in a dress and can only imagine biking in a toga is more difficult than that.

That being said, last night I suffered from a bit of humanities-in-college nostalgia. So I went to see The Frogs, which currently is playing various nights in August outside the National Museum of Wildlife Art.

In order to understand the biking story there are two things you should understand:
    1) "The Frogs" is written by Aristophanes. For those of you who didn't have to take a general humanities survey in college, he is considered "The Father of Comedy" and wrote him some pretty funny plays. He was also Greek in the time of togas and agoras and shit.
   2) Riot Act, Inc., the group in charge of this whole theatrical event is Jackson Hole's "alternative theater company." So in a town with a lot of hippies, they're the biggest hippies in the theater scene, which is kind of like being the biggest douchebag at a Ferrari dealership, only you're a lot more fun to be around.

The reason these things are important is that I arrived at the show only to find they'd been selling Greek pita picnic dinners. To those who biked or walked to the show, they sold Greek pita picnic dinners at a discounted price. Granted, it was only a $2 discount, but still, if a penny saved is a penny earned, that's earning 200 pennies. Plus, it's always nice to get that little "I got rewarded for reducing my carbon footprint and getting more exercise" glow that comes when you get Bike Perks.

So you see, Greek play - Greek food, alternative theater - alternative transportation. 

I totally rode my bike to the play last night. The National Wildlife Art Museum is an easy biking destination because it's right along the bike path between town and Grand Teton National Park. There's even a handy underpass from the pathway to the museum driveway so you don't have to cross the highway (my what a lot of ways), which is good, because tourists drive like morons the whole way to and from the park.

Trouble was, I'd already eaten, so really I saved $13 by not buying a picnic dinner at all. But it's nice to know I could have gotten a discount. And the cupcakes they sold had frosting that looked kind of like hummus, which freaked me out, so I saved $3.50 by not buying one of those either.

Oh, and the play was pretty good too. 

A Much Belated Ridin'...Wednesday: Jackson to Moose

Clearly, I suck. On the plus side, I made all my deadlines in real life. On the minus side, it's Wednesday and I'm just now getting around to telling you all about how you totally should check out the "North Highway 89" pathway.

Because you should. Everyone should, whether they have a bike or not. They should accio bicycle that shit (and if you don't know what that means, go read the Harry Potter series and examine your life closely). Or, you know, rent one or something.

Anyway. My experience riding it with Tori Freak was three parts fabulous and one part pure pain and suffering.

 

You ride about four miles before you get to the park entrance, the last mile and a half of which is spent on a pretty continuous uphill. I was proud of myself when I realized I didn't need the break Tori asked for at the sign here, although I'm not going to say I wasn't glad to take it.

We got up pretty early, considering we'd closed down the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar the night before. Luckily, our bike ride was our only Sunday plan, so we still had plenty of time to get our respective rears in gear. Sunday is probably the better of the two weekend days to get out into Grand Teton National Park. Most of the day's flights out of Jackson Hole leave in the morning, so the weekend tourists have already left by the afternoon.

Now, Tori didn't bring her own bike, having flown to Jackson from Arizona. Luckily, Bike Pimp's One-Stop Don't Pay For It Shop (ie: her garage) yielded a spare mountain bike that she was willing to let Tori borrow. It was hot out, but pretty windy as we started down the path. Sunscreen and chapstick definitely were in order. A huge plus with this whole planning a ride weeks in advance thing is you remember to bring that kind of stuff.

In the early stages, the path swoops up and down as you pass through by the river bottoms where the park shares a boundary with the Gros Ventre Wilderness. It's gloriously pretty there - and head's up, these are the last trees you're going to see until you get to the Snake River, which is almost to Moose.

Once you're past the Gros Ventre Junction, your view is pretty consistently this:

The whole ride, the Tetons are just looming up on your left. People get in car wrecks on this highway because they were watching the Tetons and not the road. That's how distracting they are. Riding the pathway, along with being a nice long, almost totally flat ride, is also the best way to see just as much of the Tetons as you'd like. You even pass a turnout about two-thirds of the way to Moose that makes a good spot to rest, hydrate (remember this was an 80-degree day) and gawk. The view on the right is basically a field of sagebrush with a few hills in the far distance, so there's really no comparison.

You get your own underpass to cross the highway at Moose Junction. Handy, given the number of tourists that are turning left across the highway in their RVs at that point. At Moose Junction, you start biking along Inner Park Loop Road instead of Highway 89 - fun fact, Inner Park Loop Road is cyclists and pedestrians only during April. Trouble was, I didn't know which road was Inner Park Loop when I got my bike and it was practically May by then. Next year, y'all, next year.

The Moose Visitor's Center isn't far from the highway, and by the time we got there, we were pretty much out of time.  The path continues on to Jenny Lake, which is well worth the seeing. However, we wanted to have time for our much-anticipated Two Woman Stir Fry Party (ie; making stir fry and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns) that night, and we had a few hours left of biking to get back to town.

We stopped in at the Moose Visitor's Center so I could snag a year-round park pass for Yellowstone and the Tetons ($50 bucks, LRMB-ers) and we could rehydrate.

PS: This is the view from Moose

So thus far we have the fabulous. Now, on the way back to town, comes the pain and suffering. Turns out the wind kicked up while we explored Moose, and the moment we turned back onto the highway the wickedest cross wind in the West threatened to knock us over.

You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. The wind came across the sagebrush flats in gusts that literally pushed us both sideways. I don't know for sure about Tori, but every last muscle I had was tensed to keep me upright and moving forward, given how hard the wind was trying to convince me that I really wanted to head off to the left. Or maybe just collapse leftwards. I know Tori and I both spent the ride back in low gears so we could pedal enough to maintain forward momentum.

Suffice it to say we were approaching too tired to move by the time we got back and were more than glad to sit completely still while Buffy did all the work. The good news? Even in those circumstances, the Teton views were good enough we still decided the ride was totally worth it.

Ride Preview: Jackson to Moose

When you start up your mountain biking hobby/addiction in the early spring, you end up hearing a lot more buzz than you can ever make sense of until much later. At least, that's the case in Jackson Hole, where an early thaw leaves outdoor enthusiasts in a lather of anticipation for the late spring opening days of the national forests and parks.

This year, the big news of the winter was the completion of a brand spanking-new bike path allowing those so inclined to bike from the center of town out to Jenny Lake in Grand Teton National Park. A lot of the buzz I heard made me feel slightly dizzy trying to follow it, especially since Jackson locals seem to utterly lose sight of what is and isn't comprehensible to outsiders after a year or so in town. However, that tidbit stuck and stuck hard. Before I was entirely sure what kind of bike I had, I knew I wanted to take it on the new path.

A view of the path, courtesy of Dornan's at Moose. Visit www.dornans.com to see the image in its original habitat and to read about other fun things to do in the park. 

When a dear college friend - Tori Freak, we'll call her - paid me a visit, I thought it sounded like the perfect opportunity to get out and check out the park on bikeback. Since I enticed Tori to town by sending her pictures of the Tetons, she was definitely up for a prolonged journey in their full view.

So I borrowed Bike Pimp's spare mountain bike and ramped up the excitement levels. Biking on my own is a totally different animal from biking with a friend. Since most of my biking friends are several skill levels above me, I tend to be a solitary creature on the trails and paths of Jackson Hole. Not only seeing Tori again, but sharing my new home and new hobby with her was definitely going to be an unexpected treat.

My route: Cache St. to Jackson-Moose bike path to Moose Visitor Center

Surface - Pavement the whole way

Incline - There is one extended uphill stretch from the National Elk Refuge to the national park entrance, and then a series of smaller ones between the park entrance and Gros Ventre Junction. Past Gros Ventre, the path and the terrain are almost totally flat.

Distance: 14 miles one way

What you'll see: So much of the Tetons! That stretch of path runs parallel to the Tetons the whole way to Moose Junction, and the sagebrush doesn't do much to block your view. Probably the least obstructed views of the whole range you can get. You also cross the Gros Ventre and Snake Rivers on your way there and back. If you're lucky, you might run into bison, elk or other members of the park's Wildlife Brigade.

Local biking news or This kind of terrifies me

Hello LRMB-ers!

After an early July full of doin' stuff (that obviously wasn't blogging) I'm back with something of a horror story. And a kind of creepy little girl to go with it.

Just in case all the scrapes on my legs and scratches on my bike I've picked up on the trails weren't enough to remind me that I seem to be attempting a decently extreme sport (who'd've thunk it?), the Jackson Hole Daily ran this article over the weekend.

The essence of the piece went like this:

"A Jackson mountain biker went to the hospital after being rescued Friday afternoon from the Cache Creek area.

Teton County Search and Rescue volunteers retrieved Derek Collins, 38, after a crash on the Ferrin Trail.

He sustained “substantial injuries,” in the accident, rescue coordinator Tim Ciocarlan said." 

To read about the rescue and the details of how the wreck happened, follow the link to jhnewsandguide.com's archives. The article notes that he crashed when he took his eyes off the trail for a second.

I will grant you that I am not yet at the ability level to ever take my eyes off the trail, because even when I'm staring right at them, rocks are tricky little bastards lying in wait to wreak havoc on my forward momentum. I also am still on the Kindergarten-level trails in the National Forest, meaning I can't even handle the trail that leads to the Ferrin Trail.

However, word on the street is Collins dislocated his hip, which is clearly a nasty-ass way to end a summer afternoon. This biking shit can get serious. And yet I still went out on the trails this weekend, which probably says something negative about my sanity, 

So good luck and speedy recovery to Derek Collins and here's hoping none of the rest of us (including me) have to call on Search and Rescue any time soon.

Ridin' Friday: Cache Creek Sidewalk or Why I Might Be A Masochist

As strong as you get, there will always be one more hill you can't quite pull off. I'm pretty sure that's in the Constitution. Maybe even the United Nations bylaws.

By the time I got to the Cache Creek Trailhead the Sunday of my attempt at Cache Creek Sidewalk, I'd proven that one pretty freaking thoroughly on the extended uphill it takes to get there from the main road. I wasn't too tired to keep riding or anything, but I did have to stop once or twice for the sake of my legs.

But at last I made it, and easily found the sidewalk. I mounted up, thinking that maybe if this was fun I'd try my luck at following the little connecting trail to Putt Putt (another trail touted by a ranger as fun for newbie single trackers) and make a loop of it. The view looking down from Cache Creek Sidewalk is pretty, and I was a-bristle with spit 'n' vinegar and curiosity.

I headed down a curving downhill portion of the trail that is liberally sprinkled with medium-to-large rocks. Rather quickly, I realized this wasn't going to be so easy. The thing about single-track riding, especially when you're on a single track with a steep drop on one side, is that when your front tires bounce off rocks, you just don't have a lot of time to correct your course. As I gained momentum on the downhill, I averted two near-falls, feeling a hint of anxiety rising in my throat.

Then I hit a particularly large rock and in correcting, bounced off another, then another. I realized with a little thrill of fear that while basic physics was in control of my bike, I was not. Then I was landing in a patch of brush on (thankfully) one of the wider patches of trail. After making sure I could sit up (I could), I realized my feet got knocked off the pedals and I'd pitched over the handlebars of my bike.

"Man, I wish someone were videotaping that," I thought. Followed rather quickly by "ow." Everything seemed to be working, despite what looked like a series of scrapes on my calf. Nothing serious, but one of those falls that pays for the helmet. As for my bike, which took the brunt of the fall, the handlebars twisted around themselves so that the brake cables were a tangled mess. I got them all untwisted, and established that everything on the bike seemed to be working.

Evidence for my masochism #1 - I then got back on and continued riding. Cache Creek Sidewalk just isn't that long, I figured. Plus, getting bucked off a horse is way scarier and that's happened to me before. What kind of wimp can't get back on a bike after a little fall?

So I kept going. And you know what? I am not the tiniest bit ashamed to say that it was hard. Scarcely a straightaway on the whole trail, and not one rock-free patch. How anyone gains momentum enough to make it up some of the hills I can't tell you, since the entire practice of single-track riding has got to be one of the more anti-momentum activities since sitting. God knows, I finished, but it was one of the hardest 1.5 miles of my life. It was gorgeous, but between shoving myself forward, trying not to rebound down the cliff on my right and sweating/swearing a lot, I didn't really pull off pictures.

I reached the end, and realized I must look really disheveled. Not because I was actively thinking about my appearance, but because a man on the main trail with his kids did a double-take and asked if I was all right. I explained the fall, and the man insisted on looking over my bike. Turns out part of my difficulty in controlling the bike was because I knocked out my front brakes in the fall.

See, your brakes are supposed to look like this:

And one of them did. However, the other one looked like this:

If you're good at those "find the difference" puzzles, you already know what's wrong. Spoiler - If you guessed that one of the brakes was mysteriously missing the little silver bolt holding the cable into the actual brake mechanism, you are correct. Without it, using the brake had no effect on the actual motion of the bike. I still had my back brakes, which are more important in mountain biking, but it kind of freaked me out. When I made it to Hoff's for a repair, it turned out I also bent a key part of my gear shift and knocked both wheels out of alignment. Since Hoff's is awesome, it only cost me $30 to fix it all, and no charge for the new bolt, but who knew a little fall could do so much damage?

Evidence for my masochism #2 - looking back, I think I had a good time. I still want to do single-track riding. I can think of what I would do differently and I am as excited as ever to see if I'm right. By the end, I recall, I was a lot closer to getting this right. Surely getting it totally right is just around the corner.

Am I insane?

Or am I just a bike person now?

And is there really much of a difference?

Ride Preview: Cache Creek Sidewalk

By the time I took this ride, I was chomping at the bit to get some real trail riding experience. While riding a bike in general is simple, true mountain biking is harder than you think it should be and I was (and am) impatient to get the learning curve portion of this whole thing over with.

Specifically, I was hoping to get out on some of the trails I discussed with the U.S. Forest Service ranger a few weeks back. He'd mentioned several trails and routes that would be good for a "single-track" beginner, and all of them are accessible from at or near the Cache Creek Trailhead.

Living around here, you hear about the Cache Creek Trail so often that you know what it is long before you know where it is. Running parallel to it is a smaller, dirt trail called Cache Creek Sidewalk that meets up with both the main trail and myriad other trails in the area, and is apparently a good first single track bike ride.

 

Single track, as I found out, refers to the fact that (as this Forest Service pic shows) these trails are narrow, with room for a - gasp - single track. In the Jackson Hole regional vocabulary, this phrase is as commonly used as "pop" in the Midwest, "crawdad" in the South..."Oops" in Washington D.C.

In order to really know how to mountain bike, you have to be able to do it.

So I wanted to do it.

However, in the interest of not getting carried away, I figured starting with the sidewalk was probably wise. One Saturday when I had to work, I resolved to reward myself for the abbreviated weekend by tackling the ride Sunday afternoon. Now, I'd never been up that way, and never really tried a single track trail, but I am not one to back down from such a situation, even when it would be a good idea to do so. I went home from  my day of work resolved - tomorrow, I would dip my toe into single track riding.

My route: Snow King Drive to Vine Street to Kelly Avenue to Redmond Drive to Upper Cache Creek Drive to Cache Creek Sidewalk and back along Cache Creek Trail (kind of complicated-sounding, isn't it?)

Surface - Paved road until Upper Cache Creek Drive, which turns to dirt-and-gravel partway there. Then dirt on Cache Creek Sidewalk and Cache Creek Trail

Incline - Nothing all that significant. Anything there is ends up being pretty short.

Distance: Around 7.5 miles one way. Cache Creek Sidewalk itself is 1.5 miles long.

What you'll see: The actual Cache Creek runs parallel to the trail below the whole length of the sidewalk. Plus great views of the hills and ridges in the Greater Snow King Recreation Area. And wildflowers. More now than I saw on this ride.

Today in Obnoxious Bike People: "On Your Left"

~Because sometimes hardcore bike people pick up irritating habits and think they're normal. And that is irritating.~

In the case the increasingly perfect weather in Jackson Hole didn't tell you it was nearly July, the increasing number of people using the bike paths would give you a hint. That means you'll almost certainly end up with someone trying to pass you. There are a few ways bike people can be obnoxious when they pass, but I choose to rail about one that's been reeeeallly getting on my nerves lately.

Back when I first got my bike, I explained the usefulness of my bell in great detail. Reader's Digest version: it just plain makes sense to have one. However, a large number of people who, by their clothing, consider themselves Proper Cyclists, don't bother with them.

You'll notice, the gentlemen in this picture (of bike lanes in Portland, Ore., fyi) don't seem to have them. Given my experiences in Jackson, what probably happened here is that the gentleman on the right - yeah, the one with his pants tucked into his socks, poor guy - was biking along, minding his own business.

Suddenly, he heard a kind of muffled sound behind him. It probably took him a few minutes to realize the following: the sound was a human voice, it was speaking to him, and one of the words was "left." By then, the gentleman on the left, whose pant legs are not tucked into his socks, was whizzing by him, shooting him a mildly dirty look for not getting out of his way quite enough. It is at this point the guy on the right realizes what he heard was this other guy saying "On your left,"  thereby trying to alert him that he'd be passing soon.

I say unto thee, Bike People, that the guy on the right was not acting dickish, despite what the passing cyclist thought. It is not his fault that it's next to impossible to a) hear that half-call, half-mumble people who do this somehow manage to achieve and b) distinguish what on earth you said. Especially if it's windy, or there's running water nearby, or if the person you're passing has a loud heartbeat or there is...any ambient noise at all.

This apparently happens because bells "take up handlebar space," and this is Really Annoying if you're a Serious Biker. Doing whatever in God's name you're doing that requires every inch of handlebar to be at your disposal - seriously, a bell is not exactly a space drain. However, I'm going to go ahead and point out it's equally annoying to get that freaking dirty look. Not to mention the part where it's a safety issue for me to get far enough to the side to avoid collisions. There is no reason to be sneaky here. Stop snitting about and get a damn bell.

As I said, it's been getting on my nerves lately. In case that wasn't abundantly clear by now.

Tuesday Biking Jams: ACDC Duo

When you bike in the morning and are me, you invariably start off with a motivation problem. Generally speaking if you do anything in the morning and are me, including but not limited to everything that isn't sleeping, you have a motivation problem. Trouble is, especially as the days have been getting hotter, morning is a good time to engage in physical activity without having to bring more water than you can realistically carry on an aluminum-frame bike.

So I bring you the band, and two songs whose particular relevance I'll explain in a minute, that had me strongly considering a bit of extracurricular headbanging at 8:30 a.m. I shit you not. Thus is the magic of ACDC.

I'm also quite fond of You Shook Me All Night Long, and it'll serve the same purpose, but that song wasn't on my Bike Ride Playlist on the day in question. On said day, it was freaking early for me to be awake on a Saturday, but I had a few commitments later in the day and wanted to have time for a proper ride. How I got my ass out of bed and onto the bike without convincing myself that sleeping for another several hours would be just as fun is something of a mystery, but it definitely happened.

Trouble with all this was that getting onto the bike seemed to be the limit of my ability that morning. Even pushing the "shuffle songs" button to make sure my Bike Ride Playlist didn't just play songs in alphabetical order of artists proved a smidge too difficult. That meant my two ACDC songs came up first, and right after one another. Suddenly I had a bit more energy. I daresay I, a girl, got rhythm. Sure it was still early when the songs ended, but by then I'd been pedaling long enough to get my blood and my adrenaline pumping a bit. That's really all it takes.

So keep Girl's Got Rhythm and Highway to Hell in mind the next time you're on a ride when you'd rather not even be awake, and a happy Tuesday to one and all.

My Bike Has Accessories! (And you can too): The Cupholder

~Because I want to help those who, like me, responded to questions about what accessories I wanted to get for my bike with "Oh...right. What?" And because I always really liked show and tell in school.

Internet, meet my cupholder:

Low-tech but super-useful, thanks to a little ingenuity combined with the fact that Bike Pimp doesn't much clean out her garage. Yes, it is a cup with holes punched in it.

Why I wanted it: Why do you ever want a cupholder? Because there are drive-thru windows in the world - and while it turns out your average McDonald's worker doesn't really expect to see a bike at the window, they'll usually still serve you. Because sometimes you aren't done with your morning coffee when you go to work. And because sometimes you find a random cool wine glass at a garage sale and don't have any other way to carry it (true story, btw).

Intended use: Holding cups. I suppose that one seems fairly obvious this time around.

I've definitely needed to do this while biking before, especially biking in town. Plus one memorable time at a trailhead when the wind blew the cap to my water bottle right out of my hand and into some nearby evidence that a horse had taken a rather large dump earlier in the day.
The cool thing about this one is that it works! That probably shouldn't be so exciting, come to think of it, but it is. It doesn't seem like something you'd easily find at a bike shop, and if you did, you'd probably end up paying what I've come to consider the Pretentious Bike People Tax. So a little MacGyver-ing seemed worth a try. Much like anything on that show, you never quite expect it to work out very well (although in the case of my cupholder, I was less worried about leaking plutonium than spilling coffee). But in its plucky red plastic fashion, it succeeded despite appearances and in no way dumps coffee, diet coke, or anything else I choose to put there.
In fact, it doesn't tip over at all, so when it rained one time I had to wait three weeks for the little puddle that collected to just evaporate on its own.
There's probably some quip I could make, but I don't have the energy to think of it. Guess I need to go biking for some more coffee. Good thing I have me a cupholder to put it in.

Alternate uses: The fun thing about a cupholder is that it holds things that aren't cups. For example, my iPod and my phone. Funny how that works. It's pretty common for me to have my headphones in and this little cord appearing to tether my head to my cupholder because my iPod is in there.

Cost: If you happen to have a friend that has a large cup with a leather thong threaded through it lying around her garage, it's free. Or you could rig something up. I'm not saying everyone has to be cheap in the same way I am.
If you'd rather try the retail route, the cheapest bike cupholder I could find online was $8, but most of them were closer to $12, if not $20. The most expensive was $30, but it had a U-bolt base (whatever that is) and was "self-leveling." Yes, turns out you can make even a cupholder complicated if you put your mind to it.

Worth having? : Yes, though I wouldn't say it's worth spending $30 on.

If you've ever tried to take a drink and continue pedaling before, you've spilled on yourself and almost crashed before. Plus, for all they're handy, those little water bottle holsters (fyi, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to call them something else, though God knows what) are pretty impractical for oversized containers, containers with lids that don't screw on, or really anything but your most basic water bottle shape and size.

Ridin' Friday: The Paths Not Taken

My intent to explore the subdivisions and random branchings-off of the Highway 89 Pathway went from a vague, someday kind of plan to an actual concrete one when I ended up having to run into the office one Sunday afternoon. Some of us may or may not have forgotten to put our work in the appropriate computer folders Friday.

Once that was taken care of, I didn't have as much afternoon as I'd hoped for to get out with Little Red. Certainly not enough time to make it out to the Wilson Canyon trail, which I'd vaguely planned on when I got dressed for a bike ride that morning....or, you know, noon. So I remembered those areas I hadn't gotten to when I went out to Game Creek, and went ahead and had me a glass-half-full moment. (Although, I think that saying only works if you know what the glass is half-full of, but that's another story for another day).

So I headed back out to Highway 89 and had a surprisingly nice ride, considering there were many. many houses and many, many owners of those houses looking a little resentful that someone they didn't recognize was riding through their sacred haven of expensive. Both Rafter J and Melody Ranch have some unexpectedly great Teton views and nice little pockets of woods and creeks next to the pathway. Plus - I had me a biking triumph in my own kind of pathetic way on the way back to the pathway from Rafter J. There's a long-ish hill up from the Rafter J paths to the main one, and the first time I rode there, I had to stop and catch my breath partway up. This time, I won't say it was easy, but I didn't even have to slow my pace. Hooray! I'm getting stronger!

By far the most disappointing stretch was South Park Winter Range, at least in terms of bike riding.

I'd heard good buzz about a wildlife loop in that area that went around two ponds where trumpeter swans live, and figured a nice, not-too-rugged wilderness ride would be the perfect end to the day. However, as you can see in the picture, I got stopped by this nice big gate that kept everyone not on foot away from the loop. Signs - which you can't see in this picture - warned against disturbing the swans.  The sign itself was at least a year old, so one could assume the eggs mentioned on it were well-hatched by now. However, I am generally against people messing with wildlife just because they want to play in their habitat, so I decided to take a break and fool around by Flat Creek for a while.

It was getting steadily hotter, so the cool air by the creek was welcome. Plus, I am a firm proponent of how much fun it is to sit peacefully by the water. And of splashing other people in a fit of mischief, but since I didn't actually know anyone else there that day, I thought that should probably wait for another time. That's what being a grown-up is all about, amirite? Between one thing and another, I wandered along the creek for probably as long as it would have taken me to ride the wildlife loop and got in some very important throwing of rocks and sticks as I did so. Generally speaking, I think Flat Creek is one of my favorite things I didn't expect to find in Jackson. The town takes a lot of care to make sure there is public access to it and it's too small and shallow for the endless boating you can get on the Snake and Hoback Rivers.  Plus, did I mention how the Tetons are right nearby, like everywhere in town?

 Because they are, as you can see here to the right. So, in the essence of exploring, I ended up not minding so much that I didn't get to go where I planned because of what I found instead - a not-too-far, not-too-crowded place to play by the creek. However, I did have a moment of stupid on the way back. Not as severe as my trail fail from earlier in my mountain biking saga, but not one I care to repeat if I can help it. So if you'll recall, I mentioned it was getting hotter while I played by the creek. On the ride back as I grunted my way up the steep and very rocky road back to the main pathway, I realized I was really dehydrated after spending all that time in the sun. What's more, I hadn't brought anywhere near enough water for this game. I ran out at the top of the ascent from South Park and still had one or two signficant climbs to go. What's even more, as I rode along the pathway trying not to think about how freaking thirsty I was, I realized that I was also really, really hungry. Thinking back, I hadn't eaten anything since the few pieces of toast I grabbed for breakfast and that turned out to be not nearly enough fuel for an afternoon of biking. Then the mild headwind kicked up. Had I thought to maintain my energy properly, I don't think I would have noticed. In fact, I would have welcomed the breeze.

So I biked all the way back to town feeling like a Hummer on the interstate - hungry for more fuel, be it ever so inconvient, and increasingly crotchety about it. Please note, LRMB-ers, that biking may be low-impact, but it's a high-energy activity. All apologies to Robert Frost and his yellow woods, but I'm sure had he been biking, he would have made sure to include a warning to bring a snack along if you're going to be taking roads in woods like that. Turns out the path not taken is much easier to take if you've been smart enough to anticipate your own needs along the way.

Ride Preview: Just a Little Explorin'

On last week's pretty epic ride I passed several places where the path branched off into a series of subdivisions and wilderness areas. I knew their names, but had been into only one of them - Rafter J - because it's closest to town so I can get there in that after-work biking window.

Since I am, as previously noted, a Lewis-and-Clark-yapper-dog type explorer (ie: excitable,  excessively curious and kind of amusing to watch) I ended up telling myself rather sternly to just keep biking because I could come back later.

This was especially true when I saw that one of the turns took you down alongside Flat Creek - and just because I took this picture is no reason for you to just assume I went there. 

Of course, I did, but that's beside the point since this is just a preview.

In order to properly understand this little tour through the paths not taken, you do need to understand the way the part of South Highway 89 works just outside the actual town of Jackson. Since there is limited residential real estate in the town, a good chunk of the better-off local families live in one of several subdivisions outside town. North of town are the national parks and the National Elk Refuge, so much of this living is done south of town.

When you first move to Jackson Hole, the names of these subdivisions are mentioned as though everyone knows where they are, and you should too. Of course, they also have these super-aggressive homeowners' associations that refer to unauthorized visiting or amenity use as something with consequences you will not like. The one exception is the bike paths. Against all precedent, the bike paths that branch into these subdivisions are open to public users, possibly because Jackson Hole cyclists are second only to Jackson Hole dog owners in terms of force of numbers. Seriously, you want to get shit done here, link it to dog or bike access and you will have yourself an army.

Myself, I just wanted to see what the fuss was about. Also, from the main pathway, the subdivisions end up looking like these little havens of trees, creeks and ponds. All good reasons to be a rebel, if you ask me. 

My route: Russ Garaman Trail to Highway 89 Pathway through Rafter J, Melody Ranch and South Park Winter Range

Surface: Mostly pavement, although Melody Ranch's pathways turn to dirt and gravel in places and the South Park section is all dirt and gravel

Incline: All over the place,since all of the subdivisions, etc. are downhill from the main pathway - and therefore the return is uphill. Only the South Park return gets beyond the ordinary.

Distance: Probably around 8-10 miles. This is a total guess that may be wrong.

What you'll see: Nice-ass houses you can't afford, Flat Creek, Tetons, pretty little woodsy pockets

Biking to Booze: Assorted Shenanigans at Snake River Brewery

What's a girl to do when she has a brewpub located along an easy bike route through town? The eternal question asked yet again.

In my case, the answer tends to be: bike there a lot. Snake River Brewery makes some classic local beers, plus the staff tends to be super friendly and easygoing. A ton of local people stop by there too, so it's been a good place to meet fellow Jacksonians. I'll give you two examples of times I biked there to give you a feeling for what I mean.

Time 1 - Work Farewell Party

My co-workers are awesome, so when one of them - Ranger, for the sake of this blog, since he quit to join the Army Rangers - left us, we had to give him a sendoff complete with pizza and beer on the company account. The Brewpub (as it's generally known 'round these parts) is in many ways easier to bike to than to drive to because its parking lot is the approximate size of a postage stamp. With the long row of bike racks along the pub's fence, there are actually more places to park your bike than your car. It's also just a block away from Snow King Avenue, which has a nice, wide bike lane and not that much traffic.
So I opted to head to the festivities on Little Red since it was a pretty nice day.

Knocking back: We opted for a pitcher of Pako's IPA for the table. I gladly partook of said pitcher.

Bon appetit: The table had a mix of three pizzas. I mostly stuck with the margherita.

Verdict: Pako's has a nice bite to it and is really drinkable, although it tastes strong. That's probably because it is, at 6 percent alcohol. I tend to like medium-dark beers, and Pako's is closer to the dark end of what I like than the medium. With how strong it is, I never order this one unless I'm also getting food. I am nowhere near enough of a beer drinker or a beer snob to be able to describe it any further in terms such people would recognize, so we'll leave it at that.

As for the food...I am mildly in love with the Brewpub's margherita pizza. Not because it's super fancy or all that gourmet, but because it has everything I like and nothing I don't from a pizza. It's big enough to share, but small enough that you don't have to; it's got its grease, but not so much you need to use the whole napkin dispenser to soak up the excess; and it's a nice thin-crust, so it's not a very heavy meal. Plus I heart basil and tomato. Not gonna lie, when we got down to that last piece and I was still hungry, there was a little bit of a "my preciousssss" moment before I consented to let Ranger have it. Hey, he was moving away from the delicious pizza. I could afford to wait.

Time 2 - The NFL Draft

Yes, yes, the draft was a while ago. But I happen to live in a town that inexplicably prefers hockey to football, so there weren't many places in town with enough TVs that I could commandeer one for my football geekery during an important (apparently) hockey tournament. The Brewpub has many TVs, so I used my pull with my favorite bartender there to get what I wanted.
It was another nice day, and so I saw no reason to drive. Little Red and I headed to see who my team (Seattle Seahawks, yo!) would take from a pretty talented field of prospects.

Knocking back: I was on my own, so I went for my favorite Brewpub offering - Snake River Lager.

Bon appetit: I hadn't eaten dinner yet, so I went for a baked artichoke dip plate.

Verdict: There really was no bad here. I ordered two of my favorite things on the whole Brewpub menu. The Lager is milder than the Pako's in both taste and alcohol content, but strong enough to taste like a proper beer. It's not too strong, not too mild - the Baby Bear of the Brewpub in my opinion. For those of you who will have any idea what that means, it's a Vienna Lager, but since just as I am not a proper Bike Person, I am not a proper Beer Person, so I mostly remember that in case I need to give someone a basis for a recommendation.

And of course, to me, spinach and artichoke dip is like crack. The Brewpub's version comes with carrots, celery, little sourdough bread slices and pita chips, enough that I often can't finish it. But it's inevitable that I will like it and that I will order it a lot because, like I said, crack.

As for my team's choice...it didn't make a lot of sense to me. ESPN even gave us the dubious distinction of being on its top 5 worst first rounds list. But hey, if I gave up just because my team was disappointing, I'd never watch football. Anyway, nothing like a good bike ride home to take your mind off of wondering just what Pete Carroll (Seattle head coach, for football noobs) is thinking.

Tuesday Biking Jams: La Tortura

Hills are hard.

That statement, while simple, is also pretty unique in that it's one I've never heard a single cyclist disagree with. I've noticed as I learn to ride and get more and more biking stories that cyclists like to to talk about biking. And dear God they advocate, they campaign, they proselytize and they witness for their particular vision of it, as though they were lawyer-missionaries lobbying Congress. But just you mention a ride with some steep grades and the intensity of debate turns to sympathetic wincing.

So when I found a song on my playlist that turns out to help you set a great pedaling rhythm for getting up those extended steep climbs, I felt it was something that needed to be shared on the internet. So I hereby announce that this week's biking jam is La Tortura, Shakira's sexy screw-you to the ex who wants you back.

For the record, I don't understand why there is belly-dancing while covered in what looks like crude oil in this video, since it seems to have little to do with any of the lyrics - I found a version with English subtitles to check. It definitely has no bearing on the song's use as a biking jam.

The song came on my iPod near the end of a pretty long ride, and a good slog uphill in my next-to-lowest gear wasn't exactly my preferred to-do list. However, I'd chosen a path that started with some super-fun downhills, not necessarily connecting that with the evil uphills they became on the way back, so it had to be done. In one of my favorite coincidences, the beat of this song turned out to be just the right one to aim for as I tried to keep my momentum going up the hill. Plus, this song is just ridiculously catchy, so it took my mind off the climb at the same time. Wins all round!

Downside - pedaling to this song isn't anywhere near so much fun as dancing like a dork to it in your kitchen while wearing Hello Kitty slippers. You can trust me on that one, I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Welcome, New Bike Rack! or The Value of Judicious Bitching

It's been a tough couple weeks to be a Little Red Mountain Bike reader, amirite? Well, have no fear, I'm back and ready to keep you all entertained, following three weeks in which - my bike was in the shop after a trail fall, I pulled a quadricep during a soccer game and I was getting things ready for a college friend to visit me. Three weeks and three obstacles, a veritable trifecta of shit and fans meeting.

However, I hereby return to my posting with some great news - during all the yikes I acquired a bike rack for my car. The posts lamenting my long and unexpectedly fruitless search are through and the ones celebrating the new places I can explore via bike can begin.

 

Getting the rack was, as alluded to in the post title, something of a lesson in the value of judicious bitching. Because she periodically reads this blog and because I was maybe a leeeeetle vocal  about not finding a rack at the recent Bike Swap, Bike Pimp knew I was looking for one.

So one day during my accidental hiatus, I walked into my office to find the above-pictured rack sitting on my  chair. Next to it, Bike Pimp was grinning like one of those cartoon lemurs in Madagascar. Turns out, she bought a rack of her own from a friend of hers and said friend had a second rack she wanted to get rid of. So not only do I have a rack that fits my teeny-tiny car, but I didn't have to pay for it.

Now, getting the thing onto my car (ok, watching Bike Pimp get the thing onto my car) felt a little like getting my car ready to go skydiving, and the rack looks a little like a torture device without a bike on it. However, this is a common sight in Jackson. Everyone seems to own a bike and not use it during the work day, so cars zooming around with empty bike racks happen on a daily basis. Oddly, I find it far less weird now that I get to do it too. Yay, I look like I live here!

So many thanks to Bike Pimp for the new toy, and my apologies for abandoning you all for so long. But I'm back y'all, and ready to tackle what's left of an interesting June.

Ridin' Friday: Jackson to Game Creek and Trail Foray #2

The morning of my big planned ride, I actually tried to get up early. I've never been all that good on knowing how long something will take, and there was a bike sale in town I wanted to hit that afternoon.

Since at the time, there was a good possibility I was heading out to Hoback, which is 12 miles away, I brought water and a peanut butter sandwich and felt somewhat like a little kid packing lunch for a field trip. I also wore my brand spanking new helmet, which I made sure to buy after this little adventure.

The weather was perfect. Perfect! Clear skies, sunshine and just enough of a breeze to keep from drowning in sweat. I easily passed the Bird, and was off into the great unknown, such as it was.

The path hugs the highway itself pretty closely until the Melody Ranch subdivision, where it swoops down into the smaller hills and fields below. Farther on, you totally forget the highway is continuing its highway thing above you. Partly that's because the location of the path gives you this illusion that you're  cycling through an untouched paradise of green things and rolling hills and Teton views. However, it's also because you periodically end up with all your attention on getting yourself up the four or five random 8 percent grade inclines the path kind of sneaks in there.

If you're like me, you'll reach the first one after the scattering of smaller inclines and declines up to that point and you'll see the sign the thoughtful trail builders posted that warns you that you're coming up on a hill. As you get closer and start to ascend, you'll notice more details on the sign. Like where it says more specifically there's an 8 percent grade ahead. Your inner voice will be all "wait, what did that say? Shit." I've found as I get further into this whole biking thing that approaching long steep uphills gives me much the same feeling as that moment I realize I've just used my last clean fork and can no longer pretend the dishes in the sink will keep a while longer.

Luckily, much like my dishes, I can pull off the climbs, I just have to get through the internal whining. I am also a big believer in the power of a little judicious whimpering to get you through the tough times.

I also had the consolation of getting these grudging respect nods even from the spandex-clad snots as they'd pass me going the other way. Kind of a general acknowledgment that you're both doing something worth doing.

Where the path itself ends at Game Creek, you cross the highway and can can either head down the former highway, which is the beginning of the route to Hoback, or you can continue down Game Creek Road. After all this pavement, I was kind of craving another crack at a trail, and the Game Creek Trail is famous locally as part of one of the best mountain biking loops in the area. So I decided to leave the Hoback trip for another day - you'll almost certainly be reading about it later in the summer.

Game Creek Road is a gravel road that gradually climbs from the highway until it suddenly shoots upward in a steep-ass hill just past the Game Creek trailhead. As you bike it, you see something along these lines:

 

 By the time I got to the trailhead, I was feeling a little dehydrated, so I paused for a drink before venturing onto my second ever trail ride. The good news is it lasted considerably longer than seven minutes, the length of my first. It was a beautiful trail, although it was still muddy in places from melting snow. It just turns out there are things you plain don't think about when you're hiking a trail that suddenly become super important when you're biking it. 

Like rocks. Given that a not-especially-large rock had nearly killed me the previous weekend, I had a healthy respect for all things sedimentary, metamorphic and igneous (thank you, Magic School Bus). By the end of the ride, it was less respect than a kind of sullen resentment.

This is a perfect example of what I mean. Hiking by that patch of rock, you'd scarcely notice. Biking, you feel every single contour of the ground. Rocks like that make for a bumpy-ass ride, and if you aren't careful, your tires actually bounce sideways off of them with no warning. When you're trying to avoid a patch of slippery mud, or a ditch off to one side, that's damn inconvenient and kind of scary. I was sort of getting the hang of the stance I needed a few miles down the trail, when I realized the second major hurdle of trail riding: you use a lot more effort to gain a lot less momentum, so your legs hate you triple what they would if you rode the same contours on pavement. In short, I was getting a little fatigued and I knew I had a bunch of steep climbs to make on the way back to town. 

So I took a quick break to assess how much my legs were hating me and decided I probably should turn back. Nothing wrong with knowing your limits, and you look a lot dumber when you fuck something up by pushing yourself too hard than by acknowledging what you can't do. 

  On the way back, I wished a zillion times I'd brought more water with me because the sun was a lot higher and hotter by then. I also thanked the Lord I'd thought to bring my sandwich, because about halfway back I was starving and pulled over to scarf down the food I'd brought. The cool thing? For the first time in a long time, I had no question at all that I'd earned every last calorie, and I didn't have to face that gerbil on a wheel feeling a treadmill gives me to do it. Plus, the view was way better.

I'm definitely also going back to the Game Creek Trail this summer, although I may consider driving there once I get a car rack so I don't have to factor in those 8 percent grades before and after. What can I say - I honestly died a little when I had to turn my back on that last bend, although this picture is a little earlier in the trail.

Ride Preview: Jackson to Game Creek and Trail Foray #2

This ride began as so many do, with me asking Bike Pimp a stupid question and her pointing at maps.
In this instance, the question was: what did a cycling website mean when they mentioned a Highway 89 pathway?
This was a stupid question because it turned out the whole time I'd been using the in-town bike path, I'd been blithely oblivious to a path branching off of it near Smith's grocery store that parallels the highway as it heads west. Bike Pimp pointed it out on a map, then explained that past a certain point, you can either head down Game Creek Road (ie: site of the trailhead for the highly popular Game Creek Trail)  or head on to Hoback Junction (ie: site of one of two gas stations between the Idaho border and Jackson on that highway). 

The highway's on the left, the path is the little road on the right

I was excited (you may have noticed I often am in these circumstances), since driving on Highway 89 is a pretty scenic experience - as are most parts of being outside around here, and decided to spend part of the weekend on the path. I figured I could decide whether I went on to Hoback or Game Creek depending on what I felt like at the time. (Spoiler - I went for Game Creek and tried out some of the Game Creek Trail).

Then I had a conversation that made me nervous, too.

I told another friend - we'll call her Hand Model, since she'll know why and will roll her eyes - of my plans and invited her along. Her response: "Oh man, that's way too hilly." Now, Hand Model doesn't care for hills in general on a bike ride, but around here I once heard a trail that scales a damn mountain described as "a bit hilly," so I decided to investigate a little.

By that I mean I tried out the first mile and a half or so one evening after work. Why I decided that was sufficiently representative of a 6.2-mile trail, I'm not sure. I guess I thought that if I couldn't make it that far, I had no business trying the rest of the ride. Basically I went out as far as The Bird, a restaurant and pub I keep meaning to try, but never quite feel like going to because it's just far enough out of town to feel inconvenient.

Did the path end up with more hills and inclines than the path through town? An unqualified yes. Were some of them steep-ish and sustained-ish? Yes. Ish. But they also weren't hard to manage, so I went home with my mind made up. The ride was on for the weekend.

My route: Russ Garaman Trail to Highway 89 path to Game Creek Road to Game Creek Trail

Surface: Paved to Game Creek Road, then gravel. Dirt, etc. on the trail.

Incline: Jee. Zus. But not impossible. I'll explain later.

Distance: About 10 miles one way, including the trail. 6.2 miles to Game Creek Road alone.

What you'll see: As per usual, there will be Tetons if it's clear. Great overlook of Flat Creek as it runs out to the west. A ton of non-specific natural beauty. 

Summer Cycling Reading List: Roll Around Heaven All Day Part 2

As I mentioned Monday, learning to mountain bike has given me a great deal of curiosity about how other people do this whole cycling thing. I also like to read. So the solution of reading biking books seemed like a good one.

Also Monday, I gave you all the basics on the first book I chose as part of this - Roll Around Heaven All Day: A Piecemeal Journey Across America by Bicycle. I hereby give you the Good, the Bad and the Verdict of reading it.

The book is a first-person travel diary from Stan Purdum, a man who turns 50 and decides to fulfill a childhood dream of biking across the United States. This happens in three chunks because, being 50 and all, he has a job and a family, and the U.S. is pretty freaking huge and time-consuming to travel across.
In one, he goes from Oregon to Wyoming with his younger brother. Then he goes across Virginia with his teenage daughter. He heads across most of the Midwest alone. 
The book switches between straightforward trip narrative with heavy focus on the people he meets and the places he sees, quasi-philosophical musings and facts/reflections on cycling.

The Bad: This is not a man who has a good sense of what details are appropriate where. Especially when he's riding with his family you get either way too much information or not enough about his brother and daughter. Frankly, he isn't very good at weaving the themes of his personal relationships in with the rest of the narrative, so the book gets bogged down when he tries. Lots of detail, not much substance.
For example - it's interesting to hear once that his brother has sleep apnea and requires a special machine to sleep. It's annoying to hear about whether every single campground they stay at is equipped so he can use the machine. I also vowed to find the man and shove a burger up his...yeah...if I heard one more time what everyone's exact order was at every single food stop.
The weakest part of the book is the stretch with his daughter. He is so busy explaining his kid that he hardly gets to the actual trip, and his constant explanations make her seem insipid and weak. You can't ever relate to or like the daughter. We never really see her because her dad is in the way, constantly fluttering about whether she's tired or whether she's in a good mood.
And...and...he skipped Grand Teton National Park and Jackson! You want to beat him a little, because he ends his west coast leg bitching about how Yellowstone is a bad road cycling park - which is pretty common knowledge around here - and if he'd just kept it up maybe one more day, he would have been in the midst of one of the most beautiful and best cycling areas in the country. Frustrating, I tell you!

The Good: When he sticks to discussing the trip itself, and his own motivations for it, Purdum is really a very personable narrator. He is clearly really into the trip and the experience of a long-distance cycle tour, and his enthusiasm is catching. At its core, this book is about a man living his dream before age makes it impossible to do so, and that is really a powerful thing.
That narrative is the one Purdum tells very well, and when he allows it to dominate the story, his writing gains an authentic voice it just lacks when he's dealing with the family or spiritual aspects. His prose evens out,  the narrative moves and you actually feel like you're on the trip with him.
Plus, he has a good-natured humility about his cycling limitations. He enjoys it, clearly, but doesn't try to prove what a seeeeerious biker he is. Granted, he's on a trip across the country. He kind of doesn't need to.
You get periodically irritated with Purdum, but overall you like him, and that's key to a book like this.
Reviewers on amazon.com get down on him for how light the book is on "technical" stuff regarding both equipment and technique. Since most of those reviews start with "I am a longtime touring cyclist" I tended to think they were full of shit. Purdum actually does include quite a few technical details of cycling in general - enough that I sure expanded my vocabulary, for what it's worth.

The Verdict: I'm glad I read it, but I think once was enough. I think more than anything, my trouble with this book is that it wasn't really my style. But then, Purdum and I don't seem to have much in common aside from the cycling thing and this is a first-person narrative, so that's not terribly surprising.  I know plenty of people whose style this would be, and even recommended the book to one of them a few days ago.

Tuesday Biking Jams: Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard

I'm afraid there are no political reasons for this week's jam. Or really any that make me sound all that profound.

There is a subset of my Bike Ride playlist that I chose as good "biking in town" songs - songs that have a decent rhythm while you're pedaling, but don't need to push you that extra few yards up a steep hill or help you keep up your energy. Lately, one of my favorite members of this subset has been "Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard," which gives Paul Simon the distinction of being my mother's favorite artist on my iPod.

Every time I listen to this song, I find myself whistling. There is a section where Simon whistles for a few measures, and it usually starts there, but then I keep whistling. This has led to the previously undiscovered knowledge that it is really hard to whistle on a bike. Even if you're only in town, you don't have the air to spare, and being bent over the handlebars you aren't in the greatest position to  use your air in that particular fashion.

You should totally try it if you don't believe me. If nothing else, it's turned out to be a sure-fire way to make everyone on the sidewalk look around to see where the whistling noise is coming from. Sometimes they kind of smile. Sometimes they kind of look at you like you're not right in the head. I feel like those people are probably no fun, because whistling isn't all that weird, even if you are kind of taking a huge breath every so often to keep doing it.

I can actually take or leave Paul Simon for the most part, despite the fact that his Greatest Hits CD was the soundtrack in my family's car on many a childhood road trip. I do love this song, and I hope this week's jam inspires you to try it out as a good, upbeat, rhythmic song for biking around your town. And if you ever figure out just what mama saw that was against the law, let me know.

Oh, and lyrics.

Summer Cycling Reading List: Roll Around Heaven All Day Part 1

Sometimes as you take a break on a longer ride, you read. Or at least, I do. And one of the things I've been curious about since I started becoming my own brand of bike person is - how do other people do it? where do they ride? what happens in the advanced stages of psychosis? So one day at the Teton County Library, I took a stroll through the non-fiction section to find me a book or two on biking.

There were quite a few, even if you don't count the "Cycling for Dummies" variety, which I tend not to. I mean, come on, if you're trying to learn biking from a book you don't need to advertise it - I'm going to just assume you're a dummy. As for the rest of them, it seems that once you start riding, the impulse to ride across something and then tell people about it is pretty strong. I'm sure the only reason there isn't a "Cycling Across the Atlantic" book is because humanity can not yet bike on water.

The first book I chose is one of the many based on the "I biked across something" concept. As the title reveals, in Roll Around Heaven All Day: A Piecemeal Journey Across America By Bicycle, the author bikes across the United States.

The summary on amazon.com reads as follows:

The experiences of a middle-aged, overweight man, mounted on an old bicycle, who is traveling across America along the TransAmerica Bicycle Trail. This inspirational coast-to-coast odyssey is a truly satisfying ride, not only for cyclists, but for anyone who travels for the joy of the journey--or simply dreams of doing so.

As a teaser, this begs so many questions. Why is this man Stan Purdum bicycling across America, aside from the fact that someone apparently will pay him to write a book about it? Does he have any attributes aside from his age, weight and apparent suicide wish? Why is this trip of his so inspirational? What is our standard for inspiration here? Are we using the word "odyssey" because it sounds good in a back cover summary or because the story actually evokes something on the scale of the ancient Greek epic poem? Why don't I work for a publishing company when I could totally pull something like that out of my ass? Does whoever wrote this make more money than I do? And so on.

I chose the book because I liked the idea of starting out with a book that explored areas I was at least familiar with - as opposed to the one I saw on the shelf above it where the author bikes across Siberia. I also liked the idea of hearing from someone who would at worst be obnoxious in a new way, and at best would stick to telling us about his trip and avoid trying to convince us all of his biking bonafides. Plus, knowing Purdum's biography says he lives in Ohio, I was dying to hear about his experiences with some of the West Coast mountains.

So I checked it out of the library and read it over the next few days, finishing it up on the bike ride you'll hear about later this week. I'll tell you all what I thought of it Wednesday, so tune in if you care about that sort of thing.

Ridin' Friday: Trail Fail and Josie's Ridge

~ Note - This was always going to be a tricky one to preview, so in the interest of catching back up, I've decided you're going in cold. You're welcome.~


At the beginning of the month, the U.S. Forest Service opened up a large chunk of the Greater Snow King Recreation Area - ie: the stretch of land with most of the really good cycling trails near Jackson. (During the winter, the land is closed to humans to keep elk and other large wildlife from wasting calories by being startled by people.) Partway down Snow King Avenue, there is an access point to the trail network just off of Wildlife Drive.

I'd been eyeing that sign announcing National Forest Trail Access for months by then, so that weekend I decided to take Little Red for my first cycling foray on a trail.

I was super excited to try something that I could describe as "mountain biking" without having people who actually go mountain biking laugh at me. I stayed excited as I pedaled up the kind of steep, gravelly hill to the trailhead. I stayed excited as I continued pedaling up an equally steep hill that comprises the first stretch of the trail. My legs kind of wanted these hills to be done, but I was making it and I was excited! This was going to be great!

And then I nearly got bucked off by my bike. I was less excited about that.

It seems anyone who has ridden trails before knows - ie: not me at the time -  it is possible for your bike to hit a protruding rock and flip over. When your bike flips over, you do too. It's a physics thing.

As I concentrated on calming my heartbeat, I realized it was time to buy a helmet. Shit would have gotten pretty concussion-y if I'd been going a little faster, or if my reflexes were a little slower. Hell, it could have gotten pretty skull-split-open-y. And this was just one of the hundreds of rocks on that stretch of trail.

So I made the executive decision to leave Little Red at the trailhead and explore on foot. I fully admit, I was a loser in so many different ways on this one, but mostly because:

1) It's really dumb to own a bike but not a helmet
2) It's even dumber to try something like trail riding for the first time and not wear a helmet
3) My first trail ride was about seven minutes long
4) I had a near-death encounter with a freaking rock


That would have been one for the Darwin Awards, yeah?

It made me feel marginally less like a loser when I realized that the trail I'd vaguely intended to seek out - Josie's Ridge - is not really meant for cyclists. In fact, I later found out that it's the only trail in the Greater Snow King Recreation Area that's built to be for hikers only. In short, it is steep as shit, narrow as shit and full of twists and turns. Show me someone who's tried it on a bike and I'll show you someone who isn't very fond of life or limb.

It's also a great hike. Those who are inclined to take a break from the bike should check it out. The trail climbs (and I mean that word more strongly than usual) up to the top of Josie's Ridge and then goes along the top of it for a while.

You start out looking out on this:

Then finally this:

So yeah, worth the climb. And a decent consolation prize for completely failing on my first cycling trip to the trails. Let's just say my evolution as a mountain biker was on hold until I had a way to protect myself on the - as I realized that day - inevitable falls that would entail.

Bike Away From Work Party or Badgering the National Forest Service

~Note - This post should have gone up yesterday. It didn't. I'm sorry. Read it anyway, you'll like it.~

Now that it's getting close to summer, there are small-ish biking events up the wazoo going on in Jackson Hole. I've missed a lot of them what with actually riding my bike sometimes and having a job and a pressing need to buy groceries, but I did manage to make it to one on Friday.

Bike Away From Work was a party/information fair to mark Bike To Work Day. I'll go ahead and confess that I don't really know what day actually is Bike To Work Day, but I do consider it good and celebrated.

Most of these events feature some version of free food and cheap booze, which is really nice. You also run into a lot of locals. Since it turns out a lot of the trails and pathways in the area have only acquired adequate signs to mark them in the past 10 years or so, word-of-mouth can be a good way to find out about rides and actually be able to find them.

This particular event featured booths from both Friends of Pathways and the U.S. Forest Service, the two major agencies that build and maintain local bike paths and trails.

Now, I've heard so many things about the great mountain biking trails and the extensive bike path network throughout the area, but finding them is a smidge more difficult. At least, it is when your sense of direction is something of a family joke and the trails criss cross in a not-especially-straightforward manner.

So I spent about an hour and a half pestering the ranger the Forest Service sent. They had some very good maps there that aren't available online, and with someone paid to know where things are to point at things for me, I came away with an actual idea of where I'd need to go to try out some of the best local rides. I'm not certain that I didn't frighten the poor man, though whether he was frightened at the barrage of questions or the idea that someone so bad at reading maps on her own would be trying to navigate in land he is responsible for is kind of up for debate.

He was very good about recommending trails that aren't too difficult for mountain biking rookies - even enthusiastic, sarcastic, sometimes fantastic ones. He mentioned that the good maps and several other rangers are available during weekdays at the Forest Service's local offices on Cache St. I'd highly recommend stopping by if you're as hopeless at this sort of thing as I am, since those maps really were good, and so was the advice.

I also swung by Friends of Pathways and picked up the maps they put out for the public of where one can find bike paths both in the Jackson area and near Wilson and Teton Village. They have local offices too, on South Millward St., but I liked catching them here better. Remember - free food and cheap booze.

I also solved the  mystery of what the faded writing on my bike bell says! And where it must have come from:

It says Jackson Hole Community Pathways on it, and was one of those free bells community organizations give out, as I mentioned in this post, where I also talk more about my own bell, which was already on Little Red when I bought her. I'd also like to take this moment to note that those Friends of Pathways socks are kind of awesome, in an "I'd probably never wear those" kind of way.

I'll swing by as many of the biking events as I can in the coming weeks, but I definitely can't manage them all. Friends of Pathways usually lists good ones on its website, if any of you happen to be in the area and want to see for yourself.