Midsummer update/the Robynator does Downieville

   This summer has been full of good times, adventures, and learning so much, both at work and outside of work. I haven't had much time to sit down and organize my thoughts lately, but a well deserved post-race rest day is a perfect opportunity to sit down and write for a few minutes in between unpacking and cleaning the house. Being away from home and camping out in the desert for 8 days at a time is a big change, following years of planning my life around daily bike rides and swimming in the lake. It feels amazing to be filling my brain with so much knowledge about plants and the rangeland environment, building skills that will continue to open up new opportunities for better employment and further learning.

   On the other hand, it seems that my best intentions to continue some semblance of race training have fallen off the wagon. I religiously bring my running shoes and yoga mat to work in the field, hoping to keep on schedule with cardio and stability workouts. But with most work days lasting 8+ hours in the desert sun plus driving to and from sampling locations, I'm generally drained enough that I only manage to work out once or twice during my work week. When I come back home for my 6 days off, the last thing I feel like doing is hopping on the road bike for an interval workout, instead opting to pedal in the woods on a mountain bike as many days as possible. In prioritizing career development over bike racing, I fully expected this. But it's still a rude awakening to think you're in pretty good shape, and then... 

   Enter the Downieville Classic: legendary mountain bike race of the Lost Sierra, and one that has been on my to-do list for quite some time now. The last time I think I would have been physically able to complete the cross country course was probably in 2005 or 2006, when I was competing in XC and in top form for going uphill. In fact, my 2006 self would probably have destroyed my 2018 self on the climbs with no trouble at all, but for some reason it had not occurred to me to try racing it at the time. 

   2018 Robyn decided that signing up for Downieville was a brilliant idea, coming off of a winter filled with early mornings hiking laps for powder and weekend all-day ski tours, Nordic skate skiing, and several large peak ascents in the Eastern Sierra. I had also started in on the MTB Strong program by Yeti pro team coach Dee Tidwell, a home-based training plan that fit my budget nicely and provided at least some framework to work with. It seemed to keep me together pretty well for the Fears, Tears, and Beers Enduro in early June, but I also had not really started working out in the field yet and was able to stay on somewhat of a consistent schedule. I waffled between the Expert and Pro class for a minute, but when the registration went live in March, I decided to go big and jump in with the Pro class. If I had a great race, I would be really happy. If it didn't go so well, I could hopefully still be somewhere close enough to the rest of the field to not feel like a total loser. 

   I dragged Kit on a pre-ride of the full cross country course two weeks prior to the race, and at a leisurely pace the climbing was not altogether terrible. There was a new singletrack section added at the top of the fire road climb which added a fair amount of climbing and technical rocky descent, and I found it rather fun to ride although I heard it eliminated a nice long rest on a dirt road. After this I knew I could at least make it through the whole thing, if not at the fastest pace. 

   Race weekend came around and smoke from fires all around California filled the air. Some racers opted not to participate, but I optimistically decided that it wouldn't be that bad and I would just do it. Too much built up anticipation to bail on it at this point! I weighed in my bike (29 lbs--I totally thought it was lighter!) and lined up at the start with the rest of the field. Immediately upon starting, they all proceeded to ride away from me like I was standing still; although I was able to keep a couple of the other women in sight for a while, I was quickly overtaken by the Expert men and soon a handful of women. Even a single speed crusher girl passed me and disappeared at the first aid station! Ugh... I let so many people pass me on the last bit of singletrack climbing in the new trail section, only to be stuck behind and trying to pass them almost all the way to the top of the infamous "baby heads" and Pauley Creek. On top of that, the first leg cramp twinges started up, which continued to plague me (and just about everybody else I spoke with after the race) until the finish line. At one point, I was caught behind somebody who bungled a root section; I had to put both feet down, and after that my right leg wouldn't bend to put it back on the pedal because my quad cramped so badly! I finally wrestled both feet back onto pedals and vowed to keep my legs moving at all cost until the finish, because that seemed like the only way to avoid them completely freezing up with cramps. At least one more time I was unable to avoid stopping, and I fell over into the bushes trying to climb back onto my bike. Good for a laugh from myself and others who I had to let pass at that point! I at least had a fun time on most of the downhill parts, including Third Divide, catching and passing a few folks who had probably dropped me like a rock on the climbs.

   By the time I reached the First Divide trail, my legs and I were about done with the whole racing nonsense, and I just struck up conversations with whomever was behind me, including a photographer towards the very end. I finished in 3:24, not exactly under the coveted 3-hour mark, but including the new section of trail which supposedly added an extra 35-45 minutes onto the average time, I suppose it was all right. Truly impressive was the number of women who still ended up under 3 hours--animals, all of them!! Also, I hate to be so full of excuses, but how many of them work 80 hours back to back, away from their bicycles for a week straight? I don't know if it is humanly possible to be that strong while in my particular work situation, but I think I can make some changes to do better next time around. 

   I wobbled off my bike and found a shady spot to lie down for a while; after a few minutes of aimlessly wandering it seemed like the best idea. My stomach couldn't stand the thought of food or beer for some time, even though that was all I wanted. When I finally connected with some friends several hours later, my appetite had returned and I chowed down nearly half of a large pizza. How on earth am I going to do an hour long downhill (mostly) run tomorrow, I thought to myself? We watched the river jump contest for a while, and I finally had a beer, topped off with a second dinner of delicious BBQ pork tacos before heading up to camp at Packer Saddle with friends Lindsay Beth Currier and Josh Bender. 

   After a good night's sleep, I was slightly more refreshed but still feeling sore all over. My legs would have a hard time forgiving me for the second day in a row. There was a long wait for my 12 PM start time, but I managed a decent warmup and some last minute bike repairs before lining up. Finally it was time to drop in. I actually passed one girl not very far into the race, and managed to stay ahead of the others a good distance down the course. I even held off the legendary Katerina Nash, who started probably 5 minutes behind me, until the climb to Third Divide. Then I was back and forth with another girl who started before me. I first caught and passed her on the descent, but then she passed me back on the Third Divide climb, and when I caught her again near the bottom of the descent in the technical rocky stuff, she wasn't into letting me pass another time. I didn't make a fuss about it knowing that she'd definitely be passing me back again at some point and it was more trouble than was probably worth. It was a bummer though, I know I probably could have made up a good chunk of time on that downhill section, plus being right behind her going up the rock slab distracted me, and I bobbled and fell over in the roots losing more time. Oh well. The lesson learned: it's time to get faster at pedaling so I can pass people and stay in front of them!!

   Despite more or less having my ass handed to me by the course and the competition, I'm still quite satisfied with how things went. Considering where I was at this time 3, 4, or even 5 years ago, I've come back such a long way in terms of fitness, strength, and confidence. No mechanicals or flat tires and kept the rubber side down, even through some really sketchy moments. Overall I think I rode the technical parts really well, even in the XC when I was totally worked and cramping all the way down. I even almost cleaned the rock slab on lower Third Divide in the XC race better than I've ever done before! In the DH I just need to be better at sprinting and pedaling, although I was impressed with what came out of my legs following the previous day's beatdown. Now that I know what I can do without that much training (story of my life), I think I can convince myself to do it again, and do it better next time with some more directed training!

   Many, many thanks go to: Lindsay Currier and Josh Bender for helping me out with the XC bottle feed, driving my truck to the bottom after the DH, and generally being awesome and supportive all weekend! Also, to Sierra Ski & Cycle Works for keeping my bike running happily; to Dave and the Vanderkitten crew for always providing support and encouragement; and as always to Kit for putting up with my loony ideas of fun and bicycle addiction.

Lindsay and I just before my Downieville DH start.

A few more reflections on 2017, and looking ahead...

   Well dang, that went by in a hurry! Another year went whooshing past in spectacular fashion and it's already April 2018. Somebody stop the train and let me off!! Although 2016 had its better moments, 2017 thankfully finally felt more up to speed in athletic endeavors of all kinds. Despite the resurfacing of the 2013 neck injury that likes to come back and haunt me, my body has remained amazingly cooperative in all other ways, coaxed along by copious amounts of stretching, foam rolling and physical therapy. The Tahoe Forest Hospital has some excellent PTs, and they have gotten my neck feeling mostly back to normal although it has been a long process; with numerous setbacks it had been almost 7 months before they deemed me healed enough to stop coming in!

   It also feels great to have started up a yoga practice again in the fall after finding an inspiring teacher at a local studio: Deborah at the Yoga Room teaches an alignment-based Iyengar class that leaves me feeling like no other class I've been to before. There's just no substitute for having someone fix your alignment and hold you in poses for longer than you thought possible (even the easier ones start getting more and more difficult) and in the months I've been going to class, it has NEVER gotten any easier, holy cow!! Definitely giving yoga some of the credit for neck rehab and correcting my posture!

   In addition, I can't forget the life-changing experience of having laser surgery to fix my horribly nearsighted eyes, freeing me from wearing awkwardly thick glasses or dry, falling-out contact lenses day in and day out, and through every ridiculous adventure. That has been something that I give thanks for every time I think about it!!

Kit skis down Basin Mountain

   Last year we managed to ski every month of the year (a first for both of us), figuring it was the year to do so following "Snowmageddon." Up through August was relatively easy, including a day of riding lifts at Mammoth, then September and October got a little bit silly hunting for patches of snow in Mt. Rose Wilderness and Carson Pass. We did our first longer ski descents since Shasta in 2011: Basin Mountain in early May, and Mt. Lassen in July. Both have been on our tick list for a while, and besides being great ski trips, it just plain felt awesome to get out and climb to the top of something big. Lassen was especially ridiculous because we somehow forgot to pack ski poles: marginally sketchy for descending, and skinning up a mountain without poles is awkward at best. We ended up each using one stick found along the approach and then switching to ice axe and crampons when terrain steepened enough. Had lovely weather for a snack and nap on the summit, and then had some nice snow to ski down, just little gloppy at the top.

Taking a break on the northeast side of Mt. Lassen

   We even bought a new climbing rope, after an animated discussion about safety with a good climbing friend, and went rock climbing more than twice for the first time in several years. Then, we made a climbing trip out of Thanksgiving weekend and got re-inspired to explore more in the high Sierra in the summer. I don't know if we'll be able to climb enough to get really strong again, but it would be great to be able to get out on some more moderate high alpine routes this year.

   In addition to getting back to some of my old favorite outdoor pursuits I tried a few new things, including downhill fat biking on the snow. Click here to see how that went! Yes, I'd do it again, but definitely would be more wary of holes hiding behind trees... Also, about a year ago, I entered my first ever desert motorcycle race, which has an entire post dedicated to that adventure. I managed to finish my second race, and although I didn't race again for the rest of the season for various reasons, I'm ready to give it another few tries this year and see what happens.

   Wanting to motivate Kit to do some of his own sports, we joined a local pond hockey group of all ages and abilities and it was awesome! My skating got so much better (although I still can't actually hockey stop) and I really enjoyed watching Kit play one on one with some of the better guys out there. Looking forward to next winter already to get back out on the ice and work on my balance and coordination some more. And in the spirit of having way too many hobbies/sports to juggle, I decided to try a biathlon this spring after watching the Olympics and thinking that I could probably do that... I wasn't dead last, and it was a good time with awesome people! Now, do I want to add yet another thing to the already ridiculous list of sports I'm involved in to some degree? I've got some time to ponder, but it's toward the top of the list. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy skate skiing???

   As for what's on the agenda in 2018? A few changes. Some bike racing, but only a select handful of events that have been on my list for a while. A new job; while commercial sewing has been a great learning experience with decent pay, it seemed to be a major contributor to the return of my neck problems last summer. I don't need to do that kind of work full time ever again, but I've got some useful new skills in case I want to start a side business doing gear repairs or making fancy bags.

   This summer I've gotten a seasonal position as a field survey technician for wildlife habitat with the Nevada Department of Wildlife: a first step back into the science field--which I quite enjoyed in college--but went off on a tangent trying to become a ski instructor/bike racer/ski bum. As it turns out, that is a rather poor living especially when winter comes only once or twice every 5 years in Tahoe. I'll be mostly out in the field exploring random parts of outback Nevada, and it's going to be a radical change from the usual routine, but I've been feeling a bit stuck in a rut for several years and needing to do something like this. Hopefully it will lead to more challenging, interesting employment where I can do something useful for the environment as well... or at least have some benefits so that I'm not paying for my dentist's Hawaii vacation every time something falls apart...

   As for bike racing, first up is Fears, Tears, and Beers in Ely, NV, a grassroots enduro race and quite possibly the first race of its kind held here in the US. It's long, with a ton of climbing, and so early in the season that I'm not usually feeling fit enough to tackle the long course (where's the fun in racing less than 30 miles?) but things seem to be coming together to make it happen this year. Then I got a highly coveted registration in the Downieville Classic All-Mountain, which requires riders to complete a long, burly cross country race the day before the downhill--which is still only MOSTLY downhill. I didn't really know much about it back when I raced XC and was super fit, and then when I turned into a lazy downhiller they changed the rules so you couldn't race the DH without doing the XC. Now I'm coming back around and wanting to try some events with a little more of an endurance aspect to them again. For the rest of the summer I may add in another enduro race or two if CES events line up with my work schedule, but I am most definitely looking forward to late October when the Single Speed World Championship is taking place in Bend, OR. This event travels around the world every year, so having it within a day's drive makes it something I've got to try! I have a decent single speed mountain bike and rode it quite a bit last year; it's a real torture machine but I'm feeling ready to spend more time in suffer mode than in the past several years. Another one of those ideas that seems great until I'm halfway through the race... haha...

   When not on a bicycle, I'm making plans to climb/ski a a few more mountains on the eastern Sierra, and hopefully make a trip up to ski Shasta or another Cascade volcano as well. Also on the list is another trip for us up to Montana to visit the family cabin and fish, mountain bike, perhaps even dirt bike to explore some new trails up there. So much to do, and so little time, as usual!

2017 season in review: well, I made it to a couple of bike races!

   I'm still way behind here and have missed writing about a whole bunch of rad things that have happened this summer. At least I haven't missed out on actually doing them--it's finally been a good year for getting out and climbing a few mountains, skiing every month, and mountain biking any time I can squeeze in a ride. I even made it to a couple of races, although the Mammoth Kamikaze enduro still eluded my best efforts.

   Back in early June I attended the El Dorado Benduro outside of Georgetown, CA, right in the backyard of my good friend Lindsay Currier and put on by her and her dude Josh Bender (the Bender Sender, pioneer of early freeride mountain biking). A great location, free camping, rocky and steep motorcycle trails far out in the woods, live music, and tons of free beer made this race a complete adventure. My legs especially weren't too sure about two 17 mile days in a row, each with 2,500 feet of climbing, this early in the season. Although we had an epic winter and I ski toured nearly every day, mountain biking is a completely different animal and it takes a little while to adjust to using different muscles, not to mention the whole avoiding wrecking while flying down loose, sketchy trails.

Stage 3 on day2 of the El Dorado Benduro. Photo: Pat Branch/PBmedia

   I wasn't the fastest, but I made it to the finish with myself and bicycle all in one piece, and not too terribly far behind the rest of the competitors. As it turned out, I was the only female, and not having raced in several years my main goals were to not crash and not be embarrassingly slow. I'll admit to being annoyed at not being able to beat any of the guys this time but I guess I have to live with it. Next year, it's on... gonna catch a few boys! The Benduro was an excellent adventure of a race and a great party in the woods on top of that, I highly recommend it!

   Fast forward three months to mid-August was the Sturdy Dirty, an all-women's race series that I thought sounded like a blast, the second event of which was held up in the green jungle of Oakridge, Oregon. Oakridge had been on the list to check out for a while now, and I was also bound to run into an old friend who had moved up to Oregon right around when I disappeared from mountain bike racing. I had put in a lot of miles, tons of climbing, and a good amount of time on the single speed while my Ibis Ripley was having a shock rebuild and was feeling fairly fit. I put myself in the Pro class, just hoping that I would be somewhere other than dead last among the 20 other names on that list, most of whom I recognized as veteran enduro racers. Driving solo and leaving on Thursday after work left me with only Friday afternoon to catch the last practice shuttle and see some of the race course. I ended up opting not to scout the first two stages which were supposedly the least technical; having no idea how long it would take, I really didn't want to get caught in the dark only partway down.

Somewhere in the middle of the Sturdy Dirty. Photo: Patrick M/PSPLLC

   In contrast with the technical, raw Benduro course, the trails were a relative cakewalk so long as no steering mistakes were made; smooth and flowy, with one or two rocks that I can remember. Some areas had a high consequence if one was to miss a corner and go flying off the trail tumbling down a steep mountainside, but as long as wheels stayed on trail there was little to be concerned about. I managed to not crash riding blind on the first 2 stages, though later finding out that my time on stage 1 was pretty horrendous. I'm pretty sure I forgot to pedal... Still not good enough to get into the top 10, but 12th was far better than last so I'll take it. Aside from being a putz on stage 1, I was pretty consistently mid-pack throughout, with my best finish 9th on stage 4. My rear shock also blew up again during the first stage of the race... not super helpful at all! I guess I wasn't really expecting much but at the same time hoping I could pull off something crazy. It was still a super fun time, I made a few new friends, and got a chance to catch up with my old friend Andrea from DH racing. I'd definitely do it again and recommend it to ladies of any level who are looking for an awesome all-women's race experience!

   Race number 3 that I signed up for this year was the Mammoth Kamikaze Games enduro. Having signed up for this race the previous two years in a row and been unable to race for one reason or another, I have felt at odds with the universe just trying to make it happen... even ONCE!! At this point I sort of didn't even care what happened during the race, I just wanted to get to the Mammoth parking lot, put a number plate on my bike, and roll off from the starting line. Well, I got closer than ever this year, but still no race.

   I actually made it down to Mammoth this time, but a lot later than I planned. Ideally I'd have taken most of the week off to have plenty of time to adapt to the dirt and learn the course, but had too much to get done at work that week and of course needed the money.  After a late arrival on Friday night, and second thoughts about my little Ripley and the gnarly pro-line trails, I had the brilliant idea to ask the friend about using his spare bike for the race, a much longer travel machine that might be more appropriate for the gnarly course and mostly lift-assisted transfers. Never mind that it was an X-large and the fork also really needed a rebuild as I later discovered.

   I grabbed the bike first thing in the morning for 7:30 AM practice, put the number on it, and went up the lift to take a lap on the last, and perhaps nastiest stage. I had ridden that bike once before, at night with a light, and everything felt funny then. It still felt weird, though I could tell it was slacker and I could roll down steep things a little less terrified. All of that was beside the point after I had a slo-mo-wreck where my foot jammed directly between two spokes and broke the valve stem completely off. Walking down the lower 1/3 of the trail was not on my list of things to do that morning, nor was changing out a flat tubeless tire, especially with a limited time to practice trails before the Sport/Beginner class race started. I ran back to grab the Ripley and rode up to see as many more stages as I could fit in. I had to run back into registration to get the proper sticker on my number before they would let me on the lift again, so while I was having a nervous breakdown and feeling hopelessly inadequate, I asked them to move me out of the Pro class and into Expert. I didn't think I could even podium in Expert at this point, and I would feel much better about not having any of the really fast pro girls get caught behind me waiting for me to get the heck out of the way. The reality is, I'm learning I am not nearly as fast as I was 4 years ago, and not taking the same kind of risks, so there's no point in ruining someone else's race because I faceplanted right in front of them.

   Having already seen most of Bullet and knowing I'd likely be walking a few sections anyhow, I continued on to see the next most technical stage. It was just one short steep section with awkward rocks, but here I decided again that I'd rather walk than wreck trying to send the gnar on a wholly unsuitable bike. While walking down to look at lines and watch some other riders hit the section I made friends with some rad folks from Redding that I stuck with for the rest of the morning. We even managed a run all the way from the top of the mountain down Stage 4. Good times! And at the bottom of this, I then realized looking at the dust on the shaft that my rear shock had way too much air in it. Hadn't bothered to mess with it since having a second rebuild done after Sturdy Dirty... oops again. Amateur hour bike racing here. Should maybe have put myself in the Sport class at this point!

   Back at the camper Kit was getting ready to go out for some riding, so I grabbed my DH bike to join him, figuring my Ripley was better off not getting beat up before the race. Even on the big bike I cursed and struggled through the rocky sections like a complete newbie, failing to comprehend how I'd fairly easily followed a friend through most of these back in 2009 on my old clunker DH bike. Knowing the right lines does help... I haven't spent much time on the DH bike this year and it was pretty obvious because I didn't trust it to do what it can do to eat up those rock gardens. And wow, that's really bad for one's self confidence before a race! After a handful of laps on Velocity I finally got the right line through one rock garden and felt a little bit better about riding bikes, starting to de-stress and have fun again. We got on a fun jump trail to go back over to the other base to eat some food and catch the last of the downhill race, but I hadn't hit more than a handful when one takeoff caused a weird, disturbing sensation in my neck, very hard to describe but the end result was that it felt like I had hit the ground very hard and it started to spasm and seize up. This freaked me out and I rode slowly the rest of the way down to the bottom.

   Even though I hadn't actually crashed it worried me enough that I decided to bail on the race. Normal necks don't get whiplash like that, I'm definitely sure of it. That was such a disappointment--even with all the emotional drama I put myself through, I ended up being pretty pumped to get out and race no matter what class or bike I was on.  My neck had been feeling rather strange for a couple of months prior to this but I had just kept on going, had a little bit of bodywork and saw my physical therapist, and mainly was told to do some stretches and take more frequent breaks at work. Now I've been to the doctor and had some imaging done (all normal, thankfully, aside from a loss of cervical curve) and am back doing therapy, trying to unravel the latest piece of the puzzle that my neck has become over the last several years.

   I was going to wait until after the Zion Benduro in November to finish this post, since it is kind of a race report/season summary, but it's not looking like I will make it to the race. Almost 2 months past the Mammoth race and my neck is still not feeling completely normal, but I think I may now be closer to solving the puzzle and having a relatively more normally behaving neck than I've had since the fall of 2013 when I originally wrecked it. Since then, I have basically had to deal with some degree of a whiplash injury nearly every time I hit the ground at any speed, even relatively slowly, and that makes many activities far more stressful all the way down to cross country skiing or walking around in the dark. A combination of factors seems to have contributed: the headplant incident itself, which led to chronic poor posture and weak supporting muscles, and then add in my current employment as a commercial seamstress spending a fair amount of time sitting at a sewing machine or leaning over a table to mark, measure, and cut large quantities of fabric. While I have made a habit of taking frequent breaks to stretch and move around at work if I'm doing a heavy sewing day, my physical therapist and chiropractor both agree that it is not an ideal job for somebody with my history of neck injury because it encourages it back into the wrong position. I have enjoyed working there and have learned so much, but I'm exploring my other options right now, more on that later perhaps...

   Although I haven't been able to comfortably ride since mid-September, progress is being made with restoring the cervical curve and strengthening the stabilizers, thanks especially to an excellent sports chiropractor who was highly recommended to me. I don't particularly enjoy having things go crack, but nothing else I've tried up until now has managed to resolve the root of this issue. So far it has been well worth it since he describes in detail the mechanics of what is going on, feels for movement of joints and for muscle tone, and also gives me many exercises to do which seem to be working well. However, some days my neck just feels confused and sore from all of the changes and wanting to go back to where it has been for the past few years. This generally gives me a headache, a grumpy attitude, and a bad outlook on life as relating to riding bicycles again, but I have to remind myself that the quick fixes which in the past have made the pain go away sooner also didn't seem to do much for the underlying problem.
 
   The PT and chiro both have told me I am on the right track and that I should avoid babying it too much, telling me to try some easy riding again, which I have yet to try with the shortening daylight hours and much to be done around the house before winter. I made a point of finding a convenient yoga studio and trying out a variety of classes, initially only the restorative ones but I've been adding in some more active alignment-focused classes and a faster moving vinyasa class as well with good results. If I need more time off the bike to let my body adapt to the changes, I think I can hang in there with the additional challenge of getting back into yoga with far less flexibility than I had when I was previously practicing and going to classes regularly some years ago.

The Hillbilly Hippies ski Basin Mountain

   Indeed, this happened several months ago in the spring, but cut me some slack--I got a new job (or 2), have an actual commute that I'm still getting used to, and am scrambling to try and fit in as much play time as possible. Being busy kind of stinks, it makes summer go by way too fast!

Basin Mountain in the early morning light, the East Couloir visible to the left side of the peak

   Kit and I had been planning all along to go down to Bishop for Mule Days over Memorial weekend, bringing dirt bikes and skis and not much of a plan aside from doing both of those things at some point figuring it out as we went along. Arriving at the Poleta Canyon OHV staging area on Friday night in the dark, we hoped to wake up and scrutinize the expansive view of the eastern Sierra from across the Owens Valley and see where decent skiing might be found. I looked through binoculars while eating breakfast the next morning, scanning Mt. Locke & Humphreys; Mt. Tom looked a little burned out and too far to hike to snow. What about Basin? Looks like the East Couloir has decent coverage and the snow doesn't start too far from the access road. We've talked about that one quite a lot and been magnetized by its commanding presence on the Bishop skyline, and it even sounded like a great idea to use dirt bikes for the approach.

Kit checking out Mt. Humphreys and the Wahoo Gullies on Mt. Locke

  Instead of riding Poleta, we decided to head across the valley and up to the Buttermilk boulders to do some approach scouting on motorcycles. While sort of a novelty, riding a dirt bike to the base of this climb seemed brilliant since we had that ability. Although Horton Lakes road (access to Basin) is drivable with a higher clearance vehicle, it sounded as though it was incredibly rough and rocky and would be slow going in the big truck, not to mention parking and turning around at the trailhead might be an issue. We found an excellent flat spot to park with the trailer and unload, then examined the map for a few minutes and took off for the Horton Lakes trailhead.
   The turn off of Buttermilk Road was easy to find and we quickly blasted up to the gate--so much more fun than creeping in the truck up a steep bumpy road. It looked like a couple hundred feet of vertical to hike to the first skin-able patches of snow, not bad at all. The lower snow field looked pretty terrible though, all covered in dirt and sticks, runnels and small suncups. In all it looked good to go, and there was still much time left in the day, so we decided to continue riding around the Buttermilk loop and do some exploration for future backcountry missions.

   The road was badly washed out just past the Horton Lakes turnoff but we were able to cross the ruts a couple of times and get beyond the worst parts. Once past there, at point where it appeared nobody had been through yet this season, we came upon a couple of creek crossings that looked a little high but we both scooted through without incident. The next turn we took followed a creek drainage toward Mt. Humphreys, which gained a ton of elevation and eventually we hit some snow patches and had to turn around. A couple of decent flat spots for camping around here, a creek, and nice views. We'll have to go back for that one.

How to ride a motorcycle with a ski mountaineering pack

   Continuing around the Buttermilk loop, we took a few more turns off the main road to explore, and then popped out back on the highway and back to the beginning of Buttermilk Road and our truck. Content with all we had seen and with a solid plan for the next day's climb, we packed up and went back down towards Bishop to take a few afternoon laps at the motocross track, before setting up camp and experimenting with the attachment of skis and boots to our packs and the whole situations's compatibility with riding a motorcycle.

   It's so hard to get out of a comfy bed early on the weekend, but the forecast was for a warm day and we didn't really want to ski glop or deal with wet slides so we rallied to get out of bed and get moving at 6. We each gulped down an egg sandwich and shouldered our awkward packs with skis, boots, poles, ice axes, etc poking out in all directions; and then, as if that wasn't enough of a challenge, threw a leg over our dirt bikes and tried to kick the starter without tipping over. Successful in that, I left camp gingerly at first and opened the throttle as I figured out the balance a little better. Once past the popular climbers' camp by the Buttermilk boulders where the road gets rough and sitting down is a terrible idea, my arms and legs were burning with the effort of hanging on and staying upright with an extra 30 pounds on my back. Horton Lakes road felt like an eternity even though we made good time up to the gate, just under half an hour. The fast way to approach, but certainly not the easiest way! My quads and triceps were already dreading the ride back down just a little bit...

  There were already several cars parked by the gate at 7am and we wondered if we had slept in just a little bit too long. Basin's East Couloir faced to the east and the rising sun was already directly upon it. Whatever. We'll just have to climb faster and catch them all. Except that there were no fresh boot tracks or skin tracks upon reaching the snow... bizarre! We eventually figured that those cars' owners must be hiking into Horton Lakes and elsewhere, because there was not another soul on Basin Mountain this day!

Snacking partway up

   The first pitch went by fairly quickly, a couple of hours or so, and we stopped for a quick snack on the saddle before continuing upward. A short traverse brought us to the base of the actual couloir and the pitch began to steepen, enough that I stopped to swap skis and poles for crampons and ice axe. Although the snow was soft and boot-able, I would rather wear than carry the extra weight, and it felt nice and secure kicking steps with sharp things on my feet and in my hand. At this point the couloir seemed endless, the top appearing just as far away from halfway up as it did from the bottom. We finally reached the giant rock in the middle where we'd agreed to stop for a snack break, and realized that the top was not far off at all.

   Maybe 20 minutes later, around 11:30 AM we reached the top of the couloir and dropped our packs, finding some comfy rocks to sit on and scarf down more food while taking a few photos of the views in all directions. The saddle atop the couloir was still probably a couple hundred feet below the true summit of 13,240 feet, but some chossy, loose rock lay between it and us, and no rope or climbing gear accompanied us. Highest skiable point, then, counts as a summit in our book!

 
 
We clicked into our skis just after noon and enjoyed some rather excellent skiing all the way down the East Couloir. Crossing the short traverse and scrambling back over the rock band took several minutes, and then we were back in our skis and hunting for the least crappy descent route down the last pitch, peppered with suncups and avalanche debris. Survival skiing at its finest--welcome to backcountry skiing!! We reached the tail end of the snow safely, following some sketchy maneuvering among giant runnels in sticky snow. The hike back down to our bikes was incredibly awkward in ski boots, but I managed to not trip over anything and tumble down the hill, all the while envious of Kit's relatively easier
walk in telemark boots...

  Back at the motorcycles, we arranged all of the skiing equipment back on our packs somewhat securely, as I faced the half hour ride back down the hill with more than a little apprehension. As it turns out, riding downhill isn't nearly as bad, and we putzed our way back down to camp, passing a couple of Jeeps crawling slowly down Horton Lakes road. We got a number of surprised looks cruising through Buttermilks camp and a few thumbs-up. The final challenge back at the truck: dismounting in such a way as to to avoid catching skis on bike and tipping over... Success! Tecates with lime all around! A 7 hour round trip from car to car, about 5,000 vertical feet of climbing and skiing, and another 2,000 of approach ride, and that classic peak was in the bag. We're off to find some delicious burgers and watch some Mule Days for the rest of the afternoon!

A horse riding in a car...always something outrageous at Mule Days!

 

For want of a sandwich, and maybe a beer: aka Robyn's first attempt at desert racing

   I found myself sitting on the side of the trail, with my motorcycle propped up against a course sweeper's bike, chatting about riding and racing and the slightly ridiculous situation we were in. I had broken my chain just past the 25-mile mark in my first ever desert race, about halfway through the course, and had somehow managed NOT to notice that it was the sole reason my bike wouldn't move. I had been cruising along enjoying the course, riding well and feeling strong, thinking that I had a pretty good chance of finishing a whole lap. When I heard the snap and my bike stopped moving, I panicked, of course. I am not a motorcycle mechanic by any stretch of the imagination! I looked at the motor and the clutch first and nothing seemed amiss (exploded into pieces), and I feel as though I must have looked at the front sprocket at some point since it lives in the same neighborhood. Was the chain still on it at that point or not? I'll probably never know now. The first guy who stopped to check on me was a sweep rider who declared it to be a toasted clutch, since that has happened to his bike before. He offered to tow me out to the closest road access, estimating it to be about 5 miles; then confiding that he had never towed anybody before. My only prior experience being towed on a dirt bike was terrifying: my old Honda wouldn't bump start until we got it to a steep enough hill, and the road became a rock garden for a good distance and I bumped along behind Kit at what seemed to be a breakneck speed. Therefore I was quite apprehensive about the whole process.

   Unsure of how else I would be getting out of there, and not occurring to me that it might be wise to wait for another sweep rider who knows the area much better and knew how to properly tow another rider, I agreed that it sounded like a plan. Wrapping the strap around my handlebar grip at first, I wrecked almost immediately. A couple more failed attempts and then I decided it made more sense to tie it to the middle of the bars. Thankfully we were in a sand wash so hitting the ground wasn't too bad. We made it several miles with me crashing intermittently; it's difficult enough for me to stay on top of the bike in sand under its own power, but being towed adds a whole new level of excitement. At one point, another sweep rode past as I was picking my bike up and observed that it was lacking a chain. Uhhh... what? Well shoot!! Where was this guy half an hour ago?

   On about the fifth crash or so my rescuer happened to notice his bike was leaking out of the radiator hose. Somehow the exhaust ran too close to the hose and had melted a hole in it, and it would have blown up his bike if I hadn't conveniently crashed just then. Thus began the first time we sat down to wait for somebody else to come along. I found out then that it was his first time sweeping a race, and they had not given him a radio, which might have been helpful. I ate some snacks, and he puttered with his bike trying to find a way to fix it. Eventually, another group of sweep riders came along, and all were incredulous that I failed to notice that my bike had no chain in the beginning. Yeah. Slightly embarrassing! Of course, those guys had seen a chain on the trail and wondered who could possibly just lose one like that. Would have been super awesome if somebody had stopped to pick it up, then this whole epic rescue adventure would have just ended with me riding my bike back under its own power.

   Two of those guys started towing us farther along the trail. This time he knew what he was doing and put the tow strap on our opposite foot pegs, instructing me to stay to the one side at all times. Now that's easier said than done while getting squirrelly as heck in the sand. I kept running over the tow strap, bouncing off of rocks and giant sagebrush bushes, and crashing several more times. He became quite frustrated with my ineptitude and at the same time his bike started overheating from the effort of towing in the sand. We caught up shortly with the other two and it turned out that his rescuer's bike was also not very happy, so they left us there and went off to find somebody with a bigger bike to get us the rest of the way out.

   So we sat. The weather couldn't have been nicer; sun shining, perfect temperature, a slight breeze. I had plenty of water but quickly finished all of my snacks. Bummer. It was getting close to 1 or 2 PM and I really could have used a sandwich and perhaps a beer to drown my sorrows and embarrassment. Some time passed, and a Razor four-wheeler appeared coming toward us. We strategized for a minute and he headed straight through the sagebrush toward the power lines maybe a quarter mile away, looking for the shortest, easiest route to the road. Not long after he disappeared, the sweet sound of a big 650 motorcycle engine came closer and closer. The ordeal was finally coming to an end, but the unknown in between was how the final stretch of towing would go down. As it turns out, uneventfully: I didn't crash a single time. Had a couple of close calls though it was much easier not riding in the sand. Much shorter, too. A truck waited for us at the road with a cooler full of beers in the back, and I cracked one open in celebration, relieved to have gotten out of there with as little damage to myself and bike as possible considering the number of times I'd wiped out on the other end of the tow strap.

   Once back at the staging area, as I gathered up my things and rolled my bike back toward the truck, a random guy (who I could barely see without my Rx goggles on) stopped and asked what happened. He said "you were doing so awesome, you're my hero!" Seriously? Yeah, seriously. I thanked him. Told him I'd be out there again and next time I was going to finish!

   About four hours after starting the race I finally got my sandwich, and sat to watch Kit and his buddy come in after riding the full 100-mile, two loop course. Both tried to bypass the finish and come straight to the truck, almost falling over while looping back around to finish properly. Neither one could walk very well after coming in from that burly ride, and both of them agreed that the second loop was way harder than the first. Sort of a good thing that I didn't finish the first lap and decide to go out for the second, it may have been a rescue mission anyhow.

   So went my first desert motorcycle race... and you can bet that I finished the next one, a rough and rocky 30 miles--and I carried a beer in my pack just in case--sort of like carrying an umbrella to keep it from raining I figured.

Adventures of the Hillbilly Hippies: Riding Bishop's White Mountains

   Somehow we managed to leave town and go camping two weekends in a row, something that has not happened in quite some time. For our first trip, over the last weekend in October, it was looking like nasty weather in Tahoe but quite nice in Bishop, and neither of us felt quite ready for winter yet so it was a great opportunity to escape. Although we packed climbing gear, the first item on our agenda was a return trip to Poleta Canyon to ride the Woodcutter Trail: a narrow sliver of singletrack starting at an open mine and winding across a steep sidehill, then becoming a smooth, flowing, stupendously fun trail leading high into the White Mountains and ending at the Black Canyon jeep trail. 

Waiting for Kit to find the right road to the Poleta mine.

   Ever since our first motorcycle adventure in the White Mountains two years ago we had both been wanting to go back and ride the trails we found, plus explore a little bit to try and find more. I was particularly interested to find if the narrow sidehill parts of the Woodcutter Trail got any less scary with a couple of years of riding experience, or if it was still terrifying because I was on a larger, much more powerful bike… as it turns out, I was still pretty scared at times but I felt much more confident in my riding skills and bike control and definitely got through it faster than the first time.

Heading through the sketchiest part of the Woodcutter Trail.

   I was cruising along, cleaning the few small technical rocky bits and feeling so good that I was ready to throw myself at the rock waterfall partway through the upper single track—that is, until I dumped my bike three times in a row in the last 20 feet approaching the waterfall. Nope, still not a mountain bike! Mental momentum was crushed, and I got frustrated, so I gave my bike to Kit and sat back to watch. Unfortunately I pushed the wrong button on the GoPro to record all the fun. He had cleaned it on his bike this time around so I thought it might be a cake walk, but it took him a few tries to get up all of the steps, and he was about ready to chuck my bike back down the whole thing out of frustration. Apparently my bike wasn’t quite as cooperative to ride as his newer more upgraded machine… go figure!

Back to being Miss Dumps-a-lot. Dreaded waterfall section looms in the background.

   From there my silly grin returned as the trail wound higher and higher into the White Mountains on flowing single track, dodging junipers and low hanging pine branches and occasionally catching glimpses of the Sierra Nevada to the west. Just under an hour later we reached the double track, the trail flying past so much more quickly than before, and stopped for a snack break. With a decent map and some help from fuzzy memory, we found the descent route via Black Canyon and started downward. At one point we detoured onto a fork in the road to find an old mining camp with a cool stone bath house built over a running spring. 

Snack time, with a grand view of the Sierra!!

Old mining camp.

The bath house.

   Back on the main route and further down, we stopped at an intersection where a fork of the road went back up in the direction we came from. Kit wanted to do a little more exploration since it was still early in the day, and I thought it was a fine idea, remembering that the rider we met up here last time mentioned some more single track trails up in this area. So we went up a sandy road, then took a fork to the west and uphill, turning into a narrower trail that dropped into a canyon. It still looked like a legitimate trail at this point, and we followed it downward over small rocks that became larger waterfalls, until they became so tall and steep that the several other tracks we followed at this point went up and around through loose rock. The last large drop we came to was a good 40 feet of sheer cliff with no way to get down, and the trail seemed to disappear after going up and around to the top of the ridge. Kit went exploring on the ridge top as I struggled in the loose jumbled rocks still trying to follow, when tipping over to the downhill side and slightly tweaking my wrist pushed me to the point of utter frustration. Quickly losing my sense of adventure I left my bike laying in the rocks and angrily stomped up to the top of the hill, finding a place to sit and eat some food, figuring that being hungry never helps these situations.

Time for a frustrated snack break, looking over at the Black Canyon, which we hoped to get back to.

   From my seat on the ridge I spotted what looked like a road and some tracks below. While I didn’t feel completely lost, I sure as heck didn’t want to retrace our route back up this canyon with all of its obstacles at this point in the day. Kit came back from his mission without a lot of inspiring news; the trail he had found further up the ridge had a hill climb so nasty that he barely was able to make it up. Then the sound of a motorcycle echoed off the canyon across from us, coming from below where I had seen the road. Looking at the slope below us it seemed like the best option to get back to the road, though it was steep and loose and quite frankly looked terrifying with my amateur descending skills on a dirt bike, and I wasn’t in a mood for any of that at this point. So, I made Kit hike back up and ride my bike down, which I felt a little bit guilty about but at the same time I didn’t want to wreck again and make the same idiotic move of putting my hand out to catch myself. Though my wrist thankfully wasn’t terribly painful, it didn’t seem like a great idea to put it through too many more hazardous situations.

   There was a short piece of trail with a couple more waterfalls to navigate at the bottom of the canyon we dropped into, but shortly we were back out on the road and descending through the Black Canyon. Between the high rock walls and tunnels of yellow and bright green trees, even the double track jeep trail was a spectacular experience. Extremely rocky as well, though the suspension on my new bike gave a much better ride than the previous trip down it on my tiny TTR125. 

Finally heading down the Black Canyon Rd.

   The road became smoother and wider, eventually dropping down into the Owens Valley, and we navigated back to the upper Poleta OHV parking area where we had set up camp. Relieved and exhausted, we cracked open beers and stuffed ourselves with snacks to celebrate a successful adventure into the unknown and back, without any major mishaps or mechanical breakdowns. Quite the memorable ride as well--from the fun to the hopeless flailing, this is a sport that will continue to challenge me for years to come. Also amazing is that we saw nobody at all the entire ride, only hearing the one rider coming through Black Canyon while we were on the ridge above figuring out our situation. We will certainly be back to see if there are more trails up there that we didn’t find, because it is one spectacular place to ride dirt bikes!

Safely back in camp! (notice zero other cars in the parking lot)

Fall musings: catching up

Finding new awesome places in our back yard!

  I sit here wondering how on earth I had ever managed to write two blog posts in one month, as I contemplate yet another unfinished draft on the screen started sometime in the last 2 months. Yellow aspen leaves cover the ground and the air becomes more chilly and crisp every morning. Another summer has come and gone, and thankfully this one has been more adventurous and fun-filled than the past several. There were more than a handful of great mountain bike rides, plenty of exploring the backyard mountains on dirt bikes, learning to ride a standup jet ski, even some tennis and disc golf at the nearby regional park. And of course, plenty of beach time, given our prime location right across the street from the lake.

   Summer has thrown me for more than a few loops, however: a multitude of random small knee tweaks, 3 ankle sprains, minor sprains in both wrists; and to top it all off, after almost 18 years without any trouble wearing contact lenses, my eyes seemed to rebel becoming overly dry and very easily irritated. The most recent episode has had me out of contacts for over a month. Let me tell you, having to wear thick prescription glasses while riding a bicycle is a game-changer, and not in a good way. It's borderline terrifying! Every time I go through a rocky section I feel like I might as well have my eyes closed, I can't trust anything from where the rocks are to what my front wheel is doing. I don't think I've ridden so slowly in years. Also a bit dangerous: my most recent ankle sprain came courtesy of clipping a snow stake with my handlebar right in my front yard coming back from a ride. Clear peripheral vision is something one really takes for granted until they don't have it! I'm finally getting some new glasses after close to 10 years, a pair that I can hopefully do things in--or try to--without being a total klutz. And some prescription goggle inserts for moto and downhill riding, a bit more comfortable under goggles if not also better to see with. In the meantime really hoping and praying I will at some point successfully wear contacts again (or just get dang laser surgery)!! I'm so thankful that I was able to be as athletic as I have been in the past 20 years, because I sure don't think I would have been nearly as successful had I had to wear glasses the entire time...

   I found that riding a dirt bike with glasses stuffed underneath my goggles feels for some reason far less sketchy than riding a mountain bike wearing said glasses, though I can't say it makes me ride any better. That is perhaps because I already feel sketchy riding a dirt bike... haha... but it makes me want to moto a lot more! Add to that my upgrade to Kit's old YZ250 after he bought a newer bike, and I feel like I might be running out of excuses to be slow. Though it's a little heavier and feels less nimble on tight technical trails, the bike has SO much more low end torque than the 125 that it feels almost like a four-stroke in comparison. So far I like it a whole lot, I don't feel too overwhelmed by the power now that I've learned the clutch is my friend, and it will definitely make me a better rider (someday). For now, it will make me a lot stronger every time I have to pick it up after dumping it.

   The bad eye situation threw out my last chance of doing a bike race this year, as I decided it would be far better for my health to not try and race the gnarly Mammoth enduro course with the handicap of sketchy glasses (plus I probably would have crash landed on my face and broken my only pair). That bums me out a lot! On a brighter note I'm really looking forward to this winter and trying my first ever desert race on a dirt bike. New people, a completely new experience, and instead of having the pressure of going fast and being all "pro" and stuff I'm going to just try and finish in the Novice class. Probably making a fool of myself at some point dumping the bike or getting horribly stuck or wheelie-ing it out from under myself and up the trail... or all of the above. I'll usually try just about anything that doesn't look way over my head, and that can lead to some entertaining times and tumbling bikes. Hopefully, by the next time I get around to writing, there will be a good story to tell about my first off-road motorcycle racing adventure!