Snow is coming down pretty good at the parent's house. Gonna try to sneak in a ride when the weather settles down a little bit. Videos are always a good way to pass the time, so here you go. The only cyclocross race I ever did made me vomit, strangely enough, this video makes me want to do it again!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Happy Burfday
It's my dog's birthday again. I'm one of those people that tend to prefer dogs to most people I meet. Every birthday Chloe seems to be calming down more and more as she completes another trip around the sun. It's also during this time, with the leaves changing and a chill hanging in the air, that I remember the worst 3 days of my life. This was the time when I lost my dog, felt the kindness of strangers, and became thankful for a dog that can always make me smile. The following is a recap of what happened for those 72 hours.
Well, after 2 1/2 days in the woods I am happy to report that at 3:30 this morning we were able to recover one tired Basenji. This whole ordeal began Wednesday night where she was on her usual Wednesday group ride with my girlfriend, her friend Sunny, and Sunny's dog Lilly. All we can figure is that halfway down Greens Lick, a case of mistaken identity occurred. She was originally right behind Heather, who was ahead of Sunny and Lilly. 3/4 of the way down the trail, it began to get dark, and the girls were caught with only 1 light between them. Sunny remembered Chloe coming back up the trail, which was not unusual, since she has a tendency to try to herd Lilly. They did not notice that Chloe had continued up the trail following my friend Bo who was pushing to the top to meet my group. We figure what happened is that Chloe thought Bo was me in the dark, and proceeded to follow him. Bo recalls Chloe following him back down to the berms, but does not remember her dropping off. We think that once she realized that Bo was not me, she freaked out and took off in the direction she thought Heather was in, but in the wrong direction. At about 8ish I got a phone call from Heather when I was loading up in the Rice Pinnacle parking lot. The only words I heard were, Chloe, lost, no lights. After quickly relaying the information to my friends Natebo, and Mac, I jumped in the car and hauled down the fire road to the Laurel Branch trail head. I arrived to only find Sunny standing at her car, and came to learn that I had beaten Heather to the trailhead, because she had to leave Bent Creek in order to get cell service. Donning lights, and telling Sunny my plan to head up Greens Lick, and to have Heather ride Side Hill trail to retrace their original route incase the dog had circled back. I headed into the night.
As soon as the pedals started moving my internal stop watch started. I recalled all the news specials, and movies that emphasized that the more time that had passed the less likely hood of finding the missing. I wanted to ride all out, but knew I had to pace myself. Riding too fast I may not hear her over the trail noise. Rolling around on a ridged singlespeed after a previous 2 1/2 ride I knew that I was going to be hurting, anticipating the numerous laps I would be riding UP Greens Lick and then back down Side Hill. Little did we know, Heather and I would be riding our bikes for almost 37 hours straight including two 5 hour breaks. For the next 4 hours it would be up and down Greens Lick. Heather, Sunny and I rode every possible combination to get to the trail. Hollering into the darkness, we all hopped for the familiar sound of her tags. For those that do not know, Basenjis don't bark, they are very stealthy dogs, so we had to listen for the rustle of underbrush, or whining. No luck, lights were starting to die. On my last circuit I had to walk down the trail in total darkness. It was no longer safe for us to be riding around. Walking in the dark I called my friend Kenny at 11:30. I informed him I would not be coming into work Thursday. At 12:30 we called off the search for the night, afraid that shouting in the dark would disorient her and push her farther off the trail. I felt like I was abandoning her, and that she would think we had given up. With a deep sigh, I noticed the mist off my breath in the night air. It was going to be a cold. She is a native of the hot climates of Africa and Australia. She doesn't posses the undercoat that most dogs do to adapt to cold climate. Dig in girl, keep yourself safe, I'll come for you at first light.
For the next 4 1/2 hours I laid in bed feeling helpless and heart broken. I had left my friend in the woods. It was like leaving a child to fend for themselves, except this one cannot talk, or ask for help. She gets skittish when scared. I was hoping that she would latch onto another group, but feared that she had gone into survival mode and would avoid everyone. I wanted to throw up from the anxiety but was too exhausted. I kept telling myself, I needed to sleep, you can't help her if you can't ride. The next 4 1/2 hours were restless and agonizing. Why was it still dark, does it always take this long to get light? Why won't the printer work? Better get on the message boards. In the back of my head, there was my biggest fear. At the top of Greens Lick there is a little used trail that heads out to the Blue Ridge Parkway. If she was walking around in the dark, she was heading to a vast area that would be impossible to search. I hoped to God that she stayed in Bent Creek. Every hour that passed increased the likely hood that she was moving out of the area. Luckily she was tagged. Maybe someone would pick her up and call. That call never came.
5:30 came both quickly and at the same time not soon enough. We loaded the cars and headed back out. Heather would patrol the parking lots and talk to people whole posting flyers. I would head up the original trails and explore the trail that headed to the parkway. Our friends Sunny, James, and Leisa would be joining the hunt after work. I pedaled off in a slow grinding pace. Memories of past 24 hour races came back. Ride slow, because you don't know how long you'll be out there. We talked to everyone we came across. I must say, the mountain bike community is one of the strongest and tight knit. Everyone was on the lookout. No one had seen her. Up one trail, down another. Have I been on this one already? Was that her, or just another squirrel. Why are there so many damn squirrels? Was that her tags? Nope only the rattle of my brake lever. Chloe where are you? No sightings, no way to narrow down the search. I checked my watch, 4:00. It would be dark again in 3 hours. 5:30ish, Sunny, James, Leisa show up. Sunny re-runs the original route. Leisa and her dog Zoe walk random trails. I'm still pedaling around like a zombie, Heather doing the same. I decide to ride back up Laurel Branch to Greens Lick. I meet Sunny halfway up. No luck. Sunny's phone rings. Heather is on the other line of a broken up connection. What is she saying? Steven, a local mountain biker had seen her up on South Ridge road an hour earlier. He was 85% sure it was her. He tried to approach her but she tore off into the woods. At last a break, I would be going home tonight with my dog. We coordinated approaching the area from four directions. I would take South Ridge from the fire road, Heather would go up Sleepy Gap, Sunny would go up Chestnut Cove, and Leisa would patrol Explorer loop. Sunny and I could only partially hear Steven's message, and ended up calling him. He relayed the information of her location and direction. I thanked him profusely and tore off up the road, battling the clock that ticked off the minutes since her sighting. We all rode toward the area, my heart sinking, after passing rider after rider coming from her direction. No one had see her. Chestnut Cove was coming up quickly, our hopes were plummeting. No sign of Chloe. Once again I thought about the Blue Ridge Parkway that loomed half a mile above us and the Shut In trail that paralleled it. Chloe, please be smart enough to stay put. I let you down...again. Search was called for the second time. My only solace coming from the warmer feel of the night. Goodnight Chloe, I'm trying as hard as I can.
I had planned to meet Bo the next morning to resume the search. I would be walking Shut In trail from Sleepy Gap, to Wash Creek road. Bo would be driving around Bent Creek. I passed Chloes last sighting and left a piece of hotdog for her. The sky was opening up. No one would come out if it kept raining. All of our flyers were paper. This was not a good way to start the day. I pushed my bike along Shut In. God walking sucks. No sign, only increasing rain. I dropped down the trail above the creek where she was seen. No sign, but wait! In the mud I find a canine footprint about her size. No Chloe but at least it was probably her. My cell phone rings, Bo is on the other end. Great news! Two positive sightings over at Laurel Branch at 10. It was 10:45. Bo says that a ranger and another man had seen her running along the fire road toward Laurel Branch which is at the bottom of Greens Lick. When Bo asked the first man if he was positive, he replied "yup, looked just the dog in the picture". OK, this was good she was staying in the area. I relayed the information to Heather. We would meet at Lower Side Hill where she had headed off into the woods when the ranger approached. Wow, this could be done before noon! Bo headed off to work, promising to be back when it was done. Heather and I headed back into the trails. Hours go by, nothing. How does this Dog keep disappearing?!! Today feels like the previous. Long hours in the saddle, pedaling, and pedaling some more. Up, down. Have you seen my dog? No? Oh. Once again I would like to give my praises to the mountain bike community. Their presence gave us the hope that she might be seen. The familiar faces of Peter Mills and Jef Williams as well as all the phone calls from friends and family checking in kept our spirits up. Hey look, it's four again. Where does all the time go? This isn't fair! Looks like we will be camping tonight. Leisa reappears after work with much needed provisions from Subway, and a fresh pair of legs and eyes to resume the search. She also comes armed with some information that will ended up saving Chloe. Our plan is for me and Heather to spend the night in the back of the Subaru at the entrance to Laurel Branch. Hopefully her instinct of being a creature of habit would kick in. We would also trying something Leisa had told us about. A friend of hers had lost a dog a few years ago. They were able to recover the dog by keeping a camp stove boiling with the dogs food. The aroma had drawn the dog back to the owner. That just might work! Oh wait, isn't Bent Creek a bear sanctuary?
Tossing common sense out the window, we set up camp in the back of the car. I make sure to place the stove on the OTHER side of the fire road gate. Now we sit and wait. And wait. Still waiting. A car pulls beside us. Great some drunk kids joy riding the fire roads, or a ranger about to kick us out. Nope, it's Bo and his dog Bo Bo. It's almost midnight. Bo is going to take a few runs in the truck up the fire road. The night returns to silence. I go to check on the stove. I hear the sound of tags. Wait, I hear the sound of tags! Chloe! I walk down the road, the headlamp catching to green of Chloe's eyes. The lamp must have startled her because even though she can hear my voice, she can't see me. She darts off up the road. NO! I jump on the bike and head down the road. Again, no sign of her. I catch Bo coming the other way. He hasn’t seen her. We search fruitlessly. Hours pass. Did we scare her off? Did she run blindly through the woods making all are efforts moot? We settle in again, re-lighting the stove. We wait. Bo Bo is restless, keeps pacing around, and growling. Awesome, maybe we can experience a bear attack too. Bo Bo just won’t settle.
3 hours later more growling. I look over to find out what is irritating him so badly. To my surprise, there is Chloe, sniffing at him, Bo Bo, unsure of what to do. Heather calls to her, she seems to recognize her. Heather grabs her collar and pulls her close. We’ve got her. It’s finally over. We repeat our thanks to Bo and Bo Bo over and over again. We quickly load the cars and head home. Chloe passes out from exhaustion in the passenger seat of Heather’s car. She’s home, she’s safe, thanks to great friends and a loving bike community. I would just like to relay our thanks to everyone, and all the people that put up with our shouting on their peaceful bike rides. I often wondered how my life would be without my riding partner and friend. Now I know, I’d be heartbroken.
After We Got Back Home
Saturday, November 27, 2010
2 Degrees Of Separation
Everyone is aware of the anomaly known as the six degrees of separation, or the the six degrees of Kevin Bacon. The premise being that you can find a person in common with anyone in the world through six or less social relations. With the end of the cycling season coming about, so does the thinning of the herd. Up for auction went the Giant Trance and the singlespeed. Craigslist is my usual method of finding bikes new homes. Reaching out to the cycling community, one discovers that the six degrees rule can actually be stripped down to 2 degrees. Maybe the number 2 presents itself because bikes have two wheels, or maybe because it has felt like it was 2 degrees in temperature on the last couple rides the bikes went on. Probably (not prolly) it's just because cycling communities are pretty small and interconnected not matter where in the world you happen to be. Bike 1, the Giant Trance ended up going to a girl that was friends with a guy from Warren Wilson who I worked as the team mechanic for. During the whole transaction, I was completely oblivious to her references to her friend Phil. It wasn't till about 30 minutes later that it clicked. Yeah, I'm quick like that.
Bike 2, the singlespeed, found it's new home in Blacksburg, VA. I would be spending Thanksgiving in Virginia, so I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to expand my buyer group size. The night before leaving, I received an email from Sam. She (yep Sam turned out to be female) was interested in the bike, but was kind of on a tight schedule, since she would be leaving for home early the next day. The decision came down to whether to meet that evening (which was looking like an 8 pm eta), or early the next morning. We decided on the next morning, since I was running kind of behind. She wanted to ride the bike on the local Pandapas pond trails, and asked if I would like to accompany her on a bike ride. Used to riding alone, since I don't really know anyone in town anymore, I jumped at the opportunity. Sam asked if I needed her to bring a bike, but I decided that the fixed gear would be more than adequate for a mellow ride (anyone starting to notice a pattern in my poor judgement making skills?).
7:30 came early enough, and I tried to find every piece of cold weather bike gear that I owned. The quick drive to the trail put me into the foggy empty lot. About 2 minutes later my riding partner for the next hour and fifteen showed up. Out pops a pretty, fit looking girl and her dog. Hmm this might be a problem. After introductions and a pedal swap, I hear the fateful words that I'm dreading. I just started riding back in July so I'm pretty new to this still. Why does this statement strike fear in me? One, I'm on a fixed gear mountain bike. Two, this girl looks pretty fit, and I was expecting a pretty mellow ride. Three, the last couple times people have told me they are just starting out and have a runners or climbers build, it's because they are, and they are sand bagging you. After the first 15 minutes of chasing her through the woods, I ask the usual question of you ran cross country all through high school, didn't you? This fact is confirmed, but it doesn't do a thing to help my poor choice in bicycles for the morning.
I'm stoked to reconnect with the Poverty Creek trail system, and try in earnest to keep pace, while focusing on not smashing my pedal on every other rock on the never ending series of rock gardens. Up and down, rock and root, leaves and creeks. I miss these trails sometimes. On the mellow (finally) spin back to the car, I start up with some friendly conversation. I say that I hope to try to get some riding in with one of my friends this week, since I hadn't seen her in a bit. I should have known that since cycling communities, especially the female population, are very small. I also should not have been surprised that she knew Sarah. Taking this as a good thing, I start to wonder if I should introduce the two of them. The topic soon turns to the joys of riding fixed gears in the woods. I mention that I am trying to get my friend Sarah, to start riding fixed again. It is at this self-induced face punching time that Sam informs me that Sarah's current boyfriend used to be Sam's. I proceed to reintroduce myself as Tony, the idiot, and announce that I will no longer be talking for the remainder for the ride since my mouth is currently occupied by my foot.
All in all it was still an awesome ride. I got a bike sold to worthy new owner, made a new trail buddy, and got rip some old familiar singletrack. Note to all those currently selling bikes, assume nothing because anything can happen. You could end up knowing the buyer in some obscure way, or end up chasing after someone claiming to have just started riding. It still amuses me how life unfolds sometimes.
Bike 2, the singlespeed, found it's new home in Blacksburg, VA. I would be spending Thanksgiving in Virginia, so I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to expand my buyer group size. The night before leaving, I received an email from Sam. She (yep Sam turned out to be female) was interested in the bike, but was kind of on a tight schedule, since she would be leaving for home early the next day. The decision came down to whether to meet that evening (which was looking like an 8 pm eta), or early the next morning. We decided on the next morning, since I was running kind of behind. She wanted to ride the bike on the local Pandapas pond trails, and asked if I would like to accompany her on a bike ride. Used to riding alone, since I don't really know anyone in town anymore, I jumped at the opportunity. Sam asked if I needed her to bring a bike, but I decided that the fixed gear would be more than adequate for a mellow ride (anyone starting to notice a pattern in my poor judgement making skills?).
7:30 came early enough, and I tried to find every piece of cold weather bike gear that I owned. The quick drive to the trail put me into the foggy empty lot. About 2 minutes later my riding partner for the next hour and fifteen showed up. Out pops a pretty, fit looking girl and her dog. Hmm this might be a problem. After introductions and a pedal swap, I hear the fateful words that I'm dreading. I just started riding back in July so I'm pretty new to this still. Why does this statement strike fear in me? One, I'm on a fixed gear mountain bike. Two, this girl looks pretty fit, and I was expecting a pretty mellow ride. Three, the last couple times people have told me they are just starting out and have a runners or climbers build, it's because they are, and they are sand bagging you. After the first 15 minutes of chasing her through the woods, I ask the usual question of you ran cross country all through high school, didn't you? This fact is confirmed, but it doesn't do a thing to help my poor choice in bicycles for the morning.
I'm stoked to reconnect with the Poverty Creek trail system, and try in earnest to keep pace, while focusing on not smashing my pedal on every other rock on the never ending series of rock gardens. Up and down, rock and root, leaves and creeks. I miss these trails sometimes. On the mellow (finally) spin back to the car, I start up with some friendly conversation. I say that I hope to try to get some riding in with one of my friends this week, since I hadn't seen her in a bit. I should have known that since cycling communities, especially the female population, are very small. I also should not have been surprised that she knew Sarah. Taking this as a good thing, I start to wonder if I should introduce the two of them. The topic soon turns to the joys of riding fixed gears in the woods. I mention that I am trying to get my friend Sarah, to start riding fixed again. It is at this self-induced face punching time that Sam informs me that Sarah's current boyfriend used to be Sam's. I proceed to reintroduce myself as Tony, the idiot, and announce that I will no longer be talking for the remainder for the ride since my mouth is currently occupied by my foot.
All in all it was still an awesome ride. I got a bike sold to worthy new owner, made a new trail buddy, and got rip some old familiar singletrack. Note to all those currently selling bikes, assume nothing because anything can happen. You could end up knowing the buyer in some obscure way, or end up chasing after someone claiming to have just started riding. It still amuses me how life unfolds sometimes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)