Pedal

During the ride last weekend, my left pedal developed a side to side play. I didn't notice it on the ride (Well, I noticed that it felt weird and that there was a clicking coming from somewhere but I thought the cleat on my shoe had come loose again). When I looked at it closely the following day I noticed the damage. When I took the end cap off mangled ball bearings and metal shavings fell into my hand. Not good. So, feeling a little flustered, I gave up on fixing them and decided to call the company because I remembered they had a two year warranty. I didn't get around to calling them until today. Mostly because I'm at work during the companies hours, and for some reason it never occurred to me to use the cell phone on my lunch break or something. At any rate, I called them up today. The service rep apologized profusely for the pedal's failure. He said that occasionally the cartridge bearing fail, but they aren't supposed to do that. He said they wanted to make it right and gave me the option of sending the pedal to them and they would rebuild it for free, or sending me a rebuild kit and doing it myself. Of course I said send the kit. So, no questions asked, they are express mailing the kit out to me. Should be here Monday. That's what I call good customer service. Any company willing to stand behind their product like that is worth spending my money with. So if you need pedals, I can recommend Crank Bros. without any reservations.

Sand Point

I rode Niscene Marks yesterday. I rode from the parking lot to Sand Point. The odometer on my bike said it was 18 miles. My trail guide says 1600 feet of elevation gain. My initial intend had been to ride to the Loma Prieta trail head. A ride that, at one time, seemed long and tough. When I got to the trail head, I was barely breather harder than normal, and I didn't feel it in my legs at all. So I stopped, munched a power bar, and started an attempt on the incline. When I got up as high as I had been with my parents I rested for a few minutes, then I got on and started spinning up again. On an exposed stretch a rider came struggling up behind me, "How far to the top?" he asked. "I'm not sure, I've only done it twice before, and that was in winter *GASP* things looked different." I replied. he passed and as he rounded the bend ahead of me I heard him cry out "YES!" I rounded the bend and saw the sign. "Top of the Incline" This is as far as I had gone before. I had mistakenly believed this to be Sand Point. So I stopped, rested for ten or so minutes and started cranking up further. The climb was much less sever, but after the Incline my legs were a little tired. After a while (and several miles) three riders were coming down. They had passed me at the Loma Prieta trail head. "Come on, come on, come, your almost there man! keep it up!" they said as they passed me on their way down. Then... I crashed. At about 2 MPH, I hit a root... rock.. something... I don't know what. I tipped over, and then I was lying on my back, still holding the handle bars, feet still clipped in, and the bike vertical above me. I let it fall to the side and unclipped laughing. No scrapes, cuts or bruises. To be honest I have no recollection of the fall it's self. One second I was riding, the next on my back. I righted myself, and pushed on a short distance thinking "If I don't get there soon, I turn back, I'm to tired." But there it was. The top. I sat down and rested. Then the decent. I was tired, so I took it easy. I knew I wasn't sharp enough to bomb down like I normally would. The ride back to the truck was tougher than the ride up even though it was all down hill. When I got to the truck I collapsed into the bed and lay there for a while until I felt strong enough to stand. Then I loaded my bike and sat on the tail gate for a while watching people start their rides, and others get back. A group of 4 college age guys came riding up to the SUV next to me on their long travel full suspension bike, wearing knee pads, chest protectors, elbow guards. As they disassembled their bikes and loaded them they started chatting with me. I asked them if they had shuttled up to the top for the down hill, they had. One asked me where I had ridden. When I told him up to Sand Point and back one of the other guys said, "Dude, we suck!" which amused me greatly. It was a great ride, but despite the short run I did last night to keep my limbs from tightening up, they are still a little sore today. I'm rather proud that I climbed a hill, stopping only once to rest, that I had previously believed impossible to ride up. A good day.

"Easy Ride"

So this morning I was tired. I thought to myself, "I want to do an easy ride. Something different." So I remembered that bikes are allowed on portions of Henry Cowel and decided to check that out (especially since it is part of my impending long ride to the ocean). The ranger at the entrance was bordering on hostile when I asked if bike were still allowed. He shoved a "Trail Use Guide" at me and then told me to "ride carefully." Obviously I am the psychotic mountain biker out to maim and Pillage! MUHUHAHAHAHA! The trail is paved for the first few miles. I run into few hikers (Who were friendly with the exception of one older couple who picked up their little rat dog, scowled and shot daggers with their eyes as soon as they saw me). What I learned riding the paved section, is that steep is steep no matter what your riding on. I thought my lungs would explode. I turned onto the unpaved fire road for.... More climbing! In sand! yeah! I struggle up up...up... and up. Near the top there was a forest service truck with a couple guys doing road/trail maintenance. They seemed impressed I had ridden up that far. I got to me destination. The overlook. From there I could see all the way to Monterey. I sat for a while, enjoying that I was there by myself, and resting, for I was sure my legs would take a beating on the way down. Some German tourist showed up and were amazed I had ridden up. They had a lot of questions about my bike and if there were other place I rode in the area. I told them about Wilder Rand and Niscene Marks. And then I was on my way for some sweet, rocky, down hill... or not. I came down a different way than I cam up. The trail map the ranger had given me indicated it was open to bikes, and the trail book I have described it as "A moderate decent with a few patches of sand and rock drops no more than 8". Things must have changed... It was like trying to ride on the beach. I gave up and assumed that the sand would end and the down hill fire road would be a thrill. When I got out of the sand, the drops started.... 1'-3' drops. There are people, I am sure, would have eaten it up, but at my skill, on a hardtail, 1' is about as high of a drop as I will do. So I walked down through that. Finally the trail developed into what I had been lead to expect... for about 30 yards until it met up with the paving again. So I rode out. The decent on the pavement was as steep as I had remembered, but I stayed on the brakes a lot more than usual because of the number of pedestrians and blind turns. Toward the bottom of the hill I had to grind to a halt for a family our for a Sunday hike. When I started moving again I hear CHING*CHING*CHING*CHING every time the wheel goes around I hear it. I remember a problem I had with my shoe earlier (The cleat that clips to the pedal came loose, no problem, fixed with ease) and thought to my self I should have turned around then. At first I thought some of the sand had gotten into something, but everything felt OK. Then I hit the front brake and the noise stopped. So I stopped spun the wheel by hand, and... nothing. I get back on, and it starts going again. And the noise is back. I give up and think maybe the heat had warped the brake rotor. Visions of having to pay someone to fix it dance in my head. I get to the parking area thinking, on the up side I had not startled a single pedestrian because of the noise. So I spend time carefully eyeing the rotor trying to tell if it is warped. It looks straight to me. I re align the caliper. Still making noise. I look real close at the rotor... and see something... I get real close to it and see.. a tiny fleck of molten metal, no bigger than the tip of a ball point pen... maybe half that stuck to the rotor. I take my leatherman and use the knife to scrape it off. It pops off easily leaving only a shiny metal spot where it was. I try again. No noise... Yay! I load up the bike and head out. I am so going to get an 8" rotor to replace that 6" when I buy a new fork, it won't heat up as fast and will dissipate the heat better. All in all my easy ride turned into a bear.

Hey... that hurt

So Sunday a friend of mine DID NOT flake on me when I called her up to see if she wanted to ride. We went up to Wilder and rode up Wilder Ridge trail, down Baldwin Loop, and then back on the bluffs. Though she had ridden road bikes quite a bit before, she had only ridden on dirt a few times, and most of them of gentle trails (Like the bluffs). I took it easy at first because I was afraid of putting her off the sport, but she kept up no problem. The climb was well groomed. It had been recently graded. When we got to Baldwin loop the trail had not been groomed, so it was much rougher and rockier. I was riding in front and came to a steep rocky section about 30-40 feet long. Not that technical, but the potential for problems existed. I rode my brakes for a second, picked my line, and dove down. The climb on the other side was a little rocky as well, so I could only afford one glace to see how she was doing. I caught a glimpse of her just starting the drop maybe a minute after I had done it (She had been a bike length or two behind me when I did it). I cranked to the top of the hill and stopped to wait. She rode up next to me with a big grin ear to ear. "When I saw that drop I had to stop for a moment and think, but I like this trail more than the other one. Much more fun." I laughed. Indeed. So we bombed down the rest of it, Me in the lead by perhaps 100 feet, her trailing. When I got to the bottom she was right there. The ride on the bluffs was relaxing and wonderful until.... I crashed. The trail dropped down by the rail road track. She was leading and shot down to them and then rode along them in the rocks. I carried a little more speed than her and turned a little later. The rocks under my front wheel rolled and my front wheel began to wash out. In an attempt to keep my handle bars from crossing up and sending me over them I went a little into the loose rock on either side of the track. The wheel straightened, but wallowed. My left peddle smacked the rocks and bounced my foot out of the clips. When my foot came down again it came down on the rocks, and buckled. My knee impacted in the loose rocks cutting it a little, and my foot knocked the front derailleur out of alignment. I peddled up to my friend where she had stopped at a fork in the trail. She looks at me and asks, "Are you OK? What happened?" I explained, and we both laughed a little. I had to ride the rest of the way back with the chain on the big ring up front. It's fixed now, but it was a bit of a pain. Things are fine today except for a few bruises. It's not a good ride unless you end with a little blood and mud on your legs. :)