At promptly 9:30 p.m., in the midst of a booming Taco Tuesday, my un-reliable and aging, low-budget cellular telephonic communication device expostulated a ring tone of the crunkest proportions. The resulting conversation is one for the record books.
“Hey man, wanna go to a race this weekend?”
“Uh, yeah, uh, where? Wait what. What race?”
“Ashland, Oregon. Super D or downhill. Or whatever.”
“Huh. You said this weekend?”
“Yeah. You and Dan should cruise.”
“Should we?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Huh. Let me talk to him.”
An energetic conversation with the man in question brought the entire to celebration with our swank German half-litres. Dan and I decidedly planned upon making the 3 hour trek to San Jose, then the ominous 6 hour trek north, on Thursday night. |
Dan's faithful ride, hauling the weekend essentials:
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By the end of the trip, the trailer hitch had mostly ripped off Curt's car. True story.
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Come Thursday, Dan and I were both a bit wound up from long weeks at work. But with the promise of adventure, and cheep beer at our feet, we skipped our favorite night of the month, the SLO bike happening, and jammed straight onto the road.
Barreling north up US 101, the reality of the weekend finally began to settle in.
“Hey Dan, how’s the truck driving?” I asked in a Keystone-toned voice of excitement.
“She’s good,” Dan yelled over the road noise of the 24 year-old 22RE screaming up the Cuesta Grade. The 269,359 miles on the odometer had me a bit worried, but mountain bike courage had both of us with our feet firmly on the floor, at the foot of yet another adventure.
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“Hey man, don’t take pictures of these,” Curt tells me as he kicks the tires of some half assembled bikes of which I’m carefully setting up to get some serious photos.
“Uh, what’s it worth it to ya?” I say as I snap a half dozen shots.
The ever-so-secret bike looks just like every other mountain bike I’ve ever seen. After deleting the shots of the nonsense-mobile, we hopped in the rally car planning to take us on our 700 mile journey.
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Ashland Mountain Adventures.com!
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Blacked-out and darker than a good pair of aviators, the Subaru looks a bit more like a piece of fresh coal than it does a station wagon. With blood-red brakes conspicuously hidden behind black alloy wheels, the car oozes darkness and speed. With the pig-sniffer on at all times, it got us to Oregon before you can say “public safety hazard.”
“I guess Bill isn’t here yet,” stated Mr. Obvious Beavers. Well, what a perfect time for Dan to re-build the shock hardware on his cute little Lilac-blue Heckler. One tall boy can down, and one freshly non-sloppy bike later, we were ready to hit the hills.
The lower mountain trails for both the Spring Thaw and the Super D race courses were smooth and fast. While we were in town for the Spring Thaw DH, the Super D in June is a 12 mile singletrack, taxing riders for a solid 40 minutes.
Norcal was well represented. With cats from the north bay and east bay out and about, there were hellas in the house hella non-stop. |
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Jackie getting it done
Dan before the face plant
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On Friday afternoon, I though it would be a good idea to try to make a hip jump out of some silly wallride. On run-in attempt number one, my back wheel folded over. It was a very confusing occurrence- the tire was rubbing on the frame, and I almost got tossed down to the pavement below, but somehow rode out of the ominous predicament.
Upon closer investigation, my rear rim was cracked in two places. The wheel was essentially tacoed, but the spoke tension was holding the broken rim in a relatively round shape. During subsequent DH runs, I could feel the wheel fold over in corners, then pop back into round while pedaling down the straight sections in the trail.
Thankfully, Thom had an old OEM low-end rear wheel he offered to sell for cheap.
Katie Holden ripping
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Todd, aka Retodd, with proper form out of the corner
Sarge follows suit with the look of fury
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I’ve been bumping into Katie Holden at random bike events for years. It was definitely rad to see her at the race. She loaned me her Turner Rail for a run, and wow, that little bike felt just like my little bike!
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On Saturday, Katie mentioned she had not been riding well. Here’s the proof.
“Hey Katie, run back up and hit this corner like you mean it!”
“Ok! Get a good photo or else,” Katie warned me.
Run number two had Katie flying face first into the uphill run-out from the berm. The corner was in a fast section of trail, and Katie hit it fully committed. It sure was a hell of an impact- as I write this, listening to 80’s thrash metal and drinking wine from a bottle, I still can’t believe she didn’t get hurt. |
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Race day was a good time. People were having fun, the trail was holding up really well, and no one got too badly hurt. Jarrot, the local fast guy, won on his SWD. It’s too bad Steve isn’t around to see his bike on the top of the podium, but I’m sure that wherever he is, he’s psyched to see people having fun and succeeding on his creations. |
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Curtis got second, another local got third, Mark got fourth, and I finished fifth.
Ashland is a really cool place, and I can’t wait to make it back up for the Super D in June! |
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