Epic MTB (not road) Riding

Going the Distance


Finally, a Sunny Weekend

Just like I promised, I actually rode my mountain bike this month. I got a little extra inspiration from sucking wind at the Napa world cup, but the biggest inspiration was provided by the first sunny weekend in a long-ass time. So I dragged my sorry carcass out of bed on Saturday morning, and after a suitable consultation with my collection of maps (I'm so happy I moved last year, now I can buy more maps, heehee, heehee!), I made arrangements with my lovely wife to meet later in the day. The idea (ominous music here) was for me to put on some fat miles by going through Armstrong Woods (near my house), out the back way towards Healdsburg, then on roads over to Calistoga, where we could meet and ride up to the top of Mt St.Helena, from which many worthy and lengthy views can be viewed.

And I set off, in high spirits and with plenty of food (leftover indian from the night before). I stopped at the Armstrong Woods visitor center and picked up a couple topo maps to guide me in my adventures. The paved climb up through Armstrong Woods is a real back-breaker on a tandem, but it's not bad at all on a mountain bike. I was at the top in no time and sailed off down the main fire road, only poaching a tiny section of singletrack from the overlook parking lot down to the fire road.

First Detour

After a long downhill, a short uphill and a short downhill, I was plodding along towards Manning Flats (the far end of Austin Creek rec area), when I happened to notice the other main fireroad spur just across the creek. I was feeling exploratory, so I figured I'd give it a go. It looked on the map like I could go out that way, and circle around through (undoubtedly) private property and back to where I was going anyway. Sweeet! Since it was early and chilly and the creek was deep, I took off my shoes, socks and legwarmers and waded across. Once I got dressed again, I headed up the other side. I followed the fireroad as it wound around fairly level for about a mile, then began a long, steep climb. I climbed for a while, then for a while more, then I climbed some more. This trail doesn't seem to get much use, so there's lotsa sticks, stones, and other flotsam laying about.

Over the top and about 3/4 way down the other side I came to the park boundary, and continued for a bit longer until I crossed a creek and popped out on a nicely groomed dirt road. Consulting my map, I turned right and pretty quickly came up on a big chainlink fence and gate. I could see a tractor or something parked a little ways beyond. Lacking any scouting reports as to the likelihood of interception, I opted to just go back the way I came. Wimpy, I know, but after getting almost arrested twice in 2 weeks this year, I'm more cautious than I used to be.

Never Waste a Detour

As long as I was already that far out of my way, I figured I should scout around, so at the top of the saddle after I re-entered the park, I headed up the firebreak to the north, which climbed steeply (but rideably) up the ridge for another 300-500 feet or so, with magnificent views the whole way, especially so at the top. The firebreak turned into a double track that went off down the other side of the ridge. I made a mental note to investigate at a later date, and then sailed back down the hill into the park to continue with my original itinerary.

At the creek crossing, I noticed a little path to the left that paralleled the creek. I wasn't all that interested in wading across the creek for a 2nd time, only to have to wade back across a mile further down where the fire road crossed again, so I headed out on the path. It appeared to be a former flume, or teeny train track or something. There were in many places, railroad-tie like objects across the trail. Here and there it deteriorated and I had to hike into a gully and back. Just when I was getting tired of getting on an off, the trail opened out into a semblance of another doubletrack, so i knew I was getting close to the other crossing. As I looped around a little log, I bumped it slightly with the rear of my bike, and heard a crunchy sound.

SRAM's New 2-Piece Derailleur

I got off expecting to pull a stick or something out of my spokes. Imagine my surprise and consternation when instead, I found my derailleur pointing at the sky, firmly attached to one of my spokes. To make matters worse, it wasn't just bent, both of the parrallel links had busted straight through, so it was only held together by the spring. So it started to look as though my planned epic ride was going to get curtailed.

Armed with my trusty chain tool, i quickly rigged a 1-speed, but since my bike has vertical dropouts, I had to experiment a little to find a gear combo that wasn't too loose. Even then, I found that I had to be exceptionally careful over rough ground, because the chain would happily derail in one direction or the other. When it went to a smaller cog, it was no big deal, because I could just stop and put it back on. A couple times I even nudged it back up with my toe without stopping. When it went to a bigger cog, though, I would get about 1/2 a pedal revolution, then the chain would snap taught and stop utterly and completely. Not fun.

So there I was, in a 32 x 16, with a relatively gruesome climb awaiting me. I grunted and groaned up it, only walking in 2 spots, then coasted down the pavement and pedaled leisurely up the road to my house and called it a day. That night, I dug around in my box o' crap until I came up with a Shimano XT derailleur and a Sachs 8-spd shifter, which I then installed. I also scrounged up a few new chain links to resurrect my chain.

Part II

Sunday morning, I loaded up the truck with bikes and wife, and headed over the hill to Calistoga to ride up Mt St. Helena. Not much to say about the ride, except that the views were incredibly fabulous. San Francisco (62 miles away) was clearly visible, as were the Sierras, including (i think) Mt Lassen, which is a long-ass ways away. Pretty cool. At the top, there was a band of stoned-looking teenage hippies, so we didn't hang around too long. They were loud and stupid.

It took about 90 mins to get up, and about 15 mins to get down. Then we went into Calistoga for a mediocre mexican lunch. After that, I sent the girl home, and set off for some more adventure. The Oat Hill Mine trail leaves from just outside of town, so I went to check it out. At the bottom, it's sort of rutty and has a few rocks here and there, but nothing major. As you go up, there are lots of hikers, and occasional semi-technical rocky sections, and also some nice views of the northern napa valley. Around this point, I met a nice young stoned hippie GT-riding freak, complete with long-travel fork and baggy shorts. He was riding about the same pace I was, so we naturally struck up a conversation as we continued.

The further you go, the more technical the trail gets, until it just turns into a psycho, slabby, rocky, ledgy, superduper fun, technical adventure. The whole thing is rideable, but just barely (at least for me), so we both dabbed several times, and re-rode difficult sections a couple times. The trail runs right under a big rock ridge (i think it's called the Palisades), and then ends at China Camp, where chinese mercury miners lived back in the day. You can still see their tables and stairs cut into the stone and so forth. At the top, Morgan (the stoned freak) and I were pretty worked, and pretty stoked to have ridden as much we did on the uphill. He invited me to join him on the secret "Picket Connector" trail, as an alternate downhill, which we could access after only a little bit more grim climbing.

Preparation for DH

Naturally, as a spiritual type, Morgan wouldn't hear of beginning a long-ass downhill without proper herbal fortification, so we took up a spot on some nice rocks a couple thousand feet above the valley floor to relax and chat and stuff. Morgan claimed there was  mountain lion den around the other side of the rocks. Cool. After 10 mins or so, we were ready to roll. Since I had Revolt SS's on my bike (remember, I was doing some road riding too), I took it a little easier on the downhill. Morgan went fully balls to the wall. The trail swooped down in a hurry, pretty buff in comparison to the uphill, and very fast. About 2/3 of the way down, I was coming around a corner about 20 feet behind Morgan (he was just out of sight around the bend), when i started seeing puffy dustballs. A moment later, he comes into view. Unfortunately, he was 10 feet off the edge of the trail in a heap. He climbed back up and we assessed the damage. He held out his arm and asked if it looked ok. He was pretty much leaking blood like a faucet, but I lied and said he looked fine. To prevent him from dying of blood loss, or worse yet, getting blood on his GT LTS and making it squeak even more, I tied his t-shirt around his forearm. Since he didn't seem to learn from his experience, he took off again at warp 5, dropping me instantly.

A few minutes later, we came out in someone's front yard, rode down their driveway, and returned to the Silverado trail (which is really a paved road). 10 minutes later we parted ways in Calistoga, with him seeking medical attention and me riding back over the hill towards my house. There's a steep-ass hill just out of Calistoga going west, and I was just about crawling up it, even with my road tires. Thankfully, I didn't have that far to go, because my lovely wife met me on the other side just before dark and gave me a ride home. The next day, I went to true my rear wheel, and found that the locknut had come loose, and the drive side cone had screwed itself down tight enough to almost completely lock the rear wheel. Doh! No wonder that hill was so steep.

All in all, it was much better than any lame-ass epic road ride.


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