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The Wild 100

fader8IMAGE_1_12022009095949 One of the more interesting events that I have participated in was the Wild 100 Mountain Bike Race in Slatyfork,WVA. This was a point to point event with 6 check in stops in very remote corners of the West Virginia wilderness. The weekend always started with a camp out in the field behind the Elk River Touring Center. Most often the Inn was sold out but it was more fun to camp under the stars anyways. The next morning was a mandatory meeting at 6:45 AM where you were given a map to the 100 K course along with the notation for the check points. You had to make the check points by a certain hour or you were asked to board a pickup truck for the long ride back to the touring center. Only one time did anybody in my group not make the check in point. One of our guys one year was an ultra runner and wanted to try the event. He underestimated the difficulty and the need to ride miles on the bike. He was escorted out. He told us to keep riding.

Most of the years I participated, I had an interesting entourage with me. Maurice Tierney, founder of Dirt Rag Magazine, was our navigator. He was a pretty good map reader as well as being fairly familiar with the area. Some of the other Dirt Rag guys joined us along with my friend Dixon whose energy source on the ride, among other things, was blue bubble gum. At the top of Props Run, which was nothing more than a stream bed that went to the top of the mountain, Dixon could be seen loading up on blue bubble gum and smiling with matching teeth. Dixon is a character and deserves his own blog post. Props was always inluded in the course and some times you went down it, which was a bone rattling descent, or you went up it and pushed your bike for about half the distance. There was a lot of fire road and if you decided that you wanted to shorten the ride, you went into the woods to several places like Bear Meadows, or the infamous Tea Creek Canyon. The streams and water that you encounterd in the canyon were dyed with tannin from the leaves and the image of a cup of tea was very apparent in the color of the streams. But you had to pay attention here because the descent was off camber with a lot of slippery, slimy roots, into the valley where you had a check in point before you began a long climb out of the canyon.

Navigating wilderness trails and fire roads was a true challenge and you had to prepare well with a pack loaded with plenty of water, energy drinks, food, and lights in the event that you had an issue that would push you into the evening hours. Suffice to say I never had that issue but on the final fire road descent I was always bonking badly and jamming the last dust ball infested energy bar into my face to ward off the fatigue and the blue dots appearing before my eyes. The last time I saw the blue dots was when I did a time trial at Halloween on a very hot day dressed in a tuxedo. That was a heinous road climb up into an industrial park and the blue dots of maximum exertion apeared before my exploding eyeballs. Always avoid the blue dots. They are a sign of imminent disaster. I always avoided the big bonk on the last descent to Rt. 219 and successfully avoided he speeding logging and coal trucks which were dangerously close to us as we navigated our way back to the Touring Center. The outdoor shower was welcome but the temperature of the freezing stream water that fed the showers was anything but relaxing. However, all was saved with a great bar-b-que and awards ceremony followed by blue grass music on the deck. One more night in the tent and back to the burg. The Wild 100 was always a great experience.

This years event is not scheduled yet but if you call Gil and Mary Willis at the Elk River Touring Center, they might be able to tell you if they are scheduling the event or not. They are great people and it is definitely worth the ride to Slatyfork just to ride. The Inn is wonderful as well as the food and the hospitality. The riding, the fishing in the Greenbrier River, and the evenings on the deck with a cold beer are also memorable. http://www.ertc.com If the Inn is crowded, you can go down the road a bit to Marlinton and stay at the Jerico Bed and Breakfast. A wonderful place with pre-Civil War cabins that have been restored with pot belly stoves and lofts. Lots of Confederate memorabelia around and the proprietors grandfather always delights in telling us Yankee boys that there are 9 of us buried up above on the hillside. The earlier battles of the Civil War were held in this general area and sleeping under the picture of Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson gives you something to think about as you doze off to sleep to the relaxing sound of the stream bed outside your window. http://www.jericobb.com

The riding in West Virginia is always challenging but there are hundreds of miles of great trails all accessible from either facility. There are lots of fishing events, music festivals and riding events at Elk River like Women’s Clinics conducted by local heroine Sue Haywood who is a member of the Trek Professional Mountain Bike Team. If nothing else, you might be fortunate enough to ride with Dixon and get some of his prized blue bubble gum on your ride. Thanks for reading.

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Risk versus Reward- Part 2

03jack395.2IMG00162 If you look at an earlier post, you will see the picture above of Corbett’s Couloir at Jackson Hole, Wyoming. This is a very famous ski run where the conditions dictate the severity of the descent. Sometimes it is full of snow and no issue, other times it is rock hard, very steep, and with rock walls all around, you have to really consider the first couple of turns. Now I referred to the situation of risk versus reward in cases like this especially for a 58 year old kid. Equipment, technique, and experience keep me in the game. But in some instances, we need to evaluate whether the reward is worth the risk of meeting the rock walls head on compounded with a slide for life? Most times, experience and mojo win out but there have been times when I have said…………nah………..not today. I remember having a bad feeling at Alta, Utah with my friend Eric Durfee as we traversed above a cliff area. We know Alta pretty well but this was new to us and as we went further accross the area, I had this eerie feeling that if we went down, we would not be in a good place. As it turns out, we turned back and when we looked at it from the chair on the next run, Eric said to me that had we continued, we would have faced an 800 foot drop and most likely would not have been able to climb back up the area to safety. Sometimes, you have to go with your gut!

Now if you look at the next picture, you will see another condideration that I have faced when mountain biking out west. There are big cats out there who are rather fickle in their approach to humans. Most often they avoid us but sometimes, we may look appealing around their feeding time. I have a T-shirt which says,” Bears like me………I taste like chicken.” Bears are one thing and black bears generally avoid you but I am not so sure about the feline 150# muscular killing machines that roam the ledges of the American West. Again- it is a risk versus rewards situation in that you would love to ride some of the remote trails in the region but when these signs appear at trailside, you pay attention. I either ride with someone or I ride trails that are fairly well populated. A couple of years ago, a group of us entered a trail running race called the Colorado Relay. It was a 24 hour team relay that went from Georgetown, Colorado accross 4 passes and ended up in Carbondale. We all had to do some night laps with headlamps and I don’t mind saying that I thought of this sign during the remote evening runs. Fortunately, there were enough other runners to make it relatively safe, but nonetheless, it was a risk versus rewards consideration at the very least.

Rattlesnakes are another risk versus rewards consideration when hiking, or mountain biking in the west. As the signs usually say, they are members of the community and to be aware of their presence. We are to respect them but there are trails where you just can’t help but run into them. I have given them a wide berth and I never get close to them. They don’t like me and really want to avoid me, and the last thing I want to do is bother them. You have to be aware if you venture into snake country. Beautiful rewards of great vistas but the risk is ever present.

Bottom line here is that common sense is a value that I have developed over my 58 years of adventure. My experience tells me that I can handle challenges on the slopes and trails but common sense tells me that sometimes the risk is not worth the reward. I have to work, I have to live to ski or ride another day. Sometimes that ultra steep rocky descent on a mountain bike may be great bragging rights in the bar at night. But the peril of a broken collar bone or worse may be a consideration especially to a 58 year old adventurer. Don’t get me wrong, I still like challenges and adventure but I have learned to temper my zeal with common sense and look to the bigger picture. My wife and son are always glad that I return in one piece. I like the challenge of skiing steeper terrain and riding for exercise. I leave the hucking to the younger generation. I am amazed by what I see these days on You Tube. There is a lot of bravado and perilous decisions that make the videos and the rewards are often just the fact that they can be seen by thousands on You Tube. What is done on a mountain bike and on a pair of skis these days is really amazing considering I thought a back flip by Wayne Wong when I was a kid was out of this world. Now they are flipping off of 80 foot cliffs and skiing away from it. They are jumping the same types of distances on long travel bikes, landing it and riding away. Unreal. Not for me. I am a kid at heart…..but nonetheless a 58 year old kid who knows better. Thanks for reading and have fun but use good judgement.

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Don’t be a “Slam Clicker”

IMG00214-20100708-1448IMG00221-20100709-1421 For thirteen years, my wife Janet was a flight attendant for USAirways. She used to say that there were crew members who would go right to their rooms upon landing and close the door and lock the lock and never come out again until it was time to go back to the airport. They are known in the airline industry as “slam clickers” Slam the door shut and click the lock. What a waste. In my mind, if the company is paying you to fly somewhere, why not see what you can see? Be social and see the sights of the different cities and states. Take me for example, when I go to New England, Colorado or the Pacific Northwest, I either take my skis or my mountain bike. If I can fit it in after my work schedule, great. If not, I take a vacation day and enjoy the place with my friends who are scattered all over the country. My friend Norm says the axiom should always be to get your work done first, then play. I adhere to that for sure but if I can catch a Mud Hens game in Toledo at night, I do it. If I can get a run or a ride in, I do it. If I can get a ski day, I do it. But I get my work done first. Imagine gettting injured and not being able to perform your job after the company flies you somewhere. Not good for job security. So…………I adhere to the axiom.

Now occasionally, you run into some business associates that like to do what you do. Take the three guys above. One is a Coke guy and the other manages a large distribution center in LA. They are both avid cyclists and our supplier and customer. I have a couple of others who ski. Like my man Chris in Salt Lake. He is in the McDonalds system like I am and we take time to ski and get together. No slam clicking in Salt Lake. There are always good things to find in all cities and states. You just have to take the initiative to find them.

Take the other picture above. This is taken of me at the Laguna Wilderness Trail System which is part of the Orange County Park System. http://www.Lagunacoast@ocparks.com When I go to LA, I don’t miss going out here to these fabulous trails which overlook the Pacific Ocean. There are many miles of trails which have spectacular views. I take my own bike. Many people ask how I do that and I tell them that I travel with a bike box. I can disassemble my bike in minutes, pack it up, schlepp it to the airport, check it in and pick it up at the end of the line at John Wayne Airport. I have the routine down. Yes, it is a hassle but it is well worth it when you have your own bike to ride. I do the same with my skis. Yes, I could rent high performance skis but I like my own stuff and I make the effort to schlepp it. It is well worth it and for a little extra effort, you can have a memorable experience. If you want to rent a bike, that can be done at the fabulous Laguna Beach Cyclery. This shop on Thalia Street in Laguna Beach is eye candy to the max. They have everything high performance, and if you need anything, you look up Christian and tell him that the McDonalds guy sent you in. He is a very knowedgeable and friendly guy. A hell of a road racer too!!! http://www.lagunabeachcyclery.com You can start your ride right from the shop and ride Thalia Street to the top of the park system. When you are finished, make sure you stop at the Stand Natural Food Restaurant right next door. Amazing vegan food that is absolutely delicious. Smoothies, shakes, sandwiches with fresh baked breads. Amazing. I usually start my rides from the Crystal Cove State Park. You can unload your bike box, assemble your bike with lots of room around you. You pay 13 bucks to park but it goes to the preservation of the trails which is well worth it. Always check the weather. If Laguna has had storms, they close the trails because of the fragile ecosystem.

All in all, some of the best times I have had is when I eliminate the pain in the butt thinking, and just haul the gear and go for it. Work first, then some play is a great trip. I always travel with my toys if at the very least my trail running shoes because I can always find a park or a golf course near the hotel. Even if you entertain in the evening, if you can squeeze some exercise or some fun in, the beer and the food taste all the better. Don’t be a slam clicker. Enjoy life, be social, and explore. We have a great country, go see it. Thanks for reading.

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The 24 Hours of Canaan

photoNiteRider2 So I am at the start line in Davis, West Virginia representing the Vet division entry for Greenlees Mountain Bikes. The atmosphere is electric as the clock winds down to signal the start of this 24 hour team relay on the old motocross enduro course at Blackwater. Only there are no throttles in this race. All legs and lungs as the group lined up at the entrance to the river crossing at the very beginning of the course. West Virginians make mountain bike racing hard and Laird Knight was no exception in his innaugural races in this format. http://www.grannygear.com As the gun went off, we all ran towards the river with our bikes on our shoulders and waded accross the thigh deep water until we reached the trail on the the other side. Soaking wet, we were now in the race and the bumping and positioning on the trail was in full swing. As we found our pace, I let the adrenaline calm down a bit and got myself into a good peddling rhythm with some other guys as we made our way on the course. The next obstacle was a group of rocky ledges called “The Moon Rocks” which were a challenge to even run much less ride. It was followed by a swampy,thigh deep bog which represented another hike a bike until the trail emerged again. The finish of the course was non-eventful until we reached the end of the lap at the river crossing again. The portage of the bike began again and exhausted I reached the exchange tent where Chuck Greenlee was waiting to take the baton from me and begin his lap.

The important thing in 24 Hour Racing is to try to get some rest because your next lap was usually in another couple of hours. You had to clean and maintain your bike for the next ride( we had the luxury of shop mechanics from Greenlees and Dirty Harry’s) helping us. http://www.dirtyharrys.net We also had to get something to eat and then lay down in the small motel that was in Davis at the beginning of the course. Usually you had another afternoon lap before you had to rest again and then the real racing began- the night laps. Riding a mountain bike at night on rocky, muddy treacherous trails is a challenge seeing that 90% of all mountain bikes are never taken off road much less at night. I had some experience riding in North Park at night but racing at night is a whole other kettle of fish. In West Virginia it is eerie at 4 AM in the woods. The race is pretty spread out by that point and your light is fixed on the trail ahead of you. When someone came up on you it made you jump a little and when you came up on someone ahead of you, it was creepy too. Often times you heard things in the bushes beside you and you couldn’t help to wonder if it was a bear, or something else that goes bump in the night. One guy came up on me from behind and his light was burned out. He asked if he could folow me and I said sure. It wasn’t long before he fell off and I felt bad leaving him but I had a responsibility to my team mates to get back as soon as I could. Kind of like the guys who climb over people on the way to Everest or the selfish skier who says,” no friends on a powder day.” Oh well.

Our group was doing real well in the Vet division and as we approached daylight, I saw Tim Sweeney,my roomate, getting a cup of coffee in our room. The next thing you know, he falls over in his bed with the coffee spilling all over the place. He had passed out and I quickly tried to revive him to no avail. So, I managed to get him into my Blazer and started to drive towards the hospital in Oakland, Maryland. Tim would groggily come to and then pass out again leaning on my shoulder. I had to drive and push him towards the window. I was going about 90MPH on Rt.219 because I didn’t quite know what to think about Tim’s condition. All I knew was that I better get him quickly to the hospital. As I made my way to the emergency room, a nurse met me and I explained what had happened. She was a mountain bike racer as it turned out, and said that Tim was dehydrated. Tim was an expert racer and as all of our guys did, gave his all on all three of his laps to that point. Several of our guys had done the same and could only ride three laps. Unfortunately they were counting on me to do more because I paced myself and had some gas left in the tank for the morning laps. Knowing my fate, the nurse said to pick Tim up at the end of the day and I should go back to do my next lap. So there I was driving 90MPH again down 219 only to peel into the parking lot to my team mates yelling to hurry up because it was my lap. I didn’t even have time to explain why I was driving and they pushed me towards the river for my fourth lap.

Coming into the finish area after 4 laps, I was spent and the other guys asked me if I could do one more. They were so fast that they had expended all of their energy on three laps and I was the last guy to be able to make up more laps. Cramming some bananas down my throat and downing some Gatorade, I got on my bike and went out for my final lap. Being slow and methodical and saving energy in endurance races of this type can be a blessing or a curse. In this case, it helped our score, but in my eyes, it was a curse because I was trashed. Wading through the river for the last time was cold and I began to cramp. I made it to the other side and laid down for at least an hour talking to friends recounting the race and the harrowing drive to Oakland,Md. I always seem to get into some kind of pickle in events and this 24 hour race was no exception. We won the Vet division, our experts won their division, it was a successful jaunt to Wild, Wonderful, West Virginia for the Greenlees boys. Tim spend the day on a gurney but was glad that we did well. Racing or just riding in West Virginia is not for the faint of heart. I went back for another year and did some other 24 hour events over the years. But the Canaan experience is one that I will never forget. Tim won’t either. That gurney ruined his back. Thanks for reading.

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Rode Hard and Put Away Wet

photo Pat is taking a break from his blog post today and we volunteered to write his daggone post for him. We are his hiking boots. Not any hiking boots mind you, but we are Vasque Hiker IIs. Yea there are lighter, faster, shoes on the market today but we will slay them all. We are the Vikings of hiking boots. So it all began when our nimrod owner bought us and brought us to Allegheny College in Meadville,Pa. A light mist is Meadville sunshine and we tromped around with him in the wet and the mud until he got the bright idea to spread snow seal all over us to make us waterproof. WTH- that stuff is nasty and we thought what are you doing to us? But we later found out that it was good idea and that Pat was brighter than he looks. His constant slathering served us well over the years.

So his blog is titled the experiences of a 58 year old kid? Who is he kidding? He looks rode hard and put away wet just like us. His face is like a catchers mitt for crying out loud. You can’t believe the crap that this guy put us through over the years. Take when he got out of school and decided that he was going to be a granola cruncher and hike on weekends on the Laurel Ridge Hiking Trail in Pennsylvania. At least he had the decency to put us under cover in the evenings in the lean to shelters. You can’t dry us out when you are burning wet logs, nimrod, and the smoke kept choking us. He then took us to these crazy hikes in New Hampshire with an 80 pound pack on his back. Skis, ski boots, all kinds of gear and junk and he expected us to support him through all the streams and snow. Then when it came time to actually hike the mountain, he abandons us and puts on his ski boots. They can’t climb like us. Too bad he didn’t slip and slide all the way down on his derierre, the inconsiderate goof. But we complied and serviced him as always.

Fast forward and he has us at the Hahhnenkaam Men’s Downhill in Austria. He and his pal hiked up the course which was a solid sheet of ice. He was complaining about the traction. I mean what were we supposed to do? Grow crampons??? What a putz. How about the time he took us to the World Mountain Bike Championships in Vail, Colorado and he had us walking all day looking at Tomac, Overend, and all his heroes. Man were we ripe at the end of that day. He dumped us in the corner of the condo and let us air out all night. This guy has had us working like a dog all over the country as hiking boots, after ski boots, and now he has us working on day hikes with his wife like he is some kind of benevolent soul who is trying to show his wife the wonders of nature. The ultimate insult is that he also uses us currently to keep traction on his steep hillside while he is mowing tha grass that grows out of this backyard cliff. The cheap putz won’t even get his hillside landscaped so he puts us through the pain of holding his rear end up while he mows the hill sideways. We don’t want to see that nasty mower blade any closer than he puts us to it.

We have been with this guy for 41 years. It is amazing that we still have the original tread and that he hasn’t abused us any more than he has. Look at us? We are beat. Yet he is older than us. That is the only thing that keeps us going is that we will beat him in the end. Oh well, all in all, he is a good guy and we have enjoyed mostly all of the adventures that he has shared with us. So, we were happy to write this post. He thinks he is Hemmingway or somehing. What a joke. But we will go along with him like we always do. Thanks for reading -like he always says. What a jagoff, but we love him.

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The Month of Mud

DSC_0099-Lphoto So I buy myself a mountain bike right around the time that I was first married. The technology in the 80s was primitive compared to today but nonetheless, I was riding a steel frame, straight fork(shocks for mountain bikes were not invented yet), cantilever front brake and “U” brake for the rear wheel. The worst invention of all time seeing that the “U” brake caught all the mud, sticks, leaves, gum wrappers, and anything else it could suck up on a ride. I was in virgin territory in the woods of North Park with my new mountain bike.

Fast forward, the competitive juices started to flow again and the next thing you know, I am in a series of local mountain bike races called” The Month of Mud.” Now my friend Gary Bywaters started this frivolity and all of us local road riders and racers got involved and it was off to the races with a sport and competition that would keep me occupied up until the present time. None of us knew what we were doing in those days and the following is a synopsis of the flavor of “Mud”

The Brothers Grimm Venue- this was a track of land that had home made trails near the airport with a stream crossing that became a nemesis to many of us. As we watched Jay Humphreys fly through the stream, we were all inspired until I dropped my front wheel in a hole and catapulted over the handlebars, face first into the creek. Soaked to the bone is not the way to continue a race in 40 degree weather but I persevered along with the other poor saps who shared a similar fate

Trax Farms- By had us riding through the pumpkin patch with a climb that had us all jostling for position so that we wouldnt be sent off into the rotting pumpkins and cow patties. It was here that Joe Papp got his indoctrination to bike racing. Joe has achieved some notoriety as a road racer and some not so good publicity in the performance enhancing drug scandals. But suffice to say, after his mom dropped him off, the old guys took him under our wing and jump started him.

Knob Hill Park- this swamp of an area out north of Pittsburgh was notorious for soaking us to the bone in very cold conditions. By thought it would be funny to place pink flamingos along the course which drew some laughs from the crowd but didn’t serve any more than a reminder that this venue was anyting but tropical. During one race, I got lost and took a bunch of guys and Diane Blackburn, the women’s champ with me. The guys were cool as we made our way back to the course but Diane ripped me from head to toe. I gradually got to know her better but she was frightening on that day.

Brady’s Run- this place always was cold and had a real steep climb in the beginning. Sidebar- I was jostling for position on the first climb and squeezed Matt Eaton, the National Road Racing Champion off the trail and down into the woods in a heap. I felt terrible as Matt was new to mountain biking. I apologized later and Matt being the gracious soul that he is with his British upbringing, told me not to think a thing about it. I remember during the incident looking to my left at Larry Lynch after my misplaced elbow sent Matt flying and saying” National Road Champion………..HE GONE!!!” This crazy place always got snow which sent a lot of us over the bars on this off camber downhill that we lovingly called the “Descent of Death”. Any precipitation at all would turn this trail into a slick, slimy path of destruction.

For all of this trouble, mud, cold, snow and freezing conditions during the fall, By would have a rousing awards celebration with awards of the highest quality. First place was usually an apple. Second place was a bannana, and in third you were usually awarded a rock. If you were looking for good prizes in the late 80’s and the seminal years of the Month of Mud, you were in trouble. In following years, By would take some of his old race walking trophies and turn them into series champion trophies. Once you wiped the cob webs off of them, they were actually a decent memento of all the sweat, grime, broken chains, flat tires, snow, freezing rain that was the Month of Mud. Lots of racers of note got their start in the MOM. Gunnar Shogren- who eventually rode professionally for GT showed up from West Virginia. He would bring Rob Acciavatti and Susan Haywood with him. Sue was young and eventually rode professionally for Trek. Another kid would show up from Lancaster and slay all in his jeans and bike jersey. He was Mennonite and didn’t let anyone see his legs because that would not be modest. How things changed from those days for Floyd Landis who won the Tour De France only to be stripped of his title for taking testosterone as a performance enhancer. Yes, Floyd got his start in Western Pa with the Month of Mud and Jim Sota’s race series at Hidden Valley Resort called the Fat Tire Stampede and Fat Tire Fallout.

Local heroes also got their start at the Month of Mud races. Tim Sweeney, Barry Jeffries, Scott Root, EJ Sigety, Jonathan Moran, Chuck Grenlee, Sam Dyke from West Virginia, and a host of others who went on to race at NORBA events and other regional battlefields. Even John Humphreys, Larry Lynch, John O’Toole, Bob Bannon and yours truly battled it out in the veteran’s division back then. We had a blast heckling each other each week only to vie for the coveted apple in our age group.

Today the Month of Mud is a well organized series.  http://www.monthofmud.com   The hard work of Gary Bywaters in the early days spawned a wonderful series that is now sponsored by bike shops and manufacturers supplying the bike industry. The prize pool has significantly improved( no offense By). But as I see the younger, fit, lycra clad generation battling it out these days, I think back to the good old days when a bunch of young kids and older guys peddled and pushed their way to local glory on the trails of Sunday morning. A lot of us are still at it. We may not be racing any more but we love to ride our mountain bikes. Pleasant rides in the woods, no cars, nobody running you off the road and throwing chipped ham sandwiches at you and calling you names( yes- that happened to me. The sandwich had mayonnaise on it too!!) Go out and ride. Thanks for reading.

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Cream Tea and Two Wheels

photophotoireland One of the most gentile things you can do in England or anywhere for that matter is to have “high tea” or “cream tea” as they say in England. Imagine a sweat hog like me coming in after a great day of riding in the English countryside and inhaling the delicious bisquits, clotted cream and strawberry preserves in front of a refined and proper server at a fine establishment. Even though I was outside, the silver service and the delectables were in contrast to my perspiring and un- refined appearance. But boy, was it good and when I remarked to the server how absolutely scrumptious the bisquits and clotted cream were, she said,” Where are you from ……the moon?” The English have a way of not making you absolutely comfortable and I quickly paid the server, took a picture of the fine china and silver, and went on my merry way back to the hotel.

Cycling in England is an interesting experience. Like anywhere in the British Isles, you are on the left hand side of the road which makes crossing the street daydreaming a harrowing experience. However, like hanging, you get used to it and you make your way to some of the most historic sights on earth. I particularly liked the cathedrals that I rode to in Salisbury, Winchester, Westminster, and others. When you arrive at a cathedral at 4:00PM, you are treated to Evensong which is the late afternoon choir servcice where they let you sit right in with the choir to hear the beautiful choral pieces in the midst of fantastic and angelic voices. I made sure to take a shower before I went to Evensong because you are literally right with the choir as they make the cathedrals echo with heavenly music. The graveyards are actually humorous. It is not unusual to see headstones with interesting inscriptions like,” Here Lyes Dan Brown, once was living but now in the ground, although it is sad, his wyfe was mad, and Dan was befelled with a pan that was round.” Curious how you could spend your afternoon with your bike parked at a fence and laughing at the headstones of an English graveyard. Historic landmarks in our country are 250 years old.In contrast,I saw the Magna Carta the foundation for our legal system which dates back almost a thousand years. The castles are filled with interesting historic pieces like Henry the Eighth’s suit of armour in Windsor Castle. Amazing to see.

Riding a bicycle is definitely the way to see a country as you have seen from my last several posts. England was no different as I pedaled to a ferry that took me out to a days ride on the Isle of Wight. I saw the White Cliffs of Dover, and made my way to Stonehenge. How the Druids or space creatures ever stacked those thousand pound stones will always mystify me. The cottages in the English countryside are spectacular with the lattice work on the side of the house filled with the most beautiful roses. The pubs are fun with merriment and delicous ales although at a temperature that was a little warm for me. They claim that it makes the beer taste better when it is a little warmer but I thought I could make some real money selling ice machines in England and Ireland. Nothing like a cold beer to me but that is the ugly American coming out.

Most of my riding was in the country side but one day, I went in early to London. I was like a Whack a Mole in that I rode the underground and popped up at the tourist sights. Up out of the hole- Buckingham Palace-picture- check- back down in the hole. Pop out- the Tower of London- check out the Crown Jewels- check- take a picture, back down in the hole. Pop out again- go see the London Symphony -check- culture enhanced, back down in the hole. By the end of the day, I took the last train out with all of the punk rockers. I was definitely the Howdy Dooodie of the group but the multicolored mohawks, and piercings, were a little over the edge for me, as was the cockney accent which is tough to decifer when you are on a moving train full of reprobates. All in all, a quick view in one day of a marvelous city which I need to see again some time. Perhaps a couple of weeks would do it justice- not one Whack a Mole Day.

This was my last European cycle trip and I am hoping that as life moves on here a little bit and things start to slow down, perhaps Janet and I can take some other trips to distant lands and enjoy the people, the countryside, the historic sights, and the culture. I may be on the back nine, but I am not finished yet. Carpe Deium. Thanks for reading.

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A Life Lived Well

photo ” I want to go skidding accross the finsh line of life, leaking oil, missing parts, screaming …Geronimo!”
Bill McCollum- Ski Racing Magazine.

The picture you see here is of my friend Chip Kamin. I am the one behind him with the red shirt and wool hat. We were on one of our trips skiing and camping at Tuckerman Ravine in New Hampshire. Chip not only skied and camped with us on those trips but he also hiked to the ravine next door called Huntington Ravine and went ice climbing. You see, Chip was a real adventurer. I first met Chip when he was an examiner for the Central Division of PSIA- the ski instructors organization. He and Larry Cohen and Bob Irish formed a ski school based out of Laurel Mountain in Pa., and an area that Chip owned at the time in Warren, Pa called The Buckaloons. All three of these guys introduced me to ski instruction when I was in college. Chip was a fantastic skier and very knowledgeable and a great influence on me when I began the process of certification for ski instruction through PSIA.

Chip was an amazing guy. He invited me to his screening of his climb of Ama Dablam in the Himalaya. Not only did he climb the challenging peak, but he arranged a documentary which he screened at Chatham College to a packed house. It was the first ascent of Himalayan Peak by anyone from the Explorers Club of Pittsburgh. Chip won 2 silver medals at the 2005 Senior Olympics in road cycling and was responsible for founding The Selkirk Powder Company in Schweitzer,Idaho which specializes in backcountry ski outings. Chip developed real estate very successfully in Telluride and Schweitzer and had the foresight to work with these developments long before the areas became popular among the ski and outdoor set. His background in real estate development served him well as he made a life for himself out west.

I met Chip’s wife Robin when they were dating. She was his soulmate, skiing and outdoor partner, and mother to their two very successful sons. We go back a long time. Chip used to tell me little gems that were helpful. Things like, “Pat- downtube shifters on the road bike are now dangerous. The shifting in a pace line is so fast now with the new index brake lever shifters that if you reach down to shift your downtube shifters, you may cause an accident.” I immediately went out after that and bought a bike with the new Campagnolo shifters and immediately saw the advantage and the wisdom of the tip from Chip. We constantly talked about ski equipment and the evolution of the shaped ski. Our adventures with my friend Eric Durfee and Chip’s friend Stuart up at Tuckerman Ravine were times that I will never forget. 90 MPH winds, visqueen shelter covers, freeze dried food, bottled gas cooking stoves, sunshine and sudden snow storms, are memories that are etched im my brain forever. Chip was a part of my life. I will forever be in his debt for all of the comraderie and all of the information from a true explorer.

In recent years with family obligations, I didn’t get to ski and ride with Chip as much but every time I saw him on the hill or at the North Park lot, we had a lot of laughs and I enjoyed riding with him whenever I could. The guy was a true Renaissance man in every sense of the word. Strong, athletic, bright- he was the first guy I ever saw use a Garmin device to plot a ride and download the results on his computer. Chip was in the prime of his athletic and entrepreneurial life when he was suddenly taken out with a cardiac arrest last Friday. He passed quietly on Monday of this week and we all are shocked. How could a guy with this much verve and fitness be taken out by a heart attack? Chip was 62 and looked and acted like a guy half that age. I will miss him and so will all of the active community in Pittsburgh, Telluride, and Sandpoint, Idaho.

We all wonder why? God’s ways are not our ways and we do not know the hour of the timing of His plans. The Bible says that ” He knew you in your mother’s womb.” I believe the good Lord knew exactly what he was doing when He created Chip. I also believe that He knew full well what He was doing when He took him. Adventurers sometimes do not age gracefully. Chip lived a life that most people never get to experience. It was full, loving with Robin and the boys, and caring with all of his friends. We will never forget him. I believe that the moment that Chip was taken, he sailed to the Great Beyond- in a winged parachute suit…………with a smile on his face………..screaming……..Geronomo!!! Thanks for reading and please remember the Kamins in your thoughts and prayers.

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Cycling the Fietspads(people paths)

home02 As I was winging my way accross the Atlantic on another cycling adventure to the Netherlands on KLM Dutch Airlines, I found myself traveling with a group of Hasidic Jewish gentlemen who seemed to be all together on a trip. Being the inquisitive(nosy) person that I am, I inquired with the gentlemen sitting next to me who informed me that they all were on their way to the Diamond Market in Amsterdam. I quickly was treated to a discertation on diamond clarity, cut and other factors that are key when selecting a diamond. A lot of information for my mind to process but nonetheless I was amazed at what you can learn on an airplane if you are a little forward and a little inquisitive.

As we made our way to the hotel, I assembled my bike and began exploring one of the world’s most facinating cities. I cycled along the famous canals and watched the houseboats float lazily along and was amazed at the brilliant colors of the tulips and the other flora that decorated the homes along the canal. I made my way to the Rijksmuseum where the famous paintings of Rembrandt and others reside. As I gazed at the painting of the Dutch Masters, my childish mind went back to the sultry Edie Adams singing “Cigars, Cigarettes, Tiparillos?” . Because I was such a rube when it came to art, I could only relate to the painting because I saw it on the cover of the famous cigar boxes. I wished that I had taken an art appreciation class when I was in college as I exited the famous museum and made my way to the Van Gogh museum where I was equally baffled. As is the custom in galleries I gazed at the paintings again not knowing what I was looking at and caught the gaze of another patron next to me. I could tell that he thought I was the ugly American who didn’t appreciate art and uncomfortably I made my exit into the streets to treat myself to the famous cafes. In Amsterdam, I quickly discovered that the rules are …….there are no rules, as people smoked their hooka pipes, and other herbs shamelessly along with drinking free flowing Amstel and Groelsch brews. Chuckling at the freedom that the Dutch have in their signature city, I peddled to another section of town where I purchased a pair of clogs. I thought I was pretty hep as I exited the shop and slung the bag over my shoulder. I heard some voices from above yelling,” Hey college boy- hey college boy.” Now I hadn’t been called a college boy for some time and I realized that I had peddled into the Red Light district. Feeling sheepish I exited rather quickly as the calls turned to jeers. Amsterdam- what an amazing city.

I rode along the Zuyder Zee which is the famous barrier built by the Dutch to keep the Atlantic from flooding their below sea level country. It is kind of eerie when you peddle along thinking how catastrophic a leak would be. I cycled the roads of the famous Amstel Gold Race and as I made my way along the famous cobbles, I thought of how tough the Euro cyclists were as my fillings almost rattled out of my head from the pounding of the rough cobblestone roads. However, there is a more gentile way to cycle along in the Netherlands. In the post war era, the government had to do a lot of rebuilding of the infrastructure due to the incessant bombing raids during the war. The economy in post war Europe started to flourish again and the resurgence of the construction led to an improved economy and a love for the automobile. However, as the roads became clogged with traffic, the Dutch were looking for an alternative especially as the 70s created a world wide oil crisis. The need for alternative transportation was at the forefront and the government created a system of paths called Fietspads(people paths) that became very popular not only with commuters but with folks who wanted to travel auto free in the Dutch cities and countryside. I utilized a lot of these paths during my visit and made my way through towns and villages that were named for the cheese that they produced. Villages like Edam and Markam were names which I related to cheese and I had my fill along the way washing the samples down with the famous Dutch brews. Another way to make your way besides the people paths were the smaller ferries where you could load your bike and take a pleasant ride along the canals and rivers. The ferries were always commanded by these tall Dutch girls who looked like they could throw you out of the boat if you messed with them. It is humbling to feel like you have stepped into a hole when you are standing next to them, but they definitely commanded your respect and admiration. I was definitely polite to them as I made my way.

If you go to You Tube and look up How the Dutch Got Their Cycle Paths, you will see an interesting history of the paths as well as transportaion in Holland. I was amazed at how the Dutch ride their 3 speed Raleighs with the fenders to commmute to work. Wearing suits and dresses does not impede them as they travel by the thousands to work. With the cost of petrol in Europe, this type of transportation is a must. We are learning in America and even here in my home town of Pittsburgh. We now have a network of bike paths and bicycle sharing programs in the city. Lessons are being learned about the health advantage of cycling and the economy of using two wheels to travel to work and to enjoy the scenery of Western Pa. Taken right out of the Dutch playbook. Thanks for reading.

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Riding in the Old Sod

photo I was in a road race a number of years ago up in Ithaca,New York and I lost contact with my group that I had raced with for 70 miles. It is tough when you bonk and get dropped and you have to finish by yourself, in the wind, out of gas, and between groups. You could wait for a group behind but sometimes you just grind it out and try to get to the finish. As I crossed the finish line, my friend Eric Durfee greeted me because he finished with the real fast guys ahead of me and he handed me some fig newtons which I cheerfully stuffed into my bonking system. It was at that point that I thought maybe I would take a break from road training and racing and just………….ride.

Fast forward and I was on an Aer Lingus flight to Ireland with Gerhard Meng and his folks from Gerhard’s Bicycle Odysseys. Gerhard is an affable character who has a lot of contacts in Europe and sponsors these really nice bicycle touring trips. His staff is very professional and Gerhard has been doing this since 1974. So we land in Shannon Airport and for me, it was a dream come true to finally arrive in Ireland the home of my ancestors. As I collected my things, we made our way to the hotel and I put my bike together and went outside to check things out when I came upon the first paddy that I met who said,” Ya need a chain and a lock for that bike there laddy. I will take you to the place to get it because I am a proud member of Alcoholics Anonymous and I know the folks who will not give you a hooking.” I was liking the characters of Ireland already.

Every day, we had a fabulous Irish breakfast in which the highlight was the soda bread and orange marmalade. I ate baskets of the stuff along with the great Irish breakfast. Gerhard and his staff were very well organized and gave us a map every day. All we had to do was pack our things, throw them in the van, and get to the town at the end of the map for dinner. The first night we stayed in Dromoland Castle- really cool and went into Blarney to the woolen mills to shop. Also the famous Blarney Stone is there which supposedly gives the gift of eloquence when you hang upside down and kiss the stone. I didn’t do it because our van driver said,” Pat – you don’t want to be kissing the stone………the locals relieve themselves on it.” That was enough for me and I moved on.

You ride on the left hand side of the road in the British Isles and it took some getting used to as I wound my way in the roundabouts in Cork. I almost killed myself a few times because I don’t like roundabouts anyhow but as I ventured south to the old Head of Kinsale, I got used to the drill. The roads are narrow and as you come around bends or down hills, you have to watch yourself. I hit the brakes one time as I came upon a shepherd and his flock but the good natured gentleman said,” Ah- twould have been a soft landin there sonny.” I spent days by myself on the country roads and as I made my way from night to night, the staff and the other folks on the trip would ask me about my daily adventures. I would be out from breakfast until just about the time when dinner was served. People trash the Irish cuisine but between the fabulous breakfasts every day and the different types of salmon and vegetables and potatoes you can eat, I have a wonderful respect for the Irish cuisine. It doesn’t hurt to wash it all down with perhaps the best source of soluble iron on the planet- Guiness Stoudt.

The west coast of Ireland is nothing short of spectacular and as you climb the hills and the mountains, you see the 40 shades of green contrasted against the blue waters of the Atlantic. It was perhaps the most dramatic scenery I would ever see and I have experienced the Rockies, the Alps, the Sierras and other dramatic landscapes but I don’t believe you can ever be ready for what lies before you as you cycle around every bend on the Ring of Kerry. The smell of the salt air, the fragrance of the blooming wild flowers coupled with the aroma of cow manure, will always be with me. In fact, when I returned to the US, they wanted to impound my bike because of all the bovine material on the bottom tube. But I talked U.S Customs out of it. See I didn’t have to kiss that stone.

The lakes of Killarney, the mountains, the Cliffs of Moher, are visual smorgasboards but the best part of Ireland besides the scenery are the people. As I rode along through the little towns and villages, people were more than anxious to talk to ” the Yank.” I was in a pub one night, sipping my Guiness when an older gentleman came up to me and said,” So where are you from Yank?” I said,” How do you know I am a Yank?” ” He said,” Not too many fellows in these parts wear shorts and running shoes.” We laughed and I bought him a pint- probably part of his strategy anyhow. Another lady kept me in her parlor after I asked her for some water. She served me scones and tea and brought out all her old pictures of when John Kennedy was visiting. We chatted until it was getting pretty dark and I had to make my way back.

I saw the Tour of Ireland in Bantry Bay which featured all the best amateur and professional cyclists from the continent and the strange thing was that the Russians all peed on the front wheel of their van. Apparently it was good luck for them in the race but I thought that would not be a good tradition to start up back in Pittsburgh. Bantry was interesting in that I got slightly overserved in a pub and walked home to the hotel in the dark past some pretty creepy Irish graveyards. I started to jog and then run thinking about all the wild stories my grandparents had told me about the Banshees. That is another story but I was happy to be back in the light of the hotel. Guiness is good for you- sometimes too good for you.

As I rode through the Dingle Peninsula on the west coast, I knew that my time had come to an end and as I got on the plane, I thought that I was leaving my home. I saw so many people that reminded me of all of my relatives and I could hear my mother’s voice in some of the expressions in my conversations with the Irish. They are a warm, funny, caring tribe and I am proud to have Irish blood in my very American veins. The rough roads, the castles, the lakes, the ocean, can all be seen at 15 miles an hour just like Gerhard advertises. Check him out at Gerhard’s Bicycle Oddysses P.O. Box 757 Portland,Oregon 97207-0757 503-223-2402. Go glide by a castle at 15 miles per hour. You will love it Thanks for reading. Sla’nte.