Big Bikes

Jump The Climb

I am shelled. The 4.5 or more hour ride I did with The Whittinghammer today has left me bombed out and depleted. Will do my best to describe what is going on in these photos (that I edited while I still had a semblance of alertness going on) and then I will commence passing out, face down on a pillow, only to be awoken repeatedly by night terrors spurred by anxious thoughts about the suffering I will have to endure during tomorrow's ride in the Northeast Kingdom on the single-speed.

So ya, that above photo, that's breakfast. We had to have a substantial breakfast before embarking on our tour of the valley.

Procrastination and caffeination

The forecast called for "sprinkles," it was not sprinkling when we got back to the house. By the time we had suited up to ride, it was pouring, by the time we were ready to roll out of the garage, it was deluging. I quietly suggested that we go back inside, make another pot of coffee, and wait it out. I don't mind getting caught in the rain, but there's just something super-sucky about starting a ride in the rain. My semi-subliminal message sunk in somehow, and next thing I knew, Jeff was offering to make another pot of coffee. Just as we sat down with our cups, the sky really opened up. We made the right choice.

Not that it was bone-dry when we finally did roll out.

Long Vermont roads

Before too, too long we were on the singletrack and the rain capes came off. We wouldn't need to don them at any point for the rest of the day. Despite the overnight rain, the trails were relatively dry, having soaked up every drop of moisture they could after the recent dry spell.


Going up? My goal for the day was to do a whole lot of sitting and spinning on the climbs. My goal was achieved.

Would ya look at that? Gorgeous.

The new Olympus Stylus Tough was a little slow on the draw, and definitely not a champ in low light situations but its sequential mode allowed me to take a few decent action shots, and it held up during this wet, gnarly day on the bike.


Last time we rode these trails, the ferns were just barely poking their little heads through a light dusting of snow. This time the air was filled with their sweet, kinda damp smell. Man, these trails are amazing, just freakin' amazing. So much flow, but you pay a heavy toll for that flow in the form of relentless climbing. We climbed for weeks and descended for days.



A jump in the river right in downtown Waitsfield put a nice ice-cap on the end of the ride.

Monday...there might be race report from the EFTA Big Ring Rumpus, or, if I blow that off entirely, there will at the very least be photos and maybe video from the Kingdom.

Oh, and don't forget about the Box o' Bike Porn for Doug. I'm serious about this thing, and you should be too. Wouldn't you be stoked if you were laid up and folks put together a big box of bike movies for your busted ass?