The Year That Was: 2015

Survival sometimes suffices for success.

Jan 1^st, 2016…the first time I’ve written that, and an exciting thing to have done. TDM s snow lust has been awakened. The year 2015 was a fine model, but the bike madness that prevailed over the best winter/spring /summer of riding TDM can recall resulted in a rather robust case of bike-specific burnout that kicked in right around the time of the first rains. These rains also coincided with a trip to Maui and increasing snow flurries, and the combination of waves, drifts and burnouts resulted in a substantial radio silence on TDM’s part…ahem…sorry bout that.

The (nonexistent) reader will be spared the whitened details of the time between now and the winters beginning, but it seemed important to check in with assurances that the burnout has ended, and anticipation of summer is at an all-time high in the Magnet household. Winter may be a fine time for some shuffling and railing on the bleached stage of the cascades, but TDM can assure that by night the maps are on the floor, and wheeled concepts are being batted around at an unprecedented rate. Summertime preparations are afoot, and TDM is up for any of the bad ideas that winter has granted him…there are long lists already, and the summer of 2016 is looking to be a whopper.

So…yes…TDM is looking forward to a grand future, all while enjoying the charms of a distinctly snowy holiday season. With that said, it is the New Year, and so some reflection on seasons past is a must. Thus, I present to you, the TDM account of 2015…be strong dear reader, as the boredom may be substantial.

TDM’s 2015 recalled (Check HERE for photo essay)

Best ride nominations: Pyramids epic, The Bohemian Crayfish, Elkhorn Crest, Frog Lakes, Mary’s Peak, Dread and Terror

Winner is…The Pyramids Epic (Though Bohemian was surprisingly close)

Best Descent nominations: South Pyramid Trail, Ahab, UTS/LTS/Porcupine Rim, Frog Lake, The Twinns, Word to your mother, Alsea Falls from the top, Crawfish from the top, Marys Peak, Crescent Mountain, Trappers Butte (Scar Mtn), Dutch Flat.

                Winner is… Frog Lake Idaho.

                Honorable mentions: Ahab, Marys Pk, The Twinns, S Pyramid.

Spectacular failure award: Winner is, Bad dog, good boy at a secret location in the Cascades.

Other Notable moments:

• Riding in the Elkhorns with Pinky – Wilderness feel, great campsite, and goats everywhere.
• The best winter of riding ever – Always tacky, seldom muddy, and tons of friends working it.
• Riding Word to Your Mother almost every week of the year- may be TDM’s fav 1 mi descent anywhere.
• Frog Lake with Pinky – wildflowers, big mountains, and the best descent of the summer, all with good camping at the base.
• Exploring the Bohemian Crayfish ride – There is something so classic about this route, and riding it for the first time was as much fun as I had all year.
• (Nearly) annual Moab trip with Pinky – amazing camp, and hit the best trails with maximum leisure.
• The Pyramids Epic- After years of trying, TDM finally got to put the thing together… and it’s one of the best rides in Oregon.
• Getting to share the charms of the Pyramids trail system with some buddies,- It is hard to get folks to try something unknown, and it was a good day out to say the least. Thanks for the trust boys. #mojodominance

Biggest Regrets: didn’t manage to pull off round-Lookout Mtn this year….sigh.

2016 themes to come

• Big 1 day loops on mixed track routes, a la Bohemian Crayfish…I’ve got some epics in mind.
• Bigger loops involving bikepacking, some being 100% singletrack.
• A continued ticking away of various list rides and untested areas

Thanks for (not) checking in, and talk with you all soon – TheDirtMagnet.

Elkhorn Crest Trail

Pinky approaches Twin Lakes on the Elkhorn Crest Trail

.Pinky and TDM went on a little roadtrip earlier this summer, and along the way hit a few new trails that really stood out to both of us.  The highlight for me was probably the Elkhorn Crest Trail, which has been on the wish list for a few years now, but never seemed to quite happen.  We didn’t get to rally the full rig due to time and energy constraints, but the ride still makes it to the top of the TDM classics list.  Here are a few photos, but check out the full write up here.

Pinky approaching the highpoint with goats raining rocks down on us from above. Tricky creatures, these goats.

Typical crest scenery, complete with baby goats (right), and a very pleased Pinky taking in the sights and sounds at the Twin Lakes Trail intersection.

Marble Pass

Closest Towns:  Baker City (30min), La Grande (1hr), Boise (2.5 Hr)

Trail Style:  Backcountry   Giggle Rating: ***  Riding :***  Scenery :****  Flow:**  Adventure: ****

Technicality: Moderate (Easy South of twin lakes).

Physical Difficulty: Easy to gnarly, depending on the section and use of shuttles, etc.

Bad dog, good boy

Pain or pleasure…which do you require?

Of late, TheDirtMagnet has been going after list rides with the reckless abandon found previously only in his distant past as a river lemming.  As the (non-existent) reader well knows, these rides are built on foundations made of low-grade mapping sands, and the odds of an encounter with a bad epic (as opposed to the more popular breed of good epics) are very high indeed.  Yet, even with this tendency to jump before precautionary reconnaissance has seen it’s due, recent list rides have without fail resulted in one type of beneficial experience or another.    The truth is, TDM has been on a roll lately, and though not all these efforts have resulted in the discovery of classics, each and every one of them have been interpreted by TDM’s mangled brain as special in some way…some of them more special  than others.

So it may be understandable one of these rigs recently turned out to be a little too special for comfort.  It could have been worse…a loop was completed, he was never truly lost, but it definitely could have been better. The worst part of the whole endeavor was that TDM never even found the arch that was his main motivation for this caper, though he now suspects that he was standing unknowingly on the very feature he sought  as he was scratching his head in confused dejection.  So, the fiasco was clearly a disaster, right? Initially TDM suspected this to be true, claiming that he would never be back with the vehemence of a two year old hucking peas at his/her parentals.  But then the curiosity began to skin the cat,  and not five minutes after departing the scene of the crime he began to reconsider this opinion, and pathetic slave that he is, that very night the maps and aerial photography were out, and a revenge tour was being planned. This could be taken as sickness, but TDM believes in something, and in this case he will let the (nonexistent) reader in on a little secret. You see, adventure costs the currency of comfort, but in the end a really good day out could never be ruined by something so small as failure or a bad ride, and after the bruising begins to fade, and the lemon soda and cool swim improves the spirits, the memory of the hunt is left remaining, and the rest is just water under the bridge. For an idea of what these waters might have entailed on this day, consult the word cloud above, then find your own nightmare, and let the love and the hate mingle to form yet another fine time.

Freedom through television, and other digressions

It is the first hot night of summer and TDM is so excited, but not even a little bit about riding his bike. The reasons for not being excited are the problems of an infant terrible; namely that he is simply a little bit bored with the bike thing right now, having recently enjoyed the charms of the McKenzie with several good friends, not to mention the best winter for riding on record…rehab for this type of shallow hardship will doubtless be a shortlived diversion toward other activates and interests…no fodder for further comment there, but the thing that does have him all pumped up is the fact that by the time he wakes up tomorrow morning there should be a two hour replay of the Fort William world cup downhill; number two in the 2015 series, and one of the best courses on the planet. Just this morning TDM and his good friend T$ were trading texts on our predictions and excitement and generally psyching up for another weekend of downhill drama. The fact that this drama is available to the likes of us, all in our 40’s with no time for dashing off to Europe to view the race, is even more amazing.

So many times over so many eras has TDM wished that just once he could pick a sport of interest that had some sort of mainstream media outlet or appeal. His mediocre interest in baseball occasionally allows some daily contact with the sporting life, and European citizenship would have allowed him to honor soccer with the masses, but seeing BMX for a single chips episode, or watching a five minute summary of the whitewater slalom world championships on the wild world of sports does little to scratch the itch of my interest in competition. Over the years TDM has been jealous of the main body of sports addicts in this country, whose radio pornography TDM sometimes dabbles when he drives here or there. In these moments there can be found some basic human interest among universal tales of striving, hardship, doubts, and the dreams that we live through our sporting heroes, even in their defeat. TDM has always imagined the benefits of being a fan of gridiron football, with multiple games per week available for casual perusal or habitual consumption, followed by limitless analysis from a myriad of diviners, visionaries and quacks, be them on TV, the radio, or simply haunting the water cooler. For years TDM dreamed modestly of even a single coworker with whom he could momentarily comment at the start of a meeting…”hey, did you catch that sick crossbow that Lugbill through down on gate 23 in Augsburg this weekend?”…but alas the talk is always of other reindeer games…that is until recently.

In the old days being an enthusiast of exotic sport left one waiting for months or more to hear the outcome of even the most classic of events. When young TDM made the main moto at a national BMX race he had to wait two months for the issue of BMX-plus that eventually printed his name under 3^rd place in 11 experts. These setbacks were hardly questioned, but they cut the head from any hope of really following the tour as a whole, and left the enthused…not. The first media breakthrough in TDM’s life was professional surfing, which has its flaws, but for an enthusiast such as myself is still a passion available in real time via online link. These webcasts have allowed TDM access to sporting events in-line with his real interests, and immediately his world was a better place. Gone were the days of waiting for news of events a month or two after the fact, and suddenly TDM could follow the personalities, tendencies and quirks of the myriad of pro surfers, and with that came a huge enrichment in the way I related to surfing as an armchair interest (Before this I was interested only in going surfing, now I was interested in surfing itself). I read about the history, the inventions, the personalities that made my favorite activity what is, and all of this investigation stemmed from watching sport in real-time. I also learned and grew as a surfing being, and suddenly lines I recognized from the perfection of Bobby Martinez’s backside hacks began to turn up in my own approach to water and waves, and my life was better for it.

Two years ago I started following world cup downhill, having never ridden a downhill bike (or even a dual suspension bike) in my life, and though I can’t discuss it with my co-workers, suddenly I can relate to the activity in a way that was not available before. In this modern era I happily waste moments texting with friends about the upcoming race, predicting, divining, and analyzing the rediculum of DH racing in a way not dissimilar to armchair quarterbacks across the globe. More than that, there are moments now where for a few feet of trail at a time I sometimes sense some resemblance in my riding to Gwinn’s strait lines, or Ratboys charging arcs, and in these occasions I find hope of freeing myself from that limited 40-something learning curve, and progressing in a way that might otherwise be unavailable; freedom found thorough television…who would have guessed?

Judge me for my sedentary hours if you must, but my thoughts on the subject are clear: it is DH xmas eve, and in the morning I’ll be sitting in a comfy chair and watching the best in the world teach us all a thing or two about rolling down a hill. Longue vie à la télévision modern!

Post-script bonus Material: This post was actually published a full month after the fact….distractible TDM is. Fort William was good, but the following race at Leogang Austria was a classic, with the last three riders down the hill each rising the bar in spectacular fashion. In the end it was Aaron Gwinn who snapped his chain in the first 20 feet, then smoothly dissected this pedally course by storming the technical portions to take the win over a deserving Conner Fearon (who was vying for his first WC win). Watching the last three racers charge this course with perfect runs, I was yelling at the computer, and for a moment I could have been any middle-aged idiot in America, yelling for his favorite team. Even better than that? Afterwards I went for a big ride, throwing the trademark TDM butt-whips as opportunities allowed, and feeling the presence of Bobby Martinez and Remi Therion in my bones. Now the cycle (ha ha ha) repeats, as there is another race this weekend, and my excitement is back up to maximum velocity. Go Loic!

Pointless but Plausible

The weekends of the pointlessly motivated have a flaw which is seldom discussed. Professionals everywhere set their clocks to the hour of their daily stumble, where they manage to roll from a better place and into the grind of their typical work week.  For your average Joe or Josey, a Saturday morning is an opportunity to take control of one’s diurnal impulses and sleep to the heart’s content, or at least the few extra minutes afforded before the pet/kids/spouse/insane neighbor “accidentally” bring consciousness to town.

But for some folk such modest anticipations are simply out of reach when maps have recently been spread across the office floor, and if these victims normally awake with difficulty at 6:30 am, they will now, with only a simple mission in their mind, awake suddenly at 0500, hoping to fall back asleep for at least another few minutes, but well aware of the hopelessness of their now activated mind and body.  The wiser of these will decide to give in, getting the fuck out of bed before they ruin the wondrous slumber of their still resting partner….a veteran move.

For TDM this scenario is recurrent during the summer months, when a winter’s worth of geographic obsession coalesces with newly snowless highlands, allowing the growing adventures lists of the darker months to finally be addressed.  These lists have, in one form or another permeated his life since around the age of 8, and though the missions have varied in scope, their character, and the process that conceives of them, have remained constant; comb maps for locations of high mystery, look for access points to either blue or black-dotted lines, and form a circle if for bikes/hikes, or a long steep line if for rivers/climbs.  This dish is best served with a pinch of absurdity, so if possible look for other nearby loops/lines/arcs, and combine via some vague clue of connection; usually through use of poor quality air photos or here-say.  Now the sketchy part; it is one thing to dream a little dream, but authentic living requires that we apply these ideas at the rate of at least two-per summer, with frequencies sometimes getting up to four or five epics a season.  The damage can be extensive, but the rewards last a lifetime.

Just this last weekend TDM found himself unable to return to his beloved zzzz’s, lying quietly beside Pinky trying not to vibrate as he anticipated the list day adventure to come.  The anticipation was thrilling, but so was the knowledge that while the outcome of the adventure may range from sublime to abhorrent, the sleep of angels was a certainty in the night to follow.

For more on this last list ride see “Bohemian Crawfish” in the Stories of Terror and Triumph and the like section of this little webzone. Peace.

Old Bike Day

Last weekend Pinky and TDM attended a gathering of friends at a private compound in Sisters Oregon.  Beer and hot-tubs  were the main focus, but between beer reps and marveling at our friend’s amazing property we always sneak a few laps at the Peterson Ridge Trails, which happens to be one of our favorite casual places to roll a mountain bike. As the weekend approached TDM’s Mojo HD developed a bit of a squeak, announcing (loudly) that it was time to please get some fresh bearings in the linkage. TDM was a bit tardy on the repairs, resulting in a rather nice bike laying around the garage floor in about thirty-five pieces. For a moment TDM assumed that he would be sitting out the bike rides this year, hanging out at the ranch with beer and books while Pinky and friends enjoyed the day on wheels, but then he noticed Pinky’s former steed; a mid-1990’s Specialized Rockhopper upon which Pinky had once done notable damage to berms and many male egos across the region.   The bike had been bumped from regular use when she purchased a  delightful Yeti three years previous, and the aging hardtale had hung on a rack since then. TDM had many memories of Pinky mowing down singltrack on  this classic, and it appeared that some fun could be had on the bike, so it was placed on the back of the desert cruiser alongside the YETI, and we drove over the pass to Sisters.

The new and the old share a ride to the east side

Sisters is very well adapted to riding fast bikes, and TDM woke up on Saturday morning looking forward to getting back on a bike with some raw XC speed. After extending the seatpost to max and adjusting the brakes a bit the bike seemed ready to go, and TDM found the fit of the bike to be surprisingly good (whenever possible TDM recommends the choice of life partners who happen to ride the same size bike). That said, it was obvious that the road bike fitting techniques frequently applied on early mtn bikes was something that would take some re-adjustment to.  TDM fell in behind Pinky and immediately reveled in the quick acceleration this bike provided.   This excitement lasted into the first turn, where TDM suddenly noticed that the 90 degree head-tube angle and the stretched-taffy body position were conspiring to kill him. The second turn felt no better, and with his thumb desperately searching for the dropper post lever, he approached the much steeper third turn. Finding no solution for his ass’s position above his hands, he decided to tap the brakes to slow down a notch. Nothing happened. ..the bike seemed to speed up. TDM pulled harder on the brakes as he began to press into the turn, and so, of course, the V-brakes suddenly clamped down, and both wheels stopped turning…and TDM simply rode off into the forest before coming to rest some feet away in a patch of sage.

Over the next 30 or so miles some of the tricks of riding the bike were recalled, and by the end of the day I was pretty comfy with the whole thing, but the idea of riding gnarly trails or jump-lines on the gadget seemed a terrifying prospect, and I found myself open-mouthed at the thought of what I’d seen Pinky do on this bike in the past…often going faster than many other competent riders on 6” trail bikes. TDM also recalled that he was once able to do the same on his old Gunnar; a bike whose margin for error was famously limited, but on which I could (at one time) hang close to expert riders of modern bikes on even the burliest of descents.

After some analysis I believe the difference came down to one thing; the new bikes felt safe. The body sits more comfy and upright, the bikes are better balanced, and the slack front end refuses all but the most committed of endo attempts. The brakes work in a predictable and smooth manner, the suspension sucks up chatter and leaves one only with the important signals; hop off this, slam that, plow through it all. TDM recalled that when he first started riding some of his friend’s modern bikes he quickly realized that they could plow through things that he’d always assumed must be avoided to keep the bike moving forward without unfortunate consequences…you could pick the line and go there, even if something was in the way. He also recalled that, having learned to smash roots and rocks, he could actually do the same thing on the Gunnar, but it just took a little more attention to detail, a lot more body english and the commitment to pull it off.   Basically, things he never would have tried on a hardtale were learned on a squishy bike, but then applied to the old bike in a way that made it seem more capable than ever.

So why was it then that, having known these things, he could not now re-instate the skills and trickery he once had?  The short version is that I don’t have a clue, but I suspect that TDM has become uncomfortable with discomfort. There can be no doubt that TDM appears to be a generally better rider now than two years ago when the Ibis came to roost in his garage, but those skills are not available for activation  when it feels like death is on the line. One thing  is clear though; the old bike was super fun, even if it did expose some softness in his technique.  The old bike will get ridden again, but probably not at Black Rock or in the mac with the boys.

TDM is saving for a modern hardtale, but there can be no doubt that his love for the new bike has been made stronger by revisiting the past, even if there is a new respect for what we all did back in the day on bikes that were, lets face it, pretty damn crappy.

Tactic of Rain Evasion

Welcome to the loamy world of The Dirt Magnet, No offense, but writing here today with you was definitely not the droid I was looking for.  You see, I love my job and the endless supply of peanutbuttery objects it supplies, but I spend my week trying not to think about where I’d really like to be, namely riding my bike, digging in the dirt, tracing lines on a map, or some combination of the three. Yet here I am artlessly tapping my Saturday away, with nary a shovel or berm in site.

WTF, you ask?  Bike in disrepair? Ice storm crush every tree in the county? Favorite trail currently being logged? Well, tragically yes to each of these excuses, but friends of TDM know that details like a lack of brakes or a trail covered in downed logs are inconsequential when a bid for elective misery and/or trail shredding is on the line, so what gives? It’s pretty simple really…I’m a weak brand of sauce, and the rain is impressive today…very wet actually…and with rumors of locusts. While I am a native and current resident of Oregon, and really should prove to be more durable in the face of a sprinkle than this, I find being durable gets exhausting during the dark months of November-February (or is that July?), and Pinky (enabling & trail shredding wife) and I are comfortably watching the creations of Joss Whedon while liberally applying quality coffee products…so here I am, writing lines like “here I am”, and avoiding the minor discomfort that sogginess brings. So this is where you come in. It’s going to be a long-ass winter, and there will be times where being wet, cold and salty sounds like ass…cold ass. TDM’s sense of worth is a fragile contraption, and on those days he needs a sound rationalization to keep him tidy and on the couch. So here it is.

I, The Dirt Magnet acknowledge that weakness in the face of precipitation (and locusts) has led to a fate worse than office work; I’m now a blogger. Obviously this is a cautionary tale, but perhaps my demise can be o some use to the reader. It is my hope that the beta I propose to spew might aid in your personal quest to find a trail and ride it, or at least serve as a rainy day safeguard, acting in the hope of a better effort tomorrow, the next day, or maybe one of those days next year when the weather is a bit more tolerable.