Ice Road Rucker

Photo Courtesy Jay Cable via Picasa

In the middle of the night when no one was looking, he slipped away from his family.  He stuffed his favorite energy food - Poptarts, a hand cannon and sleeping gear into the panniers of his IF 29er and headed off into the wild of Alaska.  Well at least that's how it seemed to me.  Good thing that’s where the similarities end between my friend Rucker and Christopher McCandless.  Rucker took good care to tie up his loose ends, pass out kisses and hugs to those closest to him and promised to stay in contact with his family on his trip into the wild.

There was no big announcement when Rucker left.  I half expected a send off at with a burger and beers at Zipp’s Café.  I’d hear tidbits from friends about some Alaska trip.  Some said Canada.  I sort of wondered why he was doing all the group rides on a full suspension mountain bike weighted down to 35+ pounds with lights and still crushing everyone on road bikes up the climbs.  BioWheels bike shop posted a photo of his newly built rig.  Someone mentioned he was trying to figure out how to carry his new "Alaskan Passport" on the bike.  Well, at least he thought of everything.  Then I got the first email from his wife.  He was gone:

Rucker's Custom IF

Rucker spent part of the weekend riding the Denali Highway, which according to him is not the sort of highway to which we might be accustomed.

Yesterday he had a burger with Marcello from Italy, saw the biggest porcupine he had ever seen, watched a moose, and last night stayed at Sourdough Campground.

Brief but vivid.  These updates were accompanied by Rucker’s sparse Facebook posts from his rescue beacon, “Everything is okay.  Here are my coordinates.”  Each time I see one, I click through to see where in the world Rucker is.  There is never a message, link or photo.  Just a link to a dot on a map of the Alaskan wilderness and another email: 

The Story Unfolds in Clicks and Links

Rucker just left Wrangell-St. Elias Preserve & Wilderness.   He (spent) his time yesterday on an old mining road in Wrangell-St.Elias.  Had some of the most beautiful views so far, and (traveled) some of the gnarliest roads.  Parts of the road were crossed by creeks up to his panniers. 

For the past three days, his mileage has been:

Monday: 150

Sunday: 110

Saturday: 102

…all on mostly dirt roads.

Well he’s certainly making the most of his school teacher summer and the fitness gleaned from the Mohican 100.  I can’t believe the distance he’s covered from Anchorage.  He’s halfway to Prudhoe Bay by now.  A few days went by and I got another email:

Yesterday, Rucker was passed by two Google Earth cars on highway 1, heading North, between miles 14 and 15.  If they update instantly, there is a good chance he is on Google Earth there.  If anyone can find a picture, I'd love to see it.

Of course I clicked on Google Earth.  Of course I didn’t see anything.  Maybe a polar bear got him.  Another few days passed.  “Everything is okay.  Here are my coordinates.”  It appears he’s picking his way through the Alaskan valleys.  Then another pictureless email:  

Rucker made it to Canada yesterday but was turned away at the border on account of his hand cannon (Alaskan Passport.)  So no Inuvik, and probably no polar bears.  He spent his last night in Eagle and will be heading to Deadhorse.  

He said the roads are rough and they must be - his original tires are history and he is working his way through his spares.

According to the last Facebook post yesterday, Rucker was in Coldfoot Alaska on the Dalton Highway, home of Ice Road Truckers, apparently waiting a shipment of some fresh 29er tires.  

To be continued... 

The Perfect Al-dente Monday Night Noodle Ride

Kickstands Up: 630pm Columbia Square (Delta & Columbia Parkway)

The Ride: an hour or so into downtown, Covington, Newport and back.

Speed: Noodle

Here’s the recipe for the perfect al-dente noodle ride: 1 small ring, two cups of coasting, a pinch of parks, 1 purple bridge, a couple flakes of friends, and a circumnavigation of Paul Brown Stadium-lightly spun.  Blend together at low speed. 

Just like cooking mac & cheese from a box, the noodle ride is easy in theory, but harder than you think to pull off.  Both are incredible with cocktail wieners.  Respecting the noodle is of the utmost importance.  It’s a spirit, an upside down ride where being off-the-front is promptly heckled, an exercise in non-exercise.  Ride whatever bike you want, dazzle us with your grocery cruiser and short shorts.  Coasting is encouraged, as is the use of unnecessary racing equipment like disc wheels, bib numbers and shoe covers.  Also highly encouraged is flair, such as a devil horns on your helmet.  However, whistles, and other instruments of mass annoyance, are strictly prohibited.

Last Day! Click-Donate & Win A GU Energy Prize Package

The noodle ride is about recovering from a race or a weekend of long and/or fast rides.  It's about noticing the things you miss when trying to keep your heart from coming out your mouth on other group rides.  It’s your sprinters grupetto just barely making the time cut.  Spin your legs out.  Have an actual conversation that goes beyond "hey dude" with your riding partners.  Notice the sculptures in the park, the gargoyle on the downtown building and how refreshed you feel when you get home.

The Noodle:

West on Riverside Drive/Pete Rose Way

Lt on Mehring Way

Counterclockwise around PBS

South on Suspension Bridge Sidewalk

Sidewalk to East on 2^nd St Covington

Counterclockwise through Covington’s Riverside Neighborhood/Park

Lt on Gerard

Lt on 4^th St Bridge to Newport’s 5^th St

Lt on Monmouth

Rt on 3^rd in front of Newport on Levy

Lt on Purple Bridge

Lt U-turn into Sawyer Pt Park/ Through Stonehenge

/Friendship Park

Rt on Riverside

Rt on St Peters (Schmidt Fields Park)

Lt on Delta to Columbia Square

She’s Ebaying All Her Nike Stuff b/c of Vick Signing

My stomach still feels flipped.  My nose is turned up and my bottom lip down.  It was disgusting, grotesque, sickening, heartbreaking, angering, sad.  Along with the link to her Nike eBay auction, she sent a photo of one of the dogs that died in the Michael Vick dog fighting ring.  If you didn’t hear, after a brief hiatus, Nike resigned Vick to a sponsorship deal.

She was right, people tend to shy away from the picture, me included.  At first I thought, there’s no way I can post that picture to a bike blog that for the most part is a pretty happy place.  People come here for goofy stuff. Then again.  What do I have to lose? I doubt you'll stop reading if you see this.  I'm sure I'll write something funny next week.  Dogfighting is much more tolerable when you don’t see a dog with both ears, bottom lip and half its face missing. So, in protest, my cycling friend Bridget is selling all her Nike stuff for one price.  All sale proceeds with go directly to Best Friends Animal Society, the organization that cared for Vick’s rescued Pitbulls a few years ago.  That's quite a statement, considering there's two dozen items for one price.

Nike’s statement as quoted on Oregonlive.com, "We have re-signed Michael Vick as a Nike athlete. Michael acknowledges his past mistakes. We do not condone those actions, but we support the positive changes he has made to better himself off the field." The company's statement added, "We don't have any comment further than the statement." 

“Mistakes” and “actions” are much easier words to look at than bloody dogs.  Thankfully a Facebook friends lightened it up by posting “Eat poop and die Nike!” when she put up the link to her auction.  Another who works at a shoe store said, “I had a customer tell my co-worker… not to bother bringing out any Nikes because they re-signed Vick.”  Coming from an advertising background, sadly I’m sure Nike has crunched the numbers and realized that the benefit of having Vick as a Nike athlete is worth the fallout from animal lovers turning their back on the swoosh.

It made me look in my closet.  I have a cycling under jersey and a set of running shoes.  I’m not married to them.  Both are take it or leave it items.  There’s at least 5 other brands that I can easily turn to.  Since seeing the bloody dog, I’ll have a hard time disassociationg those shoes with Vick.  I’ll likely never purchase Nike again. 

However, there’s a way to change that.  Click on the auction and bid.  There are 7 pairs of shorts, 2 sports bras, 3 caps, a baselayer, hooded pullovers, and a pair of cycling shoes and sadly a branded Livestrong duffle.  At least you’ll know that the money you spend on this merchandise will go to helping rescued dogs and not end up in a check made out to Michael Vick.

Do Some GUd for Ohio MS 150

Click Here and Donate Today!

The Best Bike Blog EVER supports the MS 150 and is a good hubby (well tries very hard to be anyway.)  So we're Doing Some GUd for the MS150 by helping my wife Rachel reach her fundraising goal by offering a chance to win a GU Energy Sampler Prize Package.

To win: click here and donate to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society in support of the MS 150 through Monday, July 25th.  Rachel will be riding with the Kroger Team for the Ohio "Venture the Valley" MS 150.  Donations of $10 or more are highly encouraged and may even get you extra cowbell.  Accept the challenge!

Chomp!

Support This Great Ride & Cause

The GU Energy Sampler Prize package includes multiple flavors of your GU favorites like Original Energy Gels, Rocktane, GU Brew Electolyte Tabs, GU Chomps and more.  Donate today!

Winner will be drawn randomly on Tuesday, July 26th 2011 and notified via email.  Click here to learn more, see fundraising totals and participate in the 2011 Ohio MS 150 Venture the Valley August 27th and 28th.

Voeckler Positive for Snatching Contador’s Body…and Other TDF Thoughts

Thor-too

Power, perseverance…pecs, Thor’s finish line salute would make a great tattoo.  Who couldn’t benefit from the power of a mini-thor on the upper arm?  What Would Thor Do?  Take it one step further.  It’d make a ridiculous chest tattoo.  Unzip your jersey and, ba-bam, say hello to the god of thunder ladies!

Klo-no!

Or, maybe, “Oh No-den!”  Kloden clipped out in the first hour of Friday’s stage.  While a bummer, at least I’m finally convinced that no one on Team Radio Shack is doping.  Apparently Horner, Popo and Bracko were one guy short of fielding a team the Grand Theft Auto X-box tournament in the back of the Radio Shack team bus.  No matter how hard I stomped on the couch cushions and scared my cats by shouting “Klooo-den” with a deep haunting German accent, he could not over come his injuries.  Levi was last seen loading up on mojos, rabbits feet, Italian horns, good luck charms and numerous translation guides to be able to talk with his remaining teammates at a Pyrenean gypsy kiosk.

Voecklador

Saturday’s stage with, exactly 43 HORS category climbs, the equivalent of doing 20 lactate threshold hill repeats on K2, looks so diabolical there may be more guys that miss the time cut than finish the stage.  HTC might have to give Cavendish a rescue beacon, a satellite phone and a pannier full of hoagie sandwiches to survive the stage.  If Voeckler is still in yellow after Saturday he should be tested for surgically removing his head and placing it on Contador’s body. 

Hooger TFU Award

Shouldn’t there be a Hooger-TFU Award in the tour for guys like Flecha and Hoogerland?  Something like a Free Pass, at least an equivalent to surviving getting hit by a speeding car, rag-dolled into barbed wire and finishing before the time cut.  They should be able to skip 3 stages, be booked in a 5-Star resort, retain their position on GC before the wreck, and be dropped off with a 5 minute lead in a town just outside of the Pyrenees.  Shit…they should each get a car like the one that hit them.  After the lawyers have a chat, they probably will…polka dot Audi’s with shiny 24-inch spinner rims.

A Case for Extreme Cyclocross Couponing

I may need to get a 3-ring binder, a set of Fiskars and read up on extreme couponing.  Getting ready for cyclocross is similar to getting a shopping list together.  “How are we on T.P.?  Are you good on tires?  Deodorant?  How 'bout cassettes?  The shaving cream feels a little light.  What’s that bar tape look like?"  The way it went last night, I’m gonna need two shopping carts at BioWheels bike shop, or a cyclocross intervention.

I pulled the IF Planet X off the hook, wheels out of their bags and took an inventory of needed parts.  Unlike the clippy-clip obsessed people on TLC, I do not have a shelf of fresh cyclocross tires piled next to 97 tubes of Colgate toothpaste and 43 boxes of Rice A Roni in my garage, but that would be super cool wouldn’t it?  At least I have a Groupon for the shop, a generous team discount and free reign of the BioWheels workshop.  However, I’m not going to get two cart loads of parts for $1.56 after coupons.  This is precisely the reason I told my wife I didn’t need any new clothes when she mentioned the sale at Banana Republic a few weeks ago.  I’d go naked to race cross.  Thankfully, she’s well aware of that weakness, is quick to point out holes in my t-shirts and is an extreme Grouponer.

It’s that awkward time of year when a cyclocrosser has to make the decision to ignore the rest of the summer races and focus on a season that’ll go through December, January if you plan on racing Nationals.  I should be writing out the racing calendar and back dating a training plan to this week, an empty rest week dedicated to gearing up and focusing on cyclocross season.  Instead I got lured into a Sunday mountain bike race and am intrigued by the criterium tonight.  There’s a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.  Please Angel of CX, help me do this.

It barely shifted.  I haven’t ridden this bike since the Sub 9 Death March months ago.  I spun through the gears and adjusted the derailleur.  Like an old man with bourbon, I hit it with lube and exercised its joints back into functionality.  I pumped tires.  The Fango held, although the tread is loose in two places.  The Griffo wore out my triceps.  With sweat dotting the garage floor and freddies forming in my armpits, the gauge would not top 20 pounds and returned to zero quickly.  I unscrewed the valve stem and poured in sealant.  The pump squeaked.  My arms throbbed.  Then I saw the horror of sealant bubbles.  Help me Oprah.  Save me Tom Cruise.  It must have a half dozen pin holes in it.  I marked the holes, hit it with more sealant and, as if it were alive, let it sit overnight in hopes that it will heal on its own.  I know I’ll need two new tires, a 12-27 cassette, tire glue, a chain, cables, housing, bar tape, some swanky white Hudz, an oversized shopping cart and a good line when the credit car bill arrives.

HTFU: Hoogerland The F Up Bracelet

Shocking.  Tragic. Heroic.  Hoogerland makes the yellow jersey winning break, scraps with Voeckler for KOM points over numerous mountain passes, gets hit by a car, rag-dolled into a fence, shredded by barbed wire, miracurously remounts his bike and only after getting dropped miles from the finish line makes the time cut to claim the polka dot jersey in tears on the Tour De France podium yesterday.  Holy Hoogerland!  You just took HTFU to a ho…nutha…level. 

Hoogerland is now synonymous with cycling heroism.  Horner you get a close second buddy.  We all have our limits where we’d turn our bib number into the official.  I DNF’d in May at the Mohican 100 because I felt exhausted.  Even though I felt helpless, I could still physically pedal and steer.  Yet I chose to climb in the car versus struggling through the next 15 miles.  Looking back, worst case it might’ve taken me 2 hours.  Still, I rationalized that I could not go on, my goal was gone.  It wasn’t worth it.  What was Hoogerland’s rationalization?  A polka dot jersey?  Here he is carved up like a thanksgiving turkey by a rusty fence.  He looks like he survived a biblical whipping post.  He knows he got hit by a car.  His chamois has a trap door.  Where were the hysterics?  The only tears I saw were ones of joy on the podium.  It was almost as if there were no other option but to go on. 

Over the weekend I read a story in Outside magazine about the new Spot brand rescue beacons which are being marketed to through-hikers and backwoods adventurers and the namby-pambies who’ve hit the rescue button because of cold toes or over exuberant snoring from tent mates.  You laugh, but how many times have you given up on a race because of something ridiculous like exhaustion, a spat of road rash, a broken pedal?  It’s no different.  In the light of Hoogerland, HTFU just got a lot harder.  Hooger The F Up is more like it. 

That’s why for the limited time price of $19.95 plus shipping and handling you can have your very own Hoogerland bracelet.  It’s stylishly polka dotted.  It cannot be cut with barbed wire and will always get you to the time cut in time to stand on the podium.  It’s guaranteed to shut off all processes of rational thought and will make sure you finish what you set out to do.  Wear the HoogerTFU bracelet for those days when you don’t want to ride because it’s too hot outside.  HoogerTFU!  Wear it as a reminder that you can walk home when you break a chain.  HoogerTFU!  Wear it as a reminder that as long as you have a heart beat, can pedal, see and steer that you’ll always finish your race.  

In Your Face Sunglass Bitch!

We all know good sunglasses come from a bitchy girl behind the counter at a boutique, she's Sunglass Bitch.  Wallpapered in Oakley, D&G and ooh look, Prada, you completely overlook that this swanky place may be called a hut.  Sunglass Bitch oozes so much style, look at those high heels, that you’re coddled into believing that you walked into a world where a 19 year old can make six figures selling sunglasses and that is her convertible Porsche in the parking lot.  You’re certain she and Paris Hilton are so totally partying tonight at her downtown loft-style condo.  Silently, you make plans to set your liberal arts college diploma on fire when you get home. 

Maybe there’s something in that intoxicating thick cloud of perfume surrounding Sunglass Bitch, but now you know you haven’t found the right pair of sunglasses till you’ve met her sculpted eyebrow scowl of approval.  UV protection, polarization, photochromic…none of that matters anymore.  You know you walked through the door a dorky cyclist and you’ll leave at least one hundred fifty dollars lighter, a better looking dorky cyclist carrying a dainty bag which holds your dorky black pleather zippered case and a dorky soft cloth which she insisted is made from baby Alpaca fur.  If Sunglass Bitch liked you, you might get a sticker.  She'll likely call it a decal.  Like showing up on the Sunday racer ride, you’ll never measure up to her Cat 1 style; you can only hope to be a better looking more stylish dork. 

After the experience, you yourself become a sunglass bitch.  You don’t spin racks of sunglasses at bike shops anymore.  Pah-lease.  Good sunglasses don’t come on plastic rack with a matching angled 3x4 inch mirror.  You don’t take fashion advice from the dreadlocked hipster with the greasy apron who only speaks with his thumbs up or down.  Good sunglasses come from a total bitch shrouded in heavenly halogen light in a store with crystal-like glass cases, full length framed mirrors and iPads for cash registers.

Corey May Be Hurtin' me, but I'm Stylin'

Even though I feel like I’m cheating on the Sunglass Bitch, for the past two weeks I’ve been sporting a set of Ryders Eyewear Seekers.  Sure at first I turned up my nose.  They retail for a paltry $89.99 and can probably be found on spinning racks, but I feel as hip and trendy as the day I walked out of the hut holding my dainty bag in my finger tips.  “Those are sweet glasses,” my riding buddy with the Harvard Business degree said.  Bonus points!  I know he drives an expensive car and lives in a condo downtown for realzies.  Naturally, I feel worthy of my undergraduate UW diploma again.  They’re polarized, which means nothing to the Sunglass Bitch, but I can see the wheel two inches in front of mine traveling at 27mph into the setting July sun.  When the road turns up the valley and under the lush canopy of trees on Amsterdam Road in Northern Kentucky, the photochromic lenses lighten automatically, like the headlights on the Sunglass Bitch’s imaginary Porsche.  Yeah, $90 bucks, including the tough zippered case and wipey cloth.  Did I mention they're scratch resistant?  That helps when they fall out of your helmet and slide along the road like a crash during the first week of the Tour.

The cool thing is, you can win these very glasses or any pair on RydersEyewear.com right now by commenting on this blog post before Midnight on Sunday, July 10^th.  It’s the Tour De Rants p/b Ryders Sunglasses.  Take that Sunglass Bitch.

(details in upper right hand column of blog)

Asheville: Where Trails are Named and Maps are Numbered

WIN THE PRIME!  Enter the Tour De Rants p/b Ryders Eyewear and win the sunglasses of your choice from RydersEyewear.com!  Simply, comment on today’s post between now and Sunday July 10^th.  Ba bam!

With the Tour De France occasionally locking up on the internet TV in the workshop, I handed the mechanic at Backcountry Outdoors $11.95 for my DuPont State Forest Map.  Guess the price has gone up since it was declared an official IMBA Epic mountain bike ride.  It’s been a long time, maybe 3 years, since I’ve been to Asheville and Brevard, long enough for Backcountry Outdoors to change their sign and beautifully organize their sales floor, but I don’t recall ever paying for a map of North Carolina’s DuPont State Forest.  I almost thought they were free, grabbed one and walked out.  Wait.  Is that a price tag?  It is.  Seriously, I probably have three sweat soaked blurred DuPont Maps in a folder at home marked “Asheville-DON’T FORGET TO TAKE THESE MAPS STUPID,” which of course I forgot.  It was a last minute decision.  It sort of went like this.  My wife asked, “Wanna go to Asheville over the 4^th sweetie pie?”  In my deep sexy Barry White voice I replied, “Fo shizzle my Nizzle!” 

Immediately I started planning.  Yeah right.  This is my wife and I we’re talking about.  Most of our ride times end in “ish.”  Like 8 in the morning-ish, or more likely 10:30-ish.  We like to wing it.  Still, knowing we’d get in Saturday Afternoon and leave Monday afternoon, we did make some loose plans to make the most of Asheville, the unicycle and dirty bearded guy capitol of the world.  We’d ride near the hotel somewhere on Saturday and go out for dinner somewhere afterward.  With fireworks somewhere in Asheville sometime Sunday night, we planned to ride mountain bikes at DuPont sometime during the day.  On Monday morning we’d do whatever ride we didn’t do on Saturday, either mountain bike at Bent Creek or do a road ride somewhere on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

At the hotel computer, I printed off a black and white copy of the color map of Bent Creek.  Whoever wrote the Bent Creek Map must have been the same survey engineer that created the DuPont State Forest Map.  While accurate and up to date with closed areas (the trail passing under Bridal Veil at DuPont is now closed to bikes), they are not very user friendly on the bike.  The trails on the map are marked with numbers.  The trails on the dirt are marked with names on wooden signposts, no numbers.  So, if you’re not a rocket scientist, and say a dufus with a Bachelors degree in Broadcasting, you’ll find yourself looking like a cave man in the space shuttle at every trail intersection if you don’t pre-plan your route and or ride with someone who works at the aerospace division at GE. 

I thought I was being a genius with the Bent Creek map.  I wrote out a crib sheet of trail numbers, put it in a sandwich baggie and stuffed it under my shorts leg.  It read: Hardtimes Trailhead, Lt 664, cross road, 666, Rt 660, Lt Road, Rt 150…etc.  Brilliant!  I could read the sheet through the white leg panels of my new shorts.  It didn’t help.  In real life, there are no numbers on the signposts at either Bent Creek or DuPont.  So, rather than having a flowing steady ride, I found myself getting the map out of my Hydrapak Morro at every other intersection or face the certain doom of taking my wife down something gnarly.  Eventually, I just stuck the map in my shorts leg.  That way I could read it, check the number/name key and look a few turns ahead while riding easy sections.  We ended up riding Deer Lake, Wolf Branch, Ledford, Ingles Field Gap, Little Hickory, Sidehill and Explorer in 2-ish hours.  Regardless of the map hiccups, it was as beautiful as I remembered.  We snapped a photo of my wife’s Litespeed Pisgah in Pisgah and headed out for big noodles at Doc Chey’s.

(Leave a comment and win a pair of Ryders Eyewear sunglasses.  Woot!)

Stop Animation Video Wins Road ID Flat Joe Biker Contest

Ring the Cowbell for Reader Mike F.

He obviously has the world’s smallest cyclocross race course in the world in his front yard!  He’s reader Mike F. and the winner/creative genius of The Best Bike Blog EVER! Flat Joe Biker photo contest presented by Road ID.  Congratulations and thank you Mike.  Enjoy your Road ID e-gift card.  The amount of work that went into this is very humbling. 

Not only does the entry combine a still photo of cycling with Flat Joe Biker and Road ID, it had to take a couple dozen photos, carefully and precisely crafted together to make this stop animation video of a cyclocross tragedy.   

We’d also like to thank all who entered including: Dave R. of Big Dave Sports who put Flat Joe Biker literally on the podium of the Ohio State Masters and Juniors Championships

April and Mitch B. who took Flat Joe to New Orleans for a lovely time at Cafe du Monde.

Jeni R. who toasted the Lumberjack 100 with Flat Joe.  Cheers!

Rod who found a riding partner in Flat Joe while in Tsali.  "We should go that way!"

And, yeah, what the hell, thanks to Adam N.  Even though he showed up late for the ride by sending in a photo this morning after the deadline, he also gets an honorable mention by kitting up to ride the Mid Mountain Trail in Park City with Flat Joe Biker and Road ID.

To learn more about how Road ID can save your ride or pick up your own e-gift card visit Road ID online and/or like the Road ID Facebook page.

What’s next?  The Tour De Rants of course!  More details coming on Tuesday, but you can enter now by leaving a comment (a rant) on this blog post and joining The Best Bike Blog EVER! Tour De Rants peloton p/b Ryders Eyewear.   (Yes, you’ll have to log in with one of the options presented…anonymous comments will not be considered...duh)  The prize: the Ryders Eyewear of your choice.  Ba bam!  Like Ryders on Facebook here.  While I’m diggin’ on the Seeker, find out which style and lens options match your riding and noggin’ at RydersEyewear.com today.