Sunday, We Raced The Train

A handful of riders were polled.  What makes a good group road ride?  They answered: a steady pace, the “best” riders in town, a challenging route.  Obviously those 5 riders skewed the results by having Bath Salts in their water bottles.  I’d answer with road rarity, pleasant conversation, good friends, animal sightings, blue skies, temperature in the mid 70’s, low humidity, great views, and a small general store.  If you said average speed, few stops or anything having to do with physically riding the bike, you need to stop treating your bathroom as a pantry. 

Rolling To Visalia on Decoursey Pike in Kenton Co. KY

“Looks like I missed a good one yesterday,” Mitch, the owner of BioWheels bike shop, said to me Monday night.  “Yeah.  Great route.  Nice pace.” I tossed back too quickly.  Before my Bath Salt brain could dig for specifics, the phone rang.  Mitch answered.  I finished the conversation in my head as I concentrated on wrapping my wife’s handlebars with new tape and getting the spacing just right, no visible logos.  I’m thinking maybe it was the chat at the Visalia convenience store’s picnic table that made the ride so special.  I’m not sure what it was about, but it was light hearted, definitely not politics or even a hint of negativity.  Then I remembered the turn off the beaten path up a road called Moffett in rural Kenton County Kentucky.  To date, there are only 4 people on the Moffett Strava Segment KOM list, all of them on Sunday’s ride.  The climb crested at a farm with two horses at the fence, one umbrella tree an infinite amount of green rolling hills.

In Cincinnati, people rave about the Hyde Park Kroger grocery store with an in-house Starbucks, Sushi chef and wine tasting bar.  While the price tag of the designer jeans and shades of Eastside shoppers may rival the carbon fashion show I see on the Wednesday night ride, the best cycling food stops have no aisles.  There’s nothing better than leaning your bike under a hand painted sign that reads “General Store” and hearing your cleats clop across boot-worn splintering hardwood floors.  You better bring cash.  They make change from a lock box.  If they do take credit cards, the scanner is the analog beep-booop-beee type.  Better yet, they don’t sell gas.  In our area I’m partial to the Claysville and Rabbit Hash General Stores.  It’s a well earned 2 hour ride to either.  Third on my list is the store we stopped at Sunday in Visalia where 536 crosses the Licking River.  While it’s not as historic, far away or nostalgic, it has a picnic table out front.  If you approach from the South, it comes as a nice highlight at the end of a two mile one lane road that parallels the railroad tracks called “Vises Trail.”  Sunday, we took the turn off under the bridge and raced the train as its whistle screamed loud enough to raise goose bumps on my legs.

Technically, it is a barn.

Even after living here for 12 years, a former cheesehead, Kentucky horse farms still hold a mystique for me.  The horse farm on Sunday’s ride was small compared to those outside of Lexington.  There you’ll see horses along the white roadside fence with gorgeous shiny brass bridals, some even with their name on them.  In the distance, the freshly painted wooden fencing leads to an exquisite barn that makes your suburban home look like a refrigerator box under an overpass.  Periodically, you’ll see horses with hoods over their heads, ghost horses.  At first glance it seems a little cruel their eyes are covered up.  Yesterday the horses didn’t have hoods and their whole heads were swarming with flies.  I learn something every time.  The two, one brown one black, were grazing under a tree near the top of the Moffett Road climb.  It was the only patch of shade in their corral.  I felt bad our presence made them shy away and saunter into the sun.  Still it was gorgeous.  We were on top of a ridgeline, horses in the foreground and a sea of soft green hills and valleys in every direction.

What were we talking about again?

Quit Making Fun of my #LobsterClaw Mittens

As Big As A Cat and Just as Warm

(Joe Biker Note: I'm out shopping for holiday gifts.  Until I find something you'll really like, please enjoy this updated little morsel and possible gift idea from the archives.  Our Cyclocross Calendar sponsor Pearl Izumi has some great Lobster Claws mitts, check 'em out here.)


They’ve been called Camel Toe Mitts, Dinosaur Paws, and, (using my Scooby Doo pronunciation) Robster Craws.  They’re nearly the size of a small housecat, 3 times the size of the gloves you wear in summer and, I-tunes be damned, crafted when the grunge of Pearl Jam and Nirvana first hit the radio.  They’re my circa mid 1990’s Performance brand Purple anodized parts-matching Lobster Claw cycling mittens.  Using the term as loosely as possible, this past weekend on the regular Cincinnati Saturday morning club ride, I got tons of "compliments" on them, such as, "What the F&*% are on your hands?"

Gloves? I Say, "Hand Blanket!"

For booger freezing cold weather riding, there is no better glove.  These are the best winter mitts EVER!  Don’t even try to compare.  I’ve ridden through Ohio & Wisconsin winters in these with wind chills that’d make your teeff loosen and fall out.  Sure Pearl Izumi's may be more fashionable, but nothing makes your group ride buddies say, "oh jeez, who brought the Fred to the ride" like a wave with a purple dinosaur paw.  There's probably a fetish website dedicated to the love of Lobster Claws.  If not, I'm starting one.  Sadly "HotLobster.com" is already taken.  Fortunately for your cycling buddies, they don't make 'em like this anymore.  Like dinosaurs, a dying breed nearing extinction. 

They’re fatter than Wendy William’s twin sisters, and therefore lack a bit in dexterity.  However, if you install an Idiot Strap to your jacket, you can pull them off mid-ride and easily reach bare handed into your jersey pocket.  You hand will smoke with steam when your bare hand hits the cold air.

Id-ee-ott Strap: (noun) A buckled or sewn strap, commonly found in Wisconsin, Minnesota, Michigan and North Dakota that mommy uses to physically tie your mittens to your jacket, so you don’t loose your gloves in the freezing cold like a 3 year old idiot.

Expedition Quality

They’re as thick as boxing glove; the top surface is a pillow of warm filler impenetrable to any wind.  Pull ‘em on and you immediately feel like the heavyweight champion of the world.  There’s not just a terry cloth snot wiper on the thumb, there’s an entire beach towel which makes up 2/3 of the top surface area.  Not only can you wipe snot, in case of a wreck you could clot a gaping wound with the left hand mitt and use the right in case you need to take care of “business” at the same time.

15 years and Still Steaming Hot

I should’ve got out the tape measure, but I’m certain you can see from the photos that they practically go up to your elbows.  So, I exaggerate.  There’s enough room inside to stick both hands in one, or easily pull them over the lower arms of your thickest winter jacket.  You could probably wear them as slippers or an insert for your Crocs. 

Dinosaur Track or Mitten Print?

Most people call them Lobster Claws, but a Lobster claw this big would fetch a world-record market price at the best steakhouse.  I prefer Dinosaur Paws, because that’s what the tracks look like when you fan out the 3-fingers and make tracks at the MTB trail head to freak out other Wisconsin trail users.  “Hey dere honey, we bedder not hike here.  Looks like dere’s a ferocious dinosaur at this trail.”

Hydrapak Morro: One World - One Pack

"Groceries"

Paper or plastic?  “I’m good.  I think I can get it all in my pack,” I answered at the checkout at the state liquor store in Park City Utah after our four hour ride.  As she swiped my credit card, I pulled the micro brew bottles out of the six pack holder and stuffed them into my new Hydrapak Morro.  While the people behind me in line waited patiently for me to bag my “groceries,” I wrapped one beer in my vest, two in each of my arm warmers, set all six above the first aid kit, slid my map and the cardboard six-pack holster along side of the pump, tucked in my full-fingered gloves, zipped and cinched it up and swung it on my shoulders.  They were astonished.  I rode off.

2012 Morro

It was probably a four mile ride back to our condo at the Canyons Resort.  Sure it felt a little heavy, because now I had a six pack and a good 30ml of water in that thing with tools and Band-Aids and clothes and a puppy and my wallet and phone and energy bars and a 29er tube and a bottle of ibuprofen, but everything balanced out.  It wasn’t a chore to ride.  Did I say puppy?  For the record, I did not stuff a puppy in my backpack, but if I had to, there was room to lash one to the outside if need be, probably two.

Mid Mountain Trail Above Park City

I’m the last guy on Planet Mountain Bike to actually like a big pack.  A Hydration backpack to me was the equivalent of straight jacket made from hot wet monkeys.  The crazy thing is I have one of the smallest possible, an older Camelback Rocket with a 50oz reservoir.  I can’t tell you how many times I’d swear, “I’m never riding with this thing again!”  And, I didn’t.  I used to pride myself on minimalism, even on epic rides in Pisgah and Tsali.  I’d take bottles, use a seat pack and my jersey pockets, tape a 2^nd tube to my stem, and tuck food under my short and sleeve hems.  If necessary, I’d reduce first aid and tools to the most extreme basics: a chain pin, a tri-allen wrench, a tiny chain tool CO2, 3 big band aids and a 3oz tube of Neosporin…anything to avoid the hot wet monkey straight jacket.

I used to think Camelback was the only option with their specialized bite valve and oversized filling hole.  The Hydrapak is just as innovative, albeit different.  For one, the Hydrapak reservoir is a zip-lock bag of sorts.  On our Utah trip my wife used her Camelback.  I think my Morro was easier to fill.  She had to sort of let the camel drink, while I poured 2 32oz Gatorades down the Hydrapak’s neck with a quick ker-sploosh, added a tray of ice cubes and zipped it closed.  With Camelback’s we’ve always had to awkwardly hang them upside down on a hanger with a paper towel stuffed inside so air could circulate and dry out the reservoir.  To clean and dry, the Hydrapak reservoir folds inside-out and the plug and play drinking tube simply unclicks from the bag.  On the bike, the neat-o magnet on the drinking tube allows the tube to magically return itself to its stored position after you drink.  No more getting slapped in the knee or baffed in the chin with an unwieldy tube. 

Hydrapak Avila

If you haven’t had a new pack in a while, The HydrapakMorro is nothing like the bulky pack you had even 5 or 6 years ago.  While a larger pack, at a stout 1lb 13oz, the Morro is extremely versatile.  (Wienies may want to check out the Avila pictured left weighing a scant 7 ounces while still having a pocket and a 70oz bladder) The man-sized Morro even makes a nice gear bag.  Pre or post ride, it’ll easily fit your kit, shoes, tools, tube and helmet.  Whether packed light or full, the Morro feels surprisingly light thanks to the vented back padding and secure cinching straps.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if there were a rather unsupported 5+ hour ultra endurance event, I’d be tempted to race with it.  Maybe.

Morro's Magnet in use at Stewart Falls - Sundance, Utah

Packed full, on a 5 ½ hour navigation of Park City’s famous Mid-Mountain trail I never felt bothered by having a ton of stuff on my back.  I even scored extra hubby points by carrying my wife’s tools and tube.  I still climbed awkward switchbacks and zipped through rock gardens as easily as if I wasn't wearing a pack.  Off the bike, I used it on a quick day hike to Stewart Falls in Sundance with nothing more than a first aid kit, a long sleeve shirt, an energy bar and 50oz of water inside.  With a smaller payload, you simply cinch up the Hydrapak Morro and it feels like a smaller lighter pack.  So, if you come across an orphaned puppy on the trail, no problem, he can ride shotgun. 


Check out the video below for more on the Morro.