Take Two

My second ride on the Hightower yesterday was much, much better. I would go so far as to call it "fun" and "successful." I guess I can delete the draft of the Craigslist sales ad.

After this ride I didn't experience any of the crazy cramping or extreme soreness like after the first ride. I don't know if adaptation happens that quickly, but I think it certainly helped to give my body time to fully recover after the initial ride. I am still quite fatigued today, perhaps a bit more so than I would be on my hardtail, but not much.

My complaints about the seat tube angle started to fade. I climbed with more speed and power, and that was nice.

While I described my local terrain as "rolling" in the last post, I guess it's all relative. This ride totaled 2500 feet of climbing in 26 miles—about 100 feet per mile. Last summer I rode in Tahoe and did 15 miles and 1500 feet; also about 100 feet per mile.

I think it feels like more elevation gain in Tahoe because the climbs are extended in the mountains, but climbing is climbing. In fact, I would venture that I go harder on shorter, repeated climbs than I would on one long one.

A few years ago I did 31 miles and 3800 feet of gain in Tahoe, which seemed like a lot because the ride was mostly front-loaded with climbing with another big one in the middle. However, if I added another five-mile loop on my local ride, I think I would crack 3000 feet of climbing.

One thing I forgot to mention before was the rock strikes. I had five minor ones on my first ride. I know this is just the nature of long travel. You simply can't raise the bottom bracket 150mm to compensate for all the travel. The bike would feel ridiculous.

I dropped down to 170mm cranks (which is what the complete bike comes with) from my standard 175s. A little bird recommended 165s, but I just couldn't stomach that big a drop. Time will tell if ultimately go that route. Regardless, I only had one rock strike on the second ride. I think after four decades of mountain biking, your brain compensates quickly. I felt myself timing pedal strokes through rocky areas without being completely conscious of it. If that doesn't make sense to you, come back when you hit the 40-year mark.

The only other thing worth mentioning is the annoying clicking coming from the headset area. This is my first foray into the IS headset world. While the process of simply dropping the bearings into the frame without a headset press is kind of cool, it seems wrong. Logically, it seems like you would really need to nail the preload with this system.

A little research provided a possible fix. People have reported that the top dust cap often hits the frame before fully contacting the split ring, so proper preload cannot be achieved. I purchased some FSA .25mm microspacers, which are inserted between the split ring and dustcap, to see if that is the case.

Later.

Six Degrees of Separation

 I finally finished building the Hightower. Here it is:

Why, you may ask, did it take a month? A few reasons. One, I just don't love working on bikes that much anymore. And boy was this one a lot of work. Two, it was difficult to find time between riding and everything else I am responsible for. Sometimes those responsibilities involve swinging a sledgehammer or a pick or an axe and that leads to lack of enthusiasm towards standing in front of a bike stand.

However, the main reason for the month-long build was buyer's remorse as soon as I clicked the button to buy it. This isn't really the bike I need. I tend to ride where I live and very rarely drive to ride. I live in rolling hills and fairly mellow terrain. Even though my racing days are seemingly long behind me, I still like to ride fast. This is where and how I ride every day. A nice cross-country bike with more reasonable geometry would have been a much better choice. But here we are.

Five days ago I took it out for the first ride. It's different. Definitely different.

As I rolled out the door, the first thing that is abundantly clear is how steep the seat tube is. My Jones LWB is the bike I spend the most time on, and it has a seat tube angle of 71 degrees. Super slack and it always felt perfect to me. Now I am trying out 77 degrees and it felt weird right from the start, like the cranks were right under me as on a unicycle.

A couple miles from home I hit the first climb heading towards Beals Point. It's fairly steep in places and peppered with round river rock. I tried to power up it like I would on my hardtail, but the power simply wasn't there. I dropped down a gear and kept going. Then another gear. It was just really difficult to keep my momentum.

I poached all the trails heading towards Beals Point, mostly uphill, and it was fine. I even made it up a steep, technical section that I don't always clean on my hardtail. On the few downhill sections, I immediately noticed that a modern bike is ridden with a more forward bias; my hardtail "ass off the back" descending mentality would need some adjusting.

One thing I have always done going back to pre-suspension days, and maybe even BMX days, is loft my front wheel over everything. I don't even realize I am doing it. Maybe this came from necessity when we had rigid forks or maybe it's just because it's fun. I don't know. But the first time I did it on the Hightower the wheel started to come up, but the saddle hit my legs. This happened over and over again and it was frustrating. I am cool with having the dropper there when I NEED it, but I don't want it to be a requirement every single time the trail points down for a few feet.

As the ride continued I was continually surprised that I needed to drop down a gear or two on the climbs. I realize this bike isn't made to hit the cross-country World Cup circuit, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

Downhills and fast sections were admittedly fun. Once I started getting the hang of positioning, it was clear you can go fast on this type of bike. With 210 millimeters of dropper post travel I could get pretty low, and the traction is amazing.

I hit pretty much every boulder feature, even the one I always go around on my hardtail, and it was all ridiculously easy. That was fun.

I climbed up to the water tower, which is on a steep fire road, and had to drop into my 42T cog, a gear that I never use (let alone the 50T). Again, frustrating.

The singletrack downhill on the other side is steep (for this area) and a rutted out mess. The bike handled it without issue, but the lack experience on the bike kept the pilot from pushing too hard.

I arrived home and headed upstairs to take a shower. Even though my ride was only 25 miles, to my legs it felt like 50. I was really tired.

That night my legs started cramping and spasming like crazy—hamstrings, groin and hips. I have occasional cramping issues, but NOTHING like this. 

The next morning I was walking around like an old bow-legged cowboy. Unbelievably sore, especially my hips. I went for a ride in an effort to loosen up, which helped, but I was so tired.

I took the next day off followed by two mixed terrain rides on my Jones bikes, and the hip discomfort started to fade. Today, five days later, I finally feel like myself again.

The human body is both prone to specialization and remarkably adaptable. Ride in the same position for a while and that will be the only position your body likes. But given time, you can also adapt to a completely new position. Six degrees isn't much in some ways (it's only 1.6% of a circle), but to your body it's a massive change.

Time for this old cowboy to get back on that horse and try again.

Later.

Hazy

The Camry has been a pretty good car, but at over 11 years old it's starting to show its age. The headlights were no longer clear and didn't function well. After trying various methods of polishing them with mixed results, I just decided to replace them.

When I was younger I was a Volkswagen guy. I owned three bugs and one fastback. On my 1966 bug especially, I performed almost every maintenance task you can think of. I dropped the motor numerous times, replaced the transaxle, replaced the front and rear suspension, brakes, carburetor, distributor, clutch, etc. You get the picture.

The headlight assemblies on a pre-1967 bug are removed by one large screw. That's it. The Camry? A few more than that.

I watched a YouTube video and got to work. You have to pretty much remove the whole front end of the car. It seems kind of stupid, but what do I know. One of the old, milky headlights is on the right:

I think it took a little over an hour. Hey, it works.

New and clear.

Done.

Another easy DIY that saved some dollars. Time to go buy some bike parts.

Later.

Refresher Course

With yesterday's rain comes the traditional "first ride" of my mountain bike season. In some colder places people may feel their mountain bike season starts after snow melt in the spring, but for me it's when the first rain falls.

I celebrated by putting a new tire on the back of the Timberjack. The old one was pretty torn up.

I rolled out of the house and on the very first climb I encountered a small stream of water the whole way up. It rained pretty hard yesterday.

For the most part that was the only wet area. I rode up to Granite Bay and explored the trails to the north. I don't know these well yet. It's a maze of trails with no real route anyone seems to follow, so every time I wander around, get lost, and eventually pop out somewhere I recognize. You can see I hit a few dead ends:

It's hard to see them all because of the trees, but the satellite view shows the spider web of trails:

The normal route I have been doing for years is pretty fast with just a few technical features. This northern area is the opposite with lots of turns, punchy climbs, steep downhills and granite boulders and slabs. Fun stuff.

After exploring for a while, I finished the ride on the trails I am familiar with. They were damp, grippy and fast.

I ended up with 26 miles and 2500 feet of climbing on the day, a great way to start the fall.

Later.

Ashes in the Fall

Every year our long, hot summer winds down ever so slowly before abruptly terminating. The blazes that raged throughout the fire season slow to a simmer before finally snuffing out. Ashes settle from sky to Earth, starting their circle over again, waiting to one day live again. Some will merely feed the weeds. A lucky few will become one again with mighty trees.

For cyclists living in the Sacramento valley, fall can't come soon enough. It's the one season that offers perfect riding conditions, especially after the first rain. Unfortunately, our fall doesn't last long.

The summer can be great, but you have to make adjustments. Lazy mornings reading the news and sipping coffee are not on the program. You have to get out early to avoid dying in the heat. An extra water bottle and lots of sunscreen are mandatory for me.

On the mountain bike the trails are dusty and parched, often beaten and loose from a long summer parade of knobby tires. My chain rarely makes it through a whole ride before it's bone dry and begging for lube.

Then it ends. On the 19th, just four short days ago, the temperature hit 93 degrees. Yesterday the temperature plummeted to 68 degrees, and the today we received an inch of rain. Just like that, summer is over.

Tomorrow I am going to sip some morning coffee, take my time, and relish riding in cooler temperatures on damp, grippy trails.

Later.

Shifting Priorities

Lots of stuff going on. New appliances showing up. Passports that needed to be renewed. Daily bike rides. Weight lifting. Losing my checkbook and having to get new bank account numbers. Fixing numerous electronic fund transfers with the new account number. Errands. Shopping. Cooking meals. You know, life stuff.

My modest goal for the weekend was to get the shifting set up. Mission accomplished.

As I mentioned before, everything is Eagle GX except the cassette. Because these are older Deore XT hubs, I had to go NX for the cassette because of the HG cassette body.

I have been a Shimano guy for decades, which means there are numerous wheels floating around on my bikes with HG cassette bodies. I prefer Shimano, and I would have been cool with using XT 11-speed forever, but Shimano is making it tougher to get now. When Shimano moved to Micro Spline cassette bodies for their 12-speed offerings, that kind of sealed their fate. Ironically I moved to SRAM because I have so many Shimano wheels and they at least provide a pathway to 12-speed while still use HG bodies.

Nothing earth shattering about the GX Eagle setup save for a couple new wrinkles introduced by full suspension. The chain length needed to be calculated when the chainstays are longest, which for this bike (and most others) is when the shock is fully compressed. The B gap needs to be adjusted at sag. This is really a two-person job, so with all the air out of the shock I estimated sag. Close enough.

The routing on my aluminum Salsa Timberjack really soured me on internal cable routing. Wide open spaces that you had to fish around in and sharp edges on the entries and exits made it difficult. In the end my cables look like a cat chewed on them.

The routing on the Hightower is fully tunneled and easy. Mark one in the "pro" column for carbon fiber on this one.

Hopefully I get out there again this week and finish this damn thing up.

Later.

Shaping Up

 A little closer. But not much. Time is at a premium it seems.

Now comes the task of feeding various cables through holes, which I absolutely abhor. It looks like Santa Cruz did a good job with this, but we will see.

Later.

Hanging

 I finally hung a few parts in the Hightower today. Easy stuff, though.

It gets a little harder from here.

Later.

Rolling

 I found the time to get the wheelset together for my Hightower.

The wheels feature the same Deore XT hubs and ARC35 rims that I have been using successfully for many years. This particular set was built about seven years ago for a Kona Honzo build that I never started. They have been sitting in my office unused ever since. In fact, they are so old that the rear rim is the Easton version that predates the Race Face acquisition.

The tires are obviously Maxxis. The front is a new 29x2.6 Rekon. I could probably use a more aggressive tire up front, but I had three of these sitting in a box, so I'll see how they are. In the rear is a lightly used 29x2.4 Ardent. Again, I have two of these so they need to be used on something.

Unlike the WTB tires that I set up a couple months ago, which were frustratingly difficult to seat, these seated easily with a floor pump as Maxxis tires generally do for me.

Rotors are lightly used 180mm Deore XT front and rear. I should probably have a 203mm in front, but these are what I had in the archives.

The cassette is a basic Eagle NX 11-50 to eventually pair up with an otherwise GX drivetrain.

Hopefully tomorrow I can start hanging some parts on the frame.

Later.

Explicit Lyrikal Content

I will be running a 150mm Lyrik on my Hightower. Here she is naked and unashamed.

I am running a 130mm Pike on my hardtail, the most travel I have ever had. To me that fork felt bottomless when I first ran it. This will undoubtedly feel more so.

Even though this fork only features 20mm more travel, it's bigger. It seems massive in comparison to anything else I have used.

The parts for this bike build continue to trickle in.

Later.

Hightower

 A Hightower showed up at my door:

RIP Bubba Smith.

No, not that one. This one:

I haven't owned a full suspension bike since 2003, the last of which was a Santa Cruz Blur. I hated that bike, and swore off full suspension forever, but I must admit now in hindsight that I didn't really set it up for success.

I had only been on a hardtail for a few years, and still often chose to ride with a rigid fork. I was racing road bikes and cyclocross, in addition to mountain bikes, and my bike setup might have reflected that racing mentality.

My zero degree stem was way too long and the narrow bars too flat. I had a terrible habit of slamming my stem right on top of the headset (because racer!). I was also on a large frame, which had a ridiculously tall 21" seat tube back then. (My large now is only 17 inches.) It all added up to a really funky handling bike.

Looking at it now I can imagine that a little more steerer tube, a shorter stem and more rise on the bars would have done wonders to make it handle better.

Fast forward 20 years and I am now 56 years old. I can still ride a hardtail, sure, and that practice will likely continue. However, I do notice some soreness the next day. It's time to mix in a little comfort. And fun, of course.

I have also learned a tremendous amount about bike setup and positioning. Being comfortable can actually make you faster. Who knew!

Later.

Let the Good Times Roll

Jennifer and I have been busy. For years. But especially this year. So busy.

We hadn't been anywhere together for a year. Sure, we went to Catalina just last month, but with family and friends. We had a blast, but it's not quite the same as being alone as a couple.

With the news of our son walking away from baseball last week, I think we also needed to get away and contemplate our new lives without baseball. Monterey was just the place.

After riding at home on Sunday, we packed up and headed toward the coast. As has been our custom recently, we had a nice dinner at Peter B's.

After that we walked to Fieldwork where I contemplated life, the universe and everything.

The next morning we rode north on the trail.

It was a relaxing 26.5 miles of tranquility by the sea.

Afterwards we walked around a bit.

Had a beer at Dust Bowl.

Dinner at Alvarado Street Brewery.

And checked out the sea lion infestation.

The next day we rode south along the water. It was good.

The next day the wildfire smoke moved in. We had a quiet day walking around, window shopping, and playing a little bocce ball.

This morning we were still smoked out, so we headed home early.

We were only able to ride twice, but it was still a nice trip filled with good food, beer, beauty and plenty of relaxation.

Later.

Losing My Religion

And then it was over. The end came suddenly, yet it was also a long time coming.

From the very first day a kid picks up a baseball, the clock starts ticking. The hands go round and round. Round and round.

As a parent you can't help but nervously glance up at that imaginary yet very real clock. Your dream is for it to spin for decades. I wanted to see that damn clock die of old age. Keep on spinning, baby. Round and round.

For some the game ends after that first year of tee ball. We plant the seed, but for some kids the roots simply don't take hold. For a lucky few, the roots grow strong and deep, and it all ends at 40 years of age in the Major Leagues. That is the hope—a teary-eyed man at the podium, graying at the temples, announcing his baseball retirement on national TV. A man spending his life playing a beautiful game and ending it on his own terms is the ultimate dream. As Billy Beane asked in the film Moneyball, "How can you not be romantic about baseball?"

For the overwhelming majority of us, unfortunately, it ends somewhere in between those two extremes. That is where it ended for me. That is where it ended for my son.

The Cobra hung up his spikes on Wednesday.

He had been experiencing some pain in his biceps for a couple weeks. His first two fall ball outings at Folsom Lake College this season were great, but on Tuesday his velocity was down and he gave up some hits. Some of that was due to his coach calling everything but his best pitch, the two-seam fastball. It's unclear if Coach Gregory was setting him up for failure, or perhaps challenging him to use other pitches. Who knows with that guy. Gregory then left him off the travel roster for Friday's scrimmage in Butte. Spencer was stunned and disappointed.

After four years of struggling to get healthy after the first shoulder injury, he said it was just too much—too much pain, too much stress, too many lows and not enough highs.

 
For me the blow was crushing, and for my wife equally so. Maybe even more so. She is a mom, you know. After a few days had passed, she said, “It feels like someone died.” And it did. A friend. A very close friend.

 
If this sounds a bit overdramatic, so be it. I am not going to apologize for how I feel.

 
The feeling of loss wasn’t because of any selfish reasons, or any of that “living my life through my child” nonsense. I had my day in the sun as an athlete. I basked in the glow of victories, soaking in that sunshine like a desert iguana. I was a happy lizard.

I wanted him to experience that triumph at a higher level. Although I played baseball, my best sports experiences came after baseball in cycling. I had some good results while racing on some big stages. Those experiences and the resulting memories are priceless. The sunshine stays with you, sustaining you on life's darkest days. That’s all I wanted for him. More time in the sun. More good memories. A little more sunshine.

No, I wasn't living through him. We simply love the game. We attended the church of baseball year-round. Like any good cult members we not only participated in the game, we were (and still are) fans. We typically watch every single San Francisco Giants game. We go to minor league games. We keep a close eye on our minor league prospects. We get excited for free agency and the draft. The baseball gods smiled upon us. And it was good.

The excitement of upcoming tournaments and games fueled us and fed our souls. We practiced in freezing temperatures. I strapped on the catcher’s gear on the hottest of summer days. We played long toss in a hail storm. Spencer once played in fog so thick you couldn't see the infielders from the stands. It’s all part of the game, part of our history, part of our family folklore.

 
Then our calendar suddenly became a wide-open wasteland. In one single day I lost my religion.

The day I became a believer is still etched clearly in my mind. My parents took me to Candlestick Park for a Giants day game. There was a huge escalator on the back side of the stadium that carried you up to the top. As we slowly climbed, I felt the anticipation, like ascending on a rollercoaster knowing a thrill was coming soon. We crested the top and the field came into view: grass greener than any I had ever seen, perfect reddish-brown dirt, crisp white baselines. I felt a euphoria I had never felt before. This was my church. These were my people. And it was good.

I think we are all struggling to figure out what comes next. Our family life has revolved around the game of baseball for 13 years, almost year-round. That's well over two-thirds of Spencer's life, and a sizeable chunk of mine. There is a large void in my heart, an empty space that used to be filled with dirt and sweat and sunshine and the smells of leather and fresh-cut grass.

  

After the labrum surgery, the clock ticked unevenly—sometimes powerfully, other times so faintly you had to crane your neck to hear the barely detectable pulse. As baseball people we become very aware of injuries and surgeries and their success rates. It's an unfortunate but prevalent part of the game, especially for pitchers. And because of this we know the numbers. Surgery success rates are just another stat in a game that is built upon and revolves around statistics. So we know this: shoulder surgeries are a crap shoot.

Players can completely destroy an elbow or a knee and a competent surgeon can repair it with a high success rate. These are fairly simple hinge joints that only move in one plane. The shoulder and hip, on the other hand, are ball-and-socket joints which move in multiple directions. These joints are a marvel of evolution, but they are complex. A pitcher undergoing a labrum surgery can expect a 12-month recovery and only a 60% success rate. 

Throughout the rehab process there are ups and downs, good days and bad, optimism and fear. He completed his physical therapy and we adhered to the throwing program religiously, down to the last letter. The whole time I kept glancing at the clock. Tick tock.

 
This game is difficult enough without dealing with an injury. For the position players you need three basic skills: to catch the ball, throw the ball, and hit the ball. Lacking any of those three skills will eventually end the game for you.

For pitchers it's a little more simple: get hitters out. Yet the complexity of this singular task can be daunting. There are a million ways to do it, and for the past 150 years pitchers have been coming up with new ways. The first guy credited with throwing a curveball, Candy Cummings, completely baffled hitters. But they adjusted. The arms race between hitter and pitcher has been escalating ever since, with both sides coming up with new ways to compete.

One short month ago, things were going well. Other than some timing issues, our bullpen sessions were good, but there is always room for improvement. We too were looking for new ways to compete, so we called an old coach.

We went to Hard 90, Spencer's old travel ball facility, and worked with one of the coaches named Hutch. It was probably a little weird for Spencer because everyone else in the facility was much younger, but Hutch and Spencer always clicked.

They spent the first 45 minutes in a back room working on different things with weighted balls. When they came out to the bullpen area, Hutch made him start his throws by standing on his front foot and hopping back onto his rear foot before throwing. He made him do it over and over again until he was satisfied. At first Spencer was throwing the ball into the ground or way over the target. By the end he was hitting the target dead center. It was slowing his upper body and syncing his timing. As his bullpen catcher I could see this problem, but it took a more experienced coach to correct it.

They finally progressed to the pitching mound. And it was good. I had never seen him throw so hard or so accurately. He was throwing the four-seam fastball right to the glove. Every single time. Then he threw a bunch of changeups and all but one dropped right on the outside of the plate where they are supposed to. Then he threw some curveballs, which were okay but still needed some work.

Then Hutch said, "Let's finish with a few more fastballs." Spencer asked if he could throw some two-seamers, and Hutch said sure, whatever. Spencer knows they can be challenging to catch, so he was trying to give him a heads-up. Standing behind Hutch, I said, "It breaks a lot." He looked back at me, and although he said nothing, his face told me, "Okay, old man."

He threw the first one and it was heading right for Hutch's inside (left) knee. He turned the glove over to the forehand side to catch it. Then it started breaking and ended up outside his right knee. He still had the glove turned the wrong way when he caught the pitch. It completely handcuffed him. He stood up and stared at Spencer for a few seconds and said, "That was NASTY."

He threw a few more and they all broke beautifully off the outside of the plate.

One thing we know about Hutch is he is big on negative reinforcement. If you go to a coaching session expecting praise, you will be very disappointed. Sessions typically end with 20 minutes of harsh critique. When Spencer was younger this was tough for him, yet he always wanted to go back. This time Hutch had very little feedback. He said, "If you throw like that you are going to be a problem. No righty is gonna like hitting that two-seam." Spencer quipped, "Lefties don't like it so much either."

We left there buzzing on a high. He made it. He was part of the lucky 60% to make it back.

The clock clicked strong and steady.

A short month later it was over. The baseball gods stopped the clock. I quickly realized these weren't the kind and benevolent gods I thought they were. We were so devoted to the church and this is how they treat us? It didn't feel fair. Because it isn't. Baseball is not fair. It's far less fair than life in general. It's a mean, heartless game.

On Thursday the three of us went out to dinner, something we couldn't do if he were still practicing. And it was good. The next day he was in very great spirits, a mood we hadn't seen in a while. Shedding the weight we carry as athletes does feel good at first. The regret we feel later in life can feel much heavier, though. The sunshine of old success can indeed carry you, but only so far.

The day Spencer broke the news I was incredibly sad. Later that afternoon I went to the bike shop. Baseball fields and bike shops are the closest things I have to churches. I handed my drivers license over to a shop employee and test rode bikes for over an hour in an effort to to fill the void, I guess, leaning on my other lifelong love.

I probably won't totally leave the church of baseball, but the congregation will definitely see less of me. Unless, of course, there is a resurrection, and the clock clicks back to life, seeking one last ray of sunshine.

Later.

Catalina Island Cycling Notes

A couple years ago we visited Santa Catalina Island and had a great time. It's a quaint little place offering an international feel while only being 25 miles from Long Beach. The golf cart lifestyle reminded us of Isla Mujeres in Mexico. I did a lot of hiking while we were on Catalina, among other activities, and I often looked longingly at the dirt roads covering the mountainous terrain and wished I had a bike.

We planned to return this year, and this time I decided to take a bike. After doing a little research, I had a basic plan. The first thing you have to do is buy a membership to the Catalina Island Conservancy. The lowest level is "Friend" and it will cost you $35 for a year. This is a requirement to ride into conservancy land, but I really don't know how well it is enforced. Humans are pretty scarce once you ride through the conservancy gates into the interior.

Except for the rich and/or famous, who might take a helicopter or small plane, the island is generally accessed via ferry. There are a few ports to start from and a couple different companies. We chose Catalina Express because we qualify as seniors (55+ is a $3.50 savings per leg) and taking a bike was only an additional $3.50. The Catalina Flyer charges $20 for a bike, so that was an easy choice.

I considered the terrain, which was supposedly smooth dirt roads, and chose my Jones Plus LWB for the trip. It had balding tires, a terribly worn chain and chainring, and wasn't running well in general. After replacing some parts and a tune-up, it was ready to go.

When you board the ferry with a bike, they route you to the back of the vessel where the bike racks are located. The tire slots are maybe 2.4 inches wide, so my three-inch tires had no chance of fitting. Even if they did, my 203mm front brake rotor was going to hit the rack. The guy told me to just throw it in there between the tire slots where there was about an eight-inch gap, ensuring the bike would fall over. "It will be fine," he added. Rather than start my trip with a bent rotor or derailleur, I negotiated to sit on the rack and hold the bike upright for the entire 75 minute cruise. I was ill prepared for this, and received a moderate sunburn before my journey really started. Although I was mildly irritated, it was early enough in the trip to fake a smile:

As the ferry neared Avalon, we were required to go inside the cabin. Again, the guy wanted me to leave it in the rack where it would undoubtedly fall over and bend something. After some back and forth, he let me lay it on the ground next to the rack. I kept my composure. Mostly.

Once off the boat, we made our way towards the condo. One thing about Catalina that I have yet to figure out is how 69 degrees can feel so hot. My son and I continually looked at our weather apps and were consistently surprised by the low temperatures. We've been to Florida, Hawaii, all around Mexico, up and down the California coast, and nothing seems to compare. Weird. I will say that even the locals were commenting on the higher humidity due to the incoming hurricane. Anyway, after a 15 minute walk with our very heavy backpacks, we made it to the condo. My bike found its resting place for the rest of the trip.

The next thing on the cycling to-do list is to acquire a bicycle permit. Again, this is required to enter into the interior, but free with your conservancy membership. Jennifer and I went to the conservancy office where the guy gave me the requisite "don't pet the bison" speech and provided a short virtual tour of the island on a map (a copy of which I purchased for six bucks). He asked where I intended to ride the next day, and I told him I would start with a ride to the airport. He traced a route naming off streets, which I would never remember, and pointed to a particular road and said, "Here you'll be walking." I responded with, "That ain't happening." He then assumed I had an eBike and Jenn laughed. "No, he hates eBikes." Well, hate is a pretty strong word. I simply prefer the challenge of riding a bike with no motor. And I think anything with a motor ceases to be a bicycle.

With permit in hand we headed back to the condo for a little rest before dinner.

The next morning I headed out for a ride to the airport. The basic profile is pretty simple: Climb to the top of the island spine, ride along the ridge, and gradually reach the high point at the Airport in the Sky.

After rolling slightly downhill from our condo to the bay, the fun starts. The first climb is on a paved road and averages about a 9.5% grade for three miles. Google routed me up Chimes Tower Road, which turned out to be a one-way street, so be aware of that. The correct way to go up is on Stagecoach, also a one-way road, which I did on subsequent rides.

Conditions were cool (64 degrees) and foggy, yet it felt very warm. Within minutes I was hot and sweating profusely as I climbed up the steep road.

Views were obscured by the fog on the way up, so I did not stop for pictures. I rode straight through to the airport, although I did shoot a few "no-hands" pictures on the fly once I climbed above the fog.

Once you reach the top of the climb, the road turns to dirt for a while. From what I have seen, this is the case for almost all the roads on the island outside of Avalon. Only the road to the airport features any asphalt. For the most part, these roads are graded frequently and are often smoother than the paved road.

The airport itself is pretty cool. I guess options are limited when the island is basically a mountain peak jutting out of the sea. The only flat spot they could find is up over 1600 feet and 10 miles from Avalon. I can only imagine it's fun to land here.

The fog deck below the airport made for some interesting photos.

The obligatory bike shot:

It was really bright up there, so I failed to notice that the posted elevation (upper right) was out of the frame. Next time.

On the way back I stopped for more pictures since the fog was burning off. Here are the famous island bison in the distance:

And various views from the ridge:

The ride down was fun, but keep in mind that even in the early morning there will be occasional cars on the narrow road, and golf carts as you near the end. The road surface is rough in places, with blind corners, so keep your speed in check. I maxed out at 30 miles per hour, but I could have easily hit 40 or more. As the day progresses, riders on eBikes, along with buses and jeeps full of tourists, will also be on the road. My advice here is to get out early to avoid the traffic.

Once back, the round trip totaled 20.64 miles with 2520 feet of climbing.

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The next day was a planned day off the bike. Jennifer and I went on a morning hike on a trail I found a couple years ago. It wasn't a terribly strenuous hike, but the elevation gain offered some nice views of Avalon.

We returned to find most of our party (ten people in all) heading to the beach. I am not a beach guy, so with nothing better to do I decided on a short ride.

Short is relative, of course. At our new home in Folsom, short is 20 miles with a negligible elevation gain. On Catalina, 20 miles is a serious commitment.

I took off with no route in mind, which is evident from the map:

As you can see, lots of wandering and doubling back. I was on asphalt most of the time, although I was scouting out dirt options for the following day.

The climb on Stagecoach gave me some Vuelta a España vibes.

The long grind up the ridge:

Since it was later in the day, the views were mostly fog-free.

I finished with a paltry 11.73 miles but 1440 feet of elevation gain.

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On day three I decided to explore East End Light Road, which is a dirt path off of Wrigley Road. On my map it appeared to be a bike legal route, and a sign confirmed that when I arrived at the trailhead. I had aspirations of doing a loop, but I wanted to see how I felt after the first climb.

Like pretty much any ride here starting in Avalon, there is nowhere to go but up:

It was a foggy start. Here is a view of Avalon from sea level looking north:

Once on the dirt climb it was immediately apparent this road wasn't graded as often as others. It was loose, rocky and had washboards in almost every corner. I saw few tracks of any kind, suggesting the road wasn't used much.

One cool thing about islands is how they can have little microclimates depending on elevation, geological features and cardinal direction. This valley was lush and jungle-like, reminding me of the scenery in Jurassic Park. Adding to the visuals was an eerie groaning echoing through the valley, which sounded a lot like the T-Rex from the film franchise. Creepy. It turned out to be some noise emanating from the power plant, but it shook me for a few seconds. Not gonna lie.

It took me a while to get above the fog, which was pretty thick. That's Los Angeles over there somewhere:

As I neared the top, Avalon came into view. This is from a height and perspective that few people probably see:

When I reached the top I had to decide whether to descend down an unknown road and attempt to find a legal way back to Avalon (which may have required another big climb) or play it safe and retrace my route. Even with a Catalina trail map, it's tough to know if a road or trail is bike legal until you actually see the sign.

Since I was going on another hike, I opted to play it safe and head back the way I came.

Unfortunately the fog obstructed what would have been a great panoramic view:

A note on all the "dirt" you see on Catalina: 

If you use Google Earth to scout out dirt riding routes as I do, be aware that Catalina features both dirt roads and fire breaks. Santa Catalina Island has a long history with wildfires, so firebreaks are numerous. As you can see in the panoramic shot above, a fire break parallels the road. These breaks are soft and generally not rideable, often going straight down the sides of hills. Unfortunately they look just like roads on Google, so take care not to think you found a route that isn't really viable.

The descent back down was a little loose and rough. While I enjoyed the descent I had earned, it would have been a lot more fun on a hardtail.

I finished the ride with another meager total of 11.29 miles but with 1788 feet of climbing.

On our hike, my legs were a little weary. Here Jenn catches me resting:

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On day four I woke up a little tired. My original plan was to ride to Little Harbor, but I knew this would entail at least two major climbs and probably 5000 feet of elevation gain or more for the loop. I didn't know if I had it in me. I opted to start with another climb to the airport and take it from there.

The climb up to the airport was pretty much the same, except this time I used the directional roads correctly. The pace was slow to start, but once I warmed up I felt better. I arrived at the top in 1:28, only three minutes slower than day one.

Given a second chance, the new picture includes the elevation:

On the way back down I took my time and enjoyed the scenery, serenity and solitude. The terrain is awe inspiring, even the second time.

Occasionally a local will interrupt the tranquility, but that's okay.

That's an island fox. It is closely related to the gray fox from the mainland, but much smaller. Six of the eight Channel Islands are inhabited by a subspecies of the island fox unique to the island it lives on. As tiny as this fox was, the Catalina subspecies is actually the largest of the six.

I have a soft spot for crows and ravens. This large raven could probably eat an island fox whole.

I briefly entertained going down Middle Ranch Road, but chickened out after 100 yards when I saw how fast the road was dropping away from the ridge. I just didn't want to do another big climb.

I completed the descent into Avalon and did a little more exploration of the areas to the north that I hadn't seen. I added one more climb up Wrigley Road just because the downhill is so enjoyable and finished up with 26.48 miles and 3222 feet of climbing.

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After the ride, I told Jennifer I needed to find some sort of straps to tie down the bike for the return ferry trip the next day. She suggested zip ties, which was a great and simple idea that hadn't occurred to me. I went to the hardware store and bought a small package.

As we waited in line to board the ferry the next morning, we received a broadcast alert on our phones to vacate the island. Hurricane Hilary was getting close.

We boarded the ferry and I zip tied the front wheel to the left side of a tire slot. This kept the brake rotor out of harm's way and the bike remained upright and safe for the entire trip.

We said goodbye to Catalina, at least for now.

A few notes:

Cruise ships come in on Tuesday and Wednesday. This obviously increases the number of people on the island. Schedule accordingly when making plans to dine, rent equipment or participate in any organized activities (zip line, snorkeling trips, tours, et cetera).

There is one grocery store, which is Vons on Sumner Street. The prices were a little higher for most food and substantially higher for beer. Still, we saved quite a bit of money by preparing some of our own meals in our rental condo.

As you might imagine, restaurants on an island literally have a captive audience; most are expensive. In the two years between our visits, a few went out of business and one changed from Italian food to American Cuisine, whatever the hell that means. I can't in good conscience recommend any of them except one, which is The Sandtrap. They have a happy hour every day (2-7 p.m.) when tacos are $2 each and also deals on beer and drinks. I probably ate there a dozen times between our two trips.

For a first trip with a bike I am fairly happy with the results. Next time I will consider a hardtail simply because the descents are so long. Even a smooth dirt road eventually fatigues your hands on a rigid bike.

I regret not doing a big loop, but I hadn't been on big climbs like these in a few years. As it turned out, I was in pretty decent shape and probably would have been fine. Next time.

Later.