Skinny Dipping...

My lack of coffee is spilling out in the form of less words and more photos. Thad, Griffin and I spun some laps at Kill Creek over the weekend. It was a cold start but the trails were in great shape; frozen dirt, packed snow and pure fun. We rode the log skinny's on Eddy, failed at a few creek crossings (each of us dipped a foot into the icy death water) and had an overall kick-ass ride. 

Here's a little vid-yo of Captain Cuntwat rolling the fat down Killer Creek.

Not as easy as it appears, yet a bit more cushy than rolling skinny tires no doubt.

18 degrees...

Sometimes I have to try really hard to get out the door and ride (when conditions are lacking, along with motivation). Tonight was a perfect example as it was a blistery 18 degrees; the sun had set at least three hours earlier. 

Captain Cuntwat has been preaching the fat bike rEvolution ever since the time of baby Jesus and immaculate conception, as fat bikes appear to have the same origin. I've had his SS Pugs in my possession for a few weeks now, I've drank the whiskey and poisoned my veins with the ridicules amount of fun that can be had on these monster-truck like bikes. It's retarded how different and crazy it is to try and push one of these beasts through the woods. It's also the hardest thing I've done since riding fixed gear mountain bikes (which is what The Manimal was riding on tonight's quest for all things frozen dirt). Pushing the humungo tires through snow, sand or even groomed dirt is no task for girly-men. There is a reason my pants have become two sizes two small in the past two weeks (and I'm not taking about the waist my friend). Another new addiction in-the-works.

Last nights P-ride took us to the shores of the Kansas River, where we plowed miles of deep yet frozen sand and snow covered rogue trail. There were many climbs that eluded me; kicked me in the balls. I'm not sure if it was my lack of gorilla-strength or the tire size/singlespeed combo that was just working me over. I seriously felt like, at times, that I was pulling Santas' sleigh, or maybe something like THIS. 

Riding sand or snow was a dream. The Surly Nate rubber never lost traction and gave me undying confidence cornering in snow at speed or climbing rocky terrain. The grip was incredible. 

Captain Cuntwats new Mud Flask was a re-hydration miracle - our water bottles had frozen five minutes into our 2 hour ride and the contents of said flask, along with my thermos full of warm decadence were all that kept us rolling.

Riding Fat Bikes is a real treat, an interesting voyage on the bike, an experience well worth tasting. Yes, I'm building one.

Pimps and...

Santa brought me this sweet trail building weapon. Rogue Hoe's are the only way to go when bench-slappin'. Pretty psyched to get the Pirate cXc Winter Night Race Series courses cut-in with this beauty-of-a-beast. They cut through dirt, dead hookers and tree roots like butter. 

Rogue Hoe - The Trailbuilders Girlfriend

Rolling Fatties...

Since Maxithads sex change operation, and during his grueling recovery, I' have the single speed pugs in my possession  I've been interested in fat bikes for some time now and wanted to see for myself what all of the hype is about. Last nights Pirate Ride was cancelled due to incoming thunderstorms which were rumored to turn into snow by morning. Rather than sit on my can wishing for better conditions, I grabbed the SS Pugsley and headed to my local trails.

Upon my arrival at SMP the conditions were perfect. The dirt was super-tack. I was psyched. I unloaded the fat bike and geared up for about a 12 mile excursion into the woods. SMP is known for these annoying baby-head sized rocks that are randomly strewn all  over the trail; often times leaving no true line to ride. The Surly Nate 3.8 rubber absorbed these rocks like rolling over melted butter. Same went for the exposed tree roots which I used as little kickers to bunny-hop this beast along the trail. My first impression thus far; FUN!

The fun ended shortly thereafter when I entered the valleys of RED, where you enjoy a long downhill to which the Pugsley carved like a champ, but then a long-ass climb to get back out (x3). Maxithad earned a little extra respect tonight for his ability to keep up with us while we're on our XC bikes an he on this SS Pugs. I'm surprised he can find pants that fit.

The forecasted rain finally arrived  I was a good 20 minutes from the trail head so I just kept-on keeping-on. Rocks and roots were slicker than snot, but the Pugs, as I quickly learned, can run over bumps and slick rocks/roots easily if you are light on the bike. You get some major float over the bumps, and keeping the ship pointed straight ahead, you just monster truck over everything in sight. I was hitting rocks dead-on that would otherwise make for an over-the-bar peep show.

Overnight the rain turned to sleet and then to snow. This is the first snow we've had here in KC this winter. Damned if I wasn't going to get the Fatty out to test it's capabilities in the fresh powder.

I'm almost always late to work, so I figured I'd just go ride. Every gate at SMP was locked. I had to find another option for an early morning trail ride. There are miles of rogue trail near the lair, so I chose widely something fun and headed that way. It was a short ride, but the 4+ miles I did get-in was brilliant.

Usually, in winter months, I ride a fixed gear mountain bike. A fixie handles well in snow and slick conditions;  you are one with the bike and can feel every slip/control it. My knees were getting worked riding fixed, so this winter I've yet to get rolling in that style. After riding the Pugs, I may be going a totally different route. This fat bike thing is addicting. The giant tires at low pressure hug the trail, grip the snow like nobody's business. Mind-blowing.

Riding a fat bike differs from an XC bike at minimum in how you ride it. It's more like a motorcycle. You pump everything, lean harder into corners/berms, skid the rear tire, jump stuff, ride wheelies - It's a flippin' blast. Riding this bike is more fun than masturbating; almost. I'm sold. Many exciting adventures are in my near future, assuming we survive beyond December 21st. 

Creeper Stash...

Here's a shout out to Kuat Racks for having a great Creeper Stash Competition a few weeks back. Our man White Mike pulled off the win - by the skin of his pretty-boy teeth. He work his a$$ off and earned every penny of his $600 in pirate booty. 

Last night, to the tune of some oh-so delicious Stone IPA, We pit-crewed the installation of his new hitch and NV rack. We tossed my super-clean ship, the Black Pearl, onto his shiny new rig for a post-build photo. White Mike is super flippin' psyched to be carrying his fancy-pants Ti bikes in style. Now his downtown parking garage is going to be a bit more friendly for quick get-a-ways to the trail. 

Thanks to Kuat for always putting on a good show, giving away goods to the masses and spreading the holiday cheer, be it in the form of booze, giveaways, sponsorships or Facebook Competitions - these guys know how to innovate some sexy goods, ride bikes and just be puggin' cool like Samuel L Jackson, and that's pretty damn cool.

Velcro Tease...

The Dam

G-wiz made the call, tried to rally at least 40 jorks for a pre-work ride, Sunday morning Dirt Church extravaganza at Wyco Lake Trails. I was on the fence, trying to shake the sand out of my vagina and rally. Sunday mornings I can usually count on as ride time, so with much lollygagging and putting-off till the last minute - I arrived at the trail-head late to what G-wiz had described as "Velcro" like conditions. Boy was he full of forty-pounds of shit!

G-wiz and the 'Beauty Mark'...

Mark-e-Mark, G-wiz, Double-D and I head into the woods and out of a thick fog, not the 40 person event as planned. Conditions were truly questionable at best, which had probably kept the other thirty-six invitees in a warm bed with their gay lovers. Maybe it was the 10:30 p.m. invite the night before that was not up to par, who knows...

Double-D getting some A I R...

Temps were just above freezing. Forecast called for a fifty degree day, so we rolled. Instantly we realized that we'd been had by G-wiz's promise of Velcro. Rather, we'd endure two plus hours of slick-a$$ trail. Tires were picking up just enough wet dirt to make the rocks and roots a nightmare of ice proportions. Cornering on wet leaves also gave us a case of the snail-eye. We went as fast as we could sack-up to ride while still keeping the rubber side down - all but Mark-e-Mark when he took a benched-corner too wide and slid off the downhill side. We laughed that one off and kept trucking.

Stoned...

Later, after working the MTB trails like a minimum wage job, we headed over to some optional trail unbeknownst to some, but known to us as some kick-you-in-the-balls hill climbs. Double-D and I were already riding the pain-train and whimpering at the site of yet another source of elevation gain, all summoned by the trail slayer himself, G-wiz a.k.a.Pretty Boy. Yes, I did have to get off my stead and walk one of the hills, just the last fifteen feet; it did take a toll on my ego. From then on, my legs fell off. Double -D was cramping in full PMS style, but since I had already used our only tampon, he toughed it out and kept charging until our ride ended with a last but brutal gravel climb from hell.

My legs still phuggin' hurt. 

Twas a good ride, even the sections of non-trail that sucked. Sometimes a hard ride, you know; the kind that you just keep pushing through even though you're having 'one of those days', is good for the soul. Keeps you honest and lets you know - you've been slackin'.

NOT Velcro...

Another day in Midwest paradise my friends, paradise indeed...

Bad Cop, No Donut...

Just another morning playing around on bikes with G-Wiz, Mark-e-Mark and Double-D...

During one attempt at this jump, G-wiz almost became the hood ornament for a patrol car. 

The Weekend (in photos)...

First Friday

Gravel

Ascend

Santa?

Captain

FU

Drunkards

Dirt

Rogue

FU, Again

Ring of fire

Teepee

Lucky Me

Family

The Ejaculator...

The P-ride crew, for varied lame reasons, all but deserted the ship last night. There would be no P-ride. This was a good thing for me as I wanted to visit a friend I had not seen in months who lives in the Great White North. Being up North would also put me within range of the Humpday Ride at the Smithville Lake trails, which are about as fun to ride as jello wrestling with swimsuit models - or not. Usually the SMV Humpday ride hosts the largest showing at a group trail ride in the metro area. They have a reputation for riding and then drinking beer and socializing around a warm fire. How could this not be what the doctor ordered, seriously?

I rolled way the hell up to BFE to ride with the SMV jorks, a solid hour drive from the lair. It seems the cool weather turned 95% of the locals balls into shriveled prunes, leaving the group ride to only a small crew who wore their big girl pants and were psyched to ride. Dr. Dover, Double D, Richard and I did a hot lap of all the goods. I had not ridden these trails in months, and had forgotten how fast and fun they truly are. Dirt was in primo shape for rolling fast. The crew was moving at a solid pace, taking few if any stops, chatting it up along the way; super-fun guys. 

Since our post ride relaxation around the fire whilst drinking fine malt bevy's was more of an event than the actual riding, I'll move on to the details of said soiree'. We arrived back at the Smokin' Davey Trailhead to find a handful of fellow riders and a warm fire. These Northlanders are just like I remember; super nice and funny with zero attitude. Living out South, I'm surrounded by a bunch of egotistical assholes who can't seem to remember what riding bikes is all about, but would rather talk shit and stay in their little cliques than socialize and just enjoy the awesomeness that is riding dirt with other folks who share the love.

We had a great time telling fishing stories, laughing at others mishaps and using Farmy's magical beer bottle cap ejaculator - a true gem and must have for all that indulge in the finer things in life. There was just a good feeling, a great vibe riding and hanging with this group. They have a good thing going, and I'll be back for more.

Thanks to the crew, for the tour and for allowing me to share the case of beer that fell out of my truck and into your greasy mitts. Until next time, Cheers & Beers!

Nutrition...

I'm often asked about what I use for fuel when riding. I'm not the poster boy of nutrition by any means, however, I do have a pretty simple staple of goods that I roll with during long rides and/or endurance races that work great for me, give excellent results and zero stomach /cramp issues. I roll the following spread with 100% confidence every time.

I prefer Hammer products. They're the bomb. My typical mixture is this: (2) scoops Perpetuem, (2) scoops HEED in (1) small bottle. This, along with one tall bottle of straight water, will last me 1 to 2 hours of hard riding/race pace. I supplement these (2) bottle with a flask of Hammer Gel, which I pull off of every 15 minutes or so to keep all systems in check. It's pretty basic, no packaging to litter or hassle with. It works (for me). 

On longer rides (2+ hours) I supplement the above with a Powerbar and sometimes Cliff Shot Blocs to get something of substance in my stomach. It's a good idea to try out your nutrition program on your local trail when riding for fun, and not during a big race when it could be the cause of serious issues if it does not work, or your body is not keen on the fuel. 

I have no ties with Hammer, I just like their goods. They work for me. Maybe my method will work for you too. Cheers!

Hell yeah...

I've got a family, as most of you punks know. We all love to ride bikes and every weekend we do a family ride. We hook-up the Burley, the Trail-a-bike and get some fresh pave' action. We hit a few parks for the kiddos to play like monkeys, have a picnic, and get in some mileage. Rolling these rides, pulling the little people in a caboose behind my plastic race bike is far from optimal. I decided to splurge on a new 'family ride/bar ride/grocery bike'. Here she is in all her glory - a mid '80s Specialized Hardrock. A real mans bike if I've ever seen one. I know you are super jealous, just look at this rare beauty. Life just took a turn for the better. Ready to shred the gnar...

And for those inquiring minds - I'm having a hard time NOT converting this beast into a single speed pave' machine. Thoughts on why I should or should not?