Close To Perfect

I now have week in the new house, in a new town, in a new state. I sought out some semi-local single track twice now, and did a road ride back during our house hunting trip over Labor Day, and that was all nice, but I really wanted to explore the low traffic gravel and dirt roads that lay just outside of town. Today I did just that and the results were amazing!


First let me say (and this is no joke) I have had a reoccurring dream for years that I stumble upon some hidden trail right down the road from my house. One that I can't believe that I never knew was there and spend hours exploring it with a grin across my pasty face. Today that dream was pretty much realized. While it wasn't a trail (poop!) but it was endless rolling miles of dirt and gravel. I had to pinch myself on occasion to assure myself that I wasn't dreaming. It was like heaven. It was that perfect.

I rolled out of my driveway mid morning in some chilly high 40 degree temps and gray skies. A few blocks later I was on the CMU campus. A few miles later I was out on long stretch of pavement, then it was a right turn onto dirt. Then it was 30+ miles of dirt and gravel before I saw pavement again. JOY! I blather at length about the mountains and how I love them, etc., etc., And there is now doubt that I do, I mean I want my ashes scattered atop that high mountain meadow at the start of trail 401 in Crested Butte, but sometimes I think it's just dirt. Anytime one is on dirt you are bound to see things and experience things that you just can't on pavement. Today I pedaled along rolling dirt roads in awe of the simple beauty of the rural Michigan landscape before me. There was a time or two I had to stop just to breathe in the openness and simplicity that was before me. To soak it all in.


There was so much about today's ride that I loved, I just can't explain it. When I bought the Jake The Snake I had rides like this in mind, but prior to today I was having a bit of buyers remorse. "What the f*ck did I buy this bike for?" I often asked myself. I don't race cross and the gearing was all wrong for the Pennsylvania mountains. Today that all changed.

While there are things I would change about the bike- the brakes still suck ass, and the FSA crank is mushier than an after school special projected on Oprah's naked ass, a cross bike was the absolute best bike for the job today and any remorse was gone. Now the only remorse I have now is not holding out for a Ti Vaya!

There were signs of Gluten Free militants about. Fear them.

The Ritchie 700 x 40c tires were perfect. Fast rolling on the pavement and fat enough to float over the more sandy sections of the roads and some of the studder bumps left from those BIG freaking tractors that I saw out there. The rubber seems a bit soft, and I wonder about their durability, but overall I am happy with them. So far. I had mapped out the ride and had a cue sheet made up. I did fail to put the mileage of some of the sections, and often found myself pedaling for ages wondering "when the hell is that turn coming??" Eventually I always found the turn, it's just that the area of nothingness that I was covering was just that vast. The ride covered close to 45 miles door to door. 32 to 35 miles were dirt and gravel. I REALLY freaking like that!!!

The wide (almost) 40c tires worked great on these sandier sections of gravel.

The ride should have been about 43 miles, but I did some backtracking in the campus area on the way home. I was a tad overwhelmed by some game day traffic (FIRE UP CHIPS!) and found myself lost on campus! Ha! But a few turns had me back to home PDQ. As I made my way through campus a dude in a pink bunny costume on a vintage road bike saw me and yells "YES! ANOTHER CYCLIST AROUND, ALRIGHT MAN!" I was so shocked at the fact that he was in bunny costume, and yelling something NOT dick-ish that all I could do was smile and mutter some sort of unintelligible gibberish as I laughed. Rock on my bunny suit wearing cycling friend. Rock on.


Today was some Karma payback I'm sure of that. The stress level in my life has been turned up to 11 since August. To ride 45 miles from my front door and have it be mostly dirt was the work of the Cycling Gods. I thank them for making a dream of sorts come true. Not to mention Wifey says thank you and hope that maybe I won't be such a dick about our move. The best part of the ride was knowing that while I rolled several miles of dirt and gravel, there are many more options that lay ahead. I can't wait to explore more.


If I were a bike shop in MP I would bet tooting the horn of gravel for any customer that walked through the door. I would have a selection of cross bikes on hand, as well as bikes like the Salsa Fargo and the fine frames from Rawland. There is some serious beauty out there. It lays somewhere between a ribbon of single track trail and the mountains, and it seems to me it's called gravel. Riding, exploring, seeing new things. That is what it's all about. I love
it.

Later.