Month: May 2011

Heading for the hills

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 14 Comments
Cinco de Mayo on Gold Camp Road
This is about where I called it quits, having run short of food, water and legs. That's downtown Bibleburg in the distance.

I felt adventurous yesterday, and the weather was more or less cooperative for a change, so I took another stab at the Gold Camp ride. No bears this time, but the Universe tried rolling rocks on me in a couple of the pucker-passes, so my Get Out of Danger Free card must still be expired.

The last time I was this far up Gold Camp Road — 20 miles from Chez Dog — I was coming down, not climbing up. A few of us thought it smart to ride mountain bikes up Old Stage Road, then descend Gold Camp to Bibleburg. Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time … until it began raining lightly as we started the steep, seven-mile grind, then sleeting, and finally snowing.

By the time we hit Gold Camp it was a full-on whiteout, and none of us was prepared for winter weather. What a fun descent that was. I had new respect for Andy Hampsten’s Gavia ride after that one.

Defunct tunnel
The far side of the collapsed tunnel. Looks like a fine place to house crazy Uncle Louie.

No snow this time around, but it wasn’t exactly toasty warm, either. I kept the knee warmers on throughout and rolled the arm warmers back up for the descent, which was a little dicey on the Voodoo Nakisi with wire-bead 700×38 WTB Allterrainasauruses. Gold Camp is in decent shape from where it goes to gravel up to the High Drive parking lot, but the surface gets a whole lot looser past the third tunnel, which is collapsed and requires a brief, steep, single-track detour with a water crossing. I had to get off and walk for 50 meters or so on one climb, which was rim-deep in pea gravel and sand.

The 40-mile out-and-back involved five tunnels, all told — four navigable and the one collapsed — and man, is it nice to have a set of Rudy Project prescription shades for that action. Just flip up the sunglass portion and you can see where the hell you’re going, kinda, sorta.

But I miss my old Avocet altimeter. I’d love to know how much vertical gain I bagged yesterday.

Beer-thirty

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 5 Comments
Pikes Peak in May
The big hill still packs a chill, no matter what the calendar says.

We have a bad case of the brain cramp going on around here today. I had to pick up Herself at the Bibleburg Interdimensional Airport at 10 p.m. last night, we didn’t hit the rack until about midnight, and neither of us slept for shit, thanks to seasonal allergies that have triggered massive tsunamis in our respective snotlockers. So this morning we both had jet lag and I didn’t even get to go anywhere.

I tried half-heartedly to pay attention to the news, which has become even more Pythonesque lately (“And now it’s time for the Medicare card in your wallet to explode.”). But I lost interest in bad imitations of good comedy and decided to ride the bike instead, shoot a little video of some of my favorite trails in Palmer Park.

Alas, that went sideways as well — the video, not the riding — and by the time I realized that my cinematography was a few Cecils short of a DeMille I’d run down the batteries in my Flip Video, so there was no take two without plugging the bugger into the iMac back at the ranch.

So I stuffed the Flip into a jersey pocket, bagged a few more trails sans video, then headed for home, where the beer is. Was. And I feel much better now, thanks. Tomorrow is another day.

Boogieman’s gonna get you

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments

I see Obama got the boogieman. Good for him. Can’t say I liked watching my countrymen acting the fool at the news, as though their team had just won the Super Bowl or something, but given the predilection of American politicians for describing warfare in sporting terms I suppose they can hardly be blamed. But I turned off the TV anyway.

I do have one question, though. Who do you suppose the new boogieman is going to be?

Meanwhile, here’s an old boogieman for you, courtesy of Catfish Hodge.

May Day! May Day!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 29 Comments

Today, as you all know, is International Workers Day, when we celebrate the final triumphant victory of the working class over the ruthless despots of global capitalism.

Whoops — kind of skipped a step or two there, didn’t we? The “fighting” and “winning” bits, if memory serves.

A quick Google search finds a few stalwarts still out there manning the barricades: the International Workers of the World (IWW), better known as the Wobblies; the Socialist Party USA; the Democratic Socialists of America; the World Socialist Party (US); and of course, Old Reliable, the Communist Party USA.

I haven’t seen an actual commie on the hoof for the better part of quite some time — since I fancied myself one, back in the late Seventies. They appear to be as rare as honor and dignity in the workplace.

Small wonder. Considering the calumny and vitriol heaped upon the decidedly non-socialist Democrat currently occupying the Oval Office, can you imagine what sort of horror awaits someone who actually declares himself a pinko in public?

And more’s the pity. It would be refreshing to see someone standing tall for working people instead of heaping more shit on their plates.

So, until someone shows up — perhaps the Judean People’s Front Crack Suicide Squad — we’ll just have to settle for some old-style agitprop. Here’s an English-language version of the Internationale from the late folk-punk artist and socialist Alistair Hulett to put the red back in your blood.