But please, don’t take that hour of sleep from me on a brisk Sunday morning in March.
No, goddamnit, I mean it this time. I refuse to participate. I will be an hour late for everything until the nation (save for Hawaii and parts of Arizona) comes to its senses.
You don’t see the Turk getting up an hour early just because the tyrannical feddle gummint controls the nation’s time zones, do you?
You do not, and I have the photographic evidence to prove it.
• Extra Credit Tales of Daylight Saving Time in Crusty County and Elsewhere: And you think you had it rough, resetting your bedside alarm, oven clock and wristwatch. Harrison Walter has a whole room full of clocks that require his attention.
With spring on the horizon seasonal allergies have me by the snotlocker with a downhill pull. So it’s probably not smart to spend a couple hours daily pedaling briskly among the junipers.
But as you know, I will never be smart.
The start of the descent from the wilderness boundary at Pino Trail.
The bikes of choice lately have been a pair of fat-tired 29ers, the Jones Steel Diamond and Co-Motion Divide Rohloff. And I’ll concede it’s been a pleasant change to have smaller gears and bigger rubber — 2.4 and 2.1, respectively — on the dry, sandy trails.
That said, both bikes also weigh around 30 pounds with pedals, seven more elbees than either a Steelman or Voodoo, and thus there is something of a trade-off involved here. Bigger cushion, harder pushin’.
And it’s not as though these more trail-friendly setups give me mad skillz. I still can’t clean the rock garden on Trail 341, just below the wilderness boundary at the Pino Trail. And if you think I’m gonna shoulder either of these beasts to run the sucker you’re not any smarter than I am.
Still, fat tires or thin, it’s all good fun. Especially if you don’t get skunked, as an off-leash dog did the other day a little further down the trail. Would’ve been nice if the owner had mentioned it before I reached down to scratch the little stinkbomb’s ears.
The state of affairs back in 1999, when the Cactus Cup was on its way out and the Sea Otter was on its way up.
The Innertubes are a marvelous thing.
I was noodling around online, checking the availability of campsites at McDowell Mountain Regional Park (no room at the inn), when I noticed an alert about “a special event” taking place there this weekend.
The Granite Trail rises and falls through a basin that was pretty lush when I last visited in February 2016.
I think I last covered a Cactus Cup back in 1999. Once the unofficial kickoff to the mountain-bike season, an all-hands-on-deck deal for staff and contractors from VeloNews and Bicycle Retailer and Industry News, it had been eclipsed by the Sea Otter Classic (which I also attended that year) and devolved into more of a regional gathering of the tribes.
It was still a giggle, though, and I expect it remains so, especially with temps in the mid-70s and a bit of cloud cover in the forecast.
The Competitive Track, built for the Cup when it moved from Pinnacle Peak to McDowell in 1998, is big fun, and the rest of the more than 40 miles of trails in the park are top-shelf, too. You can ride most of them on a cyclocross bike, if you’re insane, but a mountain bike works pretty well too for anyone who suffers from mental health.
It’s nice to see that the Cup runneth over again, even if I can’t be there, dammit.
The Oscar, like the Pulitzer and Reuben, continues to elude me.
But the white man can’t keep me down. Underemployment and boredom are powerful motivators. Thus on Saturday I clamped a Shimano CM-1000 to the stem of my Nobilette and documented my first visit to the North Diversion Channel Trail this year.
The NDCT is an easy ride from El Rancho Pendejo, and it’s the trail that got me interested in Albuquerque as a winter alternative to Fountain Hills when we still lived in Bibleburg.
The Nobilette and I visited Balloon Fiesta Park back in fall 2014, shortly after we moved to town.
If February had me by the brain stem with a downhill pull I’d jump into the trusty Furster and motor on down to the Hampton Inn at Carlisle and I-25, which proved a perfect base camp for exploring the hundreds of miles of paths and trails available in the Duke City.
The hotel sits adjacent to the I-40 Trail, which feeds into the North Diversion trail a short spin to the west. The NDCT runs from the University of New Mexico on the south to Balloon Fiesta Park on the north. In between, you can connect with other trails that will take you east to the foothills or west to the Paseo del Bosque Recreation Trail, the crown jewel of the local network.
This 21-mile spin starts at El Rancho Pendejo, picks up the Tramway Recreation Trail a few blocks west, then crosses over Tramway to the Paseo de las Montañas Trail, which eventually bridges Interstate 40 and leads to Indian School Road.
A quick right-left on Washington and Cutler leads to the Hampton on the I-40 Trail and thence to the NDCT. Turning right on Bear Arroyo leads to a bridge over I-25, and from there the ride home is a blend of off-street bike path and quiet suburban streets.
Mostly I ride the road, but when I become exasperated with boneheads and leadfeet the trails are a pleasant diversion. Pun intended.
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