Category: Albuquerque

Happy trails

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 29 Comments
Don't let the apparent solitude fool you — the Piedra Lisa/Embudo Dam trails were crawling with people trying to sweat out their hangovers.
Don’t let the apparent solitude fool you — the Piedra Lisa/Embudo Dam trails were crawling with people trying to sweat out their hangovers.

Right. New Year’s Day has come and gone, and it’s all downhill from here.

Instead of Hoppin’ John and cornbread, deadlines are on the menu — print reviews of the Trek 520 and Specialized Sequoia are due this month at Adventure Cyclist, along with video of the Sam Hillborne. Bicycle Retailer and Industry News, meanwhile, wants a column and cartoon.

The struggle continues.

Bellying up to the bar on New Year's Day.
Bellying up to the bar on New Year’s Day.

Meanwhile, the first ride of the year is in the books. I performed a cassette transplant on the mango Steelman Eurocross to replace a 26-tooth cog with a 28 — 36×26 is too tall for some of the trails I ride around here — and went out and about for an hour.

Riding touring bikes has spoiled me for cyclocross. I need to think about rearranging the technology on this Eurocross, losing the balky old eight-speed Ultegra brifters for bar-cons and aero brake levers; shortening and raising the stem a tad; and going wider with the handlebar. Also, and too, pulling a few teeth on the chainrings, going to 46/34 from 48/36.

And while I’m at it, I could go nine-speed. Forward, into the past!

I’m probably stuck as regards tires — 32mm is what I’m rocking now, and I nearly slid off a greasy off-camber bit and into a ditch full of sharp rocks and cacti because I’m used to riding nice, fat, squishy 38s and up. But I think I’ll be lucky if I can shoehorn a 35 into that rear triangle.

And if I’m unlucky, or unfit? Well, I guess I can always ride the Soma Double Cross, which already has bar-cons and aero levers, plus a triple crank and 700x42s. Gotta look for that silver lining, don’t you know.

Along those lines, consider this: At least Mariah Carey won’t be the next president. Too soon?

Fire one! Fire two!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 23 Comments
The light does amazing things around here in the afternoons, particularly if some weather is rolling in.
The light does amazing things around here in the afternoons, particularly if some weather is rolling in.

The Fire Tree was on guard late yesterday afternoon as I walked The Boo, Herself being unavailable for dog duty (heh).

Behold the recovery interval.
Behold the recovery interval.

I should have been paying more attention to The Boo than to the late-day light and what it did to the neighborhood foliage. He was all fired up his own bad self and got away from me on a descent; the old fella is seized by periodic bouts of enthusiasm, and once he finds his stride he goes pretty good, especially on a downhill.

I didn’t catch the little bastard until just before Comanche, slapping one shoe on the leash and bringing him up short of St. Peter’s Gate. He’d never have made the corner at that speed and your average Duke City motorist makes the electorate look focused.

With camera in pocket and leash firmly in hand we ran all the way back to El Rancho Pendejo, where I had a fine chicken noodle soup in the early stages of production for a Saturday release.

And a good thing it is that we got some exercise yesterday, too, because right now it’s snowing. In other words, it’s a great day for a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a nap.

Black Lung Friday

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 2 Comments
Welcome to Piedra Lisa, which is Spanish for "Smooth Stone."
Welcome to Piedra Lisa, which is Spanish for “Smooth Stone.”

Gah. I seem to have collected a bug from some’eres. Woke up way too early this morning making sounds like an emphysema ward getting tear-gassed and had to relocate to the guest bedroom unless I wanted to have a heart attack (there was a strong chance that Herself, who enjoys her Zs, might attack it with a nail file).

The guest room was chilly and the bed under-covered, but I figured that if I got back out of it to go hunting a better blankie, I’d either wake all the way up or have a cat sneak in for a nap on my head. So I curled up and endured.

Cycling thus seemed like a real bad idea today so I consulted with my man Hal Walter on his latest book project and went for an hourlong walk instead.

Pretty much everybody in Albuquerque had had the same idea, so I didn’t lack for companionship. I was the only one who sounded like the ghost of Leonard Cohen impersonating Tom Waits from inside an alligator crawling through a culvert, though.