Confirmation

We were about 2/3 the way up Wash Creek Road last night -- for the second time -- and Than confirmed what I've always known.

"Your wife must be awesome."

Like I said, I've been privy to this knowledge for a while -- like, nearly 19 years (or 16 if you count the "wife" part) -- but it's always nice to get external validation.

To wit:

• Daniel is 19 weeks old today. Nineteen weeks, and she has him trained: Sleeping through the night on a mostly regular basis, smiling all the time, totally chilled unless he's hungry. As Than pointed out: "When ours was 18 weeks, there was no way I was leaving the house."
• Yesterday was Valentine's Day. With upcoming travel and a full week off the bike, just ahead of some serious Horribleness, Kim knew I'd be jittery for a ride. Not only did she give her blessing for me to visit my mistress, Pisgah, instead of spending a quiet night at home with her, she was also understanding and forgiving when my "might be 90 minutes" ride turned into nearly 3 hours. This, after she had to spend all day at home with two sick kids!
• And ... and ... AND! She did my laundry while I was out playing in the woods with my friends.

How awesome is that?

In all seriousness, I really appreciate the love and support that Kim gives me. I couldn't have achieved my dreams without her. Someday -- someday! -- we will "settle down" and things will get quiet, and we'll spend a bit more time together. For now, though, I don't think I'm going to see her for the next 2 weeks or so, and when I called to tell her that in a panic she just said, "well, we'll be OK. Just take it one day at a time."

How did I get so lucky?

Thank you sweetheart! Love you and see you soon!

Weather or not, here I come

After weeks of unbelievable weather -- it was warmer in January than it was during Double Dare way back in October -- we're expecting flurries and wind tonight in the mountains. Just in time, too, as I have just one free weekend (this one) in which to explore as much of Pisgah as possible in preparation for some horrible happenings in my future.

"Training" such as it is, has heretofore been going very well. It's easy when it's at least 40 degrees outside, every day. I haven't gotten much volume, but the rides I've managed have been consistent, and the workouts have been solid. But, it's too early to really be thinking about "the season," at least for me. In years past, I'd be shooting for 20+-hour weeks right about now, plowing my way through the Chicago winter ... but now, racing doesn't really start until later, and it goes later in the year, so what's the point of braving cold rain and wind?

Until tomorrow, that is. And not a moment too soon.

W-recked

Well, at least it'll make me stronger.

But in the meantime, I'm wrecked.

Facing an off-and-on rain event that became more off than on through the afternoon, Greg and I made the sensible choice to hike instead of ride on Saturday. And, since we're both bikers looking to build some fitness/strength heading into the season, we naturally decided to gain as much vert as we could, as quickly as we could: Think Stairmaster workout, only on dirt and in the middle of the forest. There's a nice little trail on the edge of the Cradle of Forestry that basically goes straight: Straight north, straight up into the sky, from the north edge of the Pink Beds up the side of the Dividing Ridge, across the drainage from the Pisgah Inn. It's 1700 ft. or so in just a few miles, with a nice little lollipop option at the top around the familiar territory of Pilot Rock and the Gnome Trail. Plus, it's hiking only, and being bikers we don't give ourselves that many chances to do hiking-only trails.

It was a beautiful walk, with stunning views once we passed through the clouds and the ceiling lifted. The sun came out as we made our way over the top of the ridge in the shadow of Mt. Pisgah, and more than once we remarked that it may have been a good day for a ride after all. Well, I made that remark -- any other year, I wouldn't care, and a 4-hour hike on the first Saturday in February would be just what the doctor ordered. Except this year, I'm supposed to be "racing" in a few weeks, and I'm sort-of low on saddle time. But on the way down we saw one of my competitors, who was trail running with his dog -- running! -- so I didn't feel quite as bad. Except that he was running. And we weren't. Hmmm ...

Before heading home, we nipped over to the base of Pilot Rock, another hike-only trail that we usually fly by at 20 miles an hour on our way down. It was a pretty cool jumble of massive rocks, and served as yet another Pisgah reminder of how insignificant is our time on this planet. It's unreal to ponder the forces that formed these mountains, that they once were as high as the Rockies and are now 1/3 as tall, and that all those boulders were connected together at some point. Incredible.

I had plans on Sunday afternoon, so I took advantage of a near-60-degree morning drenched in sunshine to gravel grind my way through the area nearby. From the Hatchery I headed up 475B to 276, then out-and-back to Grassy Lot Gap on 1206. It felt great to be out on a bike, and despite a bit of protest from my hiking muscles, the climbs went well and I felt strong-ish. Like a bike rider, at least.

After that, it was time to get dirty. I had to drive from one side of the mountain to the other, to the trail work being done on Bracken Mountain above Brevard. This trail will eventually connect the City with the Forest, and it was my second time helping to clear corridor in a volunteer effort that has made incredible progress since the New Year thanks to favorable weather and a massive outpouring of support. Stephen and Carlos and Josh had been out there sawyering since mid-morning, and our job was to come behind with loppers to get the small stuff, and also to move the spoils off to the side. With 30 or so people out there, we caught up to the sawyers in no time, and dang if that corridor is clean! It's pretty great to be part of such an enthusiastic group of folks.

Only, I'm wrecked. I think folks are going to be in for a surprise when they first experience the trail on Bracken. If City residents are expecting another Estatoe Trail, they're in for a bit of an awakening. See, Estatoe runs right along the Davidson River, and is on flat, fairly gentle ground -- it's graded, has great bridges, and is fun and safe for families.

Bracken, however, is going to be awesome. Even if the plan calls for crushed fine on the tread and structures over the drainages, the terrain back there is rugged enough that no hike or bike experience will be mistaken for easy. The corridor goes up and down, and up some more, around and back, past waterfalls and shoulders that offer incredible views of downtown. There's a big loop at the top that is almost cleared (in anticipation of the machining that will take place to build the trail), which will have strings on either end that connect to the City on one side and 475C on the other -- a beautiful ride down to the Hatchery. We've been working on that loop, and let me tell you -- it's tough.

Folks here talk about "Pisgah Miles" when we describe our adventures in the forest. A mile in Pisgah is unlike a mile anywhere else, we say. For instance, once upon a time I could knock out 26 miles of Kettle singletrack in under 3 hours ... a 3-hour ride in Pisgah, on the other hand, might net me half that on a good day, depending on what we're riding.

And Bracken, though it's not on National Forest land, is definitely in Pisgah.

We spent 4 hours out there yesterday, and cleared a bit more than a mile. But it was a Pisgah Mile. It was unreal, trying to snip our way through rhododendron thickets on sideslopes that approached 60 or 70 degrees. The ground was slick, the embedded (and hidden) logs were slicker, and the under- and overstory were darn near overwhelming. As much as I love trail work, yesterday was tough -- I was more than happy to not have a sawyer's certification, and to only be "lugging" loppers around. We were in the most difficult part of the loop, and despite a long, long line of volunteers strung out along the trail corridor, progress was slow and difficult. And yes, it was fun -- but man, oh, man, today I'm hurting.

I only went down once, bashed my elbow pretty good another time, and only had one tree dropped on my head by a less-than-aware fellow volunteer, but today I feel like I went 10 rounds with Mike Tyson. Nearly the entire work day was spent with the slope to our left, so my ankles and feet are goofed up -- blisters and soreness in places I didn't think could get blisters or sore. Thanks to the wonderful weather, I was in short sleeves, so I'm also sporting this year's first vegetation scratches -- a sure sign of a good day in the woods. My 6'2" height and telescoping loppers came in handy out there, but today I can't lift my arms above my chest. And I slept so deeply that I didn't even hear my alarm this morning, reminding me that I needed to go to work.

That said, I feel great. It is super fun to be out there playing in the woods in a way that will make it possible for other people to play too. I'm going to be able to take Kate and Daniel up there and point to the trees I cut -- personally -- to help make the trail. I'll get to ride from the Hatchery, do a loop, drop into Brevard for coffee, and ride back. 

The soreness will fade -- today I'm wrecked; tomorrow I'll be smiling.

And it'll make me stronger.

Turning dirt

I've been spending a lot of time lately with people who wear green and brown for a living.

Most of them have this badge on their uniform; but others, mostly state and municipal-type folk, have other insignia from other agencies. So far, most of the time has been spent in meeting rooms, but soon enough, we'll have dirt under our feet.

As of last night, I've signed on for the Greater Pisgah Trail Crew, one of a handful of volunteers who will be approved to work on trails in the Pisgah Ranger District. It's a bit of a restrictive process -- no more open-volunteer "Dirty Thursdays" around here -- but it's also understandable, given the sensitive nature of our somewhat fragile ecosystem and the historical sites scattered throughout the Forest, not to mention litigious risk managers. I won't actually get out for a few more weeks -- probably in early March -- but in the meantime there are more meetings and trails on other lands that need work.

I'm pretty stoked, to say the least. Literally starting before I was born, I've been recreating on our National lands. (For those of you who knew my Mom, can you imagine a very pregnant Deb Strout -- like, within a week or three of my due date -- camping in a tent and sleeping on a foam mattress pad, out in the desert? Ha! Me neither, but I'm assured that it happened!) Tim and I grew up playing G.I. Joe in every little patch of forest we could find, taking camping trips as a family around the country (and into Canada!) and stealing out to local camp sites every chance we got. And in addition, if there's one thing I learned from my parents, and their parents before them, it's that we have a duty to give back.

Besides, it's fun.

I don't get a chance to talk about it much here, but in addition to my work, racing, parenting and husbanding duties, I've taken on a pretty active role in helping to shape the future of bicycling here in the mountains, in North Carolina, regionally, and even on a national level. I'm in a unique position to do so, with the backing of a growing business and a passion for just about every form of cycling there is. Plus, thanks to my work with WBR, an understanding of just what the bike can do to change people's lives.

That usually means I get to sit in self-described "butt numbing" meetings, and I've been to my fair share. Some of the best, of course, are when we're talking trail work, and I've had a chance to get schooled in trail building technique by some of the best builders out there. Or like the meetings lately, in which the Forest Service is undertaking a facilitated public comments process to help them shape recreation planning for the future. Some of the more difficult are when we're meeting with staff of an acrimonious Congressman who fails to see bicycling as a viable transportation choice, here in this century.

Balancing chair time with time in the woods is important to me. The obvious choice is to go for a ride, and I do that plenty. But I gotta' tell you ... deep down, I really think building trail is more fun. More satisfying. More rewarding. That's not to say I didn't mount up my NiteRider last night and hit Big M for a while after the meeting, but it is to say that Sunday's planned ride won't be that long, and will only be in the morning, since we'll be out with loppers on Bracken Mountain that afternoon. 

And I can't wait.

I take myself way too seriously

While other folks like him and him were out having one sort of fun this weekend ... I was sort of doing the opposite.

Not that my weekend wasn't fun. But I long ago decided that I take myself way too seriously to ever seriously consider heading to Fontana in January. Seriously. My idea of fun is just ... more serious, I guess.

So instead, I spent all day Saturday at REI, at an excellent presentation by the head honcho of this outfit, learning about trails. I've been through a few other trail seminars put on by these folks and others, but if you've ever met Woody, then you know Saturday's presentation was, well, different. In a most excellent way. Woody literally invented some of the trail features we take for granted, here in the mountains and even around the world, and it's not like him to pull punches when he has an opinion. It was a great refresher, a whole lot of photographs, and a serious helping of trail theory. If you're going to skip riding on a 50-degree day in January, you might as well make it worthwhile ...

Sunday was a bit more serious. It's been a long time since I got out for a long ride, what with travel, exploding derailleurs, and family commitments, so Sunday I skipped the trail work day and headed up instead. I felt a little guilty, but I also know I'll have my fair share of turning dirt this year ... besides, a guy's got to ride sometime, right?

I took my time on the Legends Loop -- not that I was lollygagging, but with soft-ish conditions up high and a distinct lack of motivation whenever the gravel turned up, I wasn't rushing things either. It was fun -- I took the Siren out long for the first time in a while, and was pretty psyched to enjoy a newfound confidence in the technical sections despite the noted lack of squish. In fact, I rather enjoyed it -- the shorter wheelbase and tighter pivot of the Siren made some of the switchbacks on Pilot more navigable than what I've gotten used to on the Spearfish.

It was good to get the volume, I wasn't totally smashed, and by the end of Laurel Creek I was enjoying myself a lot more than I had at the beginning of 1206. My head still isn't quite in the game, and returning home to an incredible battle of wills was kind of tough -- I need to train to race, but it's getting less and less fair to Kim as she deals with the increasing willpower and assertion that comes with a 3-year-old. Thankfully both kids were down and out by 7, and we're starting to see hope for sleeping through the night. That said, waking at 5:30 this morning to two screaming Mimis was a bit of overkill ...

Seriously.

This one's for Dicky

Godspeed, my friend. Not many folks can lay claim to 14 years (and 3 weeks) as a messenger. Hell, Kevin Bacon only lasted a couple of months.
 

By the way, pants are overrated.

Best-kept "secrets"

When I first started riding, I remember hearing about Tsali, the trail system outside of Bryson City, North Carolina, nestled just this side of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park on the shores of Fontana Lake. "For a hot minute," as they say around here, Tsali (and with a bit of a stretch, Asheville and the Pisgah National Forest) was mentioned in the same breath as Moab, Big Bear/Canaan and Whistler as must-do mountain bike destinations.

But then something happened. Or rather, multiple somethings. This was a bit more than a decade ago, and while places like Moab and Whistler, along with upstarts like Park City and Tahoe, heavily invested in their summertime "active tourism" infrastructure to bolster their struggling economies, Western North Carolina lagged behind. To be fair, as much as I like Tsali, it's fairly limited in its trail geography. And downtown Bryson City is no Moab. But with not so much imagination, the French Broad River basin, including Asheville, Hendersonville, Brevard and even extended to include Tsali and Boone, sure could have done more with itself, rivaling a place like Whistler as a "I-must-go-there-before-I-die" Mecca for mountain biking.

Instead, the area has languished in relative obscurity. It became a "secret" destination. Now, those "in the know," know what's what. Some of the best riders in the country -- and the world -- sing this area's praises. The Pisgah Ranger District is one of the most visited Districts in the U.S. Forest Service system. The DuPont tract was recently named North Carolina's first-ever State Recreation Forest. Heck, I even remember the first time I heard of Pisgah, following along on Ronsta's blog as he posted a photo of himself, chest-deep with his bike held above his head, fording South Mills River in what I now know is Turkeypen.

But locals here are funny. Mountain folk aren't given to easily part with their secret stash of singletrack. City and county governments have been slow to embrace the lifestyle. It's been less than a decade since the factories closed, and it's taken this long for them to realize the economic potential of active tourism -- and even slower to embrace each other for truly regional planning. (In fact, I would argue they're still behind the 8-ball in a lot of ways -- if you're Asheville and Buncombe County, it's too easy to rest on the influx of blue-hair tourism dollars that accompany being the location of the most massive private home in the country.) The riding is not always visitor-friendly, and can be pretty "epic" in the overused form of the word. And long-time locals here, not of the mountain biking variety, can be loathe to hoards of stinky, baggy-clad, sometimes bearded nature-lovers taking up space in "their" towns.

Thankfully, things are changing. While the name Transylvania County may conjure up images of caped, fang-tooth monsters lurking in every wooded cove, it is instead home to literally hundreds of waterfalls and the charming city of Brevard, gateway to the Pisgah National Forest. The powers-that-be saw fit to do an economic impact study a short while back, and what they found was pretty incredible: Active tourism far exceeded their expectations, and was a key driver in their economy. This built on and gave urgency to a number of projects that were already underway, and moved City and County leaders to focus their energies on attracting even more dollars, with advertisements in mountain-bike-focused magazines like BIKE.

In fact, BIKE chose to base their 2012 "Bible of Bike Tests" in and around Brevard. Over the course of two packed-agenda weeks last autumn, a crew of wreckers hit the trails at DuPont, Pisgah and Beech Mountain (Boone), riding this year's whips in back-to-back runs on some of the most fun trails we have. Admittedly, even Ridgeline will get "boring" after the 15th time in a row, so they also headed deep into the Forest for a session on Farlow Gap; which, afterward, one of the testers said to me that night at dinner with a reverent tone, "is really world-class, mate."

That issue has now hit the newstands, and last Friday the County held a "coming out" party of sorts. By all accounts, mountain biking was represented -- but mountain bikers weren't the only ones excited by the exposure. The very next day, this past Saturday, was also the first volunteer day on the Bracken Mountain Trail -- which, when completed, will literally link downtown Brevard with "Big Pisgah" on a ribbon of widetrack that will be anything but a "paved" multi-use path. I was there on the work crew, with its diversity of volunteers (mountain bikers, hikers, others), and am more excited than ever to do a big loop, now that I've seen the views and what an awesome trail layout it's going to be.

In fact, after the work day, I headed over to the Fish Hatchery to ride the other side of the mountain, and discovered another "secret" gem: Forest Road 475C, which will link the City with the Forest, was one of the most breathtaking rides I've done in a long, long time. At one point, just 15 minutes up from the Hatchery, you hit a bend that offers an incredible view of John Rock on one side and Looking Glass Rock on the other, with the Forest spread out around you, rising to the peak at Pilot Rock above Farlow. Forty or so minutes later, I topped out in an almost Alpine setting, alone for all the world just below Catpen Gap, in a clearing with an old fire pit and a goat-trail connection to the Art Loeb. The ride was double-track, but was double-track a la Pisgah ... which, if you know what I mean, is worth every ounce of sweat you've got.

I'm proud to call this area my home. I'm excited that the Southeast arm of IMBA, known as SORBA, is working hard in the region to push forward a pro-mountain biking agenda with local and national land managers. I'm doing my part on behalf of Cane Creek, SORBA and myself to work with local politicians and business owners to realize the potential of the resources we have at hand. I'm psyched that our little part of the Appalachians is once again being recognized for what it is: One of the best places in the world to ride a mountain bike. We have our challenges ahead of us, to be sure, and opportunities will be hard to come by in some respects. But we also have a new/old group of leaders putting in the work and rebuilding bridges that have been burned, a renewed sense of purpose, and momentum. It's no secret anymore, we've paddled out and grabbed the wave, and now it's time to stand up and start ripping.

It's gonna' be an awesome ride.