Bike Friday

Photo courtesy of REI Anchorage's Facebook feed

Tomorrow is the final Friday of the month, and that means two things: 1) June is already over, which is happening way too quickly, and 2) it’s Bike Friday, so you can get free treats if you ride to work in Anchorage.

Leave a few minutes early and stop at one of these stations for a free cup of coffee, a muffin, or whatever. I hate coffee, so I usually stop just to thank the volunteers for supporting bike commuting.

Bicycle Commuters of Anchorage
Location: Tikishla Park (just east of the Lake Otis tunnel on Chester Creek).
Schedule: 6:45 to 8:45 AM
Description: Coffee and treats, of course!

Chain Reaction Cycles/REI/House of Bread
Location: Elmore and Abbott
Schedule: 6:30 AM to 8:30 AM
Description: If you happen to be in the area, stop by the Chain Reaction aid station at the corner of Elmore and Abbott. Treats courtesy of House of Bread. Our location will be open from 6:30am to 8:30am.

CRW Engineering Group CReW.
Location: Tudor and C St – northeast corner near the big red fish
Schedule: 6:30 to 8:30 AM
Description: Stop by for Coffee, Rolls and Water – and other treats to keep you fueled on your way to work. The station is sponsored by the CRW Engineering Group CReW. Kaladi Brothers provides the most excellent coffee.

Alaska Regional Hospital
Location: Glenn Highway Multi-use bike path at Muldoon intersection.
Schedule: 6:30 to 8:30 am.
Description: coffee, water, and snacks.

RIM Architects
Location: G and 9th at the Park Strip
Schedule: 6:45am – 8:45am
Description: coffee, water and various treats.

Greenstar / HSS
Location: Westchester Lagoon
Schedule: 6:30 to 9 AM
Description: Juice and treats courtesy of Greenstar.

ANTHC and Southcentral Foundation
Location: Corner of Elmore and Ambassador Drive
Schedule: 6:30 – 8:30 AM
Description: Stop on by for coffee and snacks courtesy of ANTHC and the Southcentral Foundation.

Home sweet home

Heather and Gina outside Girdwood on Saturday.

I love being passed by passenger trains while riding to Girdwood on a perfect summer day. The windows are filled with tourists who spent big money to come to Alaska and look around. Some have waited their whole lives for this.

And they’re diggin’ the same killer scenery my friends and I ride by all summer long. Every year.

I like how they unintentionally remind me that in a week or two, they’ll all be back in Barstow, Topeka, Tokyo or whatever. But we’ll still be here.

That's a Sinnotty attitude

I wish longtime Anchorage wildlife biologist Rick Sinnott had never retired, because when he was dealing with troublesome bears and moose, he was too busy to dabble in writing columns for a local news website.

As a writer, Sinnott makes a good biologist.

His anti-bike diatribe on the Alaska Dispatch site this week was a sorry piece of work. If you want to read it, you’ll have to look it up, because I won’t be linking to that lame little manifesto. It was an ineloquent rant by a guy who enjoys birding in his spare time and thinks anyone who rides a mountain bike on singletrack is a gonzo-crazed adrenalin junkie who doesn’t really value the outdoors. (We can’t all spend our weekends stalking yellow warblers.)

The column drips with sarcasm, and blames recent moose encounters on Singletrack Advocates for building a new Kincaid Park trail network that Sinnott describes as “a race track in the woods. A moose-begotten motocross.”

Sinnott can be forgiven for having a soft spot for big critters. In his old job, the guy killed enough bears and moose to get damn sick and tired of having to do it. Unfortunately, his usual response to any human/animal conflict became a predictable call for humans to stay away from wildlife habitat.

Sinnott’s advice always reminds me of the joke about the old man who went to the clinic and said, “Doc, it hurts when I do this,” so his doctor simply replied, “Well, stop doing that.”

Staying out of wildlife habitat isn’t always practical for anyone who lives in Alaska and wants to hike, run or pedal a bike during our extremely short summers. Besides, moose encounters are nothing new at Kincaid. They didn’t start because Singletrack Advocates built some new trails. Ask any runner, Nordic skier or mountain biker who has used the park for a few years, and you’ll get an earful of stories about close calls

Thanks for your heartfelt criticism of our sport, Mr. Sinnott. And for the touching advice to make sure we have good health insurance policies.

Some of us will no doubt choose to avoid the park during certain parts of the season, while others of us will just keep taking our chances and being as careful as we can. We accept a certain amount of risk with animals just like we accept the risk of falling off our bikes, and the danger of car accidents while driving across town to the trailhead.

We’ll try to avoid trouble, but we won’t cower from it. If we wanted to do that, we’d sell our bikes and take up birding.

Simplicity? What's that?

I thought the concept for tonight’s ride was easy to understand: Street clothes, fat bikes, wine, slow speeds, and no destination. Just riding around. Like when we were kids (but with wine). Hell, I made the whole thing up in about 15 seconds.

But then text messages were sent and phone calls were made.

Julie understands.

My friends were confused. What does this mean? What is Tim up to? Are you riding to a bar? Are you going somewhere to eat dinner? What is this all about? Where are you going?

One person didn’t ask why. Julie’s only question was elegantly simple: “When do we start?”

There was no conspiracy. No big mission. We just poured some wine into water bottles and aimed our bikes toward anything that looked interesting. We

found singletrack in the woods less than a mile from my new home. We saw a moose with twin, month-old calves. We drank some wine, swatted some mosquitoes and found a street connection I’ve been curious about. We shot the shit and indulged in the lost art of pointless, destination-free fun.

I think people tend to forget that bikes can be a great source of simple, stress-free pleasure. Fortunately, Julie hasn’t lost sight of that.

Maybe I need to organize more of these unorganized rides, because fun needs to be had, and cages need to be rattled.

North Carolina's unofficial state bird

The latest entry into the Fabulous Finger Gallery is a great illustration of why the woman on the left and I are friends. Debbie and her friend Trish rode up North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Parkway this weekend, impressing a couple of guys who asked to have their pictures taken with the “strong biking girls.”

They agreed, on Debbie’s condition that he help them do a flip-off shot. He didn’t even ask why. That’s fast thinking on everybody’s part. Gotta respect that.

Summer’s finally in full swing. It’s good to see the birds flying again.

Don't get goosed by a moose

Wikipedia describes moose as “the largest extant species in the deer family."

Whatever.

You’re unlikely to get an argument from an Alaska mountain biker if you just describe moose as “big, tank-like beasts with puny brains and nasty tempers.” One of these hairy buggers can open a can of whupass on any hapless bike rider, especially if the moose happens to have a newborn calf nearby when mountain biker shows up unannounced.

So far this spring, I know of at least five bad moose encounters on the trails at Kincaid Park, and in three of those cases, mountain bikers got roughed up. The latest was my friend Darcy, who was run over by a charging moose just yesterday. When she rounded a turn and saw the moose, it was already homing in like a free safety about to zap a wide receiver on a crossing pattern. Fortunately, Darcy escaped with only bruises instead of broken bones.

A week ago, local wildlife biologist Jessy Coltrane issued a warning that “While the trails are a great resource for the community, biking on these trails during spring calving is a very risky activity. Cow moose aggressively defend their calves. While mountain biking has become very popular in recent years, it remains a dangerous activity in bear and moose country. Bikers moving quickly on narrow winding trails through prime moose calving habitat are at an even higher risk.”

Coltrane did what her predecessor, Rick Sinnott, often did when an animal was acting up—she asked mountain bikers to stay off the trails.

Everyone has to make his or her own decision about whether to avoid the new trails built by Singletrack Advocates last fall. I rode them last Sunday and had a good time even though my legs never showed up. My friends and I took a calculated risk and things worked out. Darcy took a calculated risk and got steamrolled. Could have happened to anybody. 

That’s the point.

Make your own decisions, but know the risks. There are a lot of mama moose out there, and they're on edge because newborn calves are to bears and wolves what Krispy Kremes are to fat-asses like me. And some of those cows weigh more than a thousand pounds. Contrary to popular belief, a moose is NOT more likely than a bear to kill you. Fatal moose encounters are very rare, but ass kickings dished out by moose are less of a rarity. And they hurt.

Stay upright out there. And don’t go under a moose.

Best layover ever

I'm spending this week helping my daughter

move more than 800 miles to Skagway

for a summer job. Needless to say, she's

taking a couple of bikes.

Fortunately, the route to Skagway passes

through Whitehorse, Yukon, which has awesome

trails and great local riders who welcome 

visitors. Riders like Sierra (above) ...

and her husband Tony.

The only thing better than being able 

to ride mountain bikes in Whitehorse is

having local friends with spare beds and 

time for evening rides.

If you've never ridden Whitehorse,
get your ass up here.

The Hard-ass Who Hates Hardtails

Sometimes I worry about the level of idiocy displayed by people in charge of education. And Katharine Pennington, the principal of Kenowa Hills High School in western Michigan set the stupidity bar pretty high this week when she sent more than 60 students home as punishment for a shocking “senior prank.”

They rode bicycles to school.

She said the group ride was dangerous and tied up traffic. (Please, someone, mail her a “We Are Traffic” T-shirt.) Kids who were about to graduate were told they couldn’t participate in a traditional final walk through the school's hallways, and some of them were initially told that they would be banned from graduation ceremonies, although Pennington later retracted that little edict, apparently while cowering under her desk and dodging calls from CNN.

Never mind that the kids had arranged a police escort and many of their parents were lining their route to school. The freakin’ town mayor served them doughnuts! And never mind that this is another example of dictatorial school administrators trying to control students’ lives off school property. Pennington went batshit crazy because … well, who really knows? 

Maybe Pennington never learned to ride a bike. Or maybe she once dated a downhiller. Either experience could ruin a person’s general outlook. It sounds like part of the reason she had her panties in a wad was that she was apparently the only adult in Mayberry who wasn’t in on the plan, and that really pissed her off.

Kudos to the students and their parents for raising holy hell with the local school board over Pennington’s moronic reaction, leading to a letter of apology from Principal Pinhead.

Think

You better think, think about what you're trying to do to me
Yeah, think, let your mind go, let yourself be free
—Aretha Franklin

Everyone wants to let their mind go, and let themselves be free. Hell, that’s one of the reasons I ride a bike, and that's probably true for most of us.

But people need to think.

Like the young mother who stopped her toddler on a tiny bike with training wheels so she could take a phone-camera picture ... just inside a trail tunnel I was entering at a brisk (but very reasonable) speed from a pretty blind corner. I mean sure, the composition of the photo must have been nice, with the light at the end of the tunnel and all that,  but blocking the entire width of the trail wasn’t exactly brilliant thinking.

Ever seen a three-year-old run over by a 200-pound dude on a steel Surly? Neither have I. And I’d like to keep it that way.

Then there were tourists standing all over the trail with their mouths hanging open while fascinated by a passing train. Or the unsupervised little girls swerving from side to side, confused about how they were supposed to let me pass. Teach your children some basic trail guidelines, folks.

Now, lest anyone think I might have curmudgeonly moods, let me say that I actually like busy multi-use trails. Busy trails mean people are exercising, to one degree or another. It means they’re outside instead of watching TV or playing video games. It also means some of them are using the trails to get somewhere, like me. And all those things are good.

But everybody needs to consider other users’ needs, and be aware of how to do a few basic things safely. I’m happy to ride at a safe speed, or brake frequently and wait for chances to pass kids, dog walkers, joggers, or whatever. But I’d like them to not mindlessly block my route, or set up accidents around sharp corners.

After all, I don’t want your kid’s body to knock my front wheel out of true, ya know?

Think.

BTW, it's BTWW

The lead paragraph of this morning's Anchorage Daily News story was perfect for Bike to Work Week:

“Detours, lane closures and lower speed limits lie ahead for Anchorage drivers. Road construction projects are gearing up across the municipality, from Bird to Ninth Avenue.”

As usual, summer will bring headaches and frustration to people stuck behind steering wheels. The rest of us will be traveling smaller side streets, trails and bike paths, avoiding most of the dust, noise and ugly orange barrels of construction zones.

Every year I consider not mentioning Bike to Work Week on this blog, because it feels like preaching to the choir. The people who come here are already two-wheeled converts. And I get frustrated every year by seeing a flood of bike commuters for five days, then watching their numbers plummet the following Monday.

But I support this national event, because I’m a believer. I’ve proselytized for years about the benefits of bike commuting. And even if most newbies who try it don’t stick with bike commuting, converting even a tiny number is a step in the right direction.

So we should all keep taking the message to the unsaved who question why we pedal to get places. Stories about construction delays and gas prices are like lessons in sin that we can take to the pulpit.

The next time a friend, neighbor or co-worker complains about getting stuck in traffic or running up a credit-card balance at the gas pump, don’t be shy about telling them you don’t really know what it’s like to deal with that every week, because you get along just fine while leaving your car in the driveway most days.

I don't think that riding to work for a day or a week will ever change as many minds as regular, happy people on bikes will. Go ride, and share the fun.

Eklutna weekend

Sometimes you just need to get out of town.

So on Friday night, I left with Jules and the Bike Monkee

to spend two nights in a cabin, 

and to goof around outside.

Saturday's ride was cold and wet, with

a mix of rain and snow.

 The trail wasn't always great, but we had

a hugely fun day, even after we ditched

our bikes in the woods and continued

on foot over our snow-covered route.

That night, during our post-ride drinking, 

the sun came out in an amazing way.

That's when Julie observed that such moments

are why you don't want for perfect weather 

to go outside. You just go out, she said, 

and hope the weather changes in your favor.

Truer words were never spoken.

Crawlin'

There is no better way to spend a Friday night

than hanging out with bike friends.

 You can play in traffic on your way to bars ...

ride in the dark without a light ...

 and flip off your friends.  A lot.

Party hard. Ride home.

The future of bike commuting

Nathan and his Novara Bonita

The cool thing about being asked to profile Anchorage riders for the Bicycle Commuters of Anchorage website is that I get to meet some amazing people. 

The latest is Nathan, a 12-year-old sixth-grader who bought his own studded tires this winter so he could ride his bike to school every day. I'm postponing the silly blog post I had planned for today — which is Bike to School Day — so that anyone who lands here will go read about a kid who will give you hope.

“There’s just not too many Nathans out there," his school librarian told me.

I think she's right. But that's too bad. Because we need more Nathans.

Spring stupidity

Every. Damn. Year.

Seriously, people, will we ever evolve beyond the need to annually beg, berate, cajole, harass, remind and otherwise tell morons to stay off the trails until they’re dry enough to ride without damaging them? These idiots who shred soft trails embarrass me as a mountain biker.

I hadn’t given it much thought this year until my friend Ryan posted this online:

“"Please, please, please stay off muddy, wet trails! I just ran into some mountain bikers trenching the new STA trails. They are NOT ready to sustain traffic at this point! There is still lots of snow out there and wet muddy sections are plentiful. You all know how hard everyone worked to hand finish these trails, let's not trash them now.”

It’s common knowledge that April and May are muddy months in Anchorage. It should be common knowledge -- or at least easy to figure out -- that riding soft, muddy trails causes damage.

Only two things could explain why the damage keeps happening: ignorance and/or selfishness. The latter is unforgivable and should be repaid with a gnarly endo that ends with a top tube to the offending rider’s crotch.

The former requires the rest of us to educate our fellow riders. If you see anyone riding soft trails, or hear them telling stories about a recent ride, please talk to them and set them straight.

Be calm and polite. People tell me that’s effective.

Please. Do it for those of us who can’t. I just don’t think I could manage calm and polite with these douche bags right now.

Gadgets

Bike riders love our gadgets. But sometimes it feels like we have too many. In recent years, I’ve stripped the handlebar-mounted computers off all my bikes that didn’t truly need for navigating long rides. I stopped tracking my annual mileage. I quickly tired of the GPS doodad I received as a gift. And I’ve never been interested in heart-rate monitors or wattage meters, which would mostly be expensive ways of measuring how much I suck.

But I’ve remained addicted to carrying a cell phone. It can be valuable in the event of an emergency, and the built-in camera can be handy if I’m not carrying a real camera.

Then one night last week, I pedaled away from my house and, out of habit, patted my pocket to make sure my iPhone was onboard. It wasn’t. The memory of it on the table while I ate a sandwich made me start to turn around, but then I stopped myself.

When did cell phones become mandatory? I happily rode thousands of miles before those things became a ubiquitous piece of gear that humans take just about everywhere but the shower.

As I rolled down the street, I realized I was riding only a couple of miles to a brief appointment and there was no real need to have the phone in my pocket, so I didn’t go back for it. Blowing it off was actually sort of a thrill, and that’s kind of sad.

Simplicity is beautiful thing. And it often makes a bike ride more fun.

Back on the Blog

This here pimple on the ass of the Internet has been quiet while I’ve attended to more pressing matters, but it’s time to get back to business, even if it’s monkey business. 

Hell, my last post about riding in Alaska involved fat bikes on snow, and now I’m riding to work on my Trucker Deluxe without even needing studded tires. That means it’s been awhile. 

After moving across town, I’m figuring out which boxes contain things like my gloves, water bottles and bike parts, and I’m learning new routes to work. Losing old routines is disorienting, but it can be a good thing, too. Fresh starts are energizing. Summer’s coming up, and it’s time to start riding my ass off. 

I’ll see you out there. 

And here, too.

Beach Monkee

Anchorage is in the throes of breakup. (That's what most people refer to as "spring.")

Snow is melting everywhere, and gradually exposing more and more mud and thawing dog shit. But does the Bike Monkee show solidarity and suffer through it with the rest of us? Noooooooooo.

He and Jules ran off to become beach bums and rub it in by sending me a flip-off pic from Edisto Beach, S.C., for the Fabulous Finger Gallery.

At least he wore that stylish hat!

Gettin' high on the Chugach

Darcy and Ryan keep the freak flag flying.

The winter trails are cooking off in the sun and warm, daytime temps, so this is probably the last fat-bike finger flip of the season. Fortunately, it comes from a paceline of Fatback riders rolling down Wolverine on Sunday, because that's a nice way to close out a winter of snow riding.

Even if I did have to pedal my fat ass uphill for two hours to get all the way up there.

A few intrepid folks are already dusting off the road bikes and starting to riding with an extra 100 pounds of tire pressure. I have to admit, I've caught myself leering at the plastic bike a little more often recently.

My first major road outings are probably three weeks away, and that's assuming I survive a move across town and the completion of a major project at work.

I always sort of dread the end of fat season, but I'm starting to feel the need for speed.

Blame game

Some people to have a one-size-fits-all solution to problems: Blame a mountain biker.

Over the past couple of weeks, I started noticing that small branches were being cut from spruce trees along nearly all the trails north of Campbell Airstrip Road. Someone appeared to be trimming the lower branches and leaving them atop the snow beneath the trees.

It struck me as odd, because it looked like someone had done a lot of work with no apparent benefit, but I was too busy enjoying my rides to give the issue much thought. Until, that is, I learned that people have been calling the superintendent of Far North Bicentennial Park and blaming mountain bikers for the freelance pruning.

Seriously? Mountain bikers? Why not skiers? Or hikers? And what about horseback riders? Or dog owners who don’t pick up their mutts’ turds? Any of us could choose our least favorite user group and make random accusations when something like this happens. And any of them would make an equal amount of sense. Or have an equal lack of it.

But most of us don’t. Unless we’ve witnessed something, or see a cause for suspicion, we scratch our heads, wonder what happened, and wait for someone official to figure it out. That’s normal.

Right now, for instance, I have a personal bias that makes me think I could predict which user group is the source of those calls blaming bikers for the tree trimming. But I don’t have any way of knowing, so I’m not going to point fingers.

But whoever it is, they’re pissing me off a lot more than the vigilante tree surgeon.

Speedway rocks Spenard

Nobody's gonna be topping this any time soon.

Speedway Cycles celebrated it's grand re-opening
with a first-rate party on Friday night. It was
a barn burner. Rock bands, cold beer, bike people
filling the shop floor ... damn, it was fun.

Congrats to Greg and his crew on a great new shop,
and for staging one hell of a bash to break in the new place.

Fatties and rock 'n' roll.

Tim and the boys at the bar.

Rad tattoo girl!

Open wide and say "aaaaaaaaaah!"

Greg, the Bike Monkee and Jules
give Spenard some class.