Get Off My Trail
The Ripmo demanded we ride before the incoming storms destroyed the peak burn of the Fall colors. Ride we did but not fast. Not fast at all. I spent most of the time taking full advantage of those giant XTR brakes engaging them every 20 feet in awe of the spectacle nature set before me. With the hills ablaze in red, yellow and orange I
The perfect day to ride the perfect trail. The temperature couldn’t have been better. The Ripmo couldn’t have ridden better. The colors couldn’t have been more spectacular. Welcome to the greatest show on earth where the price of admission is the lungs and quads to make the climb. The ride – Jardine Juniper
I am really lucky. I have a wife will will mountain bike with me. During the summer she pulled a tendon in her leg paddle boarding and has been patiently waiting for it to heal enough to get out and ride again. Tonight was that night. I’m pretty stoked she has her Mojo back. The Ride – Logan River Trail
The crisp air of Fall contrasted with the heat of an afternoon sun. My toes are still thawing out. They’ll thaw out. The colors of Autumn deserve every second that can be spent in the woods. The Ripmo was feeling especially aggressive today and the dirt was especially perfect allowing for a symphony of color, air and ripping. Now that we’ve worked out our issues
Cleanish air and cool Autumn temperatures mean the Ripmo must get high. High we went up into the mountains. Dropping over loose rock and then climbing up loose rock once again affirmed that the Ripmo is the best climbing bike I’ve ever ridden. On days when I can supply the horse power this thing will roll over anything in its path. We also took a
After running out of time and ending up on Zwift yesterday I committed to setting aside the time to ride Providence today. The breath of Fall in the air contrasted with the hot sweat dripping from my helmet. The air was clear, the Ripmo was aggressive, my legs were weak. That last bit sucked and was totally my fault but my first loop had some
Where there is cow pucky there are cows. It took the Ripmo and I three laps dodging cow pies but the giant critters finally showed their faces. Most of it was dry and we escaped the truly nasty experience of coming home covered in manure based compost. At one point, in an attempt to clear the sweat from my face I instead poked myself in
I woke up to my legs whining about how they hurt and needed a day off so at the last minute I threw together all my bike gear. With the Ripmo in the truck I dropped my son off at school and headed to Green Canyon for a recovery ride. Turns out my legs lie. They spun the cranks just fine all the way up.
The organic perfume of a thirsty forest drenched by summer thunderstorms through the night filled my nose. In the high desert this is a rare scent. I drank deeply from the clear mountain air. The Ripmo clung to the moist dirt and in turn the dirt clung to the Ripmo. The wet rock provided precious little grip to the rear end and we’d frequently spin
As the Western United States burns to the ground and smoke fills the sky with an apocalyptic orange I impatiently wait for the mornings when the mountains are visible from my home. This morning was just such a moment. The Ripmo, weary of sitting in the garage tore through the ruble and moon dust. Like a pair of newly escaped convicts we crashed through Providence