Crusty Cassette

Pennsylvania Colors

It felt so good to come home last night. I’ve been in Pennsylvania for the last 10 days with my mother. This has become an annual pilgrimage for her visiting friends and my dads relatives in Windber Pa (named for the Berwind Coal Co of about 75 years ago) which is near Johnstown ( Johnstown flood fame).

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For a grey day, we had some pretty good fall colors.

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Steve's been trying to coerce TRCers south to ride the Weiser River Trail for two years.

Suddenly he not only has it on the club Calendar for next spring, but he actually has Doug proposing a ride this last weekend.

I was typically skeptical. A mountain bike ride? Drive all the way to New Meadows? But with Linda still in Pennsylvania (blog and photos are promised) and not many takers for local rides (McCracken's gone fishin'), I had no excuses.

I installed liners and new tubes and pumped up my tires, eyed the weather forecast and crossed my fingers. Since riding with Doug last Sunday on Asotin Creek, I've had one flat after another.

The pilot flatted on Tuesday. I changed the tire before my ride on Wednesday but, in haste, did not check closely enough for the offending object. I found myself changing a flat near the Trading Post. So that's two.

I stopped at TNT in town before riding home on the off chance that they carried 29er tubes. After Sunday I had no spare tube and was riding on patched tubes. I didn't want to make the drive to B&L and was pleased to discover TNTdid indeed did carry 29er tubes though I saw not one such bike in the shop.

At home I carefully changed both 29er tires inserting liners. That's four. In addition Linda's back tire was an old one I hadn't tossed and had used to replace the one with cuts before Joseph. I changed that tire with one of the two hardcase tires Sean had brought me at the board meeting. That's six tire changes. Maybe I should work in a bike shop?

While I did pump up my front tire twice during the ride, I never had a flat but my tires were the subject of some fun nevertheless.

"Who sold you those narrow tires," Steve needled.

"Sean. He said that's what he was riding and they would do well on the routes I usually rode."

Never secure on a mountain bike to begin with, when suddenly the trail surface intersected with a curve of road heavily graveled in granite bits, I stopped, thus avoiding a potential fall. Later Steve kindly suggested that my narrow tires rather than my bike handling skills were at fault. He also noted that "Sean tends to transfer his own skills to others" meaning that a trail condition Sean might find of no moment would not be so for a less experienced rider--me.

Several times on the trail I found myself unclicking as we navigated a gate designed to allow cyclists and deny cattle or when we rode over a section of trail the cattle had made their own special potty. It was both wet and sloppy and ridged and rough from the cattle hoof prints. In my own defense it was Doug, not myself, who actually went down on this section on the return trip.

Doug's Down

Eager for cycling victims Steve had arrived in New Meadows about an hour and a half early. On the way up I had warned Doug about the Largent Guide to North Idaho Cycling. Steve lived up to his reputation by announcing that he had used his time to drive around and had actually seen the trail.

Doug had expected to drive to the trail head near Tamarack Mill about eight miles south of New Meadows. Steve said, "It's just 3 or 4 miles from here." At 37 degrees, we bundled up. Doug made do with fingerless gloves having managed to bring to gloves for the same hand. He maintained he was comfortable but he never removed his tights or long sleeve jersey even when Steve and I did on the return trip. He didn't have shorts and a short sleeve option but he claimed he was comfortable.

Steve's idea of having seen the trail turned out to be a pleasant jaunt on the wrong road and the joy of carrying bikes over a barbed wire fence. We ended up back on the highway. But the next turn he got right. The little sign proclaimed Weiser River Trail. At least that's what he said. I was too busy just hanging on to my ride to bother reading trail signs.

Well, we were on the trail, but not the railroad bed. We were bypassing the Mill which meant a bit of climbing and another descent. We also paused a couple of times to decide which of the many equally seedy looking road beds was the correct one. Somehow we managed to descend on the right road to the railroad bed.

Crews have cleared and flattened a wide trail. Rain had dampened but not muddied the trail. Much of the first few miles was hardpan covered in a blanket of needles. Very nice riding and down hill. Steve was concerned. "I thought the maximum grade was 2%." We weren't working hard and the trail looked steeper than 2%. It turned out to be an optical illusion or we managed to miss this section of trail on the return trip by jumping out to the highway for the last 6 miles to New Meadows.

The trail surface varies often every few hundred yards. I've been on many dirt roads that were smoother than this trail even at its best. But dirt roads have a way of turning washboardy, rutted, and of presenting boulders emerging from the surface. Here's how the Friends of the Weiser River Trail put it:

"There are still rocky sections, a legacy of the ballast used for the rail bed, but the footing is excellent and suitable for the casual hiker or biker. We recommend hoof protection for equines if you plan on traveling more than a few miles."

Hoof protection. Good idea. Those little rocks seemed almost invisible to my bad eyes but I felt every one. Steve suggested riding this trail with out a shock might not be a good idea.

What the Friends fail to mention is that the trail winds through open range. We were greeted by a wide-eyed yearling who scampered through a fence and back to his herd grazing happily in a field. Not all the cattle were in the field, however. Some had taken up residence on the trail. Their leavings were evident for several miles. Including that one bad patch that took Doug down.

Doug called for the ride, but he's the new guy. When Steve suggested riding to Council for lunch, I took him seriously though I did throw in a PBJ and an apple just in case. Doug had wanted to do 40 to 50 miles but he also wanted to get home about 6. I was surprised when he told me that on the way to New Meadows. I planned for a 7:30 return. At 25 miles we had not quite reached New Meadows and Steve hadn't brought more than a bar. I wanted something beside that PBJ. Doug was torn but he decided to keep going. It was probably going to be too late for him to get back by 6 anyway at that point.

We ate in Council and started back with 30 to 32 miles depending upon whose computer you believed.

Chilled from being over warm before we stopped, we kept our long sleeves and leg warmers on for a mile or so. I rolled up my sleeves and took off my leg warmers. A few miles further on, I took off the long sleeved shirt. The climb was mild, but we were staying warm. Steve took off another layer of cotton.

Now Doug and Steve have much in common. Doug doesn't like our time zone. Steve hates it; Doug's a morning person. Steve is dismayed at TRCer's reluctance to get up early for a ride; Doug loves an adventure. Steve's a bit more staid but he can't resist the urge to explore an old building or turn in the road.

But they disagree on this one detail: Cotton.

Doug's GPS reported that the elevation change between New Meadows and Council had been only about a 1000 feet. Still we averaged about 10 mph on the return. With stops that meant 3.5 to 4 hours. Doug was beginning to feel the pressure to start home. He recommended we take the highway and avoid the rocky section of the Tamarack Bypass.

Out on the road, Steve and I found the increased speed also increased the chill. Doug smiled in his long sleeves and tights. I smiled 'cause nobody was laughing at my narrow tires anymore.

Doug takes his bike for a ride

"You mean this isn't Saturday," I interrupted Sean's blustering when I walked into B&L on Wednesday afternoon.

The truth was I hadn't planned to do a long ride on Wednesday. But I looked out the window and sunshine and little wind Wednesday morning and then glanced at the forecast for the weekend. I saw rain on Friday and wind and much cooler temperatures on Saturday and Sunday.

So, when you are retired, you have some options. I took one and enjoyed tailwinds most of the day. Steve will be scandalzied but I didn't leave home until after 9 and yet I found myself with nearly a 20 mph average at Wawawai. I was living right.

The ride into Pullman saw blustery wind but mostlly tail wind especially from Almotta road on in.

I though I'd pay for my fortunate winds on the way back and indeed leaving Pullman was slow but once again I found favorably light winds that made my trip back smooth sailing.

At the rose garden I stopped for food and water. 81 miles. I'd have to ride out to the Casino and back before going home to get my century. And once again I managed to avoid serious head winds. My average actually improved on that out an d back.

I lost a lot of conditioning to that cold and infection. My rides this summer have been tentative, tired and beset with a weakness in the gut that disturbed me. I made Tour de Lentil a century with Doug and found myself sucking his wheel from Palouse to Uniontown.

Even by the Joseph ride I was still fading around 50 to 60 miles. But on Wednesday, I rode down in the drops spinning most of the way and felt strong when I finished.

I took a 25 mile spin on Thursday, skipped riding at all on wet Friday. I worked on the new Twin Rivers Cyclists website all day. I found myself close. I had managed to apply the new template to all of Pete's pages as well as creating several new pages. I had now only to edit the menus, test, and post.

The weather had been questionable so I hadn't tried to call for a Saturday ride and now I was hooked on getting the website posted. But the weather turned nice in the valley. Crisp, clear air and temps at 60 or so are ideal. I knew I'd go out and I was glad I hadn't tied myself to a start time. Linda left for a ride but I couldn't break, I was posting and testing the posted links.

By 11, though I was on the road for Lapwai Loop. I felt an east wind going down Critchfield and expected to fight it all the way up Tammany. But once again the winds favored me. Actually I don't think there was much wind at all. I felt a bit of a rush from having gotten the pages up and that kept me moving. And I felt good. At 30 or 40 miles I realized that I had been spinning effortlessly most of the way and that I didn't feel any of that weakness in the gut. Surely there must be a head wind in this story somewhere, but there isn't. I made good time returning from Arrow bridge I managed 20 mph spinning slightly up or down as the wind did change. Another great ride.

So what to do for Sunday? The 1pm start? I'd like to see that happening but Doug suggested that single track on Asotin Creek. I had never done that and it would give me a reason to get on the 29er. Sean probably thinks I've sold it.

The cool part of the arrangements was that Doug and I did it through the new twinriverscyclists@googlegroups.com list. Lee McCarley chimed in that he might join us and felt great that at least there were a few on the list. This could be a great tool for arranging rides that aren't on the calendar especially at the last minute.

So, at 10 I and my 29er met Doug at Chief Looking Glass park in Asotin for a ride up Asotin Creek. Doug apparently doesn't ahve a computer so he was vague about distances. "I think it is about 4 miles past the end of the pavement," he said. Make that 11. I had 16 miles at the trail head.

The ride up had been pleasant on pavement and hardpan. Now my week began to come apart. There was no trail. Only a rocky creek bottom over which we carried our bikes. "Watch out for puncture weed," Doug said as soon as we put our bikes on the ground. We rode only a few yards before he jumped off and began pulling out goat heads. I did the same.

"Uh oh. I heard air." That was me. The front tire had lost a little pressure but not much and I had over filled them for the section on pavement anyway. We walked the bikes to the end of the meadow where Doug's prediction proved correct that there'd be no puncture weed in the trees.

The trail ran through trees and tall grass and along Asotin Creek where, should you not be paying attention, you'd certainly get a bath.

Yep, that's me and a mountain bike and just before I realize both tires are going flat. I so love mountain biking.