Magical Mystery Tour

John Lennon watching me eat a burrito at the Red Iguana in SLC!

When the pages turn, they turn. Kinda like that song, you know the one that goes. Ba b aba bap. Ba b aba bap. Boop! I am pretty sure it is a Saphires song, or maybe Pearl Jam. Andy says it is a little like on the grapevine. I am pretty sure there is no bus though, at least not one with a fancy paint scheme. If your looking for something not on the menu, then head on out of here. I am not a short order cook any more than I am Yoda.

Our adventure begins about 2 weeks ago. The night was – moist. And that moisture is what lead to this tale. A tale of airplane rides, ski slopes packing loads of new snow, bike rides on roads that can only be imagined and skinny bike racers with fancy new kits. Listen closely. The tour started out with an airplane ride to the promised land, a trip to the beehive state with gravity on my mind. It had been a long time since we had been to Utah and a long time since we had toyed with the gravity setting on our space suits that much.

I think this is the best IPA i have ever had. Art introduced me to it. OMG!

Here is a snapshot,we went to Utah, we saw our good friend Art, we skied 5 spectacular days at Snowbird and Alta, I reignited my love affair with Utah and specifically Alta. It was cool. But, of course that does not tell the whole story, as we had 3 days of snow pounding down on us. Not huge huge amounts, but about 12 inches per day for those 3 days. At times it was hard to see what we were doing, at others it was hard to see period, and at others still the snow was so thick that is was a bit like swimming.

 

But oh my, gravity is good. I had forgotten just how good Alta is. It can be steep, it can be deep and there are not many people there the 2nd week of January. It is totally worth it.

Check out all that gravity!

From there, I flew directly to Mallorca.

You are probably wondering if planes can actually fly directly from the land of white fluffy to the Mediteranean. I can tell you this, they do. I went to attend a super double dog secret meeting of the future. Great fun it was and no babel fish were harmed in any of it. The meeting was all about our over all plans for the Trek European business and we were visited by the future there. Once again, I will have to leave you hanging as that particular version of the future was all shinny and bright and cannot be mentioned (much like the season who cannot be named). You just cannot know, or again – you know the thumb thing.

But, while we were there we rode our bikes and sampled some of the great roads on the Island. It is a sort of mecca for winter cycling for Europe. While there you will regularly see pros from all the big teams and continental teams and shop teams all spending time on the island riding the quiet roads along the coasts and into the mountains. Good stuff. I would plan to go back for sure. If you go, be sure to stay at Reeds Hotel – they will treat you right. Tell them Joe sent you, or … maybe you shouldn’t do that. Either way, it will be good for you. I will tell you this though, Porridge and Oatmeal are not the same thing – even if a Spanish or English person tells you they are. Not.

If you are wondering, you cook the oats first – then add berries, then almonds, then yogurt. It is called Joe-tmeal.

I don't know what is going on in the background.

It is pretty nice in Mallorca.

Nice looking road.

I have no real idea what is going on here either.

From there, I joined up with the skinny bike racers and saw them doing some great training and working on position on the TT bike and doing that “we are going to go fast this year thing with their eyebrows”. It was in Valencia.  Lots of skinny bike racer types that can go way faster than me.  I think they are going to have a really good year.

Time to go for a group ride. Oh, let's say 6-7 hours...

Hmm....

Frank Schleck has a pretty nice looking bike on that new Madone.

I always like a big stack of pro bikes.

I cannot wait for Belgium and France and Italy and all those other Yoda like lands with the epic bike races that will be on. Oh, and then there is Belgian beer and frites you must not forget.

 

Enjoy the pictures. Adios.

Consider this for your imagination...

I have exactly 666 followers on Twitter.  Check it out!  @joev3  Not just 665 or 667, exactly 666. (cue the Twilight Zone music now which sounds like do do do do, do do do do, do do do do) I am seriously jazzed by that concept.  What a fantastic number to stop on.  I think I will keep it right there.  If you join up with me, I might just go in and delete the same number of old deadbeat followers to keep it right there.  I kinda like the symmetry of the number.  It is a small number that I can deal with.  Feels intimate, kinda homey.  A bigger number just feels like someone is going to start a fight or something.  Dangerous.  Sort of like drinking a beer with your neighbor in the garage, while looking at your bikes or motorcycle.  No girls allowed - man stuff.

Some people think that 666 is the sign of the devil.  I like to think of it as the inverse of 999.  Sort of like being a bat and hanging around the shop upside down.  Makes the blood rush to your head. And, completely eliminates jetlag, but it does make you feel like your head is going to explode.  Maybe that is why vampires look like they are going to jump you at any time.  Think about the last time you were around a vampire, and I am sure you will agree with me.  See?

Saturday came and went, trainer workout, dog walk, working on the motorbike session in the garage, Oatmeal and IPA etc...  you know, just stuff like normal people do.  I still have not gotten to the serious garage remodel and paint freshen that I need to.  Summer took it's toll on the man cave.  I love the garage, and no Garrison did not build it for me.  Oh, I did get to a coffee shop - that just proves I am alive though.  Funny how Saturdays just seem to pile on after Friday.  It is like it is part of the calendar and the way of worlds or something.

I am feeling a bit like Rod Serling.  If you do not know who he was, look it up - Twilight Zone, creepy stuff.  I will describe what I see as weird and crazy.  Things that could catch you in an alternate reality.  Like Cyclocross or racing a goofy road bike over terrain that isn't really mountain bike worthy, but isn't a road either.  It is in the twilight zone of bike riding surfaces.  A surface that is meant to bump and tether.  A surface that is neither round nor square, straight nor crooked, left nor right - it goes through the picture as it would if it were living a parallel life.  Sort of oblique. 

 

The best part of cyclocross = Frites!

So then the Sunday came next.  Part of the Regional Championship on the course from the state championship the day before on the course of the national championship of the season prior on the course of the National Championship of the season to come, making Verona part of the nation officially.  (And this has nothing to do with the Green Bay Packers.) As the forecast called for rain mixed with snow and 37, I am sure that I would want to race, but alas the vicious Kanga has eliminated that possibility.  "Stay away from the cans, he hates cans".  (As that has nothing to do with Kangaroo's or Drop Bears, I just thought I would throw that in.)   But, mud boots and frites with the sound of cowbells is what we will all be about on the Sunday.  Visions of Belgian sand run ups in my head.  <Belgium is the Wisconsin of Europe after all.>

 

"I'm from Kansas City. We don't have snow there. This is bull shit..." This guy didn't say that, but another racer did. Classic.

 

It was cold.  It was slippery.  If you were not from Wisconsin, and had to ride in this.  Ugh. I wish I could have ridden it.  Looked like huge amounts of fun, even though it is just a silly sport.  Sort of like going to Camelot - a silly place. 

But, there were people handing bacon out on the side of the course to the racers.  Gotta love a sport that has that going on.

 

It was slippery out there people. This is the leader of the mens pro race about to fall down. A vision of what National Championship could be like.

 

Be careful out there people.  Drop bears are everywhere.

Out,

Joe

 

 

#Lumberjackgames not #Reindeergames

So here I am in Luxembourg.  I am here alot, but I did not expect to walk in to the little village and have to dodge Jens Voigt throwing axes at a target and see Frank Schleck with Markel Irizar cutting a log in half with a 2 man saw.

 

Hey, bring back my Madone! You do not want to steal Jens bike.

 

 

Faster guys!

 

I stopped in Luxembourg yesterday and caught the last day of the @RSNT Lumberjack team building camp.  The guys were having a good time and really coming together as a team.  Of course Fabian threatened to throw me in the lake, but it was pretty cold so I think he decided he might end up there to so maybe not a great idea.

Times are strange.  2 weeks ago I was dodging dangerous Kangaroo on a MTB in Australia.  Last week cutting down a Christmas tree in Wisconsin.  This week, Lumberjack games in Luxembourg.  It's a strange interesting world.

I think I will go to the coffee shop.  I hope there is pudding.

The whole of the RSNT team for 2013, all dressed in black so that you cannot tell who they are.

 

 

I basically fly around the world visiting coffee shops!

 

When the history of work is written, and some future generation is studying what business was like in the 2nd decade of the 2000's, the main theory discussed would be if work at that time was really just a parade of business people visiting various Starbuck's around the world.

I pretty much buy expensive plane tickets, fly somewhere, get off the plane, stop at a coffee shop, go to a meeting - fueled by coffee, go to another coffee shop, eat dinner, sleep, work out, go to a coffee shop, fly somewhere else - stopping at a coffee shop at an airport, then do the whole process over again until Friday, at which time I get on a plane and fly home (of course stopping at a few coffee shops along the way).  <I am completely proud that that is the longest run on sentence I have ever written.>

Here is my list of really good coffee shops that you should consider going to.

1.  Mecca espresso in Sydney Australia.  Quiet possibly the best coffee shop in the world. 

2.  Barriques in Madison.

3.  The Nazi coffee shop in San Francisco.  That is not really the name, but that is how Gary Fisher defined it for me. I think it was on Mission.  Just order a Cap straight up, no modifiers.

4.  Just about any Peets in NorCal.

5.  Italy - the country.

6.  Stumptown Coffee NYC (or Portland, I guess).  The one at the Ace hotel is just that, Ace.

 

 

I am in line at another faceless Starbucks. These are normally to be avoided, but sometimes are a necessity.

Out,

Joe

 

Dangers of Australia or Proverbial S**t Happens or Where is that Wizard Anyway?

Kangaroos, Hoop Snakes, hundreds of snakes and spyders that can kill you, drop bears and a little bitty mountain bike ride.

This is a tale of terrors and dangers that can befall you in the land they call OZ. I am not talking about the yellow brick road either, although one could fall and break a few different things on a cobbled or bricked road.  Yellow is irrelevant.   You may think that this tale is made up, that this is a story of fancy, but I assure you that every bit of it is real.  By the time you are finished reading this, your blood will run cold and you may be afflicted with a fever.  As a child, I too heard the tales of the many terrors that we have all heard and wondered aloud "could that be real?"  I am here to tell you, they are real, I have seen it.

Do not be drawn in by Australia's freindly appearance.  Gooday mate and all that.  Just because the security agent is cute and has a fantastic accent, they are hiding the terrors that await you here.  I learned of them firsthand.

Clearly the problem is that my shoes are not red

I keep hearing about torneado’s, houses being flung up in the air, wicked witches, flying monkeys and scary all knowing dudes.  Since I could not take it anymore, I jumped onto a flight to OZ to see if I could figure out what all the noise was about.  I brought some red high top converse, just in case I needed those once I arrived.  (There are just 2 places like home…)

 

 

Since the wind was blowing from the east, it made it hard to get there on time.  I just narrowly missed being landed on by a house, and was saved by Crocodile Debbie with a surfboard and big knife.  Not sure where that actually came from, but it did.  Nonetheless, a dude with an electric cart came to the plane and delivered me and my lass to another flight in record time.  “Welcoome to the big shooooo Mr. Vade-bahn-curr.  We're so glad you could attend.  Come inside!  There behind a glass is a real blade of grass, be careful as you pass..."

If you think you are going to get out of this alive,,, you're not.  In fact, your mortality can catch up with you really quickly.  I have ridden a mountain bike many a time.  I mean oodles of times (oodles = a number bigger than 6).  In fact, I own my own mountain bike gloves and tire levers, which are used for levering tires – those are very difficult to fake, mind you.  Just how did that mouse get into the bottle?  But, even if you have ridden one of these MTB contraptions more than 6 times, the sense that gravity will always be your friend can evade you.  There have been cases of someone falling off a steed and missing the ground, but I have not been so lucky.  I figure that I cannot throw a Frisbee with any real accuracy, surely one of these times I will be falling off my bike and miss.  Could I not have that happen at least once?

 

So we arrived and were greeted by a really cute girl with an Australian accent.  I think she was related to Dorothy.  “Welcome to Oz.”  Behind her stood a Kangaroo and the door mouse.  They felt as if they must kick me and send me on my way.  At this point, most people just feel they need to read some Burrows partaking of the Naked Lunch, but I do not go there.  So out to Stromlo we went.  Stromlo is a place of mythical reputation at Trek.  People who are not from there, go there to give sacrifice to the evil crashing gods from one of those Spy Who Shagged Me movies.  Oh there will be blood.   Sort of like loosing your license, it is a demonstrable and larger experience.  First the room goes dark, then you hear the word baby a lot and then it is time for dinner.  “Maybe we should have pudding?”  Not sure what happened in between. 

 

Oh, that is going to leave a mark!

 

I do know, I got to wear one of those really great hospital gowns, have a little Japanese girl clean up my wounds (who responded nicely to me trying to confuse her in a slow talking American kind of way) and talk to an Aussie doctor about what to do and not to do on a Thursday in Oz.  (Always try to hold yourself still when in the presence of a drop bear.)

 

Australian public service announcement.

 

I am pretty certain that a Kanga leapt out at me when I passed and caused all the damage.  In French of course, with a headlamp.  Probably, the Roo was running in fear from a drop bear or a hoop snake.  Gravity is just that way you know, higher can sometimes equal lower and a loud thud.   The bear sits in waiting in a tree, waiting for a friendly Kanga to walk by and then drops on it with fangs ablaze.  Lighting out and going straight for the juggler is what they are known for.  All the Eucalyptus are just a ruse.  Put on for the tourists.  Killers from the sky they are. 

 

At speed, a Kanga can take out a mountain biker with just a swipe of the tail.  I think they lie in wait and then speed across the bikers line.  It is a contest amongst the young like a badge of honor to see who gets take out the hot sporty roo.  All the while the Australian media reports they are harmless, which inspires the gentle and unsuspecting Hawaiians to come to OZ.  I was caught in the crossfire on that one.  Pretty sure that while mid jump, a Kanga took me out.  Angling across the front tire as they can do, slashing and striking everything in their way.  Laying it out flat, only to wake up in your wife’s arms, with her trying to reassure you.  “Your fine.  You had a bad incident.  The emergency bomb squad is on the way.  Try to stay with me as I cook the afternoon tea, and what is that smell?”  A good turn down it was not.

So walk me down the trail they did, no key to the premesis amongst them all. The previous proprietor lost them the last time the Matrix was reset.  Off to the hospital with nary a complete helmet in the midst.  Smashed to smithereens it was, but my scrambled brain all still inside, just snaring to get out.  Slowly but surely, the dough rose and off to get a Kilkeny we went.  Good Irish ale that is.  

 

Dark and Cold it was getting. Something wicked this way comes.

 

Pretty sure concussed I was.  I will have to be very careful to not bang the noggin again.  Take it easy they say.  Do not push it so hard for a while.  Do they know who they are taking that to and of what they speak?  How many timezones must I note to get to riding the way I should?  Arthur Dent (Not Harvey Dent) would not put up with this outrage.  Quick, get your towel. 

 

The history of the galaxy will be recorded, that when the revolution did come, those withholding the key were the first up against the wall.  I am not speaking of the keymaster either.  Many Shuvs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, I can tell you!... Oh well, another story that will be. 

 

So we landed in the good ship Australia, made our way to the great city of Canberra where the streets are anything but straight and many a circular reference they make.  The Parliament building not withstanding.  Out onto the trails of Stromlo we went.  Enjoying the Kangaroo dancing and threading between the many drop bears there.  Unfortunately, my bike was not to survive the mission.  Apparently coming back to earth in an errant spot.  Jettisoning its pilot and impaling itself on the land.  Never to see straight wheel affront again.  Ending it’s miserable selfless 29’er life right there on the trail, as if it was once a hero and a freeride bike it was not, now has come to rest here.

 

Of a straight wheel this is not. Through the fork blades it will never be again. Ending of it's life.

 

 

Roo's just waiting to attack! This is one of the most dangerous moments.

 

 

On to hospital, an Xray, a CT scan much poking and prodding later, the brain implant was declared a success.  The helmet was sacrificed to the rock amongst the trail.  I will not see that one again – nor will anyone else.  (Although compromising pictures were taken and I do not own them, so who knows…)  I do hope to find the roo that put me here.  I hope to line him up with the keymaster and the executioner to show the marauder that a simple fleeing of the hoop snake cannot deter one of pure MTB joy.  No no.

 

So another really wondrous time was had in OZ.  This time with Liz.  She always makes the trip more fun, but I am afraid that maybe this time I did not make it fun for her.  We will be back, we will make even more and greater bike safety video.  Safety man will prevail and many new awesome things will come from the day.

 

Liz doing her best to blend in and hide from the Roo's!

 

 

It is no wonder that the Kanga attacked. How could he not see me with that jersey on?

 

 

After the MTB riding was so rudely interrupted, we switched to road ridding. Here Liz has stopped to spray on the side of the road.

 

 

Sydney.

What is your favorite color?  What is your favorite city?  What is the air speed… never mind.  It does not matter.  One should just knows that Sydney is clearly in the running.  Climate, accents, harbor, kitzy Christmas stuff, Kilkeny ale, boats, that Opera house thing...  All of that and more is right there at Syd’s place.  Nice house it is.

 

Pointing is clearly the way forward.

 

Quickly, and in order.

-       arrival

-       walk about

-       ferry ride

-       Taronga zoo

-       Drop Bear research

-       Huffalumps and Woozles

-       Ferry ride again

-       Kilkeny ale

-       Great cover band

-       A bunch of cougars masquerading as a bachlorette party

-       Fireworks

-       Morning bike ride around the city

-       Bondi beach (yowza)

-       Kileny ale – there is a pattern here

-       Great seafood overlooking Syd’s bridge

-       The best coffee in the world – Mecca coffee Sydney

-       Wild taxi ride to airport

-       Bazilions of hours later – home

 

Nice way to end the Aussie time.  I hope they will let me come back.  I want to meet Jedediah the pilot in Mad Max movies.

 

There are now just 97 things in Australia that can kill you, one of them has been retired. 

 

Surrender Dorothy.

 

Out,

Joe

 

Try one of these. You will not regret it.

 

 

 

Delta has a new safety video!

Its the little things. I have always just kinda slept through Delta safety video.  I mean, how many times can you see the finger wagging girl and still be interested.  (Although she is kinda cute in a weird way!)

 

Smoking is not allowed...

 

The new video is actually kinda funny.  It makes fun of a bunch of different things about itself.  Watch closely, you will find about 9 different funny points.  And, the Deltalina finger waving girl even makes a cameo.

I am a little upset that Delta didn't consult with me on changing the video though.  You would think that the person that has sat through it about 862 times would have some sort of say in what they did to replace it.  Geez Delta, how do you think I felt about this?

 

Ok.  You have to admit that is kinda funny.  Not as funny as this Mad TV skit from back when, but pretty good nonetheless.

 

And even that is not as funny as this one below.

 

If you want to read one of my funnier moments on an airplane, go back and read this past post.  I swear to god it was all real.  Travel is priceless.

On my way to Oz now.

Out,

Joe

The season that must not be named!

Winter. 

There, I said it aloud.  It is a season that is so bad that it is normally not named, at least aloud.  It is the kind of thing that at my house, my family acts like it is not really there.  You know, it is the elephant in the room that no one mentions, and allows their day to just go on normally.  It will be pounding down snow outside, yet my family will be wearing shorts and parading around the house talking about going for a bike ride or a run or taking Stella outside to play frisbee or...  For her part, even Stella just acts like it is the same outside that it is everyday.  They all do this, because they know that the mere mention of the season that shall not be named, can bring a horrible response from me. 

The mere mention of you know when, can send me into a funk that I may not recover from.  I hate you know when.  So, people do not talk to me about winter.  (There I said it's name again.)  I would rather not ever have winter. 

A long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away lived a prince.  That prince decided he would never suffer the season that should not be named ever again. The Prince proclaimed that the rule of the seasons is over.   Out of that proclamation came the endless summer.  Not the Bruce Brown surfing movie, but the plan that I have made for myself to live a full 18 months at some point in my life with no season that shall not be named.

Winter. (Ah, he said it again!)

I am not J. Alfred Prufrock, I know winter will come.  But just think of it, 18 months of mountain bike shredding, motorcycle woods riding, road bike backroad swooping, pristine devoid of snow mountains to climb and descend, cobbled roads in the spring time to bash across, Belgian beer and frites, more wicked mountain bike descents, trips to Whistler, a Moab trip or 2, general burrito gorging etc...  Wow.  Heaven.

Just how would you do that?  I know winter (I have written the name of the season multiple times and have not committed suicide yet) will come, but I here is my version of how I could maybe avoid it.

 

January

Australia.  There are some really fantastic things about Australia.  First of all there is the fact that they drive Ute's.  The Ute is fantastic, if you do not know what a Ute is or question if it is fantastic, check it out here.  It is quite possibly the most pointless vehicle ever made.  Just think of it, a car that looks like a pickup.  That is almost as good as a mullet. You know, party up front and business in back.  Now you might think that I am just jealous of the mullet or the Ute.  In fact, I am jealous of the mullet.  It is the hairstyle of the gods and hockey.  I would definitely spend January trying to grow a mullet, driving a Ute in Australia and riding my mountain bike.  They also have Kangaroo's in Australia, which makes sense that the place with the Ute as the most popular vehicle would also have scads of pointless animals.

February. Chile.  The mountains there look fantastic.  I have this feeling that you could do about a 2 week long epic mountain bike ride in mountains there.  Plus, it is a long skinny country and those are the best kind.

March.  This is probably the toughest month.  I think I am still going to want to be in the southern hemisphere, but I will want to be riding my road bike now.  Probably back to Australia, and spend time with all the Cashed Up Bogans from the west, while pouring on the road miles.

 

April.  Belgium.  For sure in April I will have to go to Belgium.  It is the galactic center of the cylcling world after all.  Cobbles, headwinds, frites, trappist ale... Belgium in April is really the only month that is worth suffering some bad weather for.

May. Moab.  The best XC riding in the world.  If you have not yet been, then it is time to cash in the government tax refund check and get there.  Ride the Whole Enchilada and then get into town and down a burrito and a beer. Then the next day, get up and do it again.  rinse and repeat kinda thing. 

 

Whole Enchilada is soooo good, I had to put in 2 videos. 

 

June. Vancouver. Here you can beef up on your Canadian speak.  It is a bit like Aussies, but with more calm and maybe more sophistication.  Plus, it is the center of the really cool trail universe.  I could probably ride CBC trail about every day for a month. In between there will still be hockey going on, so your full on mullet by this time of the year is not out of place.

 

July. France, alps.  Without a doubt, that is where you will want to be.  Probably best to try and go in advance of a day of the TDF, ride the stage then watch the stage.  The L'etape rides are really fun, and give you a feel for what it is like to be a professional cyclist.  But if you have made it this far in my tail,  you pretty much are a professional cyclist. 

August. Wait for it, wait for it...Copper Harbor Michigan.  I know you are saying, wtf?  I promise you if you go there you will see what I am talking about.  It is one of the most fun XC mountain bike places in the world.  I really really dig it there.  Plus by the time you get there in August, the sun is up the temperature in Lake Superior will allow you to get in for up to 30 seconds before you die, the bugs are gone... And, it is almost Canadian.

 

 

September.  Whistler.  You have seen all the video's, they are all accurate.  There is nothing like Whistler.  Go there, you may not come back. 

October. I love fall mountain biking somewhere.  This one can go just about anywhere.  The northern states in the USA are still possible, but the days are getting shorter and the weather gets questionable towards the end of the month.  Probably need to be somewhere like North Carolina.  There we go, road riding on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and mountain biking in Tsali forest. 

November.  Spain.  Road biking in Spain.  Majorca, and down to Alicante and then on to Gibralter.  It is still to early for all the northern Europeans to be down there getting all pink from too much sun and drinking all the beer.  But, the weather is spectacular still and the road riding is really good.

December.  New Zealand.  Time to head back down to the southern hemisphere.  I have never been to New Zealand, but it is on my list and as you can imagine it would be during December that I would want to go.  Lot's of good offroad motorcycle racers and Mountain bikers of all sorts come from New Zealand.  I feel like it is the kind of place that I would not want to leave once I was there.

 

There you have it.  12 months.  I bet I could do this for a few cycles before I felt like I needed to start repeating some rides.  I am willing to try though.

Maybe winter will not come...

Joe

 

 

The video below has nothing to do with winter.  But, it does have a goat.

 

 

Guys with shaved heads seem tougher, studies prove it.

For sure that title is self serving, if you have seen a picture of me.  This blog entry could also be called Buckaroo Banzai in the 19th dimension. But, if I had titled it that you would wonder what I am talking about.  You are probably wondering already what I am talking about.  Most people do wonder what I am talking about, pretty much most of the time that I talk.  Just the other day, I reeled off a whole paragraph to a group of people.  They smiled and tried to look interested, then just pretty much sluffed off.  If you are not wondering what I am talking about by now, you are not sane, have forgotten your towel or you are a regular reader of my spot here.

That is me, Joe V. (Buckaroo Banzai), I am just there in the white jersey.  I am with the last day meeting crew, going for a ride before most of them left town.  We were up in Marquette Mi., discovering and determining the 19th dimension or in other words, the 2014 Model Year.  That is the future, you know.

So, each year we go set up somewhere out of the office at this time of the year.  We is the band of characters who create all the great products and services that we offer at Trek.  We ride bikes, eat burrito and oatmeal (They are the perfect foods by the way), ride more bikes, drink beer (mostly Belgian or IPA, other beers are clearly not as good), ride more bikes and then after enough beer and broken bodies from all the riding we generally have another beer, then we plan the future.  That is normally how the future gets planned anyway isnt it, bikes, burritos and beer? (Wikipedia has a whole entry on the Burrito btw.  Wrapped in a floor tortilla - it is pretty much the perfect food.)

Of course even though I know the future, I cannot tell you.  The whole future thing is a little like the well known and published fact that all cats have 3 names.  Their first name, the other name and the one they will not tell you.  I've asked, I know, if you do not believe me - Google it.  The problem with revealing the future is the space time continium.  You just do not want to mess with it.  You have heard of the butterfly effect, well those are just butterflies so whatever.   Our version of that is called The Beer Label Effect.  You have probably heard of that one as well.  Warns that if you peel a beer label off somewhere in time, the fact that the bottle does not have a label on it any more changes the future somehow.  We all end up with eyebrows above our ears or something like that.  I cannot risk that, so I am keeping the future to myself.   

So what is this blog entry about then?  I am saying it is about Marquette.  If you have not been there yet, then you need to get there.  First of all it is a college town.  Most college towns have their share of burrito joints and beer joints.  Marquette is no exception. In fact, Marquette is exceptional.  Only 1 really good burrito joint, but lots of good beer joints and the trails - OMG. 

Marquette burrito joint. 

Not a beer joint per say, but dang was that a good IPA.

The riding around Marquette is what makes the place special.  It is truly exceptional for in town riding.  some of the best.  The local trail crew has built some really fantastic trails.  The dirt contains alot of sand, so it drains really well.  Lots of great trail features, lots of great berms, lots of great rollers, and jumps and drops and...  It rained most of the time we were there, but that didn't even matter.  We rode in the rain and just after the rain for 5 days straight.  (The future cannot be planned without riding your mountain bike every day.  Well known galactic fact.  Much like the fact that Pigs can actually see the wind.) 

Now that it is all done, my bike is pretty haggered.  I spent $2.50 on it at the car wash just cleaning it off.  It is clean now, but still needs a bunch of TLC  I am pretty certain that the brake pads and the chain just need to be trash canned.  The tires are looking pretty beat, the grips are shredded.  Cables will probably need to be replaced and bearings as well.  But, it was all worth it. 

Have I mentioned to you that the Remedy is pretty much the perfect mountain bike?

Marquette town trail map.  Click the link to the left to see more about Marquette mountain biking. Sweet stuff.

Marquette is some of the sweetest, bermiest, great dirt singletrack anywhere. Look at that perfect dirt on the back tire.

View out across Marquette. 

The local bike shop was selling this cage for your growler that you can put on your bike.  If you have a snow bike, you probably also need a way to get growlers home.  Winter is long, your going to need a few.

That is pretty much it.  Go ride in Marquette before winter hits.  While you are at it, head up to Copper Harbor also.  It is only another 2 hours north.  Between the 2, the UP of Michigan is quickly becoming the galactic center of mountain biking in the midwest.  Sweet stuff.

Oh, btw I have been to the future many times.  I can confirm that our eyebrows are still in the place they are supposed to be.

To Infinity and Beyond!

Out,

Joe

BTW, Perkins is just one mile on the left.

Wiggins has sideburns...I do not!

 

Yes it is true. I know it will come as a major surprise to you, but I do not. In fact I do not even think a sideburns is ever in my future. In spite of the no hair thing, I could have sideburns...if I wants to. I mean, I have to shave everyday. But, I just don't think sideburns look that good on me. I have tried. I actually have put a legitimate earnest effort into it.  I slept well, I ate right, I bought new razors, I listened to a lot of Pete Townsend, I bought some pants like Tom Jones. But alas, I just didn't mesh well with it.

Aside from that difference, there really isn't much difference between Wiggins and I. We are both tall, we both are crazy skinny, we both can go really fast on a bicycle... (I admit that I am significantly better looking, I think he does as well)

Of course there is the Converse high tops. I would bet that my high top collection is better than his. I can pretty much fake the same English accent like he does. I am not even sure if he has any Converse.  Shame.  I also don't go in much for mod stuff. Although I did stay in a hotel in Paris recently.

 

I bet I can eat more burritos than he can in a year. Burrito eating is one of my core competancies, as timetrialing is one of his. I also have never seen him clear a double on a Remedy, which means I am way better than he is at that. (categorically)  Can he even think about rebuilding a 4stroke motor?

Ok, he has won a little bike race in France that I have not yet won, but I am not done yet. I might decide to win it next year. I am good like that.

In all seriousness, that was a masterful performance in France this month.  Chapeau.

I bet I know more words than he does to Pearl Jam songs... See, the list just keeps growing.

Jens Voigt is everyone's hero. After the race I asked him about the effort on the Champs. He said "I had a little bit of aggression to get out. I figure I saved Paris tonight. Can you imagine the damage I would have done to Paris tonight if I had not gotten that out of my system? The city would be burning tonight if I would not have. I saved Paris today!". I love that guy.

Out,

Joe

 

 

From Belgium to the UP of Michigan. It's the same up here, eh?

 I know that we have been here before.  In fact, you know that we have been here before.  I even wrote about it here.  It is the place after all.  Ask around, everyone will tell you that it is truly the place. 

I speak of paradise in the midwest.  Copper Harbor Michigan.  If you prefer being in the woods and not in a city, there really isn't anywhere that epitomizes that more than this place does. 

 

That is Andrew Shandro shredding the same trails just this spring.

We loaded up a complete truck of fun.  A truck full of Remedy's and headed for the great white north there.  The UP is really cool.  It has it all.  Coffee shops, ripping trails, rednecks, vacationers from Illinois, bears, moose, eagles, trucks full of mountain bikes, woods - did I mention ripping trails? 

I told you...truckload of fun.

Ahhh...

 

Aaron Rogers and the Copper Harbor trails club has done an unbelievable job with their trails.  They are truly amazing.  Get yourself there.  You will not be dissapointed.

Now, is this Belgium?

Out,

Joe