The Slushy Slog of Spring

The smooth outer fabric of my puffy jacket embraces my fingers as I lift it into the closet. It’s a familiar feeling and a routine, repeated countless Sunday evenings from late fall to mid-Spring – if I’m lucky. I unpack the contents of my ski bag, send wet layers for a whirl through the dryer, damp and dry ones back into the closet, where they’ll hang, on standby, ready for next weekend.
Instead, I’m probably hanging them up for the season.

I hate this time of year.

As my fingers release the jacket to a waiting hanger, I know, that with each passing spring weekend, this could be the last time I repeat this routine.
The seasons are changing, the mountains are melting, summer is coming.
Eventually, maybe tonight, this will be the last time, for many months. My shell, snow pants, and puffy, might hang here for months before again, I’ll find myself filling up my pack.
Already, I can see that future trip, to chase this first snows, high above Crow Pass, Hatcher, or maybe even that dream-fulfilled of an epic early season dump that puts us on slope right from the cars.
Already, I long for that anticipation and anxiety that comes with an early season snowpack, wondering, what the future holds.
Already, I can seem the November sky, skinning through snow-covered trees, disappearing under pillowy mushroom like formations, watching the surrounding mountains fill in, and underlying vegetation disappear.

I don’t know why this shoulder season, winter to summer, hurts so much. It doesn’t make sense, really. The days are getting longer and warmer, the plants are coming back out from the rich-smelling earth, and the birds are singing.
The transition to winter is harsh. The darkness, the cold, the stormy weather, they all conspire. Heck, there’s no guarantee winter will even happen after all that torture. It could still feel like October in January; the snowpack could harbor weak layers all season and fail to build; but summer, it always shows up. Sure, it could be a wet and cool one, there might be more or less rain, a fire, but one way or another, it’s coming.
Shouldn’t I find solace in that?
The blame rests squarely on the shoulders of the last season. A few years ago, after a completely lackluster winter and overly hot spring, I literally could not wait for summer to get in gear.
After a great, cold, snowy winter like the one we just had though, uninterrupted by intrusions from the warm season, it’s just hard to look forward, without just wishing I could instead, fast-forward, to next winter.

Winter hides in the high, cold, shadows. Photo N.W.

On Disc Brakes: An Open Letter to the UCI and the Inergalctic Federation of Cyclitesesis-ers

A Note:

It has recently come to my attention that coincendtal to my publication of an open letter to the UCI on the use of disc brakes on the road bicycles, another cyclist has also submitted a similar letter found here: LINK. I would like to clarify that while I believe these instance to be mere chance, I also fear that the timing could reflect the potential collision of two parallel universes that are soon to join as one as a result of the UCI's egregious oversight in allowing disc brakes to be used on road bikes so carelessly.

Another note (4/21/2016): Apparently there was some confusion about whether this was a serious post or not...so let me clarify. Disc brakes are good. UCI needs to focus on things like, cleaning up the sport, for example. UCI finds it easier to remain backwards and reactionary. Dante makes joke post making fun of this on blog. Dante goes to ride on bike with disc brakes. Dante uses disc brakes and inadvertently starts a war with galaxy 5RAM, then realizes the true horror of disc brakes by nebulizing the entire solar system.

On disc brakes
I’ve spent 10 years in the road cycling peloton and another 10 riding mountain bikes making fun of road bikers for their goofy unitard suits and stupid-looking handle bars in my naïve youth. That makes it 20 years on my bike, training, if you can call it that, enjoying what I like most, my passion. Since I was six, I’ve enjoyed biking, it got harder when they took the training wheels off, I continue to do so, but I wish to use them again.

Just like in any other sport, cycling has evolved in many technical aspects. However, it has not done so in others in a way we’d all have liked.

Through all these years, I’ve witnessed many improvements on different parts of the bike and cycling apparel. Well, the apparel hasn’t improved because it still makes you look like a doof to outsiders, but I guess I’ve really just lowered my standards is what it boils down to. Anyway, we started off with 6 speeds, then 7 speeds, then 8 speeds, then 9 speeds, then 10 speeds, and then 11 speeds. That last one came here to stay; oh crap, never mind, SRAM just released 12 speeds last week.

We use presta valves to fill up our tires with air now. For decades the Schrader valve was king of the road, but riders needed greater flexibility when changing a flat, so the inventors, and the engineers, and the smartest people the bike industry could find in the bars brought us the simple and elegant beauty of presta. I was loathe to adopt but I admit now it is superior!

We’ve also stopped using bar ends on skinny handlebars, and now use huge wide bars with 100 variations of angled rise. The days are long gone too when we used stanchion boots to cover our suspension forks, them things were whack!

My point is: two years ago, we started seeing disc brakes put on cyclocross bikes; well, actually, they’ve been on mountain bikes for like 15 years, and cars and motorcycles probably since we invented fire; and the rumor was that there could be a chance that they be tested in road cycling events!

Beforehand, I want to make this clear: I’m in favor that all the other weak and stupid bike riders: the cyclocrossers, and the sucky amateurs who can’t pedal at an average rate of 300 watts for 5 hours straight, enjoy the immense pleasure of disc brakes during rides, because the rest of their life must totally suck.

But then, there’s road cycling. Was there really anyone who thought things like Monday night’s after work ride wouldn’t happen? Really, nobody thought disc brakes were dangerous? Nobody realized they can cut, or that they could get flung from a rider's bike and become giant inter-orbital saucers, possibly launching into inter-stellar flight, reaching another world, slicing open the thorax section of the giant insect mother queen ant of the planet Shimargoux-XT, resulting in a cross-galaxy fight for survival where the inhabitants of Earth were ultimately doomed to become enslaved by the RoboShock bots? Common UCI, use your head.

At the top of the big spiral railroad overpass bridge on the Anchorage Ship Creek Bike Path, only one rider used them. With 2 riders, that makes it 1 rider, carrying a total 2 disc brakes into the peloton, minus the square root of 1, plus one, so this still equals 1, right?

Let me take you there: to a wooden bridge, a steep 3 percent descent, handrails, a muddy brook nearby, with comets, and meteors falling, and the world imploding. I’ve got to brake, so I squeeze the levers. The bike slows at a really predictable rate. The wooded planks bounce me around, my teeth chatter together, but basically, I’m doing that because I’m a moron and should not have downed that double mocha shot gu. My brakes don’t squelch and squeal, I feel totally under control; I’m not worried about the fact that I’m using the same technology to slow my bike that Fausto Coppi was 60 years ago, that in a few seasons I will not have worn down my nice rims, heck, I won’t even have to put new cables or housing on my brakes next year. In fact, to be totally honest, I’m basically not even thinking about the brakes at all, because they're just working, normally.

At the bottom of the spiral bridge, I get off my bike, throw myself against the right-hand side of the path, cover my face with my hands in shock and disbelief, start to feel sick… I could only wait for my mom to come get me, while a lot of things come through my mind.
Mom never arrives, she's in Mexico stupid, but a guy named Bob comes by and lets me have a few swigs from his half-finished Colt 45. It’s warm.

Eventually, I get back on my bike, a little tipsy still. The world is flying by, but you know, I guess we can adapt.

Improved stopping power? Ya, like stopping the entire world as we know it and causing the destruction of all humanity!

 

Sneaker winter

As depressing as the current weather track is, I gotta say, this winter has been a bit of a sneaker.
So far, I’ve safely logged far more ski hours than fat bike hours.
Maybe it’s partly because I over-cooked myself this year on the bike, maybe it was getting a fall trip down south that satiated my desire to ride for a while, but I’m glad that winter riding has been limited.
In the grand scheme of things, this winter blows; but, maybe in the way that last summer was a sneaker for riding, this one is the same for skiing, especially in comparison to 2014.
Access is for sure worse than it’s ever been in the Kenai Mountains, but the skiing above 2,000’ feet in Turnagain has actually been better than this year than it’s been since the big winter of 11-12 (at least until as-of-late).
The 12-13 early season was thin and faceted, top to bottom, in Turnagain, and literally non-existent in Hatcher. Last year, I only skied Turnagain once before early February. On the flip side, Hatcher had plenty of snow last year, but kept going in and out due to freeze/thaw events, not to mention, it’s a difficult place to ski during storm events.
So, by the numbers, BC ski days logged, November 1-Jan 4:
13-14 – 10 days;
14-15 – 19 days.
The other aspect of this subjective equation, “objective days” – or high-quality days. I’d define these as days where I skied, or attempted to ski, something that actually felt like real skiing, not just chasing after laps. Up to this point last year, I’d attempted and completed 2 objectives, Gold Cord Peak and Pinnacle. Both were fantastic skis.
This year, I’ve skied three objective days: Basketball couloir, the nameless Idaho face (Potato Peak?), and Government north face.
While none of these holds a candle to Pinnacle, they still felt really good, and are on the books. Really important here though, since we’ve had ample opportunity to do laps days, I felt much better on all three of those days this year than I did last year on Pinnacle or Gold Cord, where I had only skied in marginal conditions two times prior. Finally, I haven’t been nearly as stressed out about conditions or avi concerns.
One thing that for sure sucks this year: the complete lack of skinny skiing. While this is more of a mid-week activity for me, I’ve put in fewer days this year on skate or classic skis than I did by Thanksgiving in any of the previous three years!

Where will this winter go from here?

My guess, it’s unlikely to recover.
Amateur meteorologist hat, on.
Right now there are three main factors all ganging up to ensure we don’t ski much in the second half of this winter: anomalously high sea surface temps in the north east Pacific (7 degrees centigrade in the north Gulf), a powerful eastern Pacific blocking pattern that extends along the entire west coast of North America, and a weak El Nino pattern.
This exact pattern set up for the winter of 2002-2003, and it never relented. Rain and warm temperatures persisted throughout that winter season, and rarely did any cold air seep down from the Arctic in the second half of the winter. 
Big picture, is it the end of winter forever in SCAK? Probably not. Two years ago our snow shovels and thermometers were taking a beating, and in 2008 and 2010, winter took the lead and carried right over into summer. I’d say we’re on the wrong end of the decadal cycle. Unfortunately, it’s hard to get psyched that mountain bike season will start earlier or that next year could be better, knowing this one is more than likely toast.
In some ways, that’s a nice analogy for the past weekend. In some senses, it was really nice: warm temps, good company, and firm trails made for very pleasant rides. On the other hand, as enjoyable as riding was, I really didn’t want to be riding, I wanted to be skiing.

Yep, those are shorts, in January. I can't say I was wearing short too, but Phil rides hard!

A quick stop to appreciate the weak, but bright, winter sun.

I went to check out the Haesler-Norris Trails in Houston on Sunday after seeing a recent post from Tim, hoping to find slightly more winter-like conditions. I was not disappointed. The trails were firm, fast, and offered lots of traction and no need for studs.

A big sign at the entrance to Zero Lake Rd warned of logging operations. Ah...getting run down by these rigs...just like back home. This was the only rig I saw though, and I like the slogan on the side: "Got Wood?"

The trails offered a little of everything, from spruce tunnels, birch glades, recently logged sections, wide open swamps, and narrow twisty corridors.

It almost felt like a throw back to when I lived in Soldotna and would escape the deep cold or dangerous avi conditions by going to Homer to skinny ski. In this case, I was fleeing north in search of winter riding. I'll be back.

Monoculture Racing?

There is a move afoot to change the organization of the pro road racing calendar.

http://www.bicycling.com/news/pro-cycling/shorter-tour-de-france

http://velonews.competitor.com/2014/11/news/giro-ditalia-director-blasts-idea-of-shortening-grand-tours_353727
 
This is not the usual grist for this blog, but I digress for this post because I guess I’m worried/annoyed enough to consolidate some thoughts on what’s going on in the world of pro cycling as it attempts a major overhaul.
I’m not going to say that I’m against any changes, there is obviously room for improvement, but I’m certainly against a couple of the arguments.
One is the geographically scattered nature of the race season, the second is the shortening on the grand tours.
The point has been made that in a single week, any given pro team might have riders racing in three or more events in as many different countries.
Let’s keep that in perspective. We’re not talking about countries on opposite sides of the planet, we’re mostly talking about Europe.

A shot that defined 2014. Photo Velo News.

The pro racing circuit has seen some growth in the last decade for events outside the European theater, but these events typically fall outside the heart of the racing season, or teams make a fairly big deal of which riders they will commit to these events.
Arguing that teams with multi-million dollar budgets can’t afford the physical and financial stresses of racing a few different events at any given time in Europe is a joke. For smaller teams, this may present greater challenges, but so increases the importance of selecting races that better suit their rider’s and the team’s collective goals. Some people who like competition would call this type of decision-making “strategy.”
If anything, this diversity of events, and the willingness of teams to send riders to different venues, means a greater number of fans have the opportunity to see a wider array of riders.
Obviously, not all the top names in the sport will be represented at every race as a result, and decisions will have to be made as to what events to race each season.
Here it comes: so what?
Much has been made of the fact that even with 1 million Euros on the table, the top three riders in the peloton declined a Russian billionaire’s offer to compete in all three grand tours next season because of the massive physical stress that would present.
I can only draw comparisons to things that I have done in my own life, but here’s what I know: there are rides that I’ve completed and mountains that I’ve climbed and skied, that I may never do again. It’s not so much that I would not want to repeat them – although certainly there are a few that once was enough – but that there are other goals I hope to achieve.
I don’t need to climb to the top of the same mountains each winter to feel complete. Indeed, in the world of backcountry skiing, there may be windows that are only days long over a period of years to safely ski certain lines.
The fact that rider’s will work so hard to stand atop the podium at a particular race just once in their career speaks to the significance of the achievement.
Every year shapes up a bit differently as a result.
Riders have strong performances one season and appear to fall out of the ranks the next, race routes change, the weather is pleasant, or harsh, or somewhere in-between.
Let’s just look at the Tour this year. Who raced? Froome? Yep. Contador? Yep. Nibali? Yep. Sagan? Yep. Cavendish? Yep. Want me to keep going?
There were a bunch of big names on the start line, and look what happened; most were annihilated.
This year’s Tour in particular was won through a force of will to survive heinous conditions.
As a spectator, and maybe more importantly, one who values the role the environment plays in racing, it was awesome to watch.
The fall out, by the way: a good number of those big names who were defeated in the Tour showed up for the bastard-child of the grand tours: the Vuelta.
I was so stoked for the Spanish tour this year. Quintana promised to be fresh after his long hiatus, and Contador and Froome were undoubtedly bloodthirsty and looking for redemption. Let’s not even talk about the rivalry between teammates Valverde and Quintana.
Sure. It could have played out different, but it didn’t.
The pro cycling circuit is a forest of ancient trees.
Some are taller and more prestigious, some are gnarled and twisted like hell, yet others grow into each other and compete for the same limited space, all while a new crop of shoots fights to grow into their own.
Lopping them all off to about the same height and distance to create some UCI-sanctioned monoculture is to fail entirely to see this forest for the trees.