Start the Year with a Clear
Perhaps the greatest reason for living where I live is the access I have to decent mountain bike trails. They're not the most technical, nor the most arduous, but I can literally roll down the hill of my street and jump into a nature preserve filled with miles of trails smack in the middle of the Northern edge of the city of San Diego. If I need more of a challenge, the foothills and mountains are short drive east.
For the past year I have wrestled with a nemesis--not an evil nemesis nor a nemesis in human form but a challenge that has pushed me to build physical stamina and mental strength. My nemesis resides approximately 1.5 miles north of my house and is one entryway up to the Del Mar Mesa--a fun mesa sinewed with several miles of single track and fun canyon descents and climbs. This is my "back yard."
My nemesis is an ascent composed of three distinct sections, each with a different terrain. Although the climb is not long, some sections are very steep and the varied terrain provides some challenging techinical situations. The first section is a compacted dirt trail that zig-zags across a the typical ruts carved from the infrequent downpours that visit San Diego from January to March. Most of this first section is easy compared to what lies ahead, but the trick to this ride is all in the pacing. Shoot your wad in the first section, and you're done once you reach section two.
Section one ends with a steep climb into the second section, which I affectionately call, Torrey Sandstone Hell. This section is short, steep and if you choose the wrong line, you'll end up getting stuck in a rut or tumbling down a dense thicket of So. Cal. chaparal. Basically, the trick is to stay in an 8 inch wide section of loose sandstone and bust balls (see why shooting thy wad is not a great idea?).
Torrey Sandstone Hell gradually gives way to a narrow wash covered in loose rocks and boulders. The climb isn't horrific, but after the first two sections, this is where my nemesis typically poses too much for me. The last section is the longest and choosing the right line is difficult as the configuration of loose rocks is ever-changing depending on other riders, horses, and the natural elements.
So there I was, the first day of 2007. The sun was setting gently in front of me while the nearly full moon watched me attempt the climb. The air was crisp and the cool fragrance of chaparral filled trail. I had just passed a family out for a New Years hike when I began the ascent. (I will refrain from using the "man vs. nature battle" cliche because when I ride and my skills, physical endurance and psyche are challanged by a hill or tricky descent, it's not a battle. It is simply me flowing with nature; a synergy of sorts.)
I completed the first section of the climb without much trouble and was feeling good going into the second section. If I don't make it past this section, it is usually for a single reason: I get squirly dropping down onto the 8-inch wide section of trail. This usually means a trip into the chaparral or pulling a foot out of one pedal and all momentum is lost.
But alas, I completed section two and powed straight into the loose river of rocks. The first five yards through this river go without a hitch until my right foot suddenly becomes unclipped from the right pedal. I immediately try to get clipped in but the fatigue of my right calf muscle and my labored breathing make this usually "simple" task nearly impossible. It seems like I was riding with my right foot floating over the pedal for an enternity, but I after the stuggle, I could see see the rock covered wash gradually change to hard packed dirt...I was almost there. During my pedal ordeal, I kept saying--outloud--settle down, focus, settle down, you're almost there, just keep pedaling. Perhaps a metaphor for what lies ahead in the adventure of my life.
Nearly gasping for air, I finally reached the top and rested in one of the last Eucalyptus groves up on the mesa. While panting, I gasped "I finally fucking did it...Happy new year." I cleared it. A clear for the new year.
Pictures Soon.
For the past year I have wrestled with a nemesis--not an evil nemesis nor a nemesis in human form but a challenge that has pushed me to build physical stamina and mental strength. My nemesis resides approximately 1.5 miles north of my house and is one entryway up to the Del Mar Mesa--a fun mesa sinewed with several miles of single track and fun canyon descents and climbs. This is my "back yard."
My nemesis is an ascent composed of three distinct sections, each with a different terrain. Although the climb is not long, some sections are very steep and the varied terrain provides some challenging techinical situations. The first section is a compacted dirt trail that zig-zags across a the typical ruts carved from the infrequent downpours that visit San Diego from January to March. Most of this first section is easy compared to what lies ahead, but the trick to this ride is all in the pacing. Shoot your wad in the first section, and you're done once you reach section two.
Section one ends with a steep climb into the second section, which I affectionately call, Torrey Sandstone Hell. This section is short, steep and if you choose the wrong line, you'll end up getting stuck in a rut or tumbling down a dense thicket of So. Cal. chaparal. Basically, the trick is to stay in an 8 inch wide section of loose sandstone and bust balls (see why shooting thy wad is not a great idea?).
Torrey Sandstone Hell gradually gives way to a narrow wash covered in loose rocks and boulders. The climb isn't horrific, but after the first two sections, this is where my nemesis typically poses too much for me. The last section is the longest and choosing the right line is difficult as the configuration of loose rocks is ever-changing depending on other riders, horses, and the natural elements.
So there I was, the first day of 2007. The sun was setting gently in front of me while the nearly full moon watched me attempt the climb. The air was crisp and the cool fragrance of chaparral filled trail. I had just passed a family out for a New Years hike when I began the ascent. (I will refrain from using the "man vs. nature battle" cliche because when I ride and my skills, physical endurance and psyche are challanged by a hill or tricky descent, it's not a battle. It is simply me flowing with nature; a synergy of sorts.)
I completed the first section of the climb without much trouble and was feeling good going into the second section. If I don't make it past this section, it is usually for a single reason: I get squirly dropping down onto the 8-inch wide section of trail. This usually means a trip into the chaparral or pulling a foot out of one pedal and all momentum is lost.
But alas, I completed section two and powed straight into the loose river of rocks. The first five yards through this river go without a hitch until my right foot suddenly becomes unclipped from the right pedal. I immediately try to get clipped in but the fatigue of my right calf muscle and my labored breathing make this usually "simple" task nearly impossible. It seems like I was riding with my right foot floating over the pedal for an enternity, but I after the stuggle, I could see see the rock covered wash gradually change to hard packed dirt...I was almost there. During my pedal ordeal, I kept saying--outloud--settle down, focus, settle down, you're almost there, just keep pedaling. Perhaps a metaphor for what lies ahead in the adventure of my life.
Nearly gasping for air, I finally reached the top and rested in one of the last Eucalyptus groves up on the mesa. While panting, I gasped "I finally fucking did it...Happy new year." I cleared it. A clear for the new year.
Pictures Soon.
posted by punkrockrooney at 9:24 PM
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