What's in Your Bag

We're starting a new blog series called What's in Your Bag in order to see what people carry with them when they ride. Many riders have been stranded miles from home or the trailhead and tend to tailor the gear they carry to prevent repeat disasters. Maybe you'll see something that someone else carries and realize you should be carrying it too. Maybe you'll just enjoy snooping through other peoples' stuff.

North St. Clinton 20L backpack. We brought these in a few weeks ago and have been impressed. We'll post a review dedicated to these bags soon.

Brooks saddle cover. It's pretty dry in Colorado, but sometimes it does rain and your leather saddle turns into a piece of lunchmeat. 

Lights and charging cord. Great for looking under the couch. Also pretty good for riding bikes at night.

Earphones. Not always a great idea, but sometimes they're a great idea. We wrote a blog about earphones once, and you can read it here.

Wool shirt. For cold times.

Clear glasses. For dark times. And cloudy times.

Stickers. There are surfaces in the world that could use improvement.

Wallet.

Pens.

Surly Junk Strap. One of the handiest thing to always have with you. Forget your belt? Don't have enough hands to carry the six-pack you just bought? Need a dog leash? There are a million uses for this thing.

Two blank books. Because I dislike iPhones.

Wool skullcap and wool gloves. These things stay in the bottom of the bag all year because it can be cold in July.

Tool kit: tube, business card, dollar bill (tire boot), multi-tool, SRAM quicklinks.

Sharpies. 

Knife. 

Lunch. Everybody likes lunch. 

The Yawp! Company in Steamboat Springs

The Yawp Company recently rode bikes in Steamboat Springs. 

We missed a lot of good TV to watch some stupid clouds.

This is some kind of mass-produced chimney log. It burns when wet and makes a fire easy to start and doesn't put out much smoke. All I can think of as I watch it burn is what's probably the most famous doodle in Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions.

Campfires notwithstanding, it was cold on top of Rabbit Ears Pass. 

Despite the chilly morning temperatures, we were able to make our 9am start happen by 10am, which is pretty darn good. 

Judging by the angle of the shadows, it must be no-one-gives-a-damn-o-clock.

There's a trail that starts at the top of Rabbit Ears Pass and winds all the way to the top of Steamboat Ski Area. It's a 30-mile, high alpine ride that ascends 1,800 feet and then descends 4,200 feet almost all at once. We had to put up with a lot of cliché scenery and good people, but we found the strength to persevere. Honestly, wildflowers, babbling creeks, and circling hawks? It has so been done. 

It's kind of unfair that places like this still exist. For the urbanite who has to pick the Doritos bags and french fry cartons out of the landscaping every morning and who has to breathe smog and get awakened by sirens and sit in traffic, seeing natural landscapes that make one use words like gorgeous and beautiful without embarrassment is really kind of a downer. We should quickly bulldoze all of this so that we can forget it ever existed, and get on with pretending that concrete and litter is our natural habitat.

Just when we thought no one had brought anything to make litter with, Darin saved the day.

The trail is surprisingly flat, given where it is, but there are a number of short, steep climbs that--in combination with the altitude and rocky terrain--leave a rider feeling pretty tired. This ride is for expert snackers only.

The climbs get rockier and looser, by the way, as you go, and just when you think you've reached the ski area and are about to descend, you have several loose, rocky climbs to go. 

This spot feels like the top of the world. To get here, you have to complete the day's toughest, loosest, rockiest climb, and it just doesn't look like there's any way to gain more altitude. You will, though. But then you'll be at the top of Steamboat Ski Area where you will enjoy one of the most spectacularly endless descents we've had in recent memory. You'll descend (probably) Pete's and Sunshine Trails for an eternity before you even get to the top of Rustler's Ridge, which itself descends for an eternity (or at least an age).

It's difficult to explain the quality of this descent.

Because every trail has a beginning and an end, every ride therefore contains a narrative. Many of the rides I often get to enjoy do have a story, but it isn't a story in the grand tradition of Don Quixote or The Grapes of Wrath. The narratives of most of my rides are similar to the episodic, rambling narratives a five year-old might tell. "Well, first there was this one part with rocks and then a sludgy uphill and then a bird with a yellow tail flew by and then there were roots and I picked my nose," and etc. Conversely, this trail builds slowly like a long novel. It builds purposefully yet indirectly toward a climax. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, you're rewarded with a short descent or a picturesque vista. It gets tough. It gets tougher. Then there is, literally, a climax. And dang, the Sunshine Trail is a satisfying conclusion. It wraps up your questions and concerns. It schools you about life and makes you into a better, stronger person.

That's not the end of the story. At the top of Rustler's Ridge, you can see the town of Steamboat there below you, and you expect Rustler's Ridge to be a short and predictable epilogue, a useless addendum. It's not.

It's one of the most enjoyable swoopy, jumpy, berm-ed out, shredfests that I know about. You descend and descend and the town of Steamboat never gets any closer. We considered bailing on our Sunday ride and shelling out the $39 per person for a lift pass so we could shred this trail ALL DAY. Insanity. In retrospect, we should've done just that.

Instead, we rode some Emerald Mountain trails just south of town on Sunday. Morning Gloria was a pleasant climb with a low grade, varied terrain, and two billion aspen trees. 

Not Rustler's Ridge.

Also not Rustler's Ridge.

(Sigh) This isn't Rustler's Ridge either. 

Fun sign! Not Rustler's Ridge, though.

We descended NPR (No Pedaling Required). It was fine. It was not Rustler's Ridge. Still, it was riding bikes, and that ain't bad. 

Ian is in the river. This will surprise no one.

The Yawp! Company in Breckenridge

In July, the Yawp! Company went to Breckenridge. 

Because it's summer time in the shop, this blog is an entire Yawp! Company trip behind. This post will therefore be more picturebook than storybook. But here are some details:

On Friday we rode Kenosha Pass to Jefferson. You can read about our experience on this trail on Blackriver HERE. 

On Saturday we climbed up the Colorado Trail, which ran right past our campsite. This 4-mile climb was tough, to say the least. Was it worth it? Yes, it was. The shred-fest went on for a long, long time. There's no such thing as a descent that lasts for too long, but this one was almost long enough. Almost. We threw in a loop on Blair Witch and then descended the Colorado Trail down to the highway. (There are two trees on Blair Witch that are exactly 780mm apart, by the way, so you can knick both ends of your handlebars at the same time. Thrilling!)

We rode the bike path South into Breckenridge, and then climbed up toward the ski area to catch Peaks Trail. You can read our write-up about the awesome Peaks Trail on Blackriver HERE.

(I had to leave this trip early in order to go to Saddledrive, which you can read all about HERE.)

That's it. That's the whole trip. Although I want to tell you about a dream I had. 

But nobody else even tried.

Right before this trip I dreamed I was driving over an overpass. I cut an arc across a city that was as claustrophobic, endless, and dirty as the city in Blade Runner. As the automobile banked through the turn, the dream changed and the automobile was gone. The overpass became a slide. I became subject to the slide for a long time, sliding down steep sections and around disorienting corners until the open slide became a tunnel, flushing me onward until suddenly it deposited me in a field. 

I've heard it's unusual to see your feet in dreams, but looking down I saw my toes submerged two inches in a clear stream. I felt mud between them.

Wildflowers grew amongst the tall grasses and appeared and disappeared as the wind stirred flora. The city was barely apparent on the horizon. The feeling that my arrival in this place produced in me is difficult to describe; suffice it to say I am still moved now thinking about this dream.

I understood in the dream that the city was where I lived but the field was my home. I understood I was going to spend my life in that city and that I was going to die in it.

In the dream I desperately did not want that to be my future. I wanted to remain in the field. 

Even in the dream I didn't expect life to be all play and no work, but being asked to give up that field in order to return to the city seemed like too much. Then I began to wonder who it was who was asking that.

We're not sure why this sign exists, but we're glad it does.

A good place to dunk your head in the river.

Then my wife appeared in my dream to tell me I was snoring. I didn't mind because it was so good to see here there in the field.

Is he YAWPing? I think he is.

Ryan cramped up in a crowded restaurant. People stared. It was great!

It was just a dream and like all dreams it ended, but I haven't forgotten that Breckenridge is only an hour's drive away.

Saddledrive - New Surly Bikes

I like to think of myself as a minimalist or utilitarian or consumerism anarchist. I can get away with this kind of thinking because I own three pairs of pants. However, I own this koozie that looks like a handlebar grip and I'm drinking a Le Criox from it, so clearly I am to minimalism what Kanye West is to modest restraint. But hey, it's my life and I can live under whatever pretense I like. 

Anyway, I like to think of myself as minimalist. This makes me somewhat at odds with the bicycle industry, which puts itself through annual contortions to come out with 'new' products that are often the same or worse. Sure, we progress. Bikes are better than they used to be and we must fail to succeed, but evolution is a slow process. I avoid most trade shows because it's not worth my time and energy to fly across the country to see a new ultrasonic chamois or telescoping handlebars.

However, when Surly called and said, "Do you want to check out some new stuff at Saddledrive?" we said, "Only if you're exclusively making crit bikes now," and they replied, "Yeah, fat crit bikes." And so we went.

Over the last few months, a few of you asked us whether Surly was going out of business. You likely asked because of their low inventory levels on popular bike models and even some staples like cogs, rim strips, and Tuggnuts. The answer is no (you can read more here). The new stuff we saw at Saddledrive is just the tip of an iceberg of rad innovation that will sink the Titanic of your ennui. We didn't get to see everything Surly has in store, but the rumors we heard make it difficult to sleep.

Was it worth flying across the country to see what we saw? Yes.

The Karate Monkey, Cross Check, and Troll have all been updated to one degree or another. If you want to feast upon technical data, you can read all the specs here.

The Cross Check frame remains the same, but will be offered in a flat-bar build for $875. Yeah, I know! We rode it, and it rides like a Cross Check. It just costs less. Knards! A rear rack! A WTB saddle! Dreams are coming true.

The Troll is no longer suspension corrected. It comes with better tires and a new rear axle spacing. Look at the size of the frame bag you could put in there. If there is a place you want to go, this bike can get you there. 

Too many braze-ons to count.

So that's one bike with an updated build kit and one frame that's been improved.

This Karate Monkey has been totally reimagined and the results are screamalicious.

The Karate Monkey has been around long enough that almost everyone has owned one. It's gone largely unchanged since it was one of the first production 29ers in 1842. It's been all kinds of rad for all kinds of people for so long. Why would they change it? To make a great thing even better.

When I first saw that sticker I laughed, then I thought about it and I understood that the new Karate Monkey is about freedom. Run a dropper if you want. That little brace that ran from the seat tube to the top tube is gone, as is the bend in the seat tube, so you can run a 30.9 dropper with a ton of travel. Run a fork with up to 140mm of travel if you want. Bikepack if you want. Commute. Run different wheel sizes. Have an "old" 135mm rear hub with a quick release? Great. Do you have a fancy new boost wheelset? Fine. You are free. Do whatever you want to this bike and it is going to respond with poise, grace, and competence. (For goodness sake do not buy it because it's the new hotness and then hang it in your garage for a decade. You are free but that's just wasteful.)

Rebecca signals either that she's riding a bike with one gear or that this will be the one and only time she ever rides a bike with one gear.

The top tube is longer than the Instigator's! The head tube is two degrees slacker than it used to be! It has trumpeted tubing like the Ice Cream Truck and Instigator instead of gussets. Prettier! Stiffer! Internal dropper post routing! All of the braze-ons! Ehrmagherd!

There are two stock builds on the way: a single speed 29er in Stand Back Purple and a 1x11 with 27.5+ wheels in Rhymes with Orange. 

Both are so rad.

We also rode the Ice Cream Truck. It will be back later this year in a new color and with a new build spec, but we rode the old sparkly blue one that's been around for awhile. New products are so constantly made available that it's easy to forget that "old" bikes (less than two years old) are still mind blowing. 

The Ice Cream Truck is unassuming. It may not look like a fun and capable trail bike, but it's a total blast. Our first impressions of the bike were favorable, and nothing has changed. 

Here's the takeaway: Surly has new stuff and it's exceeds not only expectation but desire. Surly has old stuff that's exceptional. If you already own one, don't forget you already own one of the best bikes available. Are the new bikes better? In my opinion, yes. Is your old bike still great? Objectively yes! I won't be getting rid of my old Karate Monkey any time soon.

The future is uncertain. The Earth may completely disappear out from under you when you're in an airplane. You never know. Ride good bikes while you can.

The Yawp Company in Curt Gowdy

Wyoming. Earlier in June, the Yawp Company went there to see if what they say about Curt Gowdy State Park is true. What do they say about Curt Gowdy? Usually "I've never ridden there," or "Where is Wyoming? or "Is that a car dealership?"

Being there was better than getting there. 

If you haven't been to Curt Gowdy, it's about two and a half hours from Denver by car, unless it's four or five. As you (finally) cross the border into Wyoming, almost everyone will exit the interstate to go to the fireworks warehouse that's just past the state line. You alone will continue on to Cheyenne, the bustling hub of the Union's least populous state. There's supposedly gasoline for sale there. Get some if you can, and then turn west into big wind country.

The campground at Curt Gowdy State Park was full, though there are more sites at the park than residents in Wyoming. Instead of camping near thousands of people with generators, car alarms, and inflatable mattress pumps, we ended up about two miles west in an empty field with nothing but flowers, clouds, and rocks. Every thirty minutes we made Nate hide behind a rock and pretend he was a generator so we could feel at ease.

In the morning, Darin surprised us with breakfast. While one part of me really enjoys good food, another part of me is very lazy. When I'm camping I convince myself that it's impossible to prepare good food in the woods and therefore give myself permission to eat cold canned brussels sprouts and Hershey's syrup on crackers. A few folks now have cooked meals for everyone on our camping trips (in fact, Ryan and Gray made dinner for us that same day), and it's tricking me into raising my standards. Also, some people are better cooks on the ground than I'll ever be in a kitchen.

We rode as many of the trails on the park's west side as we could. While the signage left something to be desired, it was easy to navigate the park with a map. Distances are short, and one never ventures too far from the parking lot. There are several "play areas" that offer remarkably fun technical challenges that are easy to session. Heckling (or I suppose encouraging) your friends has never been easier. 

The easier trails had enough technical challenges to keep our resident Trail Snob happy without being too difficult for beginner riders. The aptly named Pinball trail is great (mind your ankles and derailleurs). Mo' Rocka is also great (not to mention brilliantly named). If you ride El Alto, don't wait until your legs are already blown--there are many step ups, steep switchbacks, and drops. It's good, but difficult.

Trail systems like this are great for large groups or for riders of varying skill levels. It's easy to split up for a little bit, easy to opt into--our out of--gnarly lines, easy to drink a beer by the lake and then head out for another loop. It's pretty and pleasant and fun, and though the park doesn't offer a ton of mileage, it's easy to link up trails in different directions and the technical challenges would keep you entertained for multiple laps.

On Sunday we made the mistake of riding the trails on the park's east side. Middle Kingdom was fun, but the trails beyond that were not. It didn't help that we spent some time waiting out a lightning storm and fixing flats, but the trails were a mix of (according to our Trail Snob) boring, flowy bologna and hike-a-bike.

"Possibly the worst trail ever."  --Trail Snob

After the ride we spent some time drinking beer by the lake. Doing nothing with a bunch of good people in a scenic place isn't something I schedule time for, but every time it happens it's obvious that I should do it more often. Had it not hailed, we might still be sitting there.

There are countless trails and campsites within two and a half hours of Denver, and there are other destinations I might choose first. However, there are plenty of times when there's snow or lightning in the high country and Wyoming is clear. On those days I'll gladly head north. After I read a traffic report.