The Adventures of Levi and the Wrong Forms of Transportation

As a teenager, I had a Toys-R-Us (soon to be Toys-Were-Us) mountain bike that I enjoyed riding through the woods and down flights of stairs. It weighed as much as--but didn't handle as well as--a tank, and it sounded like a sack full of silverware tumbling downhill. In college, I liked the idea of selling my car and getting around on two wheels. The notion made me feel tough and "urban," whatever that means, but in reality I rarely rode my bike anywhere.

There was a marked turning point where a bicycle changed my life dramatically, and set in motion the events that led to the formation of this bike shop. In 2005 I was working at a bookstore, to which I daily rode the bus. It was crowded, rude, inhospitable to reading, time-consuming, and supremely unpleasant. My birthday falls near Christmas, and in the winter of 2005 my wife talked my family and her family into pooling efforts and purchasing a bicycle for me. I started commuting to work, and that quickly became my favorite part of the day. I soon thereafter started working in a bike shop and, well, here we are.

I'm writing about this because I recently rediscovered the booklet that my wife made for to announce the gift, and I'd like to share it with you. 

Obviously she knows me better than I know myself. Thanks, Rebecca.

And if you are happy that our bike shop exists, you can thank her, too.

Yawp! Cyclery's 2017 Gift Guide

Want to get a gift for a friend or family member who rides a bike but don't know where to start? Here are a few things that we Yawpers have tried and loved. 

Bags of all kinds

By fastening a bag to your bike, you can carry more stuff. When you carry more stuff, you can ride farther. Every time you ride farther, a reindeer gets its antlers. We are fortunate to stock bags from two fantastic Colorado companies. J.Paks and Oveja Negra produce high quality goods and are exactly the kind of people you'd want to support. My Oveja Negra Chuck Bucket turned into a catch-all necessity on this particular day when I could not have manipulated a zipper with my frozen fingers even if there had been an enchilada plate behind it. My J.Paks frame bags are not just bikepacking essentials; mountain biking without a hydration pack is the best! No matter the kind of riding or type of bike, all riders are happier without stuff in their pockets or on their backs. Every time you ride without a hydration pack, a beer can gets its koozie. 

Bags of all kinds: $45-170

 

Surly's Petite Porteur House Bag

Just the right size for an all-day ride or part of an overnight kit, the Petite Porteur House fits on Surly's 8-Pack front rack. There are plenty of small pockets for valuables, and replaceable waterproof liners for each pocket. The donut capacity of the large compartment is 12-18, depending on the shape of the box where you buy your donuts. 18 beers? No problem. 

The regular Portuer House is also great, but it is huge. If you need to haul your hockey gear or upwards of 40 donuts, that's the bag for you.

8-pack Rack: $100 (black or silver)

Petite Porteur House: $100

Porteur House: $150

Dynamo lighting

This gift involves a lot of pieces, but is totally worth it. You can always give someone just a part of this gift, forcing them to buy the rest. They'll thank you later. The complete setup consists of the dynamo headlight, the generator hub, and the optional taillight. 

Dynamo lighting is great for anyone who falls into one of these categories: they commute daily in the dark; they are tired of losing lights to theft or otherwise; they forget to charge their lights; they remember to charge their lights but leave them plugged into the wall; they sometimes don't plan to stay out late but then have a few unplanned beers and have to find their way home in the dark. Every time you find your way home in the dark after a few unplanned beers, Gary Busey falls up a flight of stairs. 

 

silipint

It's silicone, so you can microwave it, dishwash it, freeze it, grill it, bake it, crush it, pack it, squeeze it, throw it, drop it, and it will be fine. 

Once, Gary Busey fell up a flight of stairs with a Silipint and it was fine.

Silipint: $12

Neck tat

 

flat bar cross check

For only $875, this flat bar Cross Check is one of the best commuter and city bikes you can find. It's so great, you'll have friends no matter where you go.

merino wool helmet liner

Everyone should keep one of these in their backpack all year. It's light enough that you'll never know it's there, but it'll save you from frostbite when you have to find your way home in the dark after a few unplanned beers. It's one of the best pieces of clothing you can own.

Merino Beanie: $26

hip pack from north st. bags

They're called hip packs, but don't let The Man tell you where to wear them. 

Hip (or wherever) Packs: $49-69

Knog oi bell 

Not only is the Oi bell sleek and compatible with either road or mountain bars, but it's also directional. That means it's louder when you're in front of it than beside or behind it. Neat! 

Oi: $20

 

civia venue

The Venue is a great bike for getting around town. Eight speeds, lightweight, sturdy, and $479.

fix it sticks

This multi-tool is good for so many reasons. It can access bolts that are difficult to reach. The bits are replaceable (and thus you can add or remove bits so the tool is customized to your bike). There are no moving parts to break. Plus, every time you fix a thing, Gary Busey un-makes a movie (but not Lost Highway).

helmet

No matter who you're shopping for, it's almost certain that they appreciate the joys of complete thoughts and fine motor control. Helmets decay in UV radiation, so if a helmet is more than a few years old or has ever been dropped, it should be replaced. Kali helmets will keep your loved ones safe and looking good. Plus, every time you crack a helmet and not your skull, Oprah gets a neck tat.

Helmets: $49-100

Blingle Speed

If you're only going to have one gear, it had better look good. They're also incredibly light and surprisingly durable. 

Endless bikes is owned by a woman and the cogs are made right here in the USA. They come in all sizes and in so many colors.

Endless cogs: $50

paper for staying found by Singletrack maps

Ever had four people crowding around the screen of a Garmin? If so, you might prefer this groundbreaking new technology. It never runs out of battery, never breaks during a crash, and never has connection issues. You can spill stuff on it, drop it in the river, find the nearest water source, and fold it into the shape of a swan. Every time you consult a paper map, a cyborg decides not to kill a human.

Sweet bloom coffee

Yeah, this appears on our gift guide every year, but it deserves to.

Sweet Bloom Coffee: $17ish

socks

Need a gift for someone with feet? 

Nifty Socks: $13-20

This strider comes with pedals

Strider bikes have been helping kids learn to shred for years now. The new 14x model comes with a pedal kit, so once your child has mastered the balance bike, you can install the cranks and chain (included) so that this is both their first and second bike. 

14x: $209

 

This salsa comes without pedals or anything else

What's holiday shopping if you don't get a little something for yourself. 

Ti Timberjack Frame: Get ready for this: $2,399.

The Yawp! Company in Winter Park, Aspen, and Salida

The Yawp! Company has been going places and doing things--so many places and so many things, in fact, that there hasn't been much time to blog about said places and things. That means you're in for more photos than words, which is likely for the best.

We went to Winter Park in June, where the 30-mile Tipperary Creek loop somehow became 40 and where a long descent back to camp was mostly uphill. It was a gorgeous day, though, and we had the trails to ourselves. 

We saw a moose along way, but in all of my photographs the moose is indistinguishable from the foliage. You'll just have to imagine a moose in all of its awkward and deranged glory schlomping about in the swamp willows. Here are a few humans schlomping about in the damp, spring forest:

In July we went to Aspen. It was hot.

Are you the kind of person who's easily confused by trail names? You'd better hope you're not if you're riding in Aspen. Highline, Lowline, Butterline, Viewline, Skyline. We rode a 20-mile loop that was quite pleasant (but hot) and made totally worthwhile by the descents down Deadline, Airline, and Youhavetobekiddingmeline.

That afternoon, when temperatures became oppressive, we decided to climb a steep and exposed fire road. I can't recall a more unpleasant climb. We did, at least, get to sit on bench and look out at one of those landscapes that a photograph can't quite represent. 

That was followed by miles of riding a trench that was six inches across and six inches deep. It was just like shooting whomp rats back home. 

That was followed by a little beer.

In August we went west of Monarch Pass to ride Canyon Creek and Agate Creek. Canyon Creek was really hard.

You can see more stars from Snowblind Campground than pretty much anywhere else in the state. It's really magnificent. It would take less time to count the spots of darkness amongst the stars than the stars themselves.

Photo: Cullen Mahaffey

From Snowblind Campground the fire road climbs for 9-miles and 3600 feet. 

It's hard to tell from this perspective just how menacingly steep some sections are. 

There was a graveyard halfway up. Read as far into that as you want.

This was the last time for two days that we had dry feet:

Photo: Cullen Mahaffey

When the singletrack starts, the good news is that the terrible fire road climb is over. The bad news is that it's time to shoulder your bike and heft it up this mountain. It takes about 45 minutes. 

Photo: Cullen Mahaffey

Photo: Ian Murphy

Photo: Steve Kirshner

Photo: Steve Kirshner

The reward is worth it, though. The 12-mile descent is one of Colorado's finest. 

On the following day, we rode the Agate Creek descent off of Monarch Pass. It was also splendid. In fact, it may be my favorite way to get down from the top of that mountain. 

We crossed Agate Creek roughly six thousand times, and each crossing was slightly less ridable than the last (in the best possible way).

In October, we went to Grand Junction, but I can't blog about that now or it would be more or less on time, and we can't have that.

Spinning in Circles by Nathan Elder

At the beginning of the year, we challenged you to set a cycling goal even though cycling goals are trivial. We know that many of you who set goals have pursued them seriously. Even if you haven't been able to meet the goal you set, we are really impressed with your efforts.

Nathan Elder met his goal and was kind enough to write about it. All of the photos, words, and adventures below are his. Enjoy!

I emailed my goal to Yawp rather quickly last December and promptly neglected my goal. Mostly because emails are not real. Have you ever touched one? Didn’t think so. 

Late January was marked the joining of Strava and purchase of a new bike, both seeming essential to the goal.  With new bike excitement, the miles seemed racked up and felt easy.  Riding was further aided by global warming and the second warmest February on record.

But soon the new bike smell would fade and despite the warmest March on record for Colorado, the application of energy toward my goal decreased.  An apartment move provided another excuse cease toiling, and increase pizza/beer intake. 

Work picks up in April and May with the annual thawing of snowpack and flowing of rivers. Weekends fill up with work and excuses piled up. I began to think of my goal as an unreal email. I think it was actually an online form, which is even less real. 

Then June hit. Shit. I verbally articulated the goal to several people in the hopes it would motivate me. I rode a little bit, and conned others into riding Belcher Hill with me. Telling them it would be fun all the while using the hardest climb nearby as “training.” Still not feeling prepared as the month turned to July.

A few weeks before I embarked on my goal, I went on the Yawp/SloHi bikepacking trip. I found myself struggling near the back of the pack and hearing the inner voices telling me to give up on my goal.

And then I found myself in a dark place, literally. For the first time publicly, I admit that I took spin classes. Not just any spin classes, the kind where they turn the lights out, light candles and blare EDM music.  I sweated a lot. Wool was a bad choice for indoors. I contemplated what situation I could possibly find myself in where I need to spin mountain bike cranks at 110 RPM. I cannot feel the beat and cycle to the rhythm. But I had decided that I was going to accomplish my goal via any odd detour necessary.   

The day I as dropped off the side of highway 50, as soon as the sticky rubber gripped the pins of my pedals, all that was left to do was pedal and push. The two things I should have been doing all along. 

During the trip I had one weak moment. After eating real food and seeing semi-civilization for the first time in a few days and sitting out another rainstorm, I knew I was just a $17 hostel stay and $75 train ride from being dry and comfortable. The rain cleared, the sun came out and I pedaled on, finishing a few days ahead of schedule.

Push. Pedal. And achieve your goal. And prizes. Don’t forget the prizes. Levi promised them.*

*Editor's note: Yes, we did promise all of you prizes for completing your goals, but many of you attempted to meet such incredible goals that our prizes are going to seem chintzy and anticlimactic. Sure, we could've told you earlier, but where's the fun in that?

Yawp! and Surly Bikepack Against the Machine

Trevor from Surly Bikes appeared in our bike shop on an otherwise ordinary Thursday afternoon. What was Trevor doing here in our little stembag of the world? He was here to Bikepack Against the Machine, of course. Did we? We did.

What is Bikepacking Against the Machine? This is the third year of its existence, and traditionally we've loaded our bikes and more or less belayed each other up the face of a mountain for an entire day, and then moaned and lurched around a campsite in delirium and exhaustion for a subsequent day. This year we wanted to ride something a little more enjoyable and get a little deeper into the wilderness. Did we? We did.

Before the bikepacking began, fortune was good and timing was right and a few of us had the chance to ride the Monarch Crest trail on Friday. We started around noon on a weekday and more or less had the trail to ourselves. 

As you may or may not know, the Monarch Crest trail offers some of the most incredibly scenic photo-ops that a person could possibly spoil by shoving their dumb ol' bike into.

I was lucky to get this shot of my bike spoiling the scenery before all of these jokers moved in to photograph their own bikes.

Incredibly, I'd recently ridden the Crest, and at that time I had suspected how charmed my life must be to get to do such grand things in such good company; to get to do the same thing again so soon made me feel a bit guilty. Um, not so guilty I wouldn't do it again tomorrow if I could, but still a little guilty.

Nothing spoils an album cover like a bike helmet. 

We'd planned to shuttle ourselves, but ran into a small snag that led to hitching a ride with a stranger. If Nate looks like he laughing at his own little private joke, it's because he's hopped in the bed of a pickup with a disembodied dinosaur leg. It turned out that the stranger wasn't going our way after all, and after a brief moment in which I though we were going to be murdered, we were returned to our party unscathed and decided to drink beer until plan B found us. 

It must've been the right thing to do, because we wound up here:

On Saturday morning, eighteen of us gathered in Salida with food for twenty-five, water for ten, whiskey for forty, and not a braze-on to spare. You can't fit much gear on a bike, but it sure does take a long time to pack your kit. We arrived in town at 10am with plans to meet at 11. By noon, some of us were ready. Does it matter that we got a late start? A wristwatch is a machine.

Finally, in the heat of the day we rolled out. Our bikes were heavy. It was hot. Then it was hot and heavy and hard and steep all at once. I'm not really what I'd describe as a face-sweater, but sweat from my face I did--all over my Petite Pourteurhouse bag. Face-sweat tests prove the bag is waterproof, just like Surly says.

After an hour of suffering, the grade mellowed out, the cloud cover provided relief, and people began conquering their hangovers. It could even be said that "fun" was a word that got thrown around.

Only one of us dared drink of these mine tailings, and when he grew a second head we had to stop and debate whether our party had technically increased in number to nineteen and if it had, whether we were going to have enough whisky. 

The road gradually became steep yet again, and loose, too, and intersections not marked on our maps began to appear at regular intervals. This did not in the least deter us. It was quiet and pretty; this are things machines don't care about.

We took a long rest here to regroup and to drink a few beers that had mysteriously opened. It was a pleasant rest, well-earned and essential, but we made the fatal error of believing we had neared the end of the climb. Beyond this quiet little meadow the road became increasingly steep, rocky, loose, mean, and unfairly vertical. Each time I exhaled a fine mist of face-sweat was vaporized and blown forth as though my mouth were the blowhole of a sea mammal. Such were the horrors of that road.

But then we found ourselves in a place so scenic that I needed to photograph my bike.

A rowdy descent caused several mechanical failures and we were forced to camp in this terrible place:

Campfires are good for letting the mind unspool. We enjoyed a bazillion stars and a vivid Milky Way until the moon rose and cast its glow upon us like the screen of a giant iPhone. There was fire breathing. There was an extensive cooking production with campfire rocks, plastic baggies, a tiny pot, and freeze-dried phó. Whisky bottles circulated.

It's difficult to make an argument about why this is a better thing to do than watching television or scrolling through social media feeds; there isn't much utility in any of these activities. I do know that, around a campfire, when my hand robotically reaches for the phone in my pocket, I am happy to remember that I am in the middle of nowhere and the device is useless. I am free to focus my attention on whatever I like. The more surrounded one is by the machine, the more difficult it becomes to resist.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons: It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.  --Walt Whitman

If waking up here doesn't set you right, you might be a machine. 

Since we'd gained 3800 feet in 18 miles on day one, we left ourselves with 35 miles on day two. We set out on what promised to be an easier, more pleasant day.

It was.

From the window of an airplane, cities resemble circuitboards. As our phone calls have become emails have become text messages have become emojis, our communication with one another more and more resembles a string of 1's and 0's. It's refreshing to step away from those habits, step away from cat videos, and watch a fire burn. There's something essential about doing an activity with other people, looking them in the eye, and passing around a beer. 

Which is exactly what Gary was trying to do when he dropped this PBR, which he'd lugged for 45 miles and 5500 feet of climbing.

Thanks to all of you who came and made a couple of rotations on a hunk of rock into an incredible weekend. I can't think of another thing I'd have rather done. Thank you also to Surly Bikes for 1. making objects that we aren't conflicted about selling to friends who've become customers and customers who've become friends, and for 2. taking the time to come visit your pals in Denver.

As long as there is a machine to bikepack against, consider your invitation open.