Weaving in and out of an ancient forest of Juniper trees I’m transported to a magical, mystical place where time gets recorded in the gnarly nooks and crannies of these twisted trunks that have endured and survived Mother Nature’s extremes for longer than I can imagine.
I can see my life in Junipers. Scars on my legs. Wrinkles on my face. Memories in the breeze.
My last day riding at Three Peaks Recreational area just outside Cedar City, Utah feels like most rides these days as retirement creeps into my pace of life. I stop to savor the beauty, obsessed with my latest App (Picture This) that can identify any plant.
Tiny flowers that served as a blurred background to hammering rides of the past leap out for my attention.
Ground Plum have purple blossoms that cover the sandy ground everywhere. Scarlet Globemallow pop up here and there with red, er, scarlet, buds. Bunches of bright yellow Lobeleaf Groundsel explode against the gray granite boulders they squeeze out from under.
Flowering over there are Kingcup Cacti. Delicate Tufted Evening Primrose appear alone in the oddest of places.
My constant pauses slowly end as the same cast of newfound flora flows by effortlessly. As usual, the occasional unmarked trail intersection leaves me befuddled, not to mention cursing trail map makers everywhere.
Yeah, I barely passed cartography as a Geography minor in college, mainly because I attended about five classes all semester while I worked for the local newspaper.
I know how to get lost with the best of them on my own. I don’t need incomplete maps to assist — help me get more lost, that is, not find my way. I eventually right my course.
My spirits soar as I zip over an occasional wooden bridge, or slide over a smooth boulder. Some handling confidence comes with the added miles of wonderful spring weather.
Ah, my old Cannondale Lefty (20-plus years old) serves me well. I’m about to embark on third summer with this steal off craigslist. Apparently old trees and old bikes capture my imagination like nothing else.
I feel a burning sensation on my knee. No, not lactic acid. Frickin’ bees!
I roll toward a rock I know I won’t clear safely. I know because on my first ride here I crashed on one just like this. I duck to the side to scoot under a Juniper shading the edge of the boulder. The Juniper’s low hanging branch snags my backpack and rips it open.
That Osprey backpack has been my constant companion on ALL hikes and bikes since the fall of 2017. Yet another scar.
After nearly three hours, I roll back into camp. On the last granite spine I traversed, I identified the Turpentine bush that makes rare appearances. All told, and amazing farewell.
Pyramid Ridge stands as our next stop. Just a half-hour away. We love this area, having discovered it just six months ago.
We set up camp and I can’t wait to jump on Lefty. Some fun trails lie in wait. As I pull Lefty out of the bed of my F-150, I hear a loud, metallic CLANK!
Lefty’s unique front shock? Dead on arrival. Sure, you can get one on Amazon. Costs more than I paid for the entire bike. Maybe someone can fix it back home. But that’s three weeks of our adventure away.
We drive to Joshua Tree for our next stop. Didn’t plan on much cycling here, so no biggie. After a harrowing week (we broke a leaf spring on our trailer and were stranded for a week before we could get it fixed), we headed toward the Kern River Valley.
I did take a trip from Joshua Tree to Palm Springs/Palm Desert. Checked out some bikes at Pawn Shops. Even went to the Trek dealer. Almost had a shot at a sweet new baby for less than $2K, on sale. Just missed it. Then they tell me that was the last medium size in the U.S.
I saw there’s a Lefty on craigslist back in Portland. Ah, craigslist! I found a bizarre old prototype Trek that the owner claims Henrik Djernis won the ’94 World Championship on in Vail, Colorado. That’s back in Ogden, Utah. We decided to head back through California instead.
Cruising through Apple Valley en route to Kernville, we see a bike shop. A bike shop open on a Monday morning. Hmmm.
I walk in expecting to be ignored, which happens at most shops. I seldom connect with bike shop people, since I’m a complete bike moron. I believe they sense this immediately.
But less than two minutes in, after saying I’m looking for a dual suspension mountain bike, I have a Giant presented to me off the top rack. Super deal. Last year’s model. MSRP $3300. Now $2300.
He proceeds to tell me EVERYTHING about this bike. I mean everything. Of course, it’s all Greek to me, really. I’m already thinking now or never. He no doubt sees $$ in my eyes.
A month ago I would never have thought about dropping big bucks on a brand new bike (That historic Djernis bike was $400). My wife tells me to stop with the used bikes. Buy something that will last.
I’ve nosed around full suspension bikes for the past 10 years. To be honest, I’ve never seen anything I would leap at. Spending $2K, well, that was a lot of money when I was working. Now retired? Right.
Then he says, let me show you the other medium we have. He pulls down a Stance. $1499. And then, he shows me, point for point, the difference between the two bikes as they stand side-by-side before me. I’ve never been courted in a bike shop like this. For the first time in years, this is making sense to me.
But, they’re both 29ers. My Cannondales are 26ers. My Mojo was 27.5. I’ve ridden a 29er here and there. Hate ‘em. Absolutely hate ‘em.
Still, the manager comes over. We take ‘em out back for test rides. If my wife is serious, I have to strike. I mount the fancy bike. Yep, this sucks. This is why I hate 29ers. Feels like crap. Who rides these? I mount the Stance.
Whoa!
You kidding me?
Really?
He explains the geometry to me. I haven’t had anyone really explain shit to me about bikes since I worked with Charles Pelkey and Lennard Zinn at VeloNews. This is all coming together in my head.
The manager listens to the riding I do. Logging roads. Long climbs. Slow descents. I have no handling skills. Yeah, he says, this is the right bike for you.
I ask where there’s a park in town. Gotta let the dogs out. Chill. Make a decision. We get directions. Head out.
I’m at the park, in the car, calling my local Giant dealers to check on the deal. This guy tells me the Stance is sold out. Can’t order one. There’s a knock on the window.
There stands the store manager holding my driver’s license, which he held for the ride.
“I was afraid you’d left town already,” he says.
“Nope. You just sealed the deal. I’m coming back to buy it,” I say.
Done.
Yep, I’m home now, after riding around Kernville, California, and Happy Camp, California. I rode the single track at Silver Falls State Park, to check out the Stance compared to my previous rides. I love this bike. All 29 inches.
