Front Range Fat Biking is not Fad Biking

Some people consider winter bicycling to be idiotic. Since this blog isn't authorized to determine who's an idiot and who's not, let's instead question whether winter bicycling is or is not extreme. Humans do lots of extreme stuff, and as long as a lot of people participate in that activity (or at least in their wildest dreams wish they could), nobody has an unkind word to say.

This being Colorado, I imagine I don't have to push this argument too far. We, for example, have this guy, whom everyone loves for nothing but his extremism and devotion. The number of winter riders in Denver is growing, and if motorists don't yet expect to see us riding on snowy days, we're nearing the day when they will. If you live in Colorado, there's a good chance you ski, snowboard, climb frozen waterfalls, dogsled, snow pogo, ice dive, glacier snorkel, or slush surf, so if you drive by a cyclist and wonder what that idiot is doing, then you are probably thinking tribally and not globally, my friend.

I said all of that to say this: fat biking in the snow is awesome, and if you haven't tried it, you should. With the price of ski passes moving into four-digit territory (that's $2000 (!) for Aspen or Telluride) and with traffic on I-70 moving slower than a corn cob through a terrier, there's no reason not to try fat biking. If you haven't tried it already, here's a story about what you might sort of expect.

My compatriot J-Mix (J Mikks (J Miques)) and I recently had ourselves quite a time on fat bicycles. It was fifteen degrees when we met at the Apex parking lot. 

In minutes we had stripped down to our base layers. I wore only a merino wool Icebreaker shirt (that's about as thick as a t-shirt) and some summer gloves for a majority of the climb. I'm sure this would be a different story if the sun hadn't been out, but still, it was by no means unpleasant or even chilly.

The snow didn't make much about the climb more difficult than it would've been on a dry day. The only tricky sections were where rocks warmed in the sun and then melted the surrounding snow. This made the larger rock slabs wet and muddy. Rocks the size of volleyballs were slippery enough to throw my rear wheel sideways. The texture of the snow varied so that switchbacks in the shade were a cinch, while sunny switchbacks and wet water bars proved a little slippery, but neither J Micks nor I dabbed more than we would've on a dry run.

When the going gets tough, the tough get beards.

Jay Michs on the path of the ninja.

Since we weren't blazing trail, getting started on steep slopes was easy. I was riding a Surly Ice Cream Truck with Bud and Lou 4.8 tires that, on the sunny front side of Apex, were the very definition of authoritative.

The backside of Apex (after the new Grubstake cutoff cut off) had more snow and fewer tracks, so we had to break our own trail on Sluicebox and beyond. Breaking uphill trail in five plus inches of snow was difficult. Getting started was especially tricky, but we took turns and stopped where the snow was thin and things were fine, though neither of us brought enough food. We figured (any by 'figured' I mean made up without any real data) we exerted about 1.5 times as much energy as we would've in summer, which means we wanted snacks in a bad way. Hot chocolate, snacks, and whiskey are three things we absolutely should've had.

Quick tip: keep all of your weight over the rear wheel while simultaneously keeping all of your weight over the front wheel.

At the top, we opted to turn around and descend the tail we'd just made instead of braking trail downhill. We descended. It was hilarious. I won't speak for J-Micz, but I personally navigated the fine line between having the time of my life and also fearing for it (my life). Wrecking, though, hurt about as much as a pillow fight.

Quick tip: when you want to turn in deep snow, don't use the handlebars. Use the Force.

Descending the front side, where the snow was thin and heavily traveled, was just like riding a bike. 

Glove liners were almost too much on climbs, while ski mittens weren't enough on descents. You need a larger pack than you normally carry, so you can haul extra layers and a shell (also a thermos, buritto, goggles, etc.) uphill. Mittens, by the way, won't give you the dexterity you'll need to hold onto the bar and operate the brakes with frozen fingers. You'll need lobster claws, and if there's one activity where Bar Mitts really shine, this is it.

Even if you are completely worn out and cold and tired and have a millions things to do, you will probably immediately make plans to ride your fat bike at Three Sisters the following day, no matter how much you don't want to. Because you will really really want to.

While J Mixe and I drank hot cocoa on this rocky outcropping, we talked about how nice it was to have a winter sport again. Both of us have fallen away from the land of lift lines and interstate parking lots, and not getting outside makes winters long and unbearable. When you don't get out and play in the snow, winter is just something you have to shovel. These trails border on urban areas, and yet are silent and isolating. Just a few miles outside of the city, the winter woods feel just like the vast and remote woods I grew up wandering around in, and are exactly what I need to see in order to return restored to grocery store lines, stoplights, unabating liter, and junk mail.

Buff Creek in the Middle of the Night

Fear can be difficult to recognize in a way that other emotions aren't. It can take years after an event before I realize it was fear that made my decisions for me. The funny thing is that if you can identify it in the moment, it comes out from behind the curtain much like the Wizard of Oz--weak and powerless with a bad haircut.

I don't mean to say that fear is all bad. It has probably saved many of us from poor decisions that would've resulted in full body casts. Let's say you were, hypothetically, scaling the front of the Natural History Museum while your hypothetical teacher Mr. Loftsguard was in line for tickets inside, because a friend of yours whom you secretly hated said you probably couldn't do it, well you might've ruined everybody's field trip and never been treated to see a hundred tiny bird carcasses that a curator was very excited about but that all looked very much the same to you had fear not settled upon you when you were about fifteen feet up and made you return to the ground. Just for instance. 

As my compatriot Mr. Braids and I set out for a night ride at Buffalo Creek at about 9pm, I did not realize how afraid I was. Afraid of the cold, afraid of the predators, afraid of the dark. Some of this fear could be rationalized. There are a lot of animals out there that I should be afraid of running into: 

Huggy Bear

Mating Season

Sean White

Trail Kitty

Vegetarian

Tesla

However, the odds of running into one of these creatures at night is probably about what they are in the daytime. What I was really afraid of, I realized later, was the dark. The Unknown. I realized this when Mr. Braids suggested we try riding by the light of the moon alone. We switched off our lights, and as we began to ride, I felt completely blind, but I could see just fine. It turned out to be terror that was blinding me. I had my head down, my brain off, and was trying to ride up Mr. Braid's rear wheel so that I could cower nearer him. I didn't even know that I was afraid, or that I was totally outside of my own experience in that moment. Finally, the second or third time I almost ran into Mr. Braids's rear wheel, I stopped, figured it out, and called the Wizard out from behind the curtain. The entire evening cracked open.

Neither picture nor description could do the moonlit landscape justice. All I can say is that there aren't many times in my life when my inner infant shuts up--stops wanting, stops whining--and I am transported out of time and out of myself. That ride in the dark was one of those times. It was what we might think of as a Double Complete Rainbow kind of time. I don't know what taking acid is like, but that ride was how I imagine a really good trip might be. Let the similes/metaphors proliferate.

Mind-blowing experiences seem to happen when you least expect them. They almost never happen, though, when you are at home, too afraid to throw a leg over your bike. Try riding in the snow, in the dark, in the middle of the night, or just to work. Try riding where you haven't before. Prepare for probable risks and let the rest go. It's a bike ride. It'll be great.

Video of the Week

Jefferson County's New Northfork Trail

The veritable Mr. Biggity and I were able to ride Jeffco's new trail, and were pleased with the experience. We started at the trailhead in Reynolds Park--which you may pass on your way to Buff Creek if you take S. Foxton Road (County Road 97)--and rode mostly downhill for 10 miles to where the trail ends at County Road 96 and the Platte River. You can download a PDF of Jeffco's trail map on their website. (Note: Jeffco kindly shuttled us from the bottom of the trail back up to the trailhead, thus cutting out a 10-mile climb back to the car).

From the Reynolds Park parking lot, you have to cross S. Foxton Road to find the trail. There are other trails that leave the same parking lot that seemed, to us, more obvious. Don't be fooled. You will know you are on the right trail if you find yourself on one of the steepest climbs you've ever ridden.

Even the bears lighten up for this climb.

You start on the valley floor. After about 1/2 mile, this is where you stop to barf.

A nice fellow from Jeffco named Dave told us they've already had several groups volunteer to build some switchbacks through this section so that you won't have to belay each other straight up the mountain.

There is a little climbing after this initial push, but the rest of the climbs are short and mellow. From the top of this hill onward, it felt like one very fast, winding descent. Once the trail is ridden down and buffed out, it's going to feel like a bobsled run. There's nothing technical here, just lots of fun. You'll also get some pretty great views of the surrounding area, of which I didn't take a single picture because I could not make myself stop riding for even one minute. When we did finally stop, I took a few quick foliage pictures before we rolled on.

It would be easy to link this trail up with the Colorado Trail, and then the trails at Buff Creek for a day as long as you would want to make it. The math here is a little rough, but if you started at Reynolds park, you'd pass the top of Nice Kitty after about 25 miles. You could then ride the (fantastic) Little Scraggy trail as an out-and-back, and by the time you made it back to the car you'd be nearing 65ish miles. This would make a great day with a few friends, but it would be a tough, uphill finish. If you're training for a hundo or otherwise punishing yourself, this might be a good option.

It's pretty awesome that we have so much good mountain biking within an hour's drive. If you have been riding bikes for awhile but have yet to pick up a shovel, please consider doing so. Hundreds of people are moving into Colorado every month, and our trails won't stay nice if we don't help keep them nice. Check out Jeffco's trailbuiding events here if you're interested. The Northfork trail took 8 years to build. The more people who help build trails, the more trails we'll have, and the more trails we have, the more handsome and intelligent we'll be.

First Annual Ghost Ride (and Sale) with Joyride Brewing Company

Maybe you know about our weekly Tuesday night rides with Joyride Brewing Company, and maybe as you read this right now you're hearing about this weekly ride for the first time, and thinking back on all of those wasted Tuesday evenings you've spent this year watching Game of Thrones and drinking a shot every time you see a character's insides. Okay, well, actually that sounds like maybe your Tuesday nights have been okay. However, our weekly rides with Joyride have been pretty darn great. 

Whether you knew about these rides or not, you should consider joining us on Tuesday, October 28th. We may continue to ride on Tuesdays after that, but the potential for clement weather will only decrease, so we want to finish October with a bang. Thus:

Here's what you have to do: put on a costume, put lights on your bike or person, ride to the bike shop, and get free stuff. You might even win a costume contest. Then all you have to do is ride your bike. It'll be great. We'll ride casually around the 'hood and end our ride at Joyride, where we shall commence with the beer drinking.

Cotemporaneously, our Ghost Ride sale will begin on October 28th and run through November 2nd. Many things in the store will be on sale.

See you on the 28th.

Yeah bikes!

Video of the Week

Does Surly's Ice Cream Truck Deliver the Sprinkles?

We've been anticipating the release of Surly's new fatbike for awhile now, and this past week it finally arrived. It was a scary day, because on that day a bicycle that had long been a weightless and flawless imagination was manifest in imperfect reality. Nonetheless, we put the bike together and took it for a ride. And then another ride, and pretty quickly thereafter a third ride.

Fatbikes can be tough to talk about. When something new comes along, many folks who loved the old can feel threatened by the new ("Snowboards are everything that's wrong with the world," said the early 1990's). This feeling is understandable; we are so lucky to find a few things that we truly love in life that we can become very sensitive any time the thing we love is threatened by even the smallest alteration.

Some people have taken to commuting on fatbikes, which probably seems inefficient to many. The thing that's difficult to remember is that if they like commuting on fatbikes, then the rest of us should just shut up about it. 

This "live and let live" conversation is one I had to sit myself down and have with myself after my first ride on the Ice Cream Truck. What I mean by that is I may start commuting (amongst other things) on the Ice Cream Truck.

Eater of worlds.

As I descended Apex trail in Golden, all I could think about (amidst all the giggling) was how much shame I should feel for loving the Ice Cream Truck as a trail bike. It's easy to have the perception that the best riders or the most knowledgeable bloggers or the people who are best at life would only ride squishy carbon bikes with 650b wheels. Why? If the Ice Cream Truck is an incredible technical climber and makes me giggle like an insane leprechaun all the way down the front side of Apex, then why shouldn't I love it as a trail bike? If Surly's Bud and Lou tires (26 x 4.8, by the way) can corner at mind blowing speeds and float smoothly over rocks the size of quarts of ice cream, then why should I only ride this bike in the snow? Fine, I'm not going to.

So here are our first impressions: unsurprisingly, it does feel a little heavy on climbs. However, when riding with friends, I was in about the same place in the pack that I normally am. I don't ride with a computer, but the Ice Cream Truck didn't turn me into any more of a straggler than I am already. In terms of it's ability as a technical climber, man, it's pretty unparalleled. You can pause halfway up a slippery rock slab to pump your fist triumphantly and then get going again without losing traction. The side-knobs on the Bud are so effective that if you get too near the uphill side of the trail, the knobs will catch and you will end up in the sage, going straight up the mountain. When climbing steep, loose sections covered in moon dust, you'll still have the lungs to sing your favorite Queen song while you pedal. Seriously, you'll be able to dust these guys:

There is no good way to describe how the Ice Cream Truck descends. It's smooth, fast, and frequently airborne. Forget about brakes. Forget your fears. Forget you are anything but a wraithlike figure moving down a hillside at incomprehensible speeds. You will be Scrooge McDuck swimming through your sprinkle vault.

We may have more to say about this bike once we've come down off our sugar high, but for now we are still licking the last bit of chocolate residue out of the crinkly foil packaging. 

Video of the Week

Amazing. Especially the last 3:45 on.