Camp-N-Ride Redux

I no longer trust the National Weather Service. We left Ohio with three hundred pound duffle bags, because NOAA's website called for damp and cold days at Sycamore Canyon in California. We arrived to a balmy Thursday night in Burbank, Michael Darter (fresh from a photo shoot at NINER bikes in Van Nuys) picking us up in his heavily burdened Subaru. We rolled through the Valley to their nest in Trippet Ranch, deep in the bowels of Topnaga Canyon. Opening a couple of fifty dollar bottles of wine, he quickly poured us a glass and made us feel at home. Heidi arrived shortly after and we settled in to some music from Lydia.




After a few brief hours of sleep, Heidi graciously ferried us at 7a.m. to the campground to squat on our prospective campsites. expecting cold and fog, we were greeting to a sun-drenched west coast dawn, replete with arching porpoises and sea lions. It quickly climbed ino the high 70's on the beach, and we slipped into our swim-stuff. Lydia was quickly paralyzed by the sun and sand, and I ran to the ocean for a swim. Amazing how nice that water feels when you don't think you'll see it ever again..




We would spend the majority of the day on the beach, completely alone. Around 2:30 we headed back to camp, eagerly awaiting the rest of the crew. A short hike led us to the top of the saddle overlooking Pt. Mugu's rocky outcropping. People would begin to filter in by about four o'clock. It was great to see James, Roger, Vanessa and the SD Boyz roll in. I was happy not to get a swift kick to the nuts from Vanessa.




As everyone began to pour in, I certainly felt like I was home again. Despite the fact that I have built a new life and new friends in Columbus, I will never be able to replace the gaggle of freaks that I have grown to love so much back home. With every arriving vehicle, I was greeted with a face that felt like home. The s**t-talking started immediately, and I could not imagine a happier place to be. Randy arrived and immediately he and Kim began talking of ball-sacks and my mom, midgets and monkey-taints. Ahhhh....home.




Vegas and Lyd had brought their musical instruments (NOT the skin-flute, dorks) and threw down, but poor Bob really never had a chance to let it fly. Punker-drums and acoustic guitar don't really mix. I'd love to hear him roll out solo!
James and Roger spent the better part of the night preparing the graciously donated NINER bikes fleet for all of us to ride. I know I touched on it briefly at the raffle proceedings, but ROGER has seriously stepped up to care for you all in a manner that very few (if any) other people would be able to manage. We all owe him a huge debt of gratitude for the inexplicably hard task of caring for a large contingent of needy athletes.




That night, the SD BOYZ werer cooking. Lyd and I had been alone w/out food or water for about nine hours and were about to eat a parrot. They served up an enormous heap of pasta, which Lyd promptly shoved me out of the way of and scarfed down...alone....without a single bite offered to her famished (yet strangley still fat) man. Everyone laughed, except the starving fat guy. The next day I ate breakfast off her back, while she was forced to watch and starve. Payback sucks!




The morning Saturday was a hive of activity, as riders continued to roll in and prepare for the morning ride. The smell of breakfast rolled through the campground, and last minute bike preps were being handled. I rolled out of the tent in all my spandex-clad glory,male camel-toe and beer gut stretching the fabric on an elemental basis. Voler never meant for a man that big to wear their clothes, it just ain't right...




The ride started all together, and we even picked up a straggler or two! As we got to certain points in the park, we split off in to smaller and smaller groups. Lyd and Tim finally rolled back at the base of Guadalasca, and the rest of us climbed the singletrack to the summit. A group mass descent followed, and by the end we had managed not a single crash or flat! The day's ride was great, and we rolled back to camp for dinner.




The fire was lit, the grills were hot, and the beer began to wash over the crowd. Abel Vaca-Nava-Lava-Guava-Java had brought ten cases of Mexico's pride (not Selena, CORONA). It didn't take long for more dirty conversations to stunt our growth, and as usual the things that were said were some of the funniest things I have ever heard. How can so many people have such wickedly creative and filthy minds? Who cares, just pass me another beer, VATO!




The park police showed up around 9pm, and began to cause trouble regarding the campsites THEY had given us earlier in the day.....

More on that story tomorrow!





******Bert "The Hurt" holding his new Carbide frame****************************










****Cali in winter. I'm moving...today.************************