It’s tough to deny the fact that grassroots, long, self supported endurance events are blowing up. One of the newest events to add to the list is the upcoming Fitz-Barn Ride that starts in Victor, ID and ends in Hamilton, MT. Starts at a bike shope (Fitzgeralds Bicycles in Victor, ID), ends at a bike shop (Red Barn Bikes in Hamilton, MT), and includes a trip through some great terrain in Eastern Idaho and Southwest Montana. The start date is set for August 17, the route will be around 350 miles over a combination of roads, dirt roads, doubletrack, and singletrack. Having spent some time in that neck of the woods, I can assure you that the landscape will be top notch. For all those interested in participating, keep checking the race web page where more information will be made available. Also check out Chad’s (owner of Red Barn Bikes) writings and photos from his bikepacking tour through this area.
Bridge along the route
Bannock Pass, the heigh point of the route
Ahhhhh..Summer is upon us. And nothing says summer like going to a lake with your friends and doing stupid shit.
Here is how our friends the StOMpaRillAz get down after 18 hours of racing:
That seems like something I will be trying this weekend…
I am as ready as I will ever be.
Are you?
It’s not too late to sign up! You know you want to! There are 513 people signed up as of now, so there is still time to get reg’d. I talked Russell from PA (who now lives in Ohio) into signing up, and he’ll be camping with us.
STOKED!
My time on the dirt is limited due to rain, no vehicle unless planned out accordingly, or bumming a ride to the trail with friends. I had the opportunity to ride in Brown County Indiana and it was the most fun I’ve ever had on the dirt. With perfect conditions, these trails were no less than pure awesomeness. Like a freeway, as Russell would say. Rolling hills, some climbing up to Hesitation Point, a few rock gardens, splashes of water, so much freakin’ fun.
We got in about five hours of riding, and my legs were thoroughly trashed when we finished.
The day before the trip to Brown County, I rode 70ish miles on the road. I like those back to back days of long rides on the bike. The day before that, I commuted to work. And the day before that I put in 63 miles on the road. I kinna hate my road bike right now, but one day of rain closes the trails for days and we wait…and wait…for dry trail again.
I mentioned the tandem we bought at the bike co-op last month. We spent $150 for this thing. Dominic went to work on it right away. Stripped her down, primed and painted her, put in about another $100 on parts, and BOOM. We got this beautiful bike.
My husband is an artist when it comes to rehabbing bikes.
Other than that, the month of May is closing in and I am so fucking busy, I can’t think straight.
- Collecting donations for the bike co-op’s annual fundraiser on the 26th.
- Getting last minute details sorted out for Kid’s Night which starts June 11th.
- Century planned for this Sunday the 20th with almost 6000 feet of climbing.
- Dominic’s doing a bike safety class and Flat demo on the 21st for an elementary school near the co-op to promote Bike Month, and Kid’s Night at MoBo.
- Trip to Versailles on the 25th for one last long MTB ride.
- Trying to plan for Gnome’s arrival though I have no clue what his plans are except that he’s supposed to fly in on the 30th. (hint hint).
That’s about it. Ride on.
I’ll leave ya with my favorite Beastie Boys tune.
RIP MCA.
When I was in Ireland last summer, I hung out and drank too much coffee with this guy named Chris. He was down in our fair state of Arizona last week and made this little video for Mountain Flyer of his riding experience in Flagstaff.
The desert summer is heating up and I’m about to head north to the pine trees myself…
So stoked BJ passed the bar, that mofo has been busting his ass for a long damn time to make this happen. Anyways, I thought I’d put something together for him to say fuck yeah.
You make me Proud Big Jonny!
There are two endless sources of frustration for those of us who have followed the news for cyclist’s being struck and injured by automobiles.
One is the seemingly worthless comments about whether or not the cyclist was wearing a helmet. No matter the manner of injury, the article always seems to address this point. I don’t know what purpose is can server other than to place blame upon the cyclist for not acting reasonably under the circumstances. In other words, he wasn’t wearing a helmet so he deserved his injuries.
Never mind the part about the car hitting him. He didn’t have a helmet. And that’s why he’s hurt.
Of course, he would have been injured if he had been wearing a helmet as any of us who have hit the deck well know. The ground hurts.
The second point of endless frustration is the issue of whether the cyclist was obeying the traffic laws. Now, I don’t to dismiss this as inconsequential. The blame properly lies with a party whom disobeys a traffic signal and thus causes an accident on the roadway, be it a person on a bicycle or a person operating a motor vehicle or a pedestrian. There are rules, these rules are meant to prevent injury, and they are important.
On the other hand, this blanket condemnation of cyclists as scofflaws who somehow deserve to be injured is indefensible.
To wit:
Until cyclists obey the rules, they’ll keep on getting killed
Vancouver Mayor Gregor Robert-son’s arrogance has given cyclists the misconception that they are entitled to ignore the traffic laws to which the rest of us are bound. Motorists are not responsible for the stupidity of cyclists.
How many times have drivers who are stopped at a red light seen cyclists ride through because there are no oncoming cars? Why are they not ticketed for ignoring a red light?
Until cyclists are made to under-stand they are responsible for their own safety and the rules of the road are applicable to all, they will continue to be injured or killed.
http://www.theprovince.com/opinion/.
We as cyclists do understand that we are responsible for our own safety. That is why we demand to be treated with respect. We are legally entitled to use the nations roadways (with limited exceptions, or course). We should not be threatened with death and dismemberment for choosing to ride a bicycle.
As far as I know, I’ve never NOT owned a mountain bike. Even as a kid, I had something with two wheels, knobby tires, and pedals, and I rode that machine off road, even then. I didn’t become “serious” about mountain bikes until I was about twelve years old, but like I said, I always rolled on a mountain bike.
So, the good news is, I sold the Gunnar.
The bad news is, the money I got for it immediately went toward paying my rent, student loans, groceries, etc.
That means I can’t afford to replace it.
For the first time in my life, I don’t own a mountain bike…and it’s bumming me out. Hard.
I’ve got the road bike, but I can’t seem to bring myself to ride it. I think it has something to do with feeling unsettled: I’ve spent the last twenty years with a mountain bike in my possession, and it was more than just a toy in the garage: it was a piece of me, a rolling definition of who I am. What happens when that part of me is gone? More importantly, what happens when it cannot be replaced?
So I’m living a life without a bike. If you had asked me a few years ago if I’d be able to do this, I would have laughed. Fuck bikes, I would have told you, because that’s where I was at that point. Fuck bikes, fuck bike people, fuck bike culture, fuck it all.
Well, now I’m fucked, because I’m all off kilter without a bike. Shit, I had no idea the bike had so much control over me. It’s like a limb, and I just got amputated. Self-inflicted gun shot.
When you lose a limb like this, you’re forced to examine exactly how this came to be. Denial, anger, acceptance, blah blah blah…yep, it all applies here. I got myself into this mess. I sold the Gunnar so I could replace it, not so I could pay my bills…but here we are: D2 is an adult and has responsibilities because it’s not just about me anymore. I’ve got people counting on me. So I made the tough choice to forego the nice new shiny bike and pay my bills. Fuck adulthood.
It’s the tough choices that define us, certainly. I’ve been defined so many times throughout my life by the easy choice, the cowardly one. Staying on the trail. Ignoring bad shifting. Getting drunk and getting by. That’s fine. I enjoyed it. I reveled in it, really, for a time.
Now responsibility has come knocking at my door, and there’s nothing to do but pay the piper. I paid with one of the things I love most dearly: my mountain bike.
This is symbolic somehow, I’m sure. But fuck symbolism, too. I made a choice. I made the hard choice. Now it’s time to see if my friends are right when they tell me good things will come to me if I just put it out there for the universe to see.
Well here I am, universe. What have you got for me today?
RIP Gunnar Rock Hound 2008-2012. I’d like to say you’ll be missed, but really, I only miss your replacement…
There isn’t much left to be said about this year’s installment of the Whiskey Off Road that hasn’t already been said. I picked Cupcake up at the airport on Thursday night and we set out on a mission to Prescott. We were armed with nothing but a keg of beer, a couple gallons of whiskey, and some bikes. We didn’t know exactly where we were sleeping and we didn’t know who we would run into. But we did know that we were going to have a whole lot of fun.
We teamed up with the crew from Sunday Cycles and made one of the most kick ass “aid” stations I have ever witnessed. By the time the middle of the pack rolled through on Saturday, it was a legitimate party on the side of the mountain. A big thanks to Sunday and our friends at Boulders on Broadway for their help. We couldn’t have had such a rocking time without you guys.
I put together a bunch of video clips from the weekend in an attempt to sum up what it was like from my perspective. I hope you dig it.
I can’t say enough about how cool the Whiskey weekend is. I look forward to it every year. To me, it’s a model of how mountain biking events can and should be. I have never witnessed a town so welcoming to thousands of dumb mountain bikers than Prescott, Arizona. Thanks to Epic Rides and everybody that makes this weekend possible. See you next year!
Last winter, a guy named Dan was visiting the coffee shop where I work on a regular basis. He told me lived in Berlin and built bamboo bicycle frames. He showed me his website and we talked about getting some frames to test out.
Dan is now in need of some funding in order to make this happen, so he created a KickStarter project, check it out.
Dan and Matt are both guys I remember from MoBo, the bike co-op, when it first started 5 years ago. Last year Matt and I worked together to help get donations for the annual fundraiser. Now Matt and Dan are living the dream in Berlin, building rad bamboo bikes, and I want to help them out. More importantly, I want to test ride one of their bikes.
These frames are hella sweet.
DONATE
FACEBOOK
BLOG
WEBSITE
Donate a few bucks to their mission, will ya? You might even get a frame to test out.
I tell you what, road racing is like eating a can of baked beans and washing it down with a pot of coffee because in both cases, there is a 100% chance of mad skid marks.
Coming to a skid stop
I'm guessing he won't be eating beans tonight...
Take stage 3 of the Giro for example. Watching the stage this morning, you just knew shit was going to hit the fan. Speeds approaching 200 kilometers per hour, bunny hopping over 8 foot barriers, these boys brought out every trick in the book. It’s a shame it came down to the final meters of the sprint, and a bonehead move by a not so sporty Ferrari. I mean, you would expect this lack of control from a Volvo, or a Fiat perhaps, but a Ferrari? This is just staggering. Anyways, here’s the final 5 for those who haven’t seen: 
Crash scene. 
As for Roberto Ferrari’s penalty:
Asked how he felt about being relegated to the last spot in the peloton for his manoeuvre, [as well as receiving a 200 Swiss Franc fine, a 30-second penalty and losing 25 points from his tally in the points competition] Ferrari responded “I have nothing to say about that.”
Savio himself argued that “Ferrari made a mistake, but” – unsurprisingly – “he didn’t want to make Cavendish fall.”
The organisers seem to have no doubt who was responsible for the pile-up. After Ferrari’s dodgy manoeuvre, the organisers decided that Sky are the leaders of the Fair Play competition with 0 points, (the lowest score being the best) whilst Androni-Venezuela are right at the bottom, with 180 points. That is 140 points less than second-last Rabobank, who have 40.
http://www.cyclingnews.com/news/savio-apologizes-for-ferraris-manoeuvre
And for Boy Wonder? He continues to impress. Love him or hate him, he’s been dealt a couple bad cards the last two days and the kid still musters a smile, ohh and holds the pink jersey.
Big limpin' ankle brace pimpin'
How long will it last for the young gun? Tomorrow is rest day, so I’m cooking beans.
The year was 1998. I was 29 years old, a handful of years out of college, and working in a bike shop as a mechanic. The woman who was to become my wife and I lived with our two dogs in a nice little three bedroom ranch house we bought in Tempe, Arizona. I was as deep into cycling as anyone could be. 1998 might seem like a long time to some of the younger readers. But, I started drunkcyclist just two years later, in September of 2000.
I first heard of Frank Vandenbroucke in a magazine called Cycle Sport. I was a subcriber to at the time. This was at the dawn of internet based cycling coverage. However, I did not acquire a home computer and internet access until the Spring of 2000. This was at the end of the print era of my life, although I did not know it at the time. It is strange to reflect upon now. We live in a very different world these days.
This young man they called VDB was setting the world in fire. He took the 1998 Paris–Nice in fine form, while riding for Mapei-GB. Which was, of course, about the coolest god damn bike team on the planet at the time. It was fantastic. You couldn’t look more pro than VDB.
VDB at Paris-Nice.
Image source: http://photos.grahamwatson.com/Print-Gallery/Frank-Vandenbroucke/16596146_RVWwpH/1250517894_7qpJr#!i=1250517894&k=7qpJr.
Then came the Spring of 1999. He now rode for Cofidis, another totally baller squad. Liege-Bastogne-Liege was the race, La Redoute the climb.
Michel Bartoli had taken the top spot in 1997 and ’98. It was his race to lose.
Bartoli showed his superiority over VDB, et al., on La Redoute in 1998:
VDB and Bartoli at Liège–Bastogne–Liège.
Image source: http://www.cyclingnews.com/features/photos/frank-vandenbrouckes-life-in-pictures/91462.
The next year, VDB had so much swag that in “the media interviews prior to the Liege-Bastogne-Liege, he announced that he would attack on the climb to the Côte de la Redoute and nobody would be able to follow him.” http://sustainable-spain.com/tag/frank-vandenbroucke/.
Big baller. Shot caller.
Everyone knew what he wanted to do. And, when the moment came, none could do a damn thing about it. Bartoli tried. But for him, it was the way of the cross.
Video of the 1999 Liege-Bastogne-Liege, beginning with the climb of La Redoute:
By that fall in the Vuelta, VDB was on fire. En fuego. He went to the event only to find some form for the upcoming World Championships. He was going so well, he figured he may as well stay around for the finish in Milan.
Man, he made it look easy. Such was the class that he had.
I cannot say it any better than this: “Vandenbroucke ravages the peloton in Navalmoral (second category climb), on the way to Ávila”:
He went into the World Championship Road Race as a favorite. If you want to see what pro looks like, just look at VDB in that race. An early crash led to two broken wrists. He still finished 7th.
After his victory in Liege, they said he was the Heir Apparent. They said he was God.
He was, of course, neither. He was a man. And man has failings. The flesh is weak, it seems.
That was to be the high-water mark of his career. Sadly, it just slipped away from him, bit by bit. He switched teams, year after year, always with the promise of improvement. But, trouble always followed quick behind. He then became l’enfant terrible.
His career began unravelling in summer 1999, when he was detained by French police in one of the many drugs cases that followed Festina. He was banned for two years, and then came the first of a series of comebacks that followed a depressingly familiar pattern: each time, he would declare he was back on the rails. http://www.guardian.co.uk/sport/2009/oct/13/frank-vandenbroucke-death-cycling.
2003 was a stand out. He looked great, just great. I thought he was back.
2003 Ronde van Vlaanderen
And, lastely, he had been called the James Dean of his generation. The difference being Mr. Dean went out on top of his game, rather than long after he had become irrelevant.
There is, no surprise, a VDB autobiography. I will have to wait for an English translation. I am, unfortunatly, only barely competent in my native tongue.
Selected palmarès here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Vandenbroucke_(cyclist)#Selected_victories.
More pics: http://photos.grahamwatson.com/Print-Gallery/Frank-Vandenbroucke/16596146_RVWwpH/1250517894_7qpJr#!i=1250517570&k=SdVeF.
Erik M. sent me this last spring:
Taken in Erpe-Mere Belgium after the UCI womens race. He still has a posse
VBD. Forever.
God komt terug thuis.
I asked Snakehawk if he could put together a graphic based on the Andre the Giant Has a Posse. He sent me this:
PDF you may download and do with as you please here: http://www.vdbhasaposse.com/. (url is a redirect right back here to www.drunkcyclist.com)
That’s why VDB has a posse.
The Whiskey came and the Whiskey went, with shots of fine liquor and a dime well spent. It was last year’s event that I first met Dirty, knew at first sight that we’d be flirty. Hell, who wouldn’t be with a guy who gives Jim Beam, after blowing all his steam after that climb so mean? Now it’s twenty twelve and we’re on the same team, never staying clean and livin’ the dream. In a very blurry way, DC saves the day, with the non-serious cheer and a deep supply of beer. It’s early May and the Whiskey was here.
Upon arrival, you could feel a vibe in that thin Prescott air; a perfect balance of anticipation, excitement and fear. We’d waited so long for this weekend to come, knowing the history and what was to be done. But not knowing how to plan the three day stint of drinking, drinking, drinking, riding and drinking. Go hard, stay hard? Go easy, then hard? Go hard, then easy? What’ll it be?
Locked and loaded.
You may or may not remember, but Dirty was down in Mexico. He ate some food and got Montezuma’s. Most people take Pepto Bismol to cure the discomfort, but DC’s team doctor told us the only cure to Dirty’s illness was a heavy dose of beer and whiskey. We stuck to doc’s orders three days straight, and he’s feeling much better. Some delicious Sunbru. Kegged.
Friday’s highlight: Pro men and women fat tire crit. Dirty morphed into a gorilla and made sure the finely tuned pro machines kept their insides lubed. Sonya Looney is a drunkcyclis.
Straight Cadillac Chimpin'
It's on like Donkey Kong
70 degrees and a beer in hand, it was a nice evening to watch some racing.
Dejay Birch does crack.
Saturday came to my surprise, not thinking I’d ride because of the anticipated hangover. But I woke up chirpy, with an itch that only 50 miles could scratch. Threw a leg over a Fairwheel rental, which came fully equipped with reflectors and tubed tires, to the start line for the roll out. Not going fast, sticking to the back, chatting and making new friends. We were cruising through the neighborhood up to the trails and all of a sudden, a crazy assed deer on a mission bolts over the concrete wall and barrels its ticked self straight into the unluckiest guy ever. It looked like this: 
I didn’t see anyone with a camera, but I pray to Scandinavian Jesus that someone got footage of this. The guy, covered in deer hair and in a heavy daze, got back on his bike and went on with the rest of his ride. I don’t know who he was or how he did it, but I’ll give him Baller of the Day Award.
I gave not one, not two, but zero fucks about how fast I completed this race. My only objective was simply to soak up that western as fuck singletrack before flying my fluffy frosted ass back to Radison. So many people out there fighting for 453rd place, I just wanted to take in the views, have some breaks, eat some beer, and drink pretzels. What a day it was..
DC aid station being of aid proper
The reason I love the Whiskey is because they keep it real. Way real. No bullshit USA Cycling or anything like that. You don’t need a fucking license. You just pay your money, do the race, get hooked up, music, beer, you name it. Epic Rides has it down pat and know how to organize not only a good race, but a three day fun fest for us binkers (bike+drinkers). I’ll do this race for years to come because of the genuine, low-key feel and huge quality of the entire weekend. From start to finish, they’ve got this thing hummin’. You know that Todd, Cat, and the entire Epic crew involved in making this dream a reality put their hearts and souls into it, so thanks a shit ton!
