The Art of Wheeling

I was reading another blog recently, and the discussion steered briefly towards the notion of cycling as art. Certainly, one can capture images of wheels in motion, or reproduce them with a brush, but the act of turning pedals in and of itself was decried as less than art. Comparisons were made to various masters of French Impressionism, and that their work truly defined high art.

Naturally, the conversation turned to Coppi, Merckx, Hinault and other grandmasters of cycling, their vast talent and accomplishments on two wheels. Yet, the detractors could not be swayed. They refused to acknowledge the poetry in motion on a bicycle; the nearly indescribable feeling of becoming one with your machine, carving turns as a sculptor his clay or a painter his brushstroke.

It would appear these critics are either ignorant, or know something we don't. For me, and perhaps all of the FT3 cognoscenti, cycling IS art. It is the practice of meditation, the expression of our talents, fears and desires. It's a communal process as well as a solo endeavor.

Anyone watching Bambi and Xteric vie for pole position on a steep, rocky decent can see that. Those of us dropped by Cap'n and Rock God on a long climb have witnessed it. The survivors among us who've followed NoCar and B on their epic adventures has experienced it. And to the neophyte rider who mistimes his sprint for the town sign, Lars and NoHandle will give you lessons. I could go on, but I think you get the point. For the riders of FT3, all artisans in their own right, the act of maintaining, prepping, and throwing a leg over your steed is no less sacred than the artist standing up his easel, rolling out his canvas, mixing his oils, and laying down that first brushstroke. Cycling is art, and we are lifelong students, practitioners, teachers, mentors, and enthusiasts.

With that overture, I invite you to come practice your art tomorrow night. Mother Nature has dampened the ground a bit, and conditions will be exceptional (read, small turnout).

While I don't know one end of my road bike from the other, I can say watching the Giro is inspiring. Having lived and traveled in the mountains of Italy, I can say, some of those @#$%* hills are legit. Check out the ragazzo in the yellow jersey, could that be our Bambi, sans capelli?

I for ONE am IN!!

Roasted Nuts

Even with B rolling his new fat tire SS, we made it up to Pollockstan before the motorcade. He hadn't seen EID's new rock work, and as we inspected it we noticed that the wooden gate into the back Knot lot was open. And so we entered the new Knot Lot. Lars was the first to drive in, truck lumbering over virginal grass. Soon to follow was NoSauce, Councilman, Bambi, NoHandle, and Xteric. We celebrated the luxury and privacy of our new digs, sipping Belgian sports beverages and admiring two spanking new bicycles.

Lars maintained that he was too tired after satuday's herculean run and differed the ride leader role. Xteric was nominated, but he was reluctant to take the reins while in the presence of our dear ride leader. Rebuffing Xteric's timidity Lars declared "to Barnes back."
We dashed to the opposite side of the lake and began the climb. Downed trees repeatedly crossed the path, but we mostly rode around them. Reaching Park Creek we turned left and anyone on a cross bike relished their steed choice for the evening. At the big intersection we were treated to a new route that dropped us to the flume. After the steep climb out, we made for the power line descent, to the Qualifier. As we rolled past the gate to the road, Johnny Law was sitting in an idling SUV. We passed close by his hood and made the steep short burst up to the trail that started the evening's adventure. No accusations of short riding were made.

An animated taco session was held around the camp fire. Service was underwhelming, as Tacos were slow to arrive and Rye was forgotten completely. Xteric was getting edgy waiting for his order. He eyed each tray with the shameless longing of a dog hoping for scraps. When our newest recruit tucked into his basket, Xteric jumped out of his seat and exclaimed "he didn't sauce his tacos!" An eruption of disapproval ensued and NoSauce was handled.

Then Paul Stopped By

So, there I was last Wednesday, regretting my missed FT3 outings of late and all in a pissy mood. Peter and I had made no progress on the tree house project and neither of us were riding. So, who should show up carrying two large cups of coffee (he grew, roasted and ground the beans himself), but P Paul himself – Peter had given up and left by then. It wasn’t long before Paul not only got me back on track w/my non-cycling-tree-house-project, but also found time to finish my private trail
network as well.





Inspired by NoCar’s upcoming May 14th Throwdown and Pauls drive to do anything and everything, we quickly linked up all the disparate sections, cleaned a few others and even did some manicuring of yet others. Yesterday I was able to put together a 14 min loop that was over 2 miles long and included 350 feet of climbing.

I’d like to thank Paul for his enthusiasm and effort. If it were not for him, I wouldn’t be able to or be fired up for tomorrow’s ride up in Pollywood.
Weekend Ride reports? I hear Cappy and Xterric were heading out early yesterday for Cronan?

One!