Took awhile to get to this one, between working during the minimal daylight hours, rain, and laboring over excuse-making.
Went a climbing after work today despite the impending showers. Took an alternative route, Pacific to Mar Vista to Skyline...hey that's not so bad. Still, probably averaged this pace during the climb (tilt your head to the left for a realistic grade):
Nice rain and 'pert near dark by the time I got to Scenic Drive and the prize.
This really needs to be the site for a rogue arm-rasslin' tournament
Lots of treats, 2 porkchops, some moonbeam shades, socks, some ginger chews for my favorite motion-sickness friend, El Diablito, socks, and some getback in a fancy Godiva tin.
But behold! Breakfast will never be as violence-free again in Lord Hayden's household.
On a side note, there is no good way to descend dark roads on a moonless night in a rainstorm, except to suspend belief in pine cones, wet needles, and the absentmindedness of drivers.
Time to get your climb on. There are many ways to get up here, all Good. There are many ways to leave from here, but only one way to get down.
Have you seen that vigilante man?
I hear he makes a mean breakfast. All's I can say is: you're gonna want to set a while, but this spot is more suited to the end of the day than the beginning. Maybe bring the stove and some eggses, cook up a little dinner and watch the sun go down.
Sorry the box is crumpled. I had to do that to get it to fit in my musette.
So. All my fancy Brooks saddlebags are breaking. For reals, 2 out of 3. The bag supports on the Brooks saddles are square edged/thin enough to eat up the straps. I find this very disappointing. You'd figure the limey bastards would make their designed-to-be-paired-products compatible. Nope, not if you carry so much as a tube, a patchkit, a mini-tool.
What with winter all settled in, like a puffed up salamander here on the Central Coast, a ride may require more than it's own reward to really pay off. Know what I'm sayin?
I'm sayin that smelling the Wild in and of itself will, sadly, lose it's draw if you are wet, windblown, uncomfortable and/or bloated. So here's where Velocache really shines. Like a greasy $1 dollar bill crumpled in the gutter, it gives you an unreasonable lift of spirits and motivation all out of proportion with it's reality. Let Velocache be the wind beneath your wings that's really needed to get you out! and on the bike in this bleakening season.
This is the cache that sent me up and along the ridge to Dana's Drop, and I haven't ridden that in at least a year. So that's cool. It's a sandy rut these days, but it leads to some worthwhile get through trails. I popped out onto rushy rush 68, which I crossed and climbed towards the steps from the West.
This quickly became steep to the point of ridiculousness.
The steps from above did not appeal,
so I engaged in some bushwacking like you read about to reach the Scenic Trail and come at the treasure from above. I appreciate a clever turn of phrase, so I knew to look to the left if viewed from below, which would be right for me...
You know the treasure will be cheap and tawdry (and occasionally even offensive) yet it still holds out the possibility of revealing itself a poorly framed xeroxed copy of a badly airbrushed T-shirt featuring the visage of Charles Bronson, or some other inspiring jackpot. It is this sliver of possible brightness which you must cultivate into the burning flame of an actual bike ride.I knew it would be quite a climb to get back up, so I delayed opening the treasure until I got to that one spot overlooking the bumper to bumper on 68. It's a nice spot to soak in some rays.
On a related note: Gary Fisher, like Nick Nolte, gives me the heeby jeebies. I first became aware of this in the gay 90's, when Fisher had 70foot long banners of his face hanging above the booth at Interbike. That was notably over the top. Then there was the claims at being the Godfather of Mountain Biking- hurk!ohgodholdmyhair- like it wasn't some kid riding his bike where he liked (if you're a romantic) or cyclocross nutters (if you're an anglophile) or the fucking cavalry (if you're a buffalo soldier) or Joe Breeze, Tom Ritchey, Charlie Cunningham, et al (if you're from NorCal , bro). Then it was inventing the 29" wheel (which at one Sea Otter I actually thanked him personally for popularising, since I am a gentleman, if a slight cad) when we all know it was Wes Williams. Booyah. Finally (I can only hope) it is the increasingly "bespoke" ensembles of facial hair and tailoring.
So that horrible t-shirt scared me more than any Omen reference or 80's Christian Metal. I will consider it a personal slap in the face with regard to my ability to fly in the face of fashion and wear it as a symbol of my continuing resistance to the stupidification/marketing of the next big thing in bicycling. It shall be the podium from which I launch my diatribe at the unsuspecting when they notice in passing polite speech my garb. A springboard to a meaningful discussion on what is Good and True in cycling versus what is an unsavory cult of personality, what is a false usurpation of our common history in cycling, what is madly scrambling for the new at the expense of the proven.
The really horrible part is that he has had a lot of very good ideas on bikes and bike design, and has promoted some worthwhile niches- not least 29" wheels and commutative bikes, which are both dear to my heart. But, look again at the shirt. It's that kind of unabashed hubris which calls for a real dislike. So I still shudder at the sight of him. And that makes this a Velocache win, I suppose. Especially since when I first saw it I thought "That's not a very good likeness of Phil Collins."...
In addition to the Baskin-Robbins tie-in, Wikipedia reports that 31 is Turking slang for mastubation ("otuzbir"). Knowing is half the battle, they say.
You'll have to use your imagination or some ether to make these look like The Exorcist stairs. Follow that bike!
What a scenic bicycle. Someone has an eye for color.
Choose the sinister path
The traysure is right in back of that widow-maker, nestled in the underbrush.
And if you want to know what a widow-maker feels like, crank this tune my brother and I loved as young lads.
Went up the wrong hill, but only part of the way up. Finally made it over here. The package smelled like a damp hobo, so as per usual I brought it home.
The musty stash did not disappoint! 2 of the more artistic pieces to land in a velocache thus far.
I headed near the Stevenson House, and was lured by this classic on the juke box emanating from the cantina:
The cache, hiding in the tree outside the bathroom.
The loot: Hamms w/ coozy, Chuck Palahchinckxyz novel, Suarez musette, tingler ring (?), wowwy pop, and the newspaper that's been doing editorial satire since the Onion was a glimmer in its granpappy's eye, the mighty Carmel Pine Cone.
Now this is new to me....someone smoking outside of Alfredo's. Who knew?
You know the story. Supposedly Robert Louis Stevenson was trying to hook up with some broad in the 1870s, stalked her here, and soaked up enough local culture to inspire Treasure Island, etc.
Rich white folks have to get they exorbitantly expensive private school namesakes someplace.
Anyhow, right next door slumps an exorbitantly degenerate cantina. It is a shame to think that it would not have been around to inspire our author, reeking as it does (and would have) of musty spirits and skulduggery, so let's just pretend that it was around then, and acknowledge that piratical adventures owe it a hearty yo ho. Dirty Dan will almost assuredly be in there. Just look for the bespectacled white bearded gent mumbling and swaying. Allow him to buy you a drink. (Perhaps follow you to your next watering hole, assuming you make the mistake of telling him where you're headed.)
While you're in there, a trip to the men's room and a gander out the window might reveal...the traysure. You know, if you crook your neck just right.
Ok this one gets a mere D for difficulty, but it was only a matter of time.
I headed out to everyone's favorite horse grave, in honor of our friends who are trying to pave over oak habitat in former Fort Ord so they can do what they do.
I definitely want a little toy version of me in a box above my grave
Future mule grave? Midget Gallows? Impossible to know.
Here's looking back from a nice game trail w/ view of the gallows and the dead horse.
Maybe if you go up that game trail you'll find something under the base of this tree? You can thank me for the shirt later.
This is some good singletrack, a little sandy for cross tyres but hey that's the Ord. I had only once sniffed "Freedom", otherwise I would have had no clue.
The missus and I rode out from her establishment of teachery, and wandered on that path to the right of normal until we found it.
Somewhere, some WWII vet who trained at Ft. Ord just perked up
Hang 'em high......about 6' in bike shoes
Super ass 80's colorway cycling coat, can O Hamms, Hello Kitty pom-pom bar end, sneaky patch kit, spare tube, 1/8 fl. oz. of Tabasco sauce, and lovely mug.
They look like they're up to something....
......like a country ride to watch a dog devour a rabbit???????????
Always do sober what you say you'll do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut. -Ernest Hemingway
HOW TO?
You will need:
1. a bike
2. a camera
3. computer access with internet
THE RULES:
1. feast your eyes on the VELOCACHE you wish to find.
2. go find it.
3. take pictures that match the perspective of the original VELOCACHE post, a picture of you and your bike and the cache as well. NO ZOOMING. ZOOM KILLS PERSPECTIVE.
4. score what is stashed at VELOCACHE.
5. go back to your computer and post a comment under the VELOCACHE you have found ( or e-mail that you have found it) and send the images/find to:
inspektorjavert(at)gmail(dot)com
6. revel in your victory and go set one up for someone else!
7. If you want to deploy your own velocache, contact us and we can get you going.
Went up the wrong hill, but only part of the way up. Finally made it over here. The package smelled like a damp hobo, so as per usual I brought it home.
