Nor'Easter San Diego: "The Long Way" (Big Laguna & Noble Canyon, CA)

If I knew where I was going I never would have made it here.

Imagine for a moment, a mountain biking trail that runs up the Mt. Washington auto road in New Hampshire, across the Presidential ridge and then winds slowly down into the Gulf of Slides, crossing various spines and ravines all the way down to Pinkham Notch:  a four thousand foot, eleven mile descent on pure singletrack.

This is roughly equivalent to what is lurking in the Laguna Mountains of southern California.

Nor'Easter San Diego: Mission Trails & Lessons In Mud

This is right about the time I started to wonder if I needed to carry the bike back to the parking lot.

I followed the wife this week to a conference in the beautiful city of San Diego in sunny Southern California.  While she's been busy learning the latest on workplace wellness programs, I've been busy learning the lessons only mountain biking in a strange land can bring.  Foremost of those lessons is that mud is not the same everywhere you go.

Return to North Twin Slide (March 2012)

I think it’s safe to say that running into a machete wielding stranger deep in the wilderness is probably high on most people's list of nightmare scenarios.  Sometimes, however, it can be the answer to your prayers.

-Trip Report- Mt. Hor, VT: Insert Inappropriate Remark Here (February 2012)

Gered ponders whether he can freeclimb a granite wall with tele skis.

If you look out from the mid-mountain lodge at Burke, you can see an immense crack between two mountains where Lake Willoughby is located. Let me tell you the story of that crack's Hor.

-Trip Report- Evans Notch Road: Black Diamond Driving (February 2012)

I could see a clear line through the bumps.  A quick jaunt left, then a cutback right would be needed to start my run.  Suddenly, however, a large hole appeared out of nowhere.  Without any way to avoid it, I hit it straight on: a jarring thump that made my teeth chatter and my knees buckle.

I was still on my way to the trailhead and facing the toughest line I would see all day.  I was on the infamous Route 113 and my truck's suspension was paying the price.

-Trip Report- Arrow Slide on Mount Hancock, NH: Maps 101 (February 2012)

Sometimes it's tough to define what constitutes a successful backcountry trip.  The easiest and most obvious measure is when you reach your objective and return home to talk about it.  However, when everything doesn't go as planned, things aren't so clear.  In order to push your limits you have to try and fail every now and then.  Does that make those incomplete ventures failures, or part of some greater success?  As long as you return home wiser and more prepared for the next time haven't you gained some measure of success?

Do I sound like someone who failed to achieve his goals this weekend?