2012 Scott Spark 29 Elite Review

The Scott Spark 29 Elite

As a general rule, it isn't a good idea to chase freeride bikers on a 100mm cross country bike.

It was early on an August Friday morning and I had Burke Mountain to myself.  I had climbed up the CCC Road to the entrance of Lower J-Bar without seeing another soul when I rolled up on four guys getting ready to drop in on the morning's first run.  I was looking decidedly cross country while they looked like they had just stepped out of a game of Halo.  The 100mm of travel on my 2012 Scott Spark 29 Elite was contrasted with the full 5+ inches of coiled suspension that adorned each of their rigs.  We exchanged pleasantries as they adjusted their full face helmets and armor, and with a wave they dove down the trail catching air on the first drops.  I rolled up to the edge of the CCC in my lycra shorts and flimsy powerdry t-shirt, as they hooted and hollered somewhere down the trail below.  I gave them a good ten second head start before launching onto the hard packed dirt below.  Cross country bike or not, I was determined to catch them.

Sacandaga Area Trails: The Pine Orchard Odyssey

Brian points home  "Why can't we go that way?"

At some point in your mountain biking career you're going to learn a lesson about snowmobile trails.  Hopefully that lesson won't be in a classroom full of muddy, poison ivy infested swamp ruts with mosquitoes and deer flies.

A Weekend on the Sacandaga: Double Rainbows

Hypoxia awaits.

Out of the people that ever were, almost all of them are dead. There are way more dead people, and you're all gonna die and then you're gonna be dead for way longer than you're alive. Like that's mostly what you're ever gonna be. You're just dead people that didn't die yet.  [Louis C.K.: Hilarious, 2011]

Although a bit overly morbid, Louis C.K., has a point.  We're all doing to be dead one day- and for a long time.  So what makes it have any meaning?  [In my best double-rainbow voice] What does it mean?

Don't worry, I'm not about to tell you a parable about footsteps in the sand, or break out baby photos or start crying uncontrollably while you awkwardly check Facebook on your smartphone.

Instead, let me tell just you about a weekend I had earlier this summer.

Ellicottville: A Little Magic In Western New York

Make sure to get wide right of that tree.

It was 1999 and the beginning of the playoffs for Lord Stanley's Cup.  I was a marginal Bruins fan, and they were facing my girlfriend's Buffalo Sabres in the early rounds.  We were headed to meet her family for the first time, and I commented on how I could tease her father about the series if Boston played well.

With the most serious of looks on her face, my future wife looked at me and said, "That wouldn't be funny.  Don't do that.  Really.  Don't."

Kingdom Trails Winterbike 2013

Desperate for something to do during our January thaw, I fell head over heels for winter mountain biking. Snowshoe trails had been frozen solid as a rock and bordered two inches of the oldest, hardest snowpack this side of Greenland. Studded tires were a revelation. I was becoming an expert at making lemonade out of yet another miserable ski season. Ascutney, Kingdom Trails, Boston Lot - New England's best trails were mine for the riding.

Fast forward to the first week of March. With daily temps in the 40s all week, my miracle tires were proving to be nothing more than overweight potato mashers. My icy hard single track freeway had turned to instant mashed potatoes. Was the winter bike season dead already?

Although some energy had drained out of our interest in winter biking since learning that the Catamount Trail Association wouldn't appreciate all the free publicity our end-to-end fat bike ride would give the Trail, we still love the idea of biking in any season. It's just going to take some energy from within the cycling community to convince CTA landowners that winter biking is good for the Trail and good for Vermont.

Big Jay Powder Day

Brad, 6:54 am: Take your skins up to Jay. Better get up there and ski for me.

Me, 7:28 am: Can't do it. Overslept. No ski buddy.

Brad, 8:03 am: "No friends on a powder day" means you're still suposed to ski. You know they got 2 feet?

Brad, 11:54 am: So, how is it?

Me, 8:54 pm: Got the only tracks on Big Jay all day. Almost impaled myself on a spruce, ended up in a pit, and avalanched myself off a jump.

Brad, 8:55 pm: Dude. When i told you to take your skins i didn't mean to get yourself killed solo in the bc. 

Me, 8:55 pm: Sorry. You can't reason with 3 feet of powder. If today were the last day I ever skied, at least it would have been the best.

Me, 8:56 pm: Hey, don't tell my wife I hitchhiked. She'd kill me quicker than a spruce pit.