Biketoberfest
- Thread starter Repack Rider
- Start date
Repack Rider
Senior Retro Guru
I wrote the day up as a blog post. Same event, slightly different write-up. For your blogging entertainment then:
I had forgotten entirely that I agreed to lead a ride for the Biketoberfest. I wasn't even sure what Biketoberfest was, exactly. Then I started reading about it while perusing a local cycling site, and I was surprised to see that I was featured along with Joe Breeze as one of the attractions. The other attraction appeared to be a lot of beer.
Whoa, better call Joe. So...what did we have in mind?
Joe had done much more of his homework than I had. He proposed a route up through the singletrack preserve of Tamarancho to Repack and down the locally notorious hill. Ten a.m. Saturday. I can do that.
Got my new bike, had just shaken it down the previous Sunday and as I got home it went into fixie mode. Gotta have it back, so I rushed it to the Fairfax Cyclery, where Josh tore down my hub and found that I had split the casing of the Tune freehub. Now that IS a problem, because it's a 29er and I really didn't want to ride my old bike.
Called Gary Fisher and told him the sad story about my rear wheel, and he came through with a replacement instantum, because the bike had been Gary's personal ride until he had to move to the new year model.
Okay, the morning of the Biketoberfest and I got my new bike and it's ready to ride. I get out the most sacred of my jerseys, a mint condition 1972 Velo-Club Tamalpais team jersey. There might be three or four of these things still in existence, but the racing members like Gary and Joe had crashed in enough races that theirs were gone. Because I had no racing career, my jersey didn't get shredded. This jersey used to fit me loose. Guess it finally shrank.
It's about ten minutes' ride from my house to Fairfax, and as I headed down there I saw a Yeti demo truck headed that way also. The action was taking place in a couple of parking lots across the street from each other. These two parking lots are the central location for hundreds of cyclists.
On weekends the two lots overflow with cars unloading mountain bikes. For pre-ride prep, riders gather around the Java Hut, a kiosk in the middle of the parking lot where riders stop for what amounts to a religious rite before leaving Fairfax. Today there is a big box of complimentary pastry laid out for the cyclists.
Bicycles are the engine of the local economy, and roadies are just as well represented as mountain bikers. Fairfax is also on a main road bike route, and at 20 miles or so north of San Francisco, it represents a turn around for riders out of the city.
Apres ride is handled by the Iron Springs Brewery across the street, which is next to Sunshine Bike Works.
Along one side of the lot, Jerry Heidenreich shows his collection of vintage and "clunker" bikes, as well as displaying an example of the most collectible bike in the world, Wende Cragg's original 1978 Breezer bike.
While I orbited the parking lot, Joe Breeze and his 14-year old son Tommy showed up on Breeze Twister FS bikes. Joe has moved away from MTB design into urban transportation, and recently sold his company while remaining in place as the designer. All around us people unload bikes from trucks and set up tents. Someone identifies a small group as our ride group, and I join them along with Joe and Tommy. It is my understanding that they have actually contributed money to some charity and for that they get to ride with Joe and me.
One of the riders in our group turned out to be Don Davis, whom I hadn't seen for years. He is a longtime friend who had been a road racer in the '70s and a mountain bike pro riding on the
Ross team in the '80s. The ride gave us a chance to catch up on any number of mutual friends.
We start out with a mile or so through the streets to Iron Spring Road, the route into Tamarancho. Smooth pavement turns to broken and potholed road above the last house, and we regroup at the Alchemist Trailhead, the singletrack entry to Tamarancho where the sign reads, "Bicycles MUST Stay on Singletrack."
The first ten or fifteen minutes of singletrack separates the herd, with Tommy Breeze pushing the pace at one end and others falling five minutes behind right away. We had an option at the first junction where Alchemist meets the Alan Goldman trail. Joe took the faster riders to the left on a clockwise route, to Serpentine, then Wagon Wheel, and B-17. I took the others to the right, to the Broken Dam, which meets B-17 but isn't as long. From there a spur called the B-17 Extension takes you out of the camp to a fire road.
The timing was pretty good, because both groups arrived at the trail junction together. Tommy Breeze had suffered a flat tire along the way, which Joe had quickly repaired. With a short singletrack climb left, I sent the slower riders up the hill first while the rest hung around the intersection, then after a few minutes the others followed with Joe and myself riding sweep. Tommy started up just ahead of us, and Joe and I rounded a corner to see him lying on the trail where he had fallen on his back on a switchback. Joe helped untangle him, but Tommy was stunned and bruised and had the wind knocked out of him.
But the world was watching the 14-year old, and as soon as he caught his breath he got back on his bike and started up the trail again without a complaint.
Once you come out of the singletrack onto the fire road toward Repack, the route is a series of uphill grinders (as MrKawasaki will attest). My first time up it on the new bike, a Gary Fisher HiFi 29er (hey, thanks, Gary!), and it got me up without a touch while all but a few in the group had to hoof the last fifty rocky yards up to the ridgetop. Not that I can't clean it on my old bike, but it sure seems easier on a new one.
We had gone about halfway up the climb when Tommy Breeze had his second flat. He had already used his spare, and I couldn't give him mine because it's a 29-inch, so another rider volunteered one. While doing the repair Joe discovered the offending upholstery tack. Rumor has it that the trails have been salted. We'll see.
A mile along the ridgetop took us to Repack. Thse people are our charges, we are responsible for them, and we really wanted to get them down alive. So Joe and I lectured them that you do not want to set the course record on your first ride, and that you should be cautious when the road is so dry and slippery.
Once again Joe and I ride sweep, and before we can even get rolling, Tommy Breeze comes walking back toward us. He picks up his chain off the road. This kid is snakebit. Fortunately for Tommy, he is standing at the top of the drainage that leads to the creek that passes his house, so it is virtually all downhill for him to get home.
Tommy, Joe and I all start down together, but not being able to pedal puts Tommy at the disadvantage and we pull away from him. What could be more fun than ripping Repack with Joe? My brakes are howling by the time we get to the bottom, but at least they still work. On my old bike the hydraulic fluid vaporizes, and the last few times I have hit this hill I lost my rear brake before reaching the bottom.
After regrouping with our riders and giving a short lecture on the lore of the spot where we were standing, we head into town, with Joe helping push Tommy over the few rolling uphills to his house, then on to the Biketoberfest...
...which was swinging pretty hard by the time I hit the parking lot around 2:00.
By now the place was jammed with people, and a band was playing. The two parking lots were crawling with lycra-clad crowds, and the overflow was providing great business for the Iron Springs Brewery and Sunshine Bike Works. I was marked with a blue wrist band that entitled me to beer from any of the eleven booths lined up against one side of the lot, each representing a different microbrewery. No way anyone could have sampled one of each and made it home on a bike. I went with the local Lagunitas IPA.
I caught Ross Shafer, formerly of Salsa, after his acoustic music set, which I missed because I was riding while he was playing. Gary Fisher hung out so incognito that someone asked if they could take my photo, but didn't recognize him standing next to me. This doesn't happen often. I entertained Doug White with my story of the destroyed hub, while he stood in his White Industries booth displaying $250 hubs that look like jewelry. I promise to get one next time I need it.
Dolores Mosqueda and Tom Fallon, who made the "Impeach Bush" socks that I was wearing, had a booth. Pretty soon that line will be obsolete, but they sold a lot of them over the last few years. Marilyn Price of Trips for Kids buttonholed me for her own annual charity event, and of course I'll be there with all the other local cycling suspects.
The demo bike booths worked overtime. Why beat up your own bike?
My, look at the time. It's four o'clock...one more beer, and I'm off, grateful that it's not far to my house and my bike knows the way.
I had forgotten entirely that I agreed to lead a ride for the Biketoberfest. I wasn't even sure what Biketoberfest was, exactly. Then I started reading about it while perusing a local cycling site, and I was surprised to see that I was featured along with Joe Breeze as one of the attractions. The other attraction appeared to be a lot of beer.
Whoa, better call Joe. So...what did we have in mind?
Joe had done much more of his homework than I had. He proposed a route up through the singletrack preserve of Tamarancho to Repack and down the locally notorious hill. Ten a.m. Saturday. I can do that.
Got my new bike, had just shaken it down the previous Sunday and as I got home it went into fixie mode. Gotta have it back, so I rushed it to the Fairfax Cyclery, where Josh tore down my hub and found that I had split the casing of the Tune freehub. Now that IS a problem, because it's a 29er and I really didn't want to ride my old bike.
Called Gary Fisher and told him the sad story about my rear wheel, and he came through with a replacement instantum, because the bike had been Gary's personal ride until he had to move to the new year model.
Okay, the morning of the Biketoberfest and I got my new bike and it's ready to ride. I get out the most sacred of my jerseys, a mint condition 1972 Velo-Club Tamalpais team jersey. There might be three or four of these things still in existence, but the racing members like Gary and Joe had crashed in enough races that theirs were gone. Because I had no racing career, my jersey didn't get shredded. This jersey used to fit me loose. Guess it finally shrank.
It's about ten minutes' ride from my house to Fairfax, and as I headed down there I saw a Yeti demo truck headed that way also. The action was taking place in a couple of parking lots across the street from each other. These two parking lots are the central location for hundreds of cyclists.
On weekends the two lots overflow with cars unloading mountain bikes. For pre-ride prep, riders gather around the Java Hut, a kiosk in the middle of the parking lot where riders stop for what amounts to a religious rite before leaving Fairfax. Today there is a big box of complimentary pastry laid out for the cyclists.
Bicycles are the engine of the local economy, and roadies are just as well represented as mountain bikers. Fairfax is also on a main road bike route, and at 20 miles or so north of San Francisco, it represents a turn around for riders out of the city.
Apres ride is handled by the Iron Springs Brewery across the street, which is next to Sunshine Bike Works.
Along one side of the lot, Jerry Heidenreich shows his collection of vintage and "clunker" bikes, as well as displaying an example of the most collectible bike in the world, Wende Cragg's original 1978 Breezer bike.
While I orbited the parking lot, Joe Breeze and his 14-year old son Tommy showed up on Breeze Twister FS bikes. Joe has moved away from MTB design into urban transportation, and recently sold his company while remaining in place as the designer. All around us people unload bikes from trucks and set up tents. Someone identifies a small group as our ride group, and I join them along with Joe and Tommy. It is my understanding that they have actually contributed money to some charity and for that they get to ride with Joe and me.
One of the riders in our group turned out to be Don Davis, whom I hadn't seen for years. He is a longtime friend who had been a road racer in the '70s and a mountain bike pro riding on the
Ross team in the '80s. The ride gave us a chance to catch up on any number of mutual friends.
We start out with a mile or so through the streets to Iron Spring Road, the route into Tamarancho. Smooth pavement turns to broken and potholed road above the last house, and we regroup at the Alchemist Trailhead, the singletrack entry to Tamarancho where the sign reads, "Bicycles MUST Stay on Singletrack."
The first ten or fifteen minutes of singletrack separates the herd, with Tommy Breeze pushing the pace at one end and others falling five minutes behind right away. We had an option at the first junction where Alchemist meets the Alan Goldman trail. Joe took the faster riders to the left on a clockwise route, to Serpentine, then Wagon Wheel, and B-17. I took the others to the right, to the Broken Dam, which meets B-17 but isn't as long. From there a spur called the B-17 Extension takes you out of the camp to a fire road.
The timing was pretty good, because both groups arrived at the trail junction together. Tommy Breeze had suffered a flat tire along the way, which Joe had quickly repaired. With a short singletrack climb left, I sent the slower riders up the hill first while the rest hung around the intersection, then after a few minutes the others followed with Joe and myself riding sweep. Tommy started up just ahead of us, and Joe and I rounded a corner to see him lying on the trail where he had fallen on his back on a switchback. Joe helped untangle him, but Tommy was stunned and bruised and had the wind knocked out of him.
But the world was watching the 14-year old, and as soon as he caught his breath he got back on his bike and started up the trail again without a complaint.
Once you come out of the singletrack onto the fire road toward Repack, the route is a series of uphill grinders (as MrKawasaki will attest). My first time up it on the new bike, a Gary Fisher HiFi 29er (hey, thanks, Gary!), and it got me up without a touch while all but a few in the group had to hoof the last fifty rocky yards up to the ridgetop. Not that I can't clean it on my old bike, but it sure seems easier on a new one.
We had gone about halfway up the climb when Tommy Breeze had his second flat. He had already used his spare, and I couldn't give him mine because it's a 29-inch, so another rider volunteered one. While doing the repair Joe discovered the offending upholstery tack. Rumor has it that the trails have been salted. We'll see.
A mile along the ridgetop took us to Repack. Thse people are our charges, we are responsible for them, and we really wanted to get them down alive. So Joe and I lectured them that you do not want to set the course record on your first ride, and that you should be cautious when the road is so dry and slippery.
Once again Joe and I ride sweep, and before we can even get rolling, Tommy Breeze comes walking back toward us. He picks up his chain off the road. This kid is snakebit. Fortunately for Tommy, he is standing at the top of the drainage that leads to the creek that passes his house, so it is virtually all downhill for him to get home.
Tommy, Joe and I all start down together, but not being able to pedal puts Tommy at the disadvantage and we pull away from him. What could be more fun than ripping Repack with Joe? My brakes are howling by the time we get to the bottom, but at least they still work. On my old bike the hydraulic fluid vaporizes, and the last few times I have hit this hill I lost my rear brake before reaching the bottom.
After regrouping with our riders and giving a short lecture on the lore of the spot where we were standing, we head into town, with Joe helping push Tommy over the few rolling uphills to his house, then on to the Biketoberfest...
...which was swinging pretty hard by the time I hit the parking lot around 2:00.
By now the place was jammed with people, and a band was playing. The two parking lots were crawling with lycra-clad crowds, and the overflow was providing great business for the Iron Springs Brewery and Sunshine Bike Works. I was marked with a blue wrist band that entitled me to beer from any of the eleven booths lined up against one side of the lot, each representing a different microbrewery. No way anyone could have sampled one of each and made it home on a bike. I went with the local Lagunitas IPA.
I caught Ross Shafer, formerly of Salsa, after his acoustic music set, which I missed because I was riding while he was playing. Gary Fisher hung out so incognito that someone asked if they could take my photo, but didn't recognize him standing next to me. This doesn't happen often. I entertained Doug White with my story of the destroyed hub, while he stood in his White Industries booth displaying $250 hubs that look like jewelry. I promise to get one next time I need it.
Dolores Mosqueda and Tom Fallon, who made the "Impeach Bush" socks that I was wearing, had a booth. Pretty soon that line will be obsolete, but they sold a lot of them over the last few years. Marilyn Price of Trips for Kids buttonholed me for her own annual charity event, and of course I'll be there with all the other local cycling suspects.
The demo bike booths worked overtime. Why beat up your own bike?
My, look at the time. It's four o'clock...one more beer, and I'm off, grateful that it's not far to my house and my bike knows the way.
Repack Rider
Senior Retro Guru
Found a photo link for Biketoberfest, although none from the ride I was on. I'm in one of the photos, seen drinking a beer and wearing my light blue and yellow Velo-Club Tamalpais jersey.
Can you find it?
Can you find it?
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