Roasted Garlic & Onion Jam

Words and photos by Trina and Greg

Leaves were frozen into place on their branches during the night. Stationary objects failed to warm themselves with furred coats of brittle frost. When dawn arrived the sun poured a thin warmth into a pale sky. Rays of morning heat warmed the leaves and melted icy links, releasing showers of spent leaves that pattered downward and lay quietly.

This turn toward winter temperatures was one of two synchronistic occurences that drove us to hide indoors for the morning, snivelling and whimpering.





The other: the precarious approach toward the bottom of the jar of Stonewall Kitchens roasted garlic and onion jam.



The obvious solution, we decided, was to spend all morning safely, warmly indoors making a big batch of our own roasted garlic and onion jam, which we think is actually a little better than the storebought.



(With onion-eye protective goggles.)






It may sound strange to the non-epicurious, but this jam is an amazing harmony of savory and sweet. My favorite use for it is atop a dollop of goat cheese on good toasty bread.



We did manage to drag ourselves outside for a ride later in the day, but only once the jam jars had all plinked their metallic plink, letting us know they had sealed, and only once the temperature outside was safely above three degrees.

Drop-In Sometime

Words and photos by Greg



Scattered around the edges of our valley are some amazing places to ride. There are smooth, easy trails. There are difficult and challenging trails.

Our taste in trails tends to run toward the more challenging end of the spectrum. But that being said, a fun trail is a fun trail. Some "easy" trails are super fun, while some are tedious. But both of us tend to prefer trails where the "moves" challenge us, where we need to learn and practice to be able to ride them smoothly, and where we'll often have to walk a section and leave the challenge for another day.

It should also be said that the spectrum of trail difficulty goes far beyond what we can ride and what we even aspire to ride. Though we both like rough, rocky trails, neither one of us is particularly interested in flying through the air. And there's a limit to the roughness and rockiness that we are interested in being challenged by. We do, however, fully support the sections of trail that are beyond our abilities, since we know that better riders are out there and that they are up for those challenges.

This past season, it seemed like our interest in staying challenged was taking a beating. There were changes happening out on familiar local trails that seemed to prove that someone didn't get it. Tough sections were re-routed. Interesting and gnarly obstacles were dug out and moved. Where the trail squeezed between a rock and a hard place, someone cut away a tree and turned a dicey move into a walk in the park. Whole lengths of new trail appeared that were neither challenging, nor particularly interesting, and which weren't even very fun.

Trina and I found this trend to be irritating. As did many of the valley's riders. We wanted to know who was behind these changes and how we could stop them. Our research indicated that the attacks were coming from two separate directions. One, rogue trail sanitizers who were illegally modifying the trails and screwing up signature moves. And two, official trail sanitizers who were "just making the trails more rideable."

And here let me explain that "sanitization" of a trail is not a good thing. It's not like wiping an infected tabletop with bleach. It's more like wiping everything interesting and fun off the face of the planet. If mountain biking has anything to compare with basketball, it might be like lowering all the hoops to 5 feet so the game would be easier for everyone. If mountain biking has anything to compare with mountaineering, it might be like blasting the top 15,000 feet off of Mt Everest to "make the top easier to get to." If mountain biking has anything to do with tourism, it might be like removing the Eiffel Tower from Paris. "We came here to see the Eiffel Tower." "Well too bad. We took it away."

As mountain bike riders, we don't really really appreciate the bar being lowered. Neither to accommodate us nor to over-accommodate others. We like the challenge. We like to know that a move we've been working on will be there until our practice pays off, until we finally manage to ride it, until we get past, wheels still under us and give a shout of satisfaction, riding onward with a grin. And we don't think it's too much to ask that other riders deserve the same respect, whether their skills are more or less advanced than our own. We're happy to walk what we can't ride -- for now. But we expect the same from others on the trail. And from those who are officially designated to maintain and build our trails.

So there's that rant.

Lucky for us, there are still heaps of challenging trails and challenging moments on those trails. One that looms large in the local psyche as well as being anticipated by visitors and being frequently photographed in mountain biking publications is the infamous Horse Thief Drop-In. Years ago, this section of "trail" was blasted out of a cliff to accommodate livestock, to give stockmen access to the grazing on a grassy "bench" overlooking the Colorado River. Today, it also connects two fun mountain bike trails. But the connection is somewhat dubious to most of us.

Meaning, that most riders walk/clamber down The Drop-In. They ride the lower loop. Then on their way back, they walk/clamber back up. But there are those who ride down it. My friend Landon is one of those. He has studied it and practiced it. He approaches it with caution and skill. And he nails it, almost every time.



For most of us, one glance is enough to know that it's not worth trying. And many would just wonder "Why?" Why would anyone even try to ride such a "trail" on a mountain bike? It just doesn't make sense. Nothing waiting there but bike damage and injury. Walk it and move on. But others see the challenge and try to face it.



On Monday our November Summer ended. Grey clouds rolled in. Light drizzle fell briefly. Temperatures dropped. Landon and Max invited me and Sprocket along and we headed for The Drop-In. Max was seeking Landon's wisdom on the best way to ride it. He listened. Studied the lines. Then gave it three good tries.

Final score: Horsethief Drop-In: 3. Max: 0.


I'm sure Max will be back to try another day. And someday he'll probably nail it.

In case it looks easy to you, come out and ride down it. Then, ride back up. I've never heard of anyone doing that.

We rounded-out our ride on one of the tougher longer trails in the valley. A steep step-y climb with lots of tight twists and challenging moves. Followed by some steep descending with lots of tight twists and challenging moves. Overall, a really fun trail that I haven't ridden enough. Lots of moves that push me right to my limit. A few that egg me into the attempt and find me wanting. And some opportunities to walk.

A very refreshing trail for the times I feel like the trails are being sanitized out from under me. And someday... Maybe, just maybe... If I ride enough rough trails and ratchet up my skill to a new level... Then maybe I'll try the Horse Thief Drop-in.









Landon and Landon.

New Old Garden Gates

Text and Photos: Trina

Forgive me this moment of self indulgence, please, as I revel in these "new" antique gates with which I am totally enchanted, obsessed and thrilled. I much prefer to scavenge my funky old treasures myself, but these gates came to my garden today via a local antique shop, and before that via Monterey, California. As a result of their oceanside origins, they have the most wonderful salt-eroded patina that speaks to me of the beaches I grew up on which were forever being freshly strewn with new assortments of wood and metal in various stages of decaying beauty.

As a child, I imagined, with equal parts horror and thrill, that every piece of flotsam on the beach had come from a dramatic, tragic shipwreck somewhere out in the middle of the ocean. It helped that frequently the beach detritis included quarter- and third-portions of tide-thrashed boats. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the people, and what unthinkable story preceded the destruction and beaching of the boat's remains. Likewise, these gates -- well, really any object that bears the scars of a prior, unknown existence -- seem to invite imaginings and stories of however romantic a nature one is inclined.

November Summer

Words by Greg
Photos by Trina and Greg

It's been a hot, dry summer this November.

Which is all relative, I suppose. Since the pre-Halloween freeze, it's been sunny and bright most every day. And warm enough for shorts and shirt-sleeve rides. Nights have been crisp but above freezing, though most everything in the garden is dead now anyway. Warm enough to keep a nice colony of green algae in Little Chief Greenbeard's fishing tub.



The hint of Autumn that we first caught wind of way up in the high country and waaaay back in the middle of September has finally worked its way down to the riverbanks near town. Golden trees are punctuating the flat beige plain of the valley floor, and piles of leaves are filling yards and sidewalks.

It may be the best time of the year for riding the sweet local mountain bike trails. And we've done our best to be out there with the dogs. Though often without each other of late, as schedules have prevented it. On days when the nearby singletrack seems too far, Sprocket, at least, doesn't mind zooming along the paved river paths.





But now, as I write this, wind is blowing through the nighttime darkness and there is a moist chill in the air. Clouds are hurrying overhead and rain occasionally patters on the dark rectangle of the skylight.

Astronomically, winter doesn't start for another month-and-a-half. But this rain could turn to snow, and the more tactile signs of winter could slide in and turn the season. Or, it could just be a cold bump before the return of our November Summer.



















I had the opportunity to shoot some moto photos, featuring some of the beauty of the local landscape.