The Good Life

So I have promised a few people that I would finish a bottle of wine and have at this blog with the fervor and wit reserved the days of yore. Well... I didn't. And quite honestly, I find it rather unmanly to finish a bottle of California's finest/cheapest merlot at home when one lives with another dudeson, so I really don't see that situation occuring anytime soon.

Regardless I feel the need to regale the readership with tales of my current mountain town.

I've been here for almost three solid weeks. I'm doing what I love to bring home the bacon (slinging lattes where lattes need to be slunged) and the cool mountain air is as amazing to live in as I always envisioned.

THE RIDING: To start, our nearest singletrack is less than 1 mile away via the cities ultra-expansive multi-use trail. 42 miles of ultra-drainable desert dirt/gravel line all of the streets to make this the most impressive bike city I have ever encountered. And only 1 mile to the right of my doorstep drops me off in front of the cities after work superflowy loop. 10ish miles of singletrack provide everything from bomber 40 mph doubletrack to a technical loop that rivals Clintion's white trail. The best part though... it is never, ever, ever muddy. We have had days with flash flood warnings in the last week. And instead of turning the trails into mush, it turns into velcro infused hardpack.

Aside from the super close riding, the rest of the riding resides between 3 and 7 miles away and has proven to blow the mind on the decents (the ascents are less mind blowing but I'm sure once my elevation lungs are about me they will be equally glorious.)

Don't let the Goats hear me say this but the road riding here is equally amazing. Once outside of the city limits you can climb and climb and climb until you are done. And then bomb back down. Climbing 2o miles uphill to be rewarded with 60mph downhills can be quite entertaining to say the least.

THE CLIMBING: It's here, it's all here. My first few weeks were spent traveling around solo with a pack filled with shoes and chalk, freesoloing whatever looked freesoloable. I met some cool locals who threw a harness at me during my first visit to "Petit Verdon" and let me use their rope while I was eyeballing a 70 foot line that I was looking at just hanging out ropeless. Very chill people up in the thin mountain air, giving some stranger a belay on their gear.

Last weekend I taught our next door neighbor how to use all of his gym climbing gear to get out in the wilderness and found an even better belay buddy. And tomorrow, hoping the weather holds, Johnny will be learning his first outdoor on rope commands.

THE PEOPLE: They're all like me (or us). Everyone rides a mountain bike, everyone climbs, everyone drinks good beer with a pirate like thirst. I've sat outside the locals spots and listened to the hardmen spin yarns of epics on El Cap, Mt. Whitney or that last gnarly local race. The outdoorsmen run this town, and in a town this size that is a refreshing feeling.

So here's to the blog, the town and having life at your fingertips.