Last time I was in Bakersfield for the Rock Cobbler I was broken physically and mentally. The ride was so difficult and the conditions so slow that I went to the dark place before the ride was even halfway done, and I had to abort. I wasn’t sure if I would do this ride again. Heck, I was so sour, I wasn’t even sure I’d get on a bike again. I had the t-shirt, but I felt like a fraud when I wore it. At least I held off on the tattoo. As time went by I decided I needed to give it one last attempt to complete the whole thing.
Plotting my return, I dug into my bag of tricks to make pedalling easier up the long grinds and steep pitches. I added an oval chainring to smooth out my stroke, and another gizmo in the rear that enabled me to accommodate a bigger cog. I’m talking about gearing here, you pervs.
I ramped up my training. Starting in November I did a series of rides from 55 to 130 miles to build my endurance, and I did a lot of climbs on the trainer to prepare myself both physically and mentally. But rather than boring you with the details, I’ll just insert a montage here.
The stars were aligning for a successful run. The course was 15 miles shorter than last year. It has been a dry winter so far, so the dirt roads should be firm and without bad ruts. The weather forecast was just the right temperature, not too hot, not too cold. Lastly, because the organizer, Sam, broke his ankle last year, he said he was going to take some pity on us this year as he couldn’t scope out more treacherous terrain. Of course he’s a notorious sadist, and there’s a good chance he was lying. (Narrator’s voice, “Sam was indeed lying”.)
Bright and early we gathered for the start. There was surprisingly little dick measuring going on. Maybe riders had shrinkage from the trauma that was last year’s brutality, when more than a quarter of the riders dropped out. Shortly after 8 AM we were led out by Taco Man and his minion, Taquito. A few miles on asphalt before we turned into the fields of east Bakersfield. The course led us onto a motocross track that wasn’t on the original map. It was a fun diversion, but it added a little extra climbing that I was hoping to avoid. A little while later an ambulance blew past us on the road, which I later heard was the day’s first casualty.
Several miles later we exited the fields and were back onto blacktop heading east toward the Sierra foothills. We turned onto the Rio Bravo Ranch and began our first big climb of the day, about 1100 feet of climbing over three miles. I settled into a nice rhythm and tried to keep my heart rate low. The lady behind me sucked my wheel the whole way up while commenting how much she appreciated my nice pace. A traffic jam formed at the top of the climb as it pitched up to 20% and people bobbed and weaved to avoid rocks and bones. Some say the bones were from cattle, but I’m pretty sure they were from riders from previous years. I decided to get off and walk the last 100 yards as walking is just another gear, and no need to put nails in my legs this early.
After the first aid station at the top of the climb we had a long descent to the river. When we did this descent two years ago it was a messy, muddy, slippy, slidy, terrifying descent with no control and ineffective brakes, but today was pure fun. After some singletrack, some climbing, some descending, a creek crossing and some orange groves, we reached the point where the courses split, short route to the left, my route to the right. This was the spot where I bailed out last year. A little doubt crept into my head as this would be a potential bailout point, but I quickly shut down those thoughts and kept going.
Crossing the Kern River we started the next big climb up Rancheria Road, about 1500 feet over six miles. The road was asphalt about halfway up, and most of the remainder was hard packed dirt which made the riding relatively easy. Once at the top there was a roller coaster section of ups and downs through oil fields. Hang on and commit to the downhill and carry as much momentum back up. Rinse and repeat.
After a nice descent to Round Mountain Road we began another intermediate climb of about 550 feet. Again it was mostly asphalt, but the double digit gradients for the first half mile started to hurt. Once over the top it was a nice long descent toward the river giving a chance to recover. But we couldn’t stay in the flatlands. The course veered uphill to get to Babyhead Minefield singletrack that descended down a creekbed. Luckily the grass was short so babyheads were visible as they can be dangerous when hiding in grass next to the trail. Strike one with your pedal and you can go flying.
The last aid station was another bailout point, a chance to avoid the last big climb of the day, about 750 feet over three miles. There were lots of people lounging around contemplating their life choices. To bail or not to bail? That was the question. Whether it is better to suffer the cramps and pains of outrageous elevation, or to pedal away from a hill of troubles. As I was about an hour ahead of cutoff time and feeling relatively good, there was no way I was bailing out. If I can’t make it this year with all the conditions in my favor, I never will. Not wanting to waste time I passed on the chance to throw darts at a cardboard cutout of Sam, and after taking a leak and chugging as much Coke as I could without vomiting, I headed out and up.
On the climb I was caught by a guy riding the longest course, the Boulder, which was about 100 miles, about 25 miles longer than my course. He seemed to be in his dark place and needed someone to talk to. “How much longer to top?…They lied about the elevation…They said it would be about 11,000 feet and I’ve already passed that…I’ve already fallen twice…My knees are hurting…My feet stink and Jesus don’t love me…Is it all downhill from the top?…I brought the wrong bike…That hike-a-bike is annoying…How much further to the top?” I didn’t let the negativity get to me. I’ve been there myself, and sometimes you just need to vent. Despite all his complaining, he was a pretty strong rider and eventually rode away from me not to be seen again.
Just over the top “20 miles to go” was chalked out on the ground. It felt like I should be closer to the finish, but that’s out of my control. Just have to keep pedaling. I was expecting a nice non-technical descent to the river, but of course the route made a sharp turn into a ravine and onto the Boneyard Singletrack. I had to dismount in a couple spots to navigate sharp turns and dropoffs, and my legs started to cramp as I remounted. Fortunately the cramps resolved themselves as I reached the bottom.
After a few miles on asphalt we crossed back over the Kern River and through Ethel’s Old Corral, a bar with the doubly problematic statue of an Indian giving an Elon/Nazi salute. At the entrance I was wooed with fries and a shot of beer. In need of carbs I gladly indulged before pedaling through the bar and out the back door to the cheers of the patrons.
Unfortunately the carbs weren’t a lot of help climbing the next section of single track, and I had to get off and walk a couple sections, but at least the payoff was a fun swooping slalom descent through Refrigerator Canyon. Surely there’s a story behind that name, but I couldn’t find it.
After a narrow trail on the side of the bluffs we came to the infamous run-up which was about 275 feet vertical, roughly the height of a 23 story building. Signs along the climb taunted us. “Having fun yet?” “Sam did this to you.” “Sorry. Not sorry.” At the top was a drill sergeant urging us on. Referring to a guy who just crested the top, “This guy is 60 and he’s beating you up the hill.” To the group of Asians just in front of me, “You Filipino guys need to lay off the rice. It’s making you fat, and you’re carrying too much weight!” Near the top I joked, “I can’t make it. I’m going to go back down.” “You can do that, but I’m going to kick your ass all the way down!” Thanks to his gentle encouragement I finally made it to the top a couple steps at a time.
Psychologically it felt like we should be done. The worst was over, but there were still 5 mostly flat miles to go. Now the race was on to finish before sundown as I didn’t have any lights. We made our way down another singletrack through a creek bed and onto a paved bike path. Ah, this should be an easy cruise to the finish parallel to the Kern River. Not so fast. The route detoured back onto dirt around Lake Ming. Eventually, I got to the lower parking lot at the venue. All that remained was a slight hill to finish. But no, it couldn’t be that simple. Part way up the hill the course descended onto the roughest, most bone jarring surface of the day. Eff me. Eff Sam.
One more short walk up the hill and I was on the finishing stretch and safely across the line. I did it, 76 miles and 9300 feet of climbing, wiping out the bad taste of failure from last year. I wasn’t even DFL, though I was close. I’ve been basking in the glow ever since. This is probably my last Rock Cobbler. It pushed me to my limit, and it’s unlikely that conditions will ever be this favorable again (due to climate change). But who knows, I might reconsider as the pain fades from my memory.
All that, and you are still in Bakersfield.
(awesome job, congratulations.)
Fuck Bakersfield. The only place on the face of the earth I have a seething hatred for.
CAHSR will help people flee Bakersfield.
I guess you’re not on that train.
You don’t know me, but you don’t like me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0PNW4DXwJ0
You could get a little apartment somewhere.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5ct8t1bVzE
Seconded. That’s much farther than I will ever ride a bike.
Because of the Chafing?
Acktchually… that’s a pump, the well has already been drilled, it’s just extracting the contents.
Suck baby suck!
Compared to flying helicopters, this seems sane.
Are you too poor to afford an ATV?
One day last summer I walked two blocks east of my house and had to turn around. I guess that’s why the bus up there runs so frequently.
Whatever lunacy is going on here is completely out of the question.
This reminds me of my brothers-in-law. They like to go on hundred-mile runs.
Freaks.
“The lady behind me sucked my wheel the whole way up while commenting how much she appreciated my nice pace.” Phrasing. We’re accomplishing all of it, here. I hope she drafted as close as possible, strip that chrome.
Those chicanes in the Refrigerator are intense as fuck. I was a gymnast, I’ve been skydiving and more, but I’ve never been driven (or biked) ‘aggressively.’ Envious, am I, in many ways. I technically have an old X-Mas gift to race Bro if I can find an adult go-cart type thing so we can race. He’s six years older and (to me) is famous for *always* beating me. (There are several here in Indy, but it’s hard to organize with him and I’ve been away or ‘away.’)
Speaking of adult go-carts, I’ve never had sex nor received pleasure in a car. (Fingered high school sweetheart? Yes. Gotten half a blowie from my ex, Saint Kylie on a bus? Check. I don’t feel I’m missing out on anything, other than my foolish, high school squandering. (Dammit. Was writing a thought/joke and realized a good fuck in a warm, private place, likely with the engine vibrating the car with your own music…yeah. I may be missing out on something.)
Well. I’m gonna get on a bus and show y’all what it’s *LIKE.*
*I have never driven /biked aggressively.
I’m sure I’ve *been driven* aggressively a few times. A few times on Indiana circuits, IIRC. And cabbies. Especially that GOOT!! one in Kazakhstan, was (well-executed) insanity. I love that it went well and I didn’t get a Richard Hammond pulled on me.
“I’ve never had sex nor received pleasure in a car”
Three words: Geo Tracker backseat. For those who have never seen a Geo Tracker, the backseat is considerably more snug than an airplane bathroom
Unlike you, I was not/am not a gymnast. She, however, was; so that’s how we were able to make it work. That said, I would have preferred a bed of any size at that moment.
“I was not/am not a gymnast.” She also confirmed that you are not, indeed, a comedian. Romanians be fickle. Sickle flick’ll do ya in (/Whistles Pie on the sly)
(Ya got the girl, do ya really care *where* ya are? *SHE* likely does, certainly more than you, I reckon.)
My son said he rode once with Lance Armstrong.
That is, Lance said something to him as he (Lance) passed and went out of sight.
One of the guys flipping the bird is a former Tour de France rider, but he was way ahead of me.
Hell of a ride. Mahalo for the tale, but I agree with Zwak- that is a hell of a lot of work to end up right back in Bakersfield.
Nobody believes me, but this time of year when the hills are green, the air is clear, and it’s not too hot, Bakersfield is not bad.
The Diablos, the mountains just to the west of Bakersfield, are beautiful. California Valley, which is halfway between Bakersfield and the coast, is stunning, and the mountains west of there are wonderful. And the ride/drive out hwy 58 is god’s gift to motorcycles.
But, by that point you are in SLO county.
You have the Tehachapi near you. That is some fascinating railroad engineering. It would be an interesting ride, but you’d have to hide from the train engines, so you’re not reported for trespassing.
Mammary Monday After Dark rides again!
https://archive.is/95qRM/402c66f108c00ee3e17982af9eb1904ef6cd1e9e.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/uDV1i/cb707406c361b97a1816c6a6e26bbf737d989e4e.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/RqeZP/c8d97c0c94406b210077f3fb558ac55d59088496.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/wxfiR/a03e88c60056a77dfebb226d88c587ba6f918c90.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/gr7gt/8a7f845180b1e2a873de91935299499f7728d3c4.jpg
NSFW.
Number 1, yes
Yes. #4 wins, #1 runner up. 2 is most ‘my body type,’ tho. I’m bigger than Bro and I weigh ~135 and (the hospital hilariously, ‘meticulously’ noted) I’m 5 foot, 5.65 inches (169cm).
I lean towards, hopefully *on,* girls smaller than me, tho that hasn’t happened often. Small, slim, perhaps lithe. I’m also quite thrilled that women are just inherently attractive. There’s (almost always) something there. Munchkin in MN has mocked me for my low standards, but again, uh. Conquest is conquest. It’s not like I’ve ever married one nor sired any spawn. Vending Machine Sex – good album/song name and not without cause. (Been dry far too long.)
#1 looks like she boils bunnies.
It’s late. I’m backing up my text messages for my imminent move back to the Textra app, which I stopped using for reasons I don’t remember now, because Samsung is discontinuing its stock messaging app in favor of Google messages. Nope. Nope nope nope. Anyway, this backup takes a while, so I’m sitting here reading Reddit and picking my nose.
From dedthred:
@RCDean
There’s a cap on crypto.
Dollar printer go whirrrrrrr. Crypto miner can’t.
====
In other news, @Jarflax and @Count Potato, my mother’s annuities are both cash-out-able, even the IRA one. Yay!
To the Editors, I put up something not dog related
Good morning Glibs and our soon to be fired .gov lurkers.
😄🌄
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=spKOib_D5YY
🎵🎵
Will the fired gov lurkers continue to lurk after being fired and lurking on their own time?
/Inquiring minds
Well, a lot of ‘concerned citizens’ spent a great deal of their own time tracking down anyone even tangentially involved with the J6 riot to rat them out to the feds, so why not?
And good morning, all!
Good morning, STG and 4(20)!
I have been lurking for the most part, and I will go back to lurking after I say fuck you.
Fuck you.
🙁
?
!
‽
I’m not looking forward to having to ask a cop a stupid question in attempt to not have my permit process sabotaged by some fingerprint technician who didn’t want to tell me what his name was. Part of the state form is “who is it that filed the fingerprints?”, and it’d be all to easy for an anti-gun official to go “Incomplete – rejected”
I hope you get your day at the Supreme Court.
suh’ fam
whats goody
/hey from NW Ohio where Im too close to both Indiana and Michigan
Good morning, homey, U, Roat, Ted’S., and Sean!
Morning, how goes?
Pretty good – still a little sleepy. The draft of payroll is waiting at work for my inspection and, I hope, approval. Planning to go to the rec center after work for a little exercise. How are you?
Annoyed at myself for not being more insistant at getting the technician’s info on the form.
I hope you can get that resolved ASAP. 🙂🤞
When I took my class:
https://www.glibertarians2018.link/2018/06/26/i-fucking-hate-new-york/
Too bad SCOTUS doesn’t seem interested in putting a stop to that sort of unconstitutional bullshit. Not sure how it all squares with the “history and tradition” test under Bruen. The very idea of needing a government permit to exercise a constitutional right is ridiculous.
SCOTUS smacked down the then-extant NY laws, so NY passed new laws. When these get struck they’ll pass new ones. Und so forth.
I live in NJ and have a NJ carry permit. NYC does issue non-resident carry permits, and since I live in a suburb of NYC I considered getting one. Then I discovered all the ridiculous bullshit that entails, and figured I’ll just avoid NYC as much as possible.
The only appripriate response by the courts would be “The states can’t be trusted with this process, constitutional carry is the law of the land, take this permission slip bullshit and shove it”
SCOTUS smacked down the then-extant NY laws, so NY passed new laws. When these get struck they’ll pass new ones. Und so forth.
Because SCOTUS makes their rulings too narrow. They need to smack them down and include anything of the sort as being unconstitutional in their ruling.
But of course that would take some guts.
Trump should sign an executive order that overrules stupid state gun control laws.
Unfortunately, he seems to be going the other way.
https://x.com/saltygirl09/status/1894078969076420953?s=42
Thankfully Executive Orders are not law.
New study on black holes:
https://scitechdaily.com/no-more-singularities-quantum-gravity-could-finally-solve-the-black-hole-mystery/
The researchers posit that gravity can be used to explain the existence of black holes rather than singularities.
Or something like that. I just skimmed the article.
Always with the racist holes.
Great write-up, Jaime.
You gotta feel pretty good about yourself if the ladies are still admiring your “pace” at your age.
It’d be easier to get a fake ID in another state, buy a gun there, then move back to NY than to try to get a pistol permit there.
Not that I’m suggesting anyone do that. Oh no. Far from it!
I am drinking instant coffee mixed with cold mineral water. Tastes OK and gets me going. Trying not to stay in bed from midnight to 2 pm anymore. Much as I have been trying to avoid caffeine, it seems like a healthier option until I can reset my sleep cycle.
oops! wrong thread