California Day Two & Three:

I'm calling myself out right now. I'm stupid. I decided to challenge Wentz to a drinking contest last night. Weapon of choice: Margaritas. I'm to hung-over right now to go into all the details. But I feel sorry for whoever has to clean up the bathroom at Sharkeez. Damn, those were such good fish tacos too. I'm just glad the mik never made it to Mimi and I for karaoke.

Anyway, I'm holding out in this coffee shop until In-n-Out opens. I need some greasy cheese burgers badly. On a brighter note, the past couple of days have been awesome. Monday was a dirt jumping spree. We started at the Hidden Valley dirt jumps. This great little stash of jumps features two sections. The moderate set of jumps range from 7-foot to 15-foot gaps with some decent size lips. Then I went to the big-boy section. Ugh, Crazy! These suckers are huge. Just look at the picture of Steve up against the landing of one of the jumps. The lips were about 10' high, gaps ranged from 15-25 feet, and the landings, many of which were step-ups, were about 15' high. Steve has been hitting this line. Hopefully I'll have some pictures of this crazy airtime in the upcoming days.

After Hidden Valley, we went to Sheep Hills. The place looked great and the dirt jumping was awesome. Right off the bat Steve busted out one of the biggest trickiest lines perfectly. I stepped up to some pretty big doubles and really just tried to dial in my technique on everything else that was small.

That evening, Steve and I made an Italian Sausage dinner for Le and Mimi. Between the pasta, wine, and company, the dinner was great.

Yesterday morning, Steve and I dug out at the Hidden Vallay dirt jumps. Later on, we went down to Laguna Beach and got an awesome XC ride in. I got to ride the Turner Highline. This new freeride bike handled beautifully.

Okay In 'n Out hurry up and open I can't type anymore.

California Day One:
As Neven and I pulled up to the airport I saw the luggage check clerk at the curb. 'Sweet,' I thought, 'I'll just check my luggage slip this guy a 20 and my bike will be on it's way. Well, it appears that America west doesn't do curb side check and the two ladies at the front desk were hardly going to sympathize with my situation. 80 bucks later I was headed down terminal C bound for Las Vegas. The flight was peaceful enough, but there's nothing like the sound of slot machines as walk into an airport terminal.

My layover in Vegas soon grew from one hour to two to two and half hours. 'Poor Steve' I thought, 'he's going to have to wait for me in the airport'. But all of this, I would soon find out, happened for a reason. See Wentz had gone to see quite possibly one of the best super-cross races to date in Anaheim. After which, he was going to pick me up at LAX. I'm not sure when Steve became aware of the fact that he didn't have his keys, but he would soon realize as he peered through the window of Big Green, that the ignition was the key-thief culprit.

Well to make a boring story short, right as I got my luggage and was heading out of the airport at 2:30 am Steve pulled up. The timing worked out quite well. The drive down to Santa Ana was quick and the bed couldn't have been more comfy; I passed out intstantly.

The next morning I awoke to the wonderful smell of eggs and bacon. I spent the morning talking with Mimi and Le (Steve’s parents) over a cup of coffee. Breakfast was an awesome compilation of mushroom omelets, poppy-seed muffins, and fruit. Oh yah! Nothing beats home cooking more than . . .um . . .more home cooking.

After my belly was full I got the full tour of the Wentz's newly renovated home. It is absolutely beautiful. Shortly after that I assembled my bike and Steve and I headed down to Laguna Beach to pick up Johnny C. We rallied the trails for 2 1/2 hours. Imagine this, a costal breeze gently blowing in 70 degree air with sun just hot enough to make your skin tingle. And I know all of you in Colorado may have to dig deep into your memory banks, but imagine green ivy, palm trees, and the smell of fresh cut grass. Yep, I was in heaven. I don't think I broke a sweat for but 10 minutes during the whole ride; the weather was so perfect.

We first rode the Meadow Trail up to the top of a ridge that overlooked the Laguna Beach area. Meadow Trail is a full entourage of loose off-camber corners, berms, blue-grooved brake bumps, and sweeping fast sections. It was absolutely brutal to climb especially with a 38 ring up front and a road cluster in the back. But just to get to the top of the ridge and look down onto the ocean was amazing.

Within a week my hand has become so much stronger. Although it practically bounced off in every brake-bump section, it was a trooper and never stopped me from going into every corner way to darn fast;-) Yep, some new brake pads are in order. On the way to our next climb we practiced cutties. Cutties soon turned into a game of who-can-flick-a-rock(or sand)-at the-rider-next-to-them. A truly classic game that is unavoidable. Well, Wentz chalked up another win.

By the time we made it up to the water tower (5 Oaks Trail) my legs had that familiar burn of being spent; it was great. Of course Steve didn't let me know this, but the trail was more downhil oriented then most. It was absolutely awesome; I had to concentrate more on the trail then my hand and autopilot took over. Although it wasn't fast or pretty, it was another gift from God that I'll treasure.

From there I watched the most amazing sunset over Laguna Beach with Steve and Johnny. The oranges, blues, and purples, reflecting off the ocean took my breath away. After the sun set, we were off to a tiny Mexican restaurant on the beach front for a pitcher of Margaritas and steak nachos. Johnny and I proceeded to get buzzed while Steve claimed his first surf board from a trash can. Despite a missing fin and several huge cracks, I'm sure it will serve Steve well as a first board.

The nights not done yet. . . After margs, Steve and I met Mimi and Le at the Yard House Brewery for an awesome dinner and end to a perfect day.

Wow, today prayers were answered. I felt the joy of two wheels and a lot of air beneath me. Yep, for the first time in over half a year I went dirt jumping at the Lake Arbor trails. Let me first explain how the morning unfolded.

I woke to a beautiful sunrise and I text messaged Neven (my partner in crime) 'game on'. This text message of cource implied that we were to rendezvous at my place around 7:15 and proceed to our secret hot-tub local for a morning soak. It was an awesome way to start the day. From there we rallied down to my doctor's appointment. The x-rays soon revealed that my hand was definatly on the mend. And although I should still ride with a conservative mindset, riding was now approved by the doc. I think all I really heard was that riding should commence immediately.

From the Doc's office Neven and I went to fuel up on Deli-Zone goodness. As the coffee gut was setting in, we made our way down highway 287. With reservation, we watched the trees bend to the will of the wind. But via phone, Fisher encouraged us to continue to the Lake Arbor jumps where we would meet and so we continued. As we unloaded the car, the questions started haunting my mind. How would my hand hold up? Could I even jump anything out here? Would I be relegated to the kiddies playground of one-foot high lips and gentle rollers? But like an old friend, the jumps at Lake Arbor remained true to the memories that I have been rerunning in my head for the past six months. I followed Fisher into couch (the small line) and soon I was following him into a slighlty bigger line. It was so awesome, pumping each lip just right to feel the bike arch up under me and meet backside.

Neven's bright smile soon matched mine as she attempted the ever-daunting first jump in couch; one which always unleashes a butterfly or two in my stomach. She was playing defense on the first jump. But the ball soon changed hands and she started to relax and nose into the backside of the jump. I was so proud of her. The jump is a real mind f**k.

But the real joy unleashed itself when Fisher told me to follow him into a line I had never even considered before. The jumps easily matched the biggest jumps I've hit to date. I watched as Fisher landed each jump in his true buttery smooth fashion. "Okay" I thought, "I can atleast ride up to the lip of the jump behind Matt". On the second run in I decided to commit to the jump. As I pedalled to the lip I saw Fisher float into the air. My heart rate slowed and I met the lip with confidence. Before I new it my front tire greeted the landing gently and the rest was history. After several more attempts I was hitting the second one in the line. As I once wrote for work, "The beauty of a bike is best witnessed five feet off a lip, twelve feet above the ground, and miles away from all your concerns." -Me



All you dirt jumpers out there know exactly the feeling I'm talking about. That feeling of having wings especially after they have been clipped. Neven, Fish - thanks for being apart of one of the best days of my life!

Hidei-Ho everybody! Inaugural entry into the world of blogging and I have nothing to say. So here's the current state of affairs.

Hmmm, the wind is howling in true Colorado fashion: sporadically powerful. However earlier this afternoon there was a sweet spot of still air for about an hour. And to my satisfacion I enjoyed that still air through the pump track, over some small jumps, and seven feet above the ground on a tramp bike. Ahhh well, here's to intros