Beer Snobbery

I’ve been lucky this month to have enjoyed some great new beers – perhaps too many, but what’s "too" mean? I enjoyed the first set of tasty brews while on a conference trip to Middletown, Connecticut, two weeks ago. I had an Allagash White with my lunchtime pizza. It’s a common-enough beer, but one I hadn’t had. It complemented the two massive slices of New York-style pizza perfectly.

Later that evening, out for dinner with friends and colleagues, I had two light, delicious, well-balanced Connecticut ales – Thomas Hooker’s blonde and Thimble Island’s American – which had one of the best labels I’ve ever seen:
Thimble Island American ale

Then, after dinner, we headed over to an interesting taproom just up the street, Eli Cannon’s, which I’d read about before the trip. The ambiance and decor was almost overwhelming, frankly, and the tap list was ridiculously long – something like 70 beers. I was excited to try some unknown dark beers from East Coast brewers, but I was surprised and a little disappointed to find that the list was dominated by pale ales and india pale ales. I tried to get a flight of dark beers, but could only get two that I hadn’t already drunk! Still, the two non-dark beers were both fine – Secret Agent X9, a Belgian by Middletown’s tiny Stubborn Beauty brewery, and Eli Cannon’s own 21st Anniversary ale – and the two new-to-me darks were great: Wolaver’s oatmeal stout out of Vermont and the Green Flash Silva Stout from San Diego (so much for the East Coast thing). I hadn’t heard of the first, but had long looked for the second, and enjoyed both of them very much. The Green Flash was especially good, a very deep vanilla-toned stout with just a hint of its bourbon-barrel aging.

After the conference goings-on each day, a revolving group of us went back to Eli Cannon’s for nightcaps. I had the Wolaver’s and the Green Flash again and on our last visit, the Mission Gose by Evil Twin. I’d had and enjoyed a couple Gose beers, but this was a crazy, insanely tart beer that was not at all the right thing at 10 p.m. in a dim taphouse. After dinner on a hot, sunny patio, yes. Having a super-low alcohol content, though, I felt okay about cleansing the palate with another glass of the Silva.

In addition to the beers at Eli Cannon’s, I was lucky to have some good stuff at the conference dinners, which are usually centered on wine – not my cup of tea. This year we could find good local stuff, including the outstanding coffee stout from Thimble Island and the Trappist ale from Spencer Brewery in Massachusetts. The Trappist was unusual and amazingly good – for me, an ideal dessert beer.

My sampling of regional beers didn’t end when I came home. My friend and colleague Ryan at Franklin & Marshall has a side business, A Case for Beer, in which he assembles twelve-pack "Flight Kits" of interesting local beers. I’d have loved to get his Connecticut kit, but flying home prevented this. I lucked out, though, when two other colleagues, Anne and Ann gave me the two darkest beers from their kit: the Smoke & Dagger Schwarzbier from Jack’s Abby in Massachusetts and the Raincloud porter from Foolproof in Rhode Island. Maybe partly because I had to smuggle them home, I found that both were exceptionally good beers. The Cloak & Dagger was maybe the blackest lager I’ve ever had, a heavy mouthful of smoke. The Raincloud also had a delicious smokiness, but it ended in a little hop kick, which was surprising and pleasant – and came in a pretty can:
Foolproof Raincloud

All those great beers made July a great beer month, but then last night I went up to St. Paul to meet a friend at the Urban Growler, a new microbrewery in an industrial zone off the new light rail line.
Urban Growler

All of their beers looked great, so I had a flight, which included their "flagship" cream ale, their IPA, and their "City Dale" session ale (all perfectly fine but not my thing) as well as three insanely great and creative beers. One was their smooth "De-Lovely" porter, which we enjoyed with a shot of coffee in it. The second was a Witbier made with rhubarb, which lent the beer a slightly sweet but understatedly tart flavor. The last, called the Sticky Rice, was something new to me: a Wit made with rice, mango, coconut, and ginger. I thought it was outstanding. The snap of the ginger made it ideal to sip on the darkening patio with lots of other happy beer-drinkers around. I’m eager to go up there again in a few months to try the new stuff on the menu.

Tinkering with the Buffalo

I’ve just set up the Buffalo for our next races.
New Setup

My first change was up front. I love my Jones bars, but I learned at the Chequamegon that they weren’t great for trail riding. I swapped them out for the pair of flat bars that Ben Doom put on the bike when he originally built it up. After about ten hours of riding, I can tell that the flat bars are much better for twisty-turny trail riding. I’ll put the Jones bars back on for next winter’s training and racing, when I want an upright cruising position.

The bigger adjustment was changing from a 2x gearing setup to a 1x setup – the SRAM X1 system. I’d had all kinds of trouble with the bike’s original 2x components (loose crank arms, rattling bottom bracket, crummy shifting) and I’d started to worry about a major mechanical failure. Tom at Downtown Bikes swapped out the old stuff for the new system while I was traveling last week, and After three hours on the new setup, the 1x seems to be a lot better in all these areas. My connection to the bike through the cranks and BB feels rock solid, and the shifting across the cassette is smooth and quick. I’m eager to see how the system performs at the Maah Daah Hey 100 on August 1 – and in my other races during the rest of this "off-season" and over next winter. I’ve gotta say, too, that the 1x feels pretty pro.

Independence from Bedtime Day

July Fourth has been one of those holidays that’s been hard for the Tassava family to truly embrace. Ours isn’t a diet that easily incorporates grilled meat, for instance, and the girls’ former troubles with traveling, staying up late, or staying up late while traveling meant that we only finally "went somewhere for the Fourth" last year, when we both journeyed to the U.P. to spend the holiday with my mom and to see fireworks – which, in da Yoop, happen very late.

This year, my mom came down to see us, which made the holiday a lot simpler, and the girls were able both to stay up late enough to enjoy sparklers and fireworks and to sleep in a little bit the next day. So surprised were we by the latter development that I didn’t even plan to take them to the fireworks in Northfield. But after we burned off a million sparklers,

Sparkling

I got a text from a friend saying that the fireworks were imminent. I piled the girls into the car, zipped over to the spot where they were watching, and soaked in the experience. The girls loved it. What’s not to love?

Finale I

Finale II

And the next day, they even kinda slept in!

Easy Riding

Since the Crashquamegon a couple weeks ago, I’ve taken it pretty easy – daily sessions at the gym, but no long rides till today, when the stars aligned such that I could spend the whole day out in the Buffalo. I picked out a route over some of my favorite roads, aiming to hit some new MTB trails for a an hour of trail riding before an easy ride home.

As luck would have it, the ride took place in amazingly great conditions – cool early but rising to about 80° F, a cooling westerly breeze, bright sunshine, a crisp blue sky. Through I hammered the hills as hard as I could, I took it easy at other times. I wound up with 63 miles in my legs over 5:30 of ride time and soaked up some great views.

Rewilding on Warsaw Trail

65th Avenue Drop

American Rock

Sogn Valley Trail Vista

Stop Sign Vine

Fawn Ahead!

Fatbike Walks on Water

My Ten Hardest Races (so far)

One thing I do remember about the horrible, wonderful, no-good, so-great Cheq 100 last weekend was a lot of thinking about where the race fell in my personal top-ten list of hard races.

This is narcissistic, I know, but dammit, I love them all.

While very eager to do races in the future that will get onto this list, here is the current top ten, in descending order:

10. The Lutsen 99er in June 2014. Not especially demanding physically, this race was my first mountain bike race. If nothing else, the sheer quantity of mud made this one memorable. I’d do it again, for sure! 8h 44m, 282nd of 421 finishers.

Lutsen 99er
Lutsen 99er

9. The Royal 162 in May 2014: At 165 miles (the 162 miles of the course, plus 3 bonus miles after a wrong turn), this was my longest-ever ride – so far! Though conditions were pretty good, this was just a long freaking way to ride bikes. Thank god Derek was there for company. 14h 23m, 39th of 51.

Deek at the Royal
Deek at the Royal

8. The Almanzo 100 in May 2011: (part I | part II | part III) My first gravel-century race, run in cold, wet conditions that made the riding slow and dirty and tough. I loved it as an event in its own right and as my introduction to ultradistance racing. 9h 8m, 80/150.

Almanzo 100 (2011)
Almanzo 100 (2011)

7. The Heck of the North in September 2014: The distance – 108 miles – wasn’t that bad, and the course was great, but my rear derailleur blew up at about mile 80, so I had to do some jury-rigging to convert my Salsa Vaya to a singlespeed and then limp in to the finish. 9h 55m, 139/174.

6. The Inspiration 100 in September 2013: Another gravel century, but run in temps above 90 and a heat index near or above 100. Heat exhaustion was a major factor, but I still managed a fast (for me) time: 7h 7m, 22/78.

Inspiration 2013
Inspiration 2013

5. The Cheq 100 in June 2015. This was a very hard race of attrition in which I didn’t get the result I wanted (a finish in the full 100-mile race). Pending my race in North Dakota in August, the Cheq now my #1 “off-season” goal for 2016. 10h 45m, something like 20/30.

4. The Arrowhead 135 in January 2015: Coming in well trained, decently rested (two weeks after #3, below), and very, very eager, I rode what I think is my best race here in pretty much perfect conditions. 19h 30m, 26/77.

Finish Line Grin
Finish Line Grin

3. JayP’s Backyard Fat Pursuit in January 2015: I worked so freaking hard at getting this race right. I tested my clothing, gear, and bike, I thought incessantly about my race strategy, and I trained like mad. It paid off with a solid effort and a finish of the full 126 miles. 26h 25m, 30/39.

Finished!
Finished!

2. JayP’s Backyard Fat Pursuit in March 2014 (part I | part II | part III): Run along the Continental Divide where Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana meet, this was my first race at any kind of altitude. What the elevation didn’t take out of me, the brutally slow snow did. I couldn’t finish this one, getting pulled off the course at 100 miles by the race director after 32 hours of racing. I’d say this was the low point in my personal history of bike racing, but I drew a lot of motivation from my “honorary finish.” Not only did I return the next year to ride smarter and faster and to finish (see #X above), but I’ve treasured the connections I made to this race’s people and land.

Fat Pursuit 2014
Fat Pursuit 2014

1. The Arrowhead 135 in January 2014: my first and still the hardest fatbike race I’ve done. I’d never done race of longer than about 12 hours, but this one took me more than 24 hours, thanks in large part to temperatures that infamously ranged from -20° to -40° made the riding difficult, to say the least, but I stuck it out, teaching myself that I could do a lot more than I thought I could. 29h 9m, and a top-ten finish – 7/30.

Wakemup Hill
Wakemup Hill

Summer’s Evening

What a day, man. The big event was that the Supreme Court handed down its ruling that legalized gay marriage thought the U.S. Somehow this made family seem even more important to me, so I was happy to get home in time for a great dinner – made by the girls! – and a long evening of warmth and sun.

The girls and I did a little bit of everything. In the full light, we played basketball and catch out front,
Over-the-Street Catch

then went for a bike ride to watch the swallows catch mosquitoes over the ponds and admire a colossal cumulonimbus cloud far to the southeast.
Cloud Sky

As the sun set, we went to the backyard to watch for and try to catch fireflies. We also saw a couple bats, which was great.
Lightning Buggers

Then after dark we set up Vivi’s telescope to look at the moon (which our neighbor Meg told us is called tsuki in Japanese), and Julia got put her guitar to play a few notes.
Telescopes and Guitars

Summer is only four days old! I’m spent. Time to finish this beer and go to bed.

Gravel Girl

Sunday, Julia and I went out to ride some gravel.

Outbound and Uphill
Outbound and Uphill

We did a nice 10-mile out and back that’s not the easiest route around,

Tired at the Turnaround
Tired at the Turnaround

but is one of the prettiest in both scenery

Eastern Sky
Eastern Sky

and company.

On the Home Stretch
On the Home Stretch

I was so happy to see her really work at this ride! She was great on the hills – up and down. I know she liked the ride, and I think she liked being done with it quite a bit too.

Dirt for Dessert

This was a long and wonderful early-summer weekend that included errands, playdates, birthday parties, plenty of ice cream, the first trip to the pool

Sunday afternoon pool
Sunday afternoon pool

and two good bike rides, one each evening.

Saturday’s outing was Vivi’s first on a new-to-her Trek mountain bike – a bike she loathed right up until I brought it home (at the suggestion of my bike shop’s owner, who knows from selling bikes!). Once Vivi saw the bike in all its 24″ glory, she was ready to rock, and so we did:

Crushing Hall Avenue
Crushing Hall Avenue

We rode a short gravel hill near our house and then tooled around on some paved paths in the next subdivision. She loved the bike’s speed, and Julia loved that the new bike helped her keep up.

Even though the girls had a very full day today, they still wanted to ride this evening, so off we went again, this time to the local MTB trails. Julia cruised the trails like a pro, and Vivi did a great job handling the bigger, faster bike through the tight twists and turns. She only watched as Julia rode her favorite drop, though:

Taking the Drop
Taking the Drop

They even fell for a little reverse psychology I used them to goad them into riding a little hill. The sign doesn’t apply when your motor is lungs and legs.

Vivi finishing the "climb"
Vivi finishing the “climb”
Julia finishing the "climb"
Julia finishing the “climb”

On the way home, Vivi’s saddle loosened to the point that she couldn’t ride comfortably, so I had to do some trailside jury-rigging by moving my seatpost and saddle to her bike. Shimmed with a bit of inner tube, she was able to ride home on my Brooks C17 saddle and Moots Cinch seatpost – a truly ridiculous situation, given that the saddle is worth more than her whole bike, and don’t even get me started on the ti post.

Since her seatpost wouldn’t fit in my bike’s downtube, I had to stand up the whole rest of the way, which made the last mile’s sprint through the rain even more challenging than otherwise!

All in all, this was an auspicious start to the summer.

Bison Run

I drove up to Afton, Minnesota, to see the annual release of a bison herd onto a restored prairie owned by the Belwin Conservancy. The thirty-five yearling bulls made sure that the event went quickly:

I loved watching them barrel out of the trailers and head to the far, far, far corner of the prairie, where they continued to run back and forth for a while before calming down. They’re the tiny brown-black specks off in the furthest distance here:

Bison in the Distance at the Belwin Conservancy, Afton, MN
Bison in the Distance at the Belwin Conservancy, Afton, MN

 

 

Yeah, you can’t see them. Imagine how hard it would have been for Indians to see them, even in the teeming herds before the Great Slaughter.

Owned by Northstar Bison in Rice Lake, Wisconsin, these buffalo spend the summer at the conservancy to fatten up before being “harvested.” I don’t have much problem with that, since a) bison is delicious and b) their eating and roaming on the Conservancy’s prairie helps accelerate the restoration of the land. And they look great doing it.

After watching the release, I daringly posed for a picture with one bison:

Posing with a Buffalo
Posing with a Buffalo

Backyard Adventure

My friend Michael recently turned me on to the concept of “microadventures,” which was been popularized, or was maybe even invented, by Alastair Humphreys – a pretty serious adventurer.

Aware that not everyone can, say, bike around the world or row across the Atlantic, Humphreys advocates breaking out of the everyday rut of home and office with “microadventures”  – short trips that go from “5 to 9″ (after work one day until mid-morning the next) and that get a person out into nature, even if it’s just an overnight in a nearby park. I love the idea, which provides a name and a rationale for an activity that I’d already been doing to some degree. Michael and I have already done a few microadventures – one together, several separately or with others.

Saturday night, I went microadventuring while the girls were at a sleepover. I didn’t want to either overthink the outing or get overly ambitious, so I packed up my bike with some minimal overnight gear, grabbed food and drink from the kitchen, and took the scenic route out to a local county park. I stopped for plenty of pictures.

Isaacson Corner Photo-Op
Isaacson Corner Photo-Op
Creek along 246
Creek along 246
Donaldson Trail Horses
Donaldson Trail Horses
Donaldson Trail Perspective
Donaldson Trail Perspective

Once at the park, I made my way down a rough trail through the woods – surprisingly tall and green here at the edge of what should be tallgrass prairie.

Green Cathedral I
Green Cathedral I
Green Cathedral II
Green Cathedral II
Rideable Duckboards
Rideable Duckboards

I set up a little riverside campsite (being sure to tuck the Buffalo into a safe spot), got a fire going, and had dinner and a couple beers.

Riverside Campsite
Riverside Campsite
Midnight Campfire
Midnight Campfire

As much as I like being around people, I relished being by myself, listening to the birds and the river.

The night was pleasingly restless, and included being awoken once by something crawling around the campsite. In the morning, I had a little campfire breakfast in a light rain and enjoyed more river views.

River Dawn
River Dawn

Then I packed up my stuff and rode home down a slick road, soaking up the green scenes

Cannon City Boulevard Workhorse
Cannon City Boulevard Workhorse

and spotting some damp old junk.

Rusty Chevy
Rusty Chevy

It was wonderful. I look forward to doing it again soon.

Spring Evening

I had to work late today, which meant I rode home around 7:30 and saw a very different Northfield than I do when I ride home just after 5: slow strolling students on campus, lawn mowers and dog walkers and stray skateboarders, wide empty streets, a golden yellow haze over the fields
South

and just for mystery’s sake, a hot air balloon drifting east of town.

Mystery Balloon (photo by Rob Hardy)

Origins of the Buffalo (the Bike, not the Animal)

I dunno if that many bike riders name their bikes, but I know a few who do, and I have named my last three bikes. My first gravel bike, a Surly CrossCheck, never earned a name, but my blue Salsa Mukluk fatbike was "the Beast," because it was a beastly machine that could go anywhere and looked (I think) a little scary, with those big tires seeming to be giant black paws. My Salsa Vaya gravel bike is "Giddyup," because it’s got a lot of get up and go – which is true even if I don’t ride it enough.

My favorite bike, my silver Salsa Mukluk, is "the Buffalo," a name that took me a long time to choose – or which took a long time to choose the bike. Quite a few people have asked me about the name – including several strangers at the Almanzo last weekend who rode up next me and asked, "Is that the Buffalo? Are you Chris Tassava?"

Despite or because of the weirdness of having strangers recognize me and my bike, I thought maybe I should explain the name.

I bought the Mukluk from my friend Ben, who’d built it up for himself a few years before but hadn’t had time to really put it to use. He gave me a great deal on the bike, so I snapped it up. Riding the nameless bike for months after I bought it, I thought about its many wonderful qualities and waited for the right moniker to emerge. My daughters lobbied for "Beauty," partly as a complement to the Beast (though I no longer owned the Beast) and partly because they’re girls. Honestly, the bike is pretty. Dressed in its blue and gray frame bags for winter racing or bikepacking, the bike looks, I think, like it’s wearing a comfortable, functional uniform.
Fat Pursuit Setup

Without the bags, the bike shows off all of its unpainted silvery titanium – definitely the bike material that’s easiest on the eyes.
Before the Almanzo

Despite all that, "Beauty" didn’t fit. Not that one can’t define beauty in many ways, but to me, the bike was too burly and too aggressive-looking to be "Beauty." Then, on a long training ride last fall, with the bike dressed in its all bags and laden with most of my winter-racing gear, as I ground my way up a long, messy gravel climb, it hit me: "the Buffalo."

My mind was primed for this revelation. I’d just read an article somewhere about bison. Most people know about the bison’s near-eradication in the 19th century, and also know the bit about how Indians used "every part" of the bison, but the animal itself is as fascinating as its history. It’s the largest North American mammal, the only survivor of the megafauna that thrived tens of thousands of years ago but that were almost all killed off by humans when they migrated out of Asia.

The bison survived because of their unique physical characteristics. They’re massive, but their physiology enables them to thrive in a wide range of conditions – hot southwestern deserts, temperate grasslands, lowland forests, mountain valleys, Alaskan swamps – and of course, the dry, windy grasslands that run up the center of the continent, which was where I live and where I would largely be riding the bike. A bison is fast – able to run up to up to 25 miles an hour. A bison is nimble – able to jump over fences that are six feet high or ditches and holes longer than their body length. A bison is tough – able to move dozens of miles a day in the right conditions (not to mention to survive the white mans’ guns). And a bison is very pleasing to look at, in a wild way.

Buffalo, by Larry Smith (from Flickr)

My fatbike, too, is fast, nimble, tough, and above all adaptable – good on pavement, great on gravel, excellent on dirt, and of course phenomenal on snow. With those rationalizations in place, I just had to make sure the name was right "Buffalo" is a laden term, with pedants loving to point out that the American bison isn’t a "buffalo" like the water buffalo of Africa. (This is true, but also dumb, since the French explorers didn’t give the name to the weird humpbacked cattle they saw on the plains because they looked like water buffalo.)

But "the Bison" didn’t sound right, and "Tatanka" (the Lakota word for "bison") didn’t seem right coming from a white guy. Growing up, I’d always used the label "buffalo" for bison, which mattered to me because riding bikes – especially fatbikes – can be a pure, childlike pleasure. And "the Buffalo" just sounded right when I said it. The name fit all the more because I’d installed some weird curved handlebars that looked – from above and behind, which was my view of them – a little like a horned bovine head. Within a few hundred yards of gravel road, the nameless fatbike became the Buffalo, and the Buffalo has taken me to some cool places.

Descending into Montana

At the Almanzo 2015 (photo by Marty Larson)