A new and very different bike and some thoughts on the ""bugout bike concept"

It has been in the making for a long time.  Ages ago, as it seems, when the World was a very different place, I was looking for a new bike.  There was a Surly Troll sitting in the window of my then favourite bikeshop. I was all for riding Enduro trails, though, and, well, that frame came with a rigid fork. Actually I was being aware even back then, that the party was nearing the end. I do love riding a lot. I have been riding with passion for a good 40 years almost, I have been riding races and down places and trails with 35mm of rubber eraser suspension up front that are not open to the public, including hikers, because they are too dangerous nowadays. I thought I would live to ride back then and even designed T-shirts with that slogan. I now know that it was more that I rode to live. 

I have been a people-pleaser all my life.  And a huge part of my riding with others was because I never got respect for anything I did and most of the time, for no other reason than the fact that I am different, I was actively denied it.  Mountainbike riding gave me acknowledgement, even though it came at a price.  The fact that few people talk about is that a lot (not all of it, obviously) of the progression of a lot of riders is driven either by the need for acknowledgement or a rather narcisstic impulse.  I did ride with a lot of narcisstic assholes, and, well, that seems to be, amongst a lot of awesome people, be a rather integral part of Mountainbike culture. 

This leads to a rather unforgiving culture on a ride. You got an old bike? Of course there are always great and awesome groups who will always wait for you and encourage you. I have even been gifted old freeride bikes in order to have more fun, and, Totopete, if you read this, you should know that I never forgot that act of kindness.  Others, however, see this as an opportunity to ride you to mincemeat to enlarge their tiny egos, and, unfortunately, the Club I helped found, while of course not exclusively so, developed into that category.  So, when I was shopping for a frame, while I knew perfectly well that the Surly Troll, that rigid steel frame, might be the more sustainable option, I instead opted for a Dartmoor Primal Enduro frame with a big fork up front. And do not get me wrong, I did have a lot of fun with it, and it was more than adequate riding with the morons.  

But my riding style changed. I do still love me some gnar.  But I started to go on epic rides more and more. And people want to ride the same sanitized trails and lines in the City limits over and over again in order to scrub off some seconds on STRAVA. For prestige or success, or whatever it is.  I go out riding in order to see places, wild animals, look into remote valleys and ride natural trails. Maybe have a cuppa trailcoffee or riding out to some trailside Café. Of course this is neither better nor inferior, it is just different. Often I would rise early and come back well into the night. 

Well, maybe my riding style didn't change that much.  I adapted to the group, but I have always ridden that way when I have had a choice. I find it way more wholesome than what we are taking for "progression". Progressing happens naturally when you are just doing what you like. 

That steel frame sat in the back of the shop all the while. Every fecking day the world turned into a huge pile of shit a little more.  Every day, it became a little harder to afford riding for sport alone. A sprocket suddenly cost 30ü€. That is 300€ for a wear item that maybe lasts a year. Don't get me wrong, you still get Chinese spare parts for a halfway decent price, but they are obviously not compatible. It is more cost-effective to replace the cranks and (because you then need to), the bottom bracket, than just buy a new chainring, because this is what needs to be replaced.  An overhaul of your suspension costs as much as a good, used fork. 29" is essentially just 700C or 28" with beefier rims and bigger tyres, but can cost up to 150€ more.  Nothing wrong with the idea, actually.  I am just not quite enthused if someone wants to sell me moonbeams. 

So, the Enduro hardtail getting a bit tired, so to say, and with a bit of money that I unfortunately inherited, I just said "screw it" and bought that Surly Troll.  Because it has a steel frame that you could weld back again in a smithy, because it comes with a lot of bosses for carrier racks, because it comes with a fork that doesn't cost an arm and a leg and, well, also because a pre-2012 Surly Troll had reportedly legendary ride properties, and because you do not read a lot about it. 

Why that, you ask? Well, I no longer trust the media a lot.  I was fortunate enough to learn a bit, early on, concerning bike engineering. Essentially, we built our own components in ' em days.  To do that, you have to delve a bit into mechanics, ergonomics, and plain old physics. Also, having ridden for 40 years means you know what works on paper and what works, when the rubber hits the dirt.  At least for me. And while the media don't report utter nonsense, they are also dependant on advertising for financing. If you follow the flow of money you always arrive at the very few corporations still left on the open market. And, believe it or not, some corporations are actually part of the military industrial complex.  I shit you not.  On the other hand, well, I just want to ride.  To be honest, I try not to be a part of the shitshow, but here I am, using a Google product.  And since I simply don't matter at all, I simply allow myself the luxury of just getting away from it all when I go riding.  I know pretty much that while I obviously still push myself, I most certainly will not master some triple backflip can-can busdriver-to-hospital, and I no longer care. I know if I break a crucial part of my body it will hurt double and I will take triple the time to heal.  And I like doing things that are good for my soul, given that it hurts a bit after a life that was not exactly easy, and five un-treated burnouts in a row lead to a mindset that I do not need unnecessary stress in my life anymore. Don't misunderstand that, though. I still do push myself, but it is a part of what I am. I do not want to push myself anymore if anyone tells me I have to.  My attitude leads to performance. I like to work hard and give it my best, because it feels good.  I just refuse to adapt to toxicity anymore.  The bike industry, however, is partly rather toxic, as you will see.  

Building up the bike presented a lot of challenges.  I had to go around in my county a lot in order to find spare parts. Corporate policies of the bike industry can only be called diabolic these days. 

The aftermarket chainrings, I got, were designed not to fit the old cranks by a fraction of a millimetre, just so you get frustrated and throw the old ones away. Not with uncle Fimbulmyrk, tho', who knows which end of a file to hold.  

 Next issue was the rear derailleur.  The cogs on it where ground down by years of hard use. It was cheaper to get a new one than to fecking replace the goddamn cogs. Frustrated, I just hauled that sorry wreck to the shop. I got the impression that they were not too enthused.  Their mechanic proudly showed me his new electronic shifting system. You get an app to adjust it, and the app can also measure your torque and cadence and offer you training advice. Maybe even give you nutritional "suggestions" via AI.  Also, it is connected to Google or Komoot or STRAVA, imagine that, what a brave new world we live in! Isn't that marvellous?!

Yes, it is NOT.  Starting with the very simple fact that it needs energy, and originally, a bicycle has an efficiency ratio of 98%. A bicycle is maybe the last beautiful machine that mankind has invented.  That would be or should be completely sufficient in times of climate change crisis to completely dismantle it as unnecessary. 

But unfortunately, it is more to it. It is about customer control, and, ultimately, the ultimate citizen control.  I spare you the elaboration.  Uwe was just intrigued by the technology, and I can perfectly relate to that. Don't get me wrong on this.  It is a fascinating technology, and would be just awesome.  But I know politicians intimately, and there are, while a lot of them are pretty decent people, some, and in rather powerful positions, that are not.  Not every politician is a crackpot technocratic would-be dictator. But the very few that are should make you very careful around anything that says "digital", " AI", "Networks" , "surveillance" and "control" in one description.  And do not get me wrong again, either. I honestly cannot say, because I cannot know.  I really just want to rather be safe than sorry. 

And actually, my main reason is that I want to keep it simple and reliable and serviceable.  I want to ride. I am the one who rides, and my capabilities are propelling the bike. I haven't trained for ages and I am getting old and out of shape. I do not want to cheat myself into believing I were 20. I am not. I do not want to constantly worry whether or not I charged my motor or shifter battery or whatever. I want to be able to leave my Smartphone at home and just take along some brick phone. Not that I would, I do love the camera. But I do not want to worry about it telling Mommy in the US about my torque and cadence and heart rate and speed and calory intake or where I have been. I do want to emphasize that I cannot know.  But I go to some pretty remote places with wildlife and serene little forest trails, and I would rather not have some STRAVA- nutters spoil that for good.  I do not want to think how long my fork will hold up without service. I do not want to bother to monitor my heart rate and calory intake. I don't have a talent for racing. I do not want to indebt myself in order to belong.  I have learned the hard way that everything I could do would not make me fit in. I tried, and I tried hard, and broke myself in the process five fucking times in order to belong to fucking Karens, male or female.  Debt is a method of control. And I decided to rather be more feral.  This is the hard way.  A rigid fork means pain. But I fail to see the point of taking the sport too serious, because I do not take myself too serious. I know that I am not the centre of the world.  I want to ride.  I want to ride free. I might not be the best rider there is, but I am also not the worst, but all that doesn't matter. 

The  bike, which I brought to the shop in the state you can see on the photo, wheels and everything pre-installed and with little technology on it, took said shop three months to complete.  

Do not get me wrong again, all good, and I did not get mad at them. But I simply propose they were, while on the one hand, somewhat relieved about the bike that was, quote unquote "like to those in the good ol' times", also a bit pissed off by it.  Because, well, it doesn't generate a lot of money.  A big bikestore in Marburg, where I was looking for an alternative, told me they would rather not have the customer do anything on the bike her- or himself, and even offer rescue repairs in the woods..."if you get the App" in order to prevent you from even repairing a flat. When I objected that I also have worked as a race mechanic when applying for a job as a product manager with a corporation most of their wheels come from, that guy didn't even reply but elaborated endlessly about their leasing programs and how I could get bonus points when I "got the App". The magic troll and I would sit there still, had we not interrupted his mumbo jumbo by simply rising and walking out of the door.  And that is a reality. The bike industry is about making money and generating data and NFTs, not about bikes or even sustainability.  

Well, you might know how much that pissed  me off. It makes me angry what they try to create from a sport that is utterly democratic and inclusive.  Fact is, a certain percentage of riders are and have always been the rich kids. This percentage is apparently rising.  You don't meet a lot of riders on ratty bikes on the trails, and next to noone at all on the backwoods trails. Well, very well, fairnuff for me. I do not want or need company.  It is the lack of company I strive for, or rather, less, but quality company, and this mindset enables me not to give a runny shit about my bike being compatible with an average group speed. I mean, I don't think I would be too slow at all for a group ride. It is just a luxury to no longer care.  

Now you guys know that I am very much into forest and nature, and this means I also have my contact with bushcraft and survival.  And in the survival and prepping community there is that "bugout" concept. Means, when SHTF, you got a spare car or motorbike or quad or other ATV to get away from the crisis.  One famed YouTube prepper featured a bugout bike (I think it was by Jeep or something). It was a fat bike concept with an E-bike configuration. Some racks, rather martial looks, weighs in at some 25kg and obviously needs a battery.  And it sits in your garage most of the time. Because most of the prepping guys are rather overweight gun-nutters. And of course you need to spare it so that it will work in that special scenario.  It is a piece of gear you buy, and, unfortunately not necessarily often linked to mindset or attitude. 

Well, I actually am not entitled to criticize that.  I learned everything about bugging out from my father. Personally I do think that there is not a lot more to know.  During WW2, my father had been a Hitler youth, until he barely escaped concentration camp for insubordination and was no longer active.  When the allies (fortunately) arrived in the Ruhr region, the Wehrmacht recruited every Hitler youth for the "Volkssturm". Turned out that my father had different ideas.  My granduncle and grandaunt lived in a very rural area in the Sauerland region.  My father deserted and bugged out, not just out of political reasons, but because he was a kid and afraid of being killed and because it was stoopid in the first.  He had some good bike with one speed and a robust frame and balloon tyres he was really familiar with. At one time he rode some 300km to the North Sea in one go on it, so riding it 50km through the woods wasn't a real challenge. He just grabbed a rucksack with a bit of tea and bread and rode away, and it was just a regular ride for him. The bike had a frame pump, he had a repair kit, and a wrench, he went and put on plain clothing and was off.  Nearly got the bike confiscated but lied about a special messenger duty, so that he got to keep the bike and was left alone.  He laid low for a week in a shed on his aunt's and uncle 's property in the woods, the Nazi regime was defeated and he survived.  

Thing is, I want to ride.  I find it rather silly buying a rather high-maintenance bike that requires really complex spare parts to maintain.  When my father broke the cranks on his bike while launching it off a ramp, my grandfather welded them back together in an open coal forge.  Try this with some kind of pedelec drivetrain module.  The bikes of the 1920s were, for the most part, rather simple and sustainable to service.  Why is that important? 

Well, a bicycle is fun and a very beautiful machine for its efficiency.  

There are some goodies I do not want to miss, like decent disc brakes, modern geometry and shifting mechs. 

A bicycle can take you places. If said shit hits the proverbial fan, you need to be able to ride fast and for maybe a longer time through maybe rougher terrain.  

You need a certain amount of training to do that. Relying on a motor is a more complex situation. You want to minimize the chance of things going wrong and a bicycle is not just a single use item.  It is a very useful tool for foraging and going places. And it is also good for the morale, because, if you associate fun with any riding, it offers you a lot of resilience.  So you might consider getting a bicycle also for fun and resilience, not just for some prepping scenario.  

The situation with the bike industry, however, makes it already rather difficult to get a simple, sustainable bike.  The Troll frame and a lot of other Surly frames offer you the option of using rim brakes and a single speed setup.  Making rim brakes is not rocket science, and you can find rim brakes even on junkyards. And fortunately, there are a lot of little corporations like Jones bikes or Binary bikes and other manufacturers catering to those requirements again. Maybe the tides are turning a bit.  

Finally, I could fetch the Troll. Of course, I had to tighten every screw, adjust the mechs and have the brakes serviced (again), but finally got to show it some trails.  

And what can I say? I had heard about the "legendary ride qualities". And, while I have gone to rather exhausting lengths with this post to state that I do not buy into the hype of anyone, well, I cannot but agree with that. 

The bike has a standard, but well-balanced geometry. The fork length is still adjusted to fit a suspension fork, the top tube is 575 mm long. Look here for a spec sheet for the newer model of Troll (but that is no longer available, either): 

https://www.bikeauthority.com/product/surly-troll-frameset-351217-1.htm

Apart from the longer top tube and fork, it is what I have got.  The tubing is Surly 's own triple-butted True Temper 4130 ChroMoly tubing, which can be heat treated.  

The bike, as I said, is quite the opposite of my Enduro hardtail.  But riding it was a rather strange thing.  On the Dartmoor, I got a rather narrow saddle and a dropper post. And get my meaning right: A dropper post is a great thing to have on any bike.  On the Enduro, it is almost as much in use as my shifters.  

On the Surly, I mounted a vintage Brooks Colt saddle, which is not exactly narrow.  

I realized quickly, that, while I intended the Troll to be a commuter and gravel and lighter duty forest trails bike, it asks for more.  If you bang it through some rock gardens, you obviously notice the absence of any squish at all, and of course you go a bit slower, but you don't miss the suspension too much. And when you forget you got a rigid bike and sail off a drop, well, of course it goes #klunk. But there is a rather weird sensation, which few other people might be able to relate to: It whips through as if you were parrying a blow with a really well-made sword. The frame is actually heat treated, and by someone who really knows their shit. This sensation is quite addictive.  Sooner than I had expected, I was flying down trails I also ride my Enduro on. And thing is, I only noticed when I was through the gnar that I completely forgot to lower my saddle at all.  You know, that  Grampa couch of a saddle.  Do not get me wrong: No suspension means you cannot make any mistake at all.  One root not taken on an ideal line will send you arse over teacup into the bushes.  I am most certainly slower than on the Enduro (didn't check yet, because I honestly don't care), but boy, is that fun.  It has its shortcomings on high speed tech, but excels on slow tech and singletrack, up and down, no matter what, you just keep riding.  

It simply does everything. It inspires you to ride, no matter what. 

Epic trails, toodling around in the Skatepark, commuting, getting groceries, bikepacking, foraging, you name it.  I will work on the concept more and maybe build it with some other parts with time (and I also want to get myself some decent racks), but this most certainly is the best thing I ever bought, at least it is the best thing I bought in years.  

If you can still get one, you most certainly will not regret it. And do not fall for the bullshit, in the bike industry as well as in the survival and prepping community.  Have fun.  Get on the bike, if you have one. If you have not, you might want to consider keeping it a tad more simple. It is and always will be about the mindset and attitude. Good gear is fun, but just like some prybar of a knife sucks at real life tasks, so do bikes marketed as "bugout bikes". Don't see it as a primary tool for bugging out in an emergency, too.  Don't forget to play, because it is good for one's mental health and resilience in an emergency.  

Take care, and have fun! 

Huffing, puffing, Nostalgia and weird stuff

The trail was calling. 

Sounds a bit commonplace. 

But in fact it is not. Nothing is self - evident any more. Having had all my plans, even the B's and C's and D's shattered left me with no money whatsoever. Mountainbiking is for the rich and privileged people, not for people like me. But I spare you the whining. Let us just say, I am reluctant to ride, for if anything breaks or has to be replaced, that is about riding for me, and I maybe will need the bike for bugging out of here when the riots start. On the other hand, much good does it do for you if you hide in a cellar. So I decided that a little toodling around would do no harm and made for the lane. 

Yup, you read right, the lane. I am totally out of shape, so endurance basics it has to be. Might be there will be some trails even in summer, depending on the situation. 

But enough politics for now. I daresay you read enough of the shite elsewhere. And those of you in the know might be able to understand what I mean with that windshield wiper effect. Doing the first turns of the cranks gets you out of Code Black. Some more and you get into that zone. Well, this time there was a lot of huffing and puffing involved before I got there, but finally I managed. Shoulda not eat a big bowl of rice pudding before going outside... ☺️ But it was oh so tasty! Paid the price with two flats, one on the left and one on the right. 😁 But when the fuel finally was processed enough, I really enjoyed the ride, and for a time, my worries and sorrows simply were not there. 

 Went to Witten and passed by the Bethaus smithy. Since Volker has died, the place has changed very much. Now, don't get me wrong, my faithful readers know that the dude sometimes drove me mad. He was quite certainly not a professional. And from a professional point of view, that place has improved hugely. Of course it was only partially accessible due to pandemic restrictions, but someone really knows what he is doing. And actually I was a bit surprised to receive a warm welcome and an invitation. 

But there is something missing, not just someone. Now Volker and I did not part ways professionally on the best of terms, because a lie on his part had cost me dearly (financially), but we remained friends. And of course I miss that strange guy. He was a kind and gentle man, and more, he tried to make it work for everyone. He was the heart of the place, a wild and chaotic and unprofessional heart. This spirit is gone for good. Instead, all the cogs are oiled and everything seems to work highly efficiently. Might be working there would be less chaotic, too. But rant as I may have had, now I ask myself if the old way might appeal to me better. It is just a question, not an answer, and given that they do not want me in the first place (at least noone wants to pay for what I do), it is merely academical. Maybe it is a mix of "don't know what you got until it's gone" and "the grass is always greener on the other side of life". Humans, myself not excluded, are strange. 

But I rode on. And I must still say that even if my bike is a bit beaten up now, even if the wheels are technically too small and the brakes are worn, it never fails to give me a huge grin. The sun was shining, and all was good. I was simply toodling along, taking in the sun, when I passed by a birch tree on the lane, infested with Chaga. Now I had little tools with me and no bag, so I had to improvise a lot. What I had, however, was my Victorinox Locksmith SAK, and that licce fella never ceases to amaze me. I was a bit reluctant with quite a bit of levering action going on, but these knives even stand up to that kind of abuse. Got me some Chaga. It was great. ☺️ 

Just wrapped it in a hanky and rode on. I was a bit lost in thought, and actually did not want to stop every five minutes to take photos, so there are fewer this time. 

Any which way, when I arrived in the town neighbouring my home, there was a guy with a really fucked up commuter bike sitting on a bench, smiling and greeting, and I nodded back. Now he was a bit lost, and, asking the way and me being all shit at explaining stuff to strangers, I agreed to just take him back on track. Dude, that guy had some steam! Friendly guy, too, so it all ended in some extra kilometres and a good two hours of really nice chatting while my buttocks froze from the cold. Turned out he seems to have been a smithing groupie from looooong ago in 'em days in the Bethaus smithy. 

Life walks in circles. 

I am stoked to learn what comes next. 

So feicin´what

 I have tried to be a decent member of our society. Indeed, I have. I have tried hard, so hard, that I suffered from it. I did a lot of things for others that I denied myself. For lack of time. For lack of opportunity, or so I was made to believe. For friends and institutions, for a friendly exchange, for social communities, for clubs and to save what could be saved. I have long since realized that I would quite certainly not save this bedlam of a world; and I thought, well,care for your friends and family and create comunities that care for each other.  I believed in friendship, even love, or, at least mutual benefit.

Advice: Don´t. There is no such thing as friendship. There is only an exchange in the best case, a deal, but exploit in most cases. Noone will give you anything out of free will, and nothing is for free. This is the brutal fact about modern man. There is no such thing as morality, either. People will lie to you, if they see any profit in it, would even kill you without remorse if they were not punished for it. If they could go unpunished, they would so, with no second thought or remorse, if only the profit is high enough . Even children are not innocent and are just the same as the adults. This is an utterly monstrous world we have created, and it will become ever worse.

But most of my faithful readers know this already, and suffered from it, and this post is not about whining. I will not bore you with the details of how I crashed again while just meaning well, just as it always happens. I will spare you the whining about how I am mobbed again on all frontiers. The deal with this blog is that you read this blog and you enjoy it, maybe some, at least, and at least some. You do not enjoy reading about how the world´s a shitty place. I daresay you all know it well enough without me contributing to all the bad feelings. You would not browse the internet for something as weird as this, were it otherwise. This post is about "So feicing what".

So feicing what am I obliged to play this silly game?

Recently Moritz called me. Now Moritz once was a kid whom I tutored to do the bunny hop way back in 2001 and whom I showed the way from the neighbourhood to the local trails. He always seemed to stick around, no matter what happened. Now he has moved to the South of Germany. ´Course he invited me along to "shred the local trails". He does not do much more than riding and works in the bike industry now on top. As I was declining the offer, he got a bit mad at me, and he made a fair point. I have been riding progressively less in the last years. I spent a lot of energy trying to fight for ruined smithies and funny people, and of course it is rewarding to forge something with your own hands, and to build up  a group that even stood together for some time, caring for each other and blah and blah and blah.

But when the turnaround is getting mobbed by the very same people you put together, you question what you have done. All of it. And it sucks, of course. What Moritz told me in somewhat drastic words was: What would they do for YOU?

The answer is: Naught. Never. Now it´s not that you do it for to get something back. You do it because it feels right, and it felt right and still does. But if you not only don´t get anything back, but get hit in the face for everything you do while meaning well, the logical consequence is that you do less. Equals even more getting punched in the face.

But, hey.... SO FEICIN´WHAT?

For there´s a new bike in my attic-turned-home. I got it courtesy of www.metal-motion-bikes.de (that much advertisement needs to be ;-) ), and the crazy folks on over just welcomed me and helped me a lot by building it the way they did. And when I strode into the shop, I got this feeling I missed while not knowing I missed it. Being part of the mountainbiking scene, and a vibrant part of it, for sure. I have been riding hard for some some 33 years now, and hard means hard. ;-) I rode down the Dalco trail at lake Garda at a time when a suspension fork meant 35mm of rubber pogo stick and fully sussed was not invented yet. Again I will not bore you with my dubious achievements of that time, how I filed my own cantilever brakes from aluminum that was way too soft so that they bent on the Kaprun downhill run of 1992 and how I bunnyhopped the bed in the appartment we had rented and how we devastated our rented rooms... we were younger then, and wilder, and the world belonged to us and our worries were petty. A lot has changed since these day. I am a bit proud that I might be even a faster and better rider in spite of my beer belly and aching joints. I am proud to have ridden with the best, and the best were not bored, in spite of my dubious cardiovascular fitness or riding finesse. It was about having fun, and we had fun.

And still my bike was standing somewhat neglected in my hallway, and I did not even bother to lube the chain or change the worn-out brake pads.

For the fuckers and morons were bashing me dead-or at least they tried. But there it was, standing in my hallway. My bike. You might know this phenomenon. There is something that is so much a part of your everyday life that you forget it is there. Sometimes you need someone to make you aware of it again. I certainly did, and Moritz applied for the job.       

Fact is, noone will ever accept me as a decent member of society at all. I got mobbed out of every institution, school, group or club I was in, even clubs I founded were not enthused to have me after a period of time. At the university, they tried, but I was one of the best and you cannot possibly bash someone who is having a teatime chat about academical issues with his mentors. I have tried to change the way I was, tried to be someone else, tried to be cooperative and beneficial even. Fact is, it does not work. What works, however, is getting in the saddle and get in some hard riding. Or some gliding along or toodling around. And the woods have never left me. 

 And this is what this post is about. It is about the woods. It is about wanting the light of a winter sun and cursing the raw ice on the trails. It´s about throwing raving insults at a puddle on the trail and laughing your head off on the way down. It´s about burning muscles and lungs and the feeling of flow and oneness on the trail. Call it as you like, but it is way bigger than the petty ways of mankind. That bike is just some eleven tubes welded together, a chain, some cogs, some rubber, pedals and a saddle. Nothing more, nothing less. And it´s not about the this and that of a label on your down tube.

 This is what it´s all about. This is why I can still say: So feicin´what! Drive me from the smithy as you wish, or leave it be. I am far more than just that. And I am far less than that. I have ridden mountainbikes for most of my life, I have carved wood for most of my life, collected herbs, tailored, worked with leather, tiled roofs, lay floor tiles, worked as a mason and a carpenter, as a scholar, in business promotion and city marketing as well as a gardener, a smith, a teacher. I have made knives, swords, tools, mead, food, have offered counsil and comfort to a lot of people. I have quite arguably saved at least some 100 lives in my life, in a most concrete manner. But the ten I could not save weigh far more heavily, and when I am out in the woods all this ranting and gibberish counts nothing.

 Still, I can get out there. And still, the hills convey meaning to me that ca not be easily put into words. 

And the bike, humble as it may be, is one way to get there. One means to escape for me. I cannot change this monstrous world of man. But I can change the way I think.

 I can ride down trails in the outback, feeling the icy wind in my face. I can scream into the wind and laugh my head off, and simply give a runny shit about what so - called friends jibber and jabber behind my back. Out there, it is about me, and the woods, and the wind. And thsi is what really counts. It´s about the soul, but more than that: It´s about your soul making friends with your body. Even if it is just a fading carcass, and my aching joints after a ride like this in the icy cold remind of this all too good, the soul can drive it to heights and abilities not easily accessed and not easily experienced. I am glad and grateful to have had the opportunity in my life to feel my body... and, by feeling it, getting to know my soul. The morons out there are moronss because they deny these feelings. They are zombies, undead creatures trying to prey on your soul, sucking on your life force while unable to even process it. I beg to differ.

 In these woods the path is shallow, but simple. Make silly mistakes, stack up big time. Go light on your brakes or go arse over teacup over the bars. Life is as simple as that. It is a brutal fact, and a brutal law you have to abide. Morality and love amongst fellow humans would make life easier, and were established to do so. But if these are not wanted anymore... I know the lay of fox and hare well, better than most. Being polite or even nice to others would make life easier for all-if all abide by this appointment. 

 Being out in the woods the way I have practiced now for a long time, as a spiritual practice, that is, changes what you are. And you are changed for good.Oh, no, I am not the best survivalist there is. I still like a warm room and a cozy armchair, agood book and a hot cuppa tea. But there is also something transgressing these feelings. It is hard to describe. And while the lay of fox and hare and the flight of the raptuous owl are part of it, so is the spring blossom and wintertime´s frost. I call it Skóggángr, but the word is meaningless compared to what it means. This is paradox, of course, and you can only understand it if you can´t understand it any more. 

 Seeing things like the ice crystals fills me with beauty and tranquility I miss in the world of man. Even careening down a steep singletrail fills my soul with tranquility. It is a feeling far removed from the "actual", from what is counting in the "actual world, and it derives not from a corporeal source, but from a soul.

 Riding across a river of ice might seem impossible or a silly idea even. But it´s not as silly as the stunted behaviour I lived last year. I lived it because I rejected one thought. It is a thought of severe consequences, and I did not dare to think it.

 It is the thought that occurs to me logically: In this world, I am the bad guy. I am the outcast who does not belong at all. i am the one thinking funny thoughts and being incapable of social behaviour. I am the one deviant, not the morons.

 SO FEICIN´WHAT? :-P

 They want me to be the same as I was. They want me to take responsibility for their silly actions. They want me to help them in their useless endeavours. They want me to live their futile life. They want me to join the throng and to be a good chap. But fact is, there are trails to be ridden and fun to be had. There is foraging to be done and dreams to be lived. There are songs to be sung and dances to dance and screams to be screamed on lonely mountaintops. There is craziness to be lived, animals to be befriended and eaten ;-). I now ride  a lot more and do a lot less forging, at least for others. There is nothing to be gained for me amongst people who just think in categories of gain and profit.They did not want my gentleness or politeness, nor my help. Now they must live with a wolf amongst their herd, or better, a wolf that does not try to befriend the sheep. For a wolf is a wolf, and sheep are sheep. I have realized this, finally.

 And the sinking sun greets me, and grants me light.

Lop the mistletoe,

 chop the golden bough...

 eat from the fruit of the forest.

:-P

So feicin´what? Off with me to another ride.

Ride with ´em crazy rookies ;-)

 

 On Sunday the folks from the ironforge and myself decided it was some really fine weather to go for some mountainbike ride along some technical trails. A lot of the guys and gals actually ride, and some of them have developed an appetite for some chain banging, no pun intended;-). So we met up at the trailhead, and the day started with some talking complete nonsense and horsing around.

 After some riding the local enduro track@Harkortberg trail, where we met Marvin, one of the semi-pros of my former club, we were faced with a cool singletrail descent and the resulting in-your-face climb, where all of us had to bail at the end.

 No harm done, what with an open fireroad and birds twittering all over the place and cozy temps.

 There was more climbing waiting, but nothing could wipe that smile off our faces!

 Still more climbing, still more fun!

 Then we hit a former railroad track:

And glided along, talking a pile of shit, for a change... ;-). Now these tracks are quite an asset in our region. A lot of former railroad tracks have been converted into bike lanes, offering scenic vistas and a really cool way to get to places fast. I often use one of them when commuting to work, and that´s a real asset. It´s outright relaxing not having to constantly being afraid for your life because one or the other car driver wants to kill you just for being existent!

From the lane, we took another singletrail over open heath.

 Natalie and Thiemo did a really great job, by the way. I had tutored both of them how to do the bunny hop, and they respectively needed 5 minutes (!) to get it wired in a basic form. Hats off to them!

 The trails we rode were not exactly rookie level, too, but part of an almost legendary bike race, the Ruhrbike marathon race, which is famed for the challenging terrain it covers. We did not overdo it, and took in a relaxed way, but they rode almost everything. Even the chicken ways on a downhill course posed no challenge to them. Thumbs up!

 I really like the atmosphere of the forest these days, so warm and cozy and springy and fragrant!

 Then we passed along some rutted doubletrack, where it happened...

 ...that Thiemo...

 ...who was that fond of the trails...

 (as was Natalie)...

took a sample of dirt.... ;-). But, no harm done, we were able to continue on our merry way, after a brief pausing to relieve the shock.

 At the Böllberg, site of a local secret spot ;-) we met with these licce goaties...

 ..who did not let the world put a care upon their shoulders except from grazing the --- erm... grass? ;-)

 And up again we climbed.

 Then we wanted to visit Willy at the Bethaus smithy, for Natalie as his daughter just wanted to say hello. Turned out Willy was not there, but we had a nice chat with Patrick, who is also forging at the smithy now.

When we went for our way home, it was already getting dark. We split up in Wetter, and the two of them slowly took the climb to the parking at the trailhead, where they had left their car.

It was a really cool outing, with fun companionship and fun trails, and laidback and silly talk... what more could you wish for!

Thanks, folks!