Most bike rides these days involve pavement and a Burley trailer, but the parents were in town last week, and told me to get out and play. My buddies were riding on Mon, Wed, and Fri that week, and I was really excited to join them.
Monday morning I pull out my Spot 29-er and meet the guys at the cafe to head out on our ride. We mostly talk about... bikes. By the time we get to the top of the hill and cross the road, we're talking about the advantages and disadvantages of 29-ers. They are both on 26"-wheeled, 5"-travel bikes. As we chat at the top of the hill, I tell them I don't think the 29-er will ever "replace" the 26"-wheeled bike, because nothing beats the agility, maneuverability, and stability of the 26", especially for nasty downhill sections. We all agree on this.
Then, for whatever reason, Tom leads us out on a little-used trail that winds through the scrub brush and cholla (jumping cactus), then turns and descends very sharply. It is October, the driest month of the year in San Diego, and months without rain has created a 2" thick layer of dust over hard-packed earth. I am behind Frank, who makes his way slowly down the hill. It's slower than I can maintain, and I crash into scrub brush with a "Argh!!"
Frank calls back, "You crash?"
Me: "Yeah..."
Frank: "Was I too slow?"
Me, as I pop my bike onto the back wheel to turn it back up the narrow trail, pushing my bike uphill: "Yeah... I'm gonna do it again."
I enter the trail with confidence. The trail is so steep there are not a lot of people I would take down here, but I've done it before. One other thing I'll mention: my brakes are really really good. My mechanic set them up the way he likes his - activation at the slightest touch. What I found out, is that this means I have almost no lever pull for feathering the brake, especially the front brake, which is remarkably responsive.
Usually I see a crash coming. You get that everything-happens-in-slow-motion moment just before you land in a heap and your bike goes bouncing. Not this time. I must have hit that front brake. Before I even knew I was falling, I was looking up from the dust on the side of the trail, still clipped in to my bike underneath me. My left arm is suddenly on fire, and I realize I've landed in cactus. I move to get up and instantly know it's a bad idea. If I move in ny direction, the cactus needles pull at my skin. I can't do this on my own.
"HELP!!" I call.
Tom and Frank scramble up the hill. Tom assesses the situation: "Oh my. You shouldn't have landed on that side of the trail." Thanks, Captain Obvious. I manage to get unclipped from the bike, get out of the bush and sit in the dusty trail.
Tom sets his Camelbak down and begins pulling out his supplies. "Oh goody! I never used my pliers and combs on anyone before..." He carries two hair combs so that one comb may be applied to the body while the other rests on top of the first and pulls the cactus piece away. If you try to pull cactus pieces away from your body with your hand, or your gloved hand, you now have the cactus stuck to a new part of your body. So you use combs. Then there are the cactus spines that get stuck deeply enough in your skin that you can't pull them out without pliers...
You would think after the talk about how squirrely 29-ers get on steep downhills, or after the first crash into the dust, I would have walked my bike down. No. Not me. (Sigh) Tom gets most of the large spines out with the pliers, but there are cactus "hairs" in my arm, underarm, leg and hip. It's uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Frank puts my arm warmers and gloves in a plastic bag as he says, "Well, if you go out here, you can take the road back to the cafe..."
"Ya know, I don't really get to ride that often any more. (pause) It's not that bad. I mean, it's... uncomfortable, but I'm just going to keep riding till I can't stand it. (silence) Where's my bike?" Tom and Frank exchange glances. "Well, OK, then, we're riding," Tom says, and I walk my bike down the trail where we all mount up to go. I let out a few groans here and there along the way when I would turn and discover an unextracted spine that would stick me in the hip or the armpit. But all told, crashing into cholla cactus wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be. Of course it could have been a LOT worse. I landed in a very small patch.
Before I went home I stopped at the store and picked up some wax hair remover, in hopes of pulling the little cactus hairs. It worked as well as anything would, I suppose.
For anyone looking for cactus advice, here's your supply list:
---for the trail---
2 hair combs
small pliers or a Leatherman
---for home---
wax hair removal kit
tea tree oil
It's been a week and a half, and I still have the pock marks and small lumps under my skin where the cactus poison went in. The bruises are all healed though.
Oh, when we ride a couple days later, I ask Tom what the name of the trail is. "Um... Cactus Corner," he says. I blink. Of course it is.
Monday morning I pull out my Spot 29-er and meet the guys at the cafe to head out on our ride. We mostly talk about... bikes. By the time we get to the top of the hill and cross the road, we're talking about the advantages and disadvantages of 29-ers. They are both on 26"-wheeled, 5"-travel bikes. As we chat at the top of the hill, I tell them I don't think the 29-er will ever "replace" the 26"-wheeled bike, because nothing beats the agility, maneuverability, and stability of the 26", especially for nasty downhill sections. We all agree on this.
Then, for whatever reason, Tom leads us out on a little-used trail that winds through the scrub brush and cholla (jumping cactus), then turns and descends very sharply. It is October, the driest month of the year in San Diego, and months without rain has created a 2" thick layer of dust over hard-packed earth. I am behind Frank, who makes his way slowly down the hill. It's slower than I can maintain, and I crash into scrub brush with a "Argh!!"
Frank calls back, "You crash?"
Me: "Yeah..."
Frank: "Was I too slow?"
Me, as I pop my bike onto the back wheel to turn it back up the narrow trail, pushing my bike uphill: "Yeah... I'm gonna do it again."
I enter the trail with confidence. The trail is so steep there are not a lot of people I would take down here, but I've done it before. One other thing I'll mention: my brakes are really really good. My mechanic set them up the way he likes his - activation at the slightest touch. What I found out, is that this means I have almost no lever pull for feathering the brake, especially the front brake, which is remarkably responsive.
Usually I see a crash coming. You get that everything-happens-in-slow-motion moment just before you land in a heap and your bike goes bouncing. Not this time. I must have hit that front brake. Before I even knew I was falling, I was looking up from the dust on the side of the trail, still clipped in to my bike underneath me. My left arm is suddenly on fire, and I realize I've landed in cactus. I move to get up and instantly know it's a bad idea. If I move in ny direction, the cactus needles pull at my skin. I can't do this on my own.
"HELP!!" I call.
Tom and Frank scramble up the hill. Tom assesses the situation: "Oh my. You shouldn't have landed on that side of the trail." Thanks, Captain Obvious. I manage to get unclipped from the bike, get out of the bush and sit in the dusty trail.
Tom sets his Camelbak down and begins pulling out his supplies. "Oh goody! I never used my pliers and combs on anyone before..." He carries two hair combs so that one comb may be applied to the body while the other rests on top of the first and pulls the cactus piece away. If you try to pull cactus pieces away from your body with your hand, or your gloved hand, you now have the cactus stuck to a new part of your body. So you use combs. Then there are the cactus spines that get stuck deeply enough in your skin that you can't pull them out without pliers...
You would think after the talk about how squirrely 29-ers get on steep downhills, or after the first crash into the dust, I would have walked my bike down. No. Not me. (Sigh) Tom gets most of the large spines out with the pliers, but there are cactus "hairs" in my arm, underarm, leg and hip. It's uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Frank puts my arm warmers and gloves in a plastic bag as he says, "Well, if you go out here, you can take the road back to the cafe..."
"Ya know, I don't really get to ride that often any more. (pause) It's not that bad. I mean, it's... uncomfortable, but I'm just going to keep riding till I can't stand it. (silence) Where's my bike?" Tom and Frank exchange glances. "Well, OK, then, we're riding," Tom says, and I walk my bike down the trail where we all mount up to go. I let out a few groans here and there along the way when I would turn and discover an unextracted spine that would stick me in the hip or the armpit. But all told, crashing into cholla cactus wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be. Of course it could have been a LOT worse. I landed in a very small patch.
Before I went home I stopped at the store and picked up some wax hair remover, in hopes of pulling the little cactus hairs. It worked as well as anything would, I suppose.
For anyone looking for cactus advice, here's your supply list:
---for the trail---
2 hair combs
small pliers or a Leatherman
---for home---
wax hair removal kit
tea tree oil
It's been a week and a half, and I still have the pock marks and small lumps under my skin where the cactus poison went in. The bruises are all healed though.
Oh, when we ride a couple days later, I ask Tom what the name of the trail is. "Um... Cactus Corner," he says. I blink. Of course it is.
