Beggars Would Ride
Location Bias
The first time I rode my bike up the hallowed flank of the fabled Mount Tamalpais, I didn’t ride very far. Mountain biking was so new to me that the idea of pedaling any distance more than 10 miles seemed Herculean in scope, almost impossible for my mind to grasp. I was living about an hour and a half south of Mill Valley, way down the peninsula near Palo Alto, and was itching to make a pilgrimage to the Mecca of the sport that had burned itself so rapidly into my excitable young brain. It was 1986, maybe.
So, I convinced my buddy Dean that we should drive not just the hour and a half from Palo Alto, but also across the Golden Gate Bridge, through Mill Valley and about two thirds of the way up the mountain to Pantoll Station. We parked there, unloaded, jammed along Old Stage Road and hammered up the final bits of Railroad Grade, feeling like we were really discovering something. Or that’s how I felt. Dean was probably a bit let down. It hadn’t taken us very long, Dean was way fitter than me, and he’d probably barely even warmed up by the time we found ourselves atop East Peak.
As we admired the panoramic view of the San Francisco Bay, and I basked in some kind of overactive imagination fueled reverie that now, finally, I was a REAL mountain biker, two other riders arrived and parked up. One of them was wearing kit emblazoned with the logo of the fresh Marin Bikes brand; the other was wearing some threadbare Raleigh shorts and a teal jersey. They looked hardcore. The guy in the teal kit asked where we had ridden from, and I proudly told him that we’d come all the way up from Pantoll. He choked down a laugh and scoffed; “Dude! You drove to Pantoll? You missed ALL the good shit, man!”
He then pointed to a massive antenna jutting skyward above the middle of San Francisco. “See that tower,” he said, lining his sweaty, sinewy arm straight over my shoulder so there would be zero doubt as to what he was pointing at. “That’s Twin Peaks. We rode from there.”
“On Dirt?” I asked, incredulous.
“The whole way, except for when we had to cross the Golden Gate Bridge.”
Our minds reeling, Dean and I began bombarding him with questions. How far was that? 35 miles? How was that even possible? What do you eat to survive something like that? How do you not die of dehydration? What was ALL the good stuff that we had missed? How could we find it? When he mentioned that this viewing deck wasn’t even the halfway point in their day’s ride, I felt the ground shift beneath my feet.
The teal jersey guy’s name was Jon Poschman. Or Jungle, as he introduced himself. And that day he lit a spark in me. A year later I would be living in San Francisco, pedaling out my door in the Haight Ashbury a few blocks downhill from that great big antenna above Twin Peaks, learning the hobo trails of Golden Gate park and crossing that big orange bridge every couple days in search of new adventures. Another year after that and I had dropped out of college, started working at Velo City bikes, and every Tuesday our boss, Holland Jones, would lead us out across the Golden Gate Bridge, through the Marin headlands, poaching any number of trails on Mt Tam, and eventually back into the fog some 60 or more miles later, back across the bridge, back to a jumbo burrito from Chabela’s on Haight street and the sleep of the dead. The inconceivable had become ritual.
Ahhh, Jungle, you beautiful sweet freak. I hope the dirt is tasty and the trees are safe from chainsaws and shrouded in majestic fog and that your spirit is at rest. Thanks for all the lessons. Someday someone better make a movie about you...
My first mountain bike race in the Sierras was similarly revelatory. How could so many people be so much faster than me at something that was hurting me so much that I thought I was dying? With time, the pain became familiar and I realized that I wasn’t dying, and I fell in love with thin air, with the smell of red fir, cedar, sugar pine and pumice dust. Another hook was set. Eventually, after moving to Santa Cruz for a while in order to continue to ride out my front door and quickly onto singletrack, I relocated to the Sierra in order to have the same quick access to that high alpine mélange of pine scented suffering.
Throughout our lives, we are presented with choices in where and how that life will go; our path forks and splits, and we choose one fork or another dependent upon a broad array of factors. We are swayed in our decisions by educations, careers, familial obligations, security, economic opportunities, social comforts and our own personal interpretations of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Ever since mountain bikes became a “thing” for me, I have chosen where I live based upon the proximity and quality of singletrack above almost all other considerations. This has not always played out well in terms of career advancement, mate selection or proximity to live music venues, and there have been countless instances of second guessing, a self-installed version of the ghost of my father asking when I’m going to grow up and start acting like a real adult.
Fred Ferrentino, stuntin' fool... showing me a thing or two about adulting, two months before concluding his year and a half long argument with pancreatic cancer. Still unpacking the lessons, 12 years later. I have no idea what he would really would have thought about choosing trails over so many of life's other priorities, but this was a man who believed firmly in the curative power of eating pie for breakfast. And some of his ashes are spread at the top of Cottonwood Pass a few miles west of my new front door, so whether he likes it or not he's got some skin in the game...
My dad passed in 2012, and I decided to pay heed to the voice of his ghost and try adulting for a while. For the next decade, I planted gardens, pounded nails, learned more about tractor hydraulics than I ever really wanted to, and played my part shaping some inhospitable land in a place to call “home.” It was a profound education, a backbreaking labor of love, and I wouldn’t undo a second of it if I could. But it was a physically exhausting life and, aside from the very limited amount of trail I cut through the poison oak on my own land, the nearest riding was a solid hour’s drive away.
Choosing to prioritize access to singletrack is not what many people might view as a sensible path to follow through life. Conventional sensibility has never been one of my strong points, though, and for lack of any more accurate compass, choosing to locate myself on the planet by proximity to narrow ribbons of dirt has been what makes me happy. I immersed myself completely in the decade of tractor repair and thistle pulling, and I have no regrets. But I would be lying if I said that there wasn’t a sense that something was missing from the equation when it came to “life happiness.”
I just moved again, this time to a little town high in the Colorado Rockies. The air is thin, the winters will be brutal, I am too old to really fit in with the seasonal influx of kayakers and alpine dirtbags, but I can roll out the door of the house I’m renting and be on singletrack within one block. I can be across the river and gasping for air while timing my pedal strokes to miss the rocks in about three minutes flat. A voice, not my dad’s but my own, asks as I gulp for oxygen; “Aren’t you getting too old for this shit? Isn’t it time you quit playing around in the dirt like some kid? Shouldn’t you be living closer to readily available health care?”
Not yet, I wheeze. Not yet. This is exactly where I want to be. This feels like home.
Comments
S Mears
11 months ago
Ah, reading this article before sitting down in front of the computer to wrangle IT shit all day isn't going to do any good for my commitment to 1's and 0's. As always, the pointiest of poignant writing Mr. Ferrentino. Thank you very much.
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Andy Eunson
11 months ago
Choices. Yeah. I chose to move from Winnipeg a long time ago to work as a geologist out west because of the mountains. I chose to move to Toronto for a few years to be with the person I loved, we chose to move back to Vancouver because she found work and Toronto was just a city that was too big. Life dealt us a shitty card (permanent brain injury) and ultimately I chose to retire early and we were able to buy a house in Whistler.
It’s not unusual in chairlift conversation for people to say we are lucky to live here. To the extent that we had the means to do so yes but it’s much more about choices. My wife chose to go to law school and get a very good position at a big law firm. We chose not to spend on lavish vacations but instead spent on bikes and skis and paying off the mortgages.
There was some numpty on TV the other day being interviewed about the cost of living. She’s well dressed and holding some fancy coffee beverage saying it’s hard to make ends meet. It’s hard to go on two trips a year. Trips? I assume she meant in a plane to a far away destination. I was unemployed in 1982. For about 11 months. I made choices on what to sacrifice so I could ride. I’d repair my tubular tires at least three times before they were worn out. The first repair I stitched the thing to my jeans. I think being poor was good for me. I learned about what I really needed to be happy. The times I worked at the bike shop were the happiest of my life. Minimum wage and maximum fun.
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cursive_bearing
11 months ago
Life is definitely all about choices. Those choices; law school, big firm, etc. are only able to be made if the opportunity is there.
Financial, social, and other barriers prevent many others from being able to make the same choices even if they wanted to.
It’s due to not having these barriers that many consider you fortunate, or lucky, not because they believe you “lucked” into your nice home in whistler.
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Jotegir
11 months ago
That's it! Back to Winnipeg!
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Andy Eunson
11 months ago
Go to Winnipeg on Google Earth and tap 3d. You’ll see where the flat earth people got their inspiration.
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Mammal
11 months ago
You seem to be ignoring his message, outside of his wife's schooling/profession.
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GB
11 months ago
Yes remember the innocent days of mountain biking . When the phrase mountain biking was fresh .
What an amazing experience it must have been . Exploring the single track of Mt Tam before anyone realy knew what you were up to. That was the naive humble Era of mountain biking .
I used my mountainbike as a comfortable vehicle to get back down the mountains , comfortable compared to killing my knees on the way down. Polytricium trail got us to the summit of Eagle mountain. Essentially pushing the entire way up. A constant nutty challenge on the way down.
One day riding I met up with a crazy loud crew lead by Eric Hiedholf . You listened to his message machine. I can still hear his voice . Home of the Burnaby mountain biking club.
They welcomed anyone on a bike , never pushed people to push there limits . But man did I get exposed to an incredible lust for challenge. Not for painfull climbs . Challenging stunts and steep trails . I was the chicken shit photographer slowly embracing the art of teck. Riding .
Now I live in North Vancouver. Long stable sleds paraded in Tocomas pass me constantly as I ride to the stashes I prefer .
I rent , I am Essentially poor from a north American economic view .
Yet live like a spoiled brat compared to about 5 billion people who wonder about when they are eating next .
I love being 1st world poor. No commitments, no debt .
58 years old in great health. Searching for that next stash . Every year I discover something new .
Whatever you do . Please don't cave in to the secure 9 to 5 I'm so busy lifestyle . You will probably have a fat bank account. But rich in my opinion is about experience. Nothing to do with monetary gain.
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Travis_Engel
11 months ago
Thank you, Mike. Reading this was a bit like heat-treating all my tangled thoughts about how far I live from the trails I ride. The grains of those thoughts are now more neatly aligned, though also more rigid. I gained some confidence that northern L.A. is the perfect place for me. Solos Juntos did seem like a paradise, but an island paradise. Reminded me of my year living in a cabin at the bottom of San Juan Trail. It was great ... when I wanted to ride San Juan Trail. Similarly, my friends who live up in Pasadena don't often start their rides in the middle of the mountain or around behind it 'cause they can ride trails from their house. They're just usually the same trails. Maybe it's different in Colorado, but I'll never know. Northern L.A. is the perfect place for me.
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Mike Ferrentino
11 months ago
Travis, you got that right about solosjuntos. It was an exercise in intent and isolation. As for your situational choices, you are definitely getting into the good stuff that most of the megopolis doesn't even know exists. But you have a much more diligent work ethic than I do - not only in terms of putting the hard trail work time in, but also in making the time to navigate the sea of people to get to those trails.
I am getting older and lazier, and the desire to pedal right out my door is stronger than it has ever been. Fortunately there's enough variety here to keep me busy for a while, and then with a teeny bit of driving, more riding than I will ever be able to bite off in this life. Come visit, there's a spare room full of bikes that are all too small for you!
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taprider
11 months ago
Again, your story made my day Mike
Yes, someone should make a story about Jungle
I first saw Jungle at a CanAm Championships in the late 1980s at Whistler. Jungle, Lumpy and the other Cool Pros, were butting foreheads together (literally) as a way of greeting and recognizing each other. I was an unknown and wanted to be a cool pro too.
After the race at a party at Elladee's mom's, I was talking with Jungle when one of us dropped an unopened beer, we both bent down to pick it up, and bonked foreheads, and Jon turned it into a "welcome to the gang" moment.
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mikesee
11 months ago
Winters are pretty mild in the banana belt. Congrats.
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Jotegir
11 months ago
Once when I was a kid I asked my dad, who was raised catholic, if he still considered himself a catholic. My whole life he'd never been to catholic church or showed any other sign. His reply was "tainted for life".
Obviously there's a pretty serious separation of subject matter here but my dad's words echo in my head whenever someone asks me about the trail-focused decisions I've made in life that have lead me to where I am now. The church of bike: tainted for life.
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TristanC
11 months ago
I'm from Minnesota, which alternates between flat forests and flat prairies. I started riding on dirt there, and I remember the first time I went somewhere else to ride - Marquette, Michigan, which has hilly forests. I got to the campground, set up camp, and went out for a loop near camp. It blew my mind. I said aloud, "Is this what real mountain biking is like?"
I haven't dropped everything to move there yet, but the idea is never far from the surface.
(And yes, I know that the first time I go somewhere with even "realer" mountain biking, it's going to ruin me forever.)
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Lynx .
11 months ago
Dang Dude, yeah, ruin might be a bit extreme, but it'll definitely blow your mind. My first trip to Colorado was an eye opener to say the least, that's when my riding started to take a dramatic step forward in technical riding. If you're young and don't have the commitments like a family etc, why not follow your passion and move someplace with really good riding minutes away. Not sure how it is now, but CO used to have quite a lot of tech jobs.
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Kos
11 months ago
Same MN roots, from a million years ago, when there was about zero mtb. Returned to northern MN for a couple of weeks of mtb last summer. It blew my mind. No mountains, but unbelievable fun as we age, and beautiful forests of my youth. And the tech riding at Split Rock Wilds is nothing to sneeze at!
After 35 years in the Columbia River Gorge, it was nice to do some riding that wasn't summarized by "climb for 1.5 hours, descend for 30 minutes, rinse and repeat.
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TristanC
11 months ago
I still have to go check out the new trail up by Split Rock! Duluth has awesome riding too, I would move up there in a heartbeat if I found a job in the area.
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Brad Nyenhuis
11 months ago
In our fifties, my wife and I chose to uproot our lives, sell the house, and move from the Chicago suburbs to open a bike shop in the thin air of Los Alamos, NM, where it's pretty much impossible to live more than 2-3 blocks from a hard core trail.
11 years later, through way too many twists to list here, we are truly living a life we would never have dared to dream of.
A good friend once told me, "I've never seen anyone so unafraid of failing." That might be the best compliment anyone has ever given me. It's not that I'm so confident I'll succeed, it's that I know if I do fail, I can always get back up.
My best advise is, be willing to fail. It's the only way to truly succeed.
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TristanC
11 months ago
It's on my mind. I have a very comfortable, interesting job that pays well and lets me leave work at work, but it's not exactly spiritually fulfilling (mechanical engineering working on automotive parts). I don't know if it's a grass-is-greener thing, but part of me really does want to sell everything and go build an earthship in the high desert or something. Do I really want to sit at a desk for the next 35 years?
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albert03
11 months ago
I know it's part of an image you're creating with words, but please avoid giving earthship dwellings any press. They're the worst.
(Former automotive mechanical engineer, now building science junkie. Who gets to spend winters riding in the high desert;) )
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Morgan Heater
10 months, 4 weeks ago
They almost make sense in a desert, but I agree, high mass is never a substitute for insulation in cold climates.
If you want to build a groovy house with super thickboi walls, straw bale is the way.
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Brad Nyenhuis
10 months, 4 weeks ago
Tristan, "spiritually fulfilling" is a far over-used and over-rated term. My generation (63 years old) really screwed up our kids with the whole "If you love your job, you'll never work a day in your life", BS.
Very few people get to be astronauts, rock stars, or NBA players. The rest of us have jobs. You shouldn't hate your job but you don't have to love it. I always told my kids to get a career that allows you to live the life you want. Want to drive Ferraris? Make money. Want to live in the mountains? Find a work-from-home career. Your job should be a means to the end, not the end itself.
Basically, if life fulfillment comes from your job, you're doing it wrong.
Case in point:
Yes, I opened a bike shop in Los Alamos, NM, where the riding is amazing. I loved my job but worked 60+hrs/week, including holidays, rarely traveled, and rode when I could squeeze one in.
We closed the shop after five years and I'm now an engineer at Los Alamos Natl Lab. I work four days a week, ride and travel constantly, and can afford really nice bikes.
I don't love my job near as much but love my life waaaaaaaay more.
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Skooks
10 months, 4 weeks ago
Yup. Find a job that you don't hate, and that allows you to do the things you are passionate about. I like my job (electrical engineer working on some pretty cool stuff), but I leave my work at work. I also have the time and money to do what I really enjoy (spending time outdoors with friends and family). I do acknowledge that I was privileged to get a good education but there was also a lot of hard work and some degree of luck.
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Scott Jamieson
11 months ago
Last 8 years: 3 jobs on 2 continents. Location ALWAYS decided by proximity to single track. I used to get worried about biking addiction controlling my life. Realised if you're lucky enough to do what makes you happy, don't let any societal expectations stand in your way. "Would I be interested in the job? Well, what can you tell me about the trails in the area?"
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Dave Smith
11 months ago
It seems, there's a lot of us that share this story.
I discovered early in my career that Newport Beach was the furthest thing from skiing good pow and good riding. Not giving up my rent controlled apartment in Vancouver and not signing a long-term lease in the OC was the best decision I ever made.
Driving to ride is just an ancient form of vehicular torture which I'm happy to keep at a minimum.
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Lynx .
11 months ago
Bravo Mike, bravo. Follow your heart always, it is way better, IMHO to be mentally rich than physically rich and something I've come to accept will be my life.
I remember way back in the '90s when I had a few friends that rode MTB and it blew my mind that they could ride as far as they did, thought it was insane, but like you, time passed, I picked up MTBing as a way to get healthier, found a few guys still riding who inspired me and then a 20 miles ride was just your avg pedal, 30 was a bit special, but the 40+ days happened quite often too.
I've only been doing the MTB thing for 20 years this year (ridden bikes my whole life) and I'm trying to rekindle the passion I once had for it, because let's face it, 20 years riding basically the same trails on an island that's only 21 miles at it's longest and 14 miles at it's widest, you kind of know all the trails and they get old. The modern trend towards much more DH focused type riding, super slacked out tanks that can plow over anything, more man built features, jumps, berms etc, has not helped, as I like it raw and rough, off camber yes please, make me work for the fun.
Haven't travelled in a while, but the memories from my trips to Colorado back in '07 & 08 and then again in 2016 make it just that bit harder to get stoked on the local riding. Having some hard last few years where things have been tight and so going off for a nice 3-4 hours ride to burn calories I wasn't really able to afford to put back in, also made it quite hard, but looks like things are maybe turning the corner and we'll see how the rest of 2024 goes.
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32x20
11 months ago
Welcome to the valley, Mike. Hope to see you on the trails soon!
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Lynx .
11 months ago
32x20, let me just say, if that's the gearing you're riding in CO, your a damn masochist LOL
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Brad Nyenhuis
11 months ago
Hey, I ride a 32x21
Granted, that's when I'm in 7th gear.
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32x20
11 months ago
Ive been known to drop to a 21 for back-to-back-to-back days ; )
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fartymarty
11 months ago
What 32x20 isn't telling us is that they ride a 275 ;)
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Lynx .
11 months ago
You mean 27.5, as in 650B wheeled bike or a 275 moto? LOL
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Karl Fitzpatrick
10 months, 4 weeks ago
Te Whanganui A Tara (Wellington), Aotearoa (New Zealand) born, raised and remain.
Found my heart beating a little faster when I first noticed mountain bikes in the early 90s.
Got my first basic bike in about 1999 when I could pay for it myself and boy, do I feel lucky (in the purest sense) to have been born here.
Despite elevation maxing out at around 450m, there are hills everywhere with a plethora of surfaces and conditions, every spot is no more than either half an hours ride, or half an hours drive from me, the weather fluctuates between 7ish° and 28ish° all year and trail advocacy/access and is amazing (unless you're super entitled).
Travel is great but my heart is well and truly cast into where I am.
Mike, thanks for reminding me to remember this.
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Mike Ferrentino
10 months, 4 weeks ago
Wellington should be a global case study on how to combine a dynamic, cosmopolitan city with a copious quantity of incredible trails (that would make most lawyers in the US drool with anticipation), douse it all with an unpredictable skein of truly psychotic weather and somehow make it sustainable and perfectly integrated. What an amazing place...
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Velocipedestrian
10 months, 4 weeks ago
Come on down, might even be easy if you kept the paperwork of your youth.
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Kos
11 months ago
Sweet stuff, Mike! We're a wee bit older than you, and recently relocated based on crowding, alpine skiing, mtb, and family. All prime considerations IMO!
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kamperinbv
11 months ago
As 32x20 wrote - welcome to the valley. Look fwd to crossing paths w you as we share similar age category and passions for Singh track. Heard tater tots is running strong !
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Skooks
11 months ago
Great read Mike, thanks. Like you, I have long prioritized living close to where I play. I can ride from my door, carry my kayak to the river, and be on top of the ski hill in 45 minutes. It would be very hard to give this up, and I have ruled out many otherwise beautiful places to live because they are too far away from the things that keep me sane. The penalty I pay is a longer commute to work, but I set a personal limit that I would always work somewhere close enough to ride my bike. These days that's an e-commuter most of the time, but it still beats sitting in traffic.
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shutter2ride
11 months ago
Just roll down to Salida if "it's pronounced BV" is too wintery...
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[email protected]
11 months ago
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Adrian Bostock
11 months ago
While I understand the desire to move to a place that provides the amenities we desire, while I have done the same in the past, I look to the people who are able to shape their environment and adapt their mindset to meet their environment.
When I first started mountain biking I was living in a small town with tons of untapped potential, the kind which only existed in a vacuum. Lucky for me there was a small dedicated group of mountain bikers and trail builders who let me tag along. That experience has guided everything I currently do.
and of course being in a cultural void, Bike mag in the late 90’s had a heavy hand in shaping my perspective.
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polverefango
10 months, 4 weeks ago
Hi Mike from Italy! Now that you live in Colorado it would be nice if you could offer us some test bikes from all those splendid small made in Co. brands that make great bikes... like Reeb, Oddity, Black Sheep, Incognito Moonman... etc.. here in Italy they remain dreams especially for an "old" almost sixty year old like me! Thanks for the attention...
Ciao!
Michele from Italy
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chacou
10 months, 3 weeks ago
Welcome to CO, winters aren’t too bad aside from the super dry air (moisturizer!), especially in the BV/Salida area assuming that’s where you relocated too (sounds like it)
I love this article and can empathize for sure. Left the east coast/DC area as fast as I could after college to pursue snow in CO. Then when we found ourselves with a 6 month old living in 800 sq/ft in a “hip” part of downtown Denver after “getting real jobs in the city” we quickly realized that’s not the life we want. We found a happy medium between careers and convenience. Trails right out the door, not too bad drive to ski, less than an hour to the city, Costco/target/etc. about an 30 min drive, and an hour from international airport. It’s got its ups and downs, but at least I have a handful of trails I can ride without getting g in a car, and way more if I want to really work for them. Now with a 10 and 8 year old even if we could afford Steamboat it’d be a hard sell with all their activities and interests.
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Blain Echols
11 months ago
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Brad Nyenhuis
11 months ago
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Bikeflirt
11 months ago
Yep, what Mike said.
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Brad Nyenhuis
10 months, 4 weeks ago
Hey Mike, looking at the comments, I just figured out where you're heading.
Salida & BV are probably the favorite riding destinations for my wife and I. They truly are two towns that "get it" regarding trails. You'll love it there.
Salida may also have the best bike shop in the country, Absolute Bikes. Stop in and say hi to Shawn and Mike. Between the great riding and awesome town vibe, Salida is tops on my list to retire to in the next few years. BV is a very close 2nd place (and a little more attainable).
Hope to see you on the trails.
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Derek Haynes
10 months, 1 week ago
Welcome Mike (your new neighbor - Derek)!
Lived in the Haight for ~10 years ... lots of foggy, cold, miserable (but beautiful) rides heading over the bridge in the Marin Headlands trails and fire roads.
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