A week of life here in “the smallest big city in the world”, training against suffocation at altitude, avoiding cops in the unlicensed infamous Red Rocket, camping in the living room, coughing at my multiple of seven conversions – the life, the dream.
The drive up from Temecula, via
Went playing in the hills on the first afternoon here, and realized when I slumped to granny on a flattish tarmac climb, that altitude was more than myth. Conrad had explained back in The Bosch how the first swim would evolve, from a length of swim, to breathing every second stroke, to open turns, to bilateral every stroke gasps, and finally resolving to a backstroke float. True as gold. Joke was on me.
This however was nothing, compared to the climb we did up Mt Rose, to above 9000feet, with 1500m altitude gain. Incredible riding through heaps of slush puppy like snow, whilst admiring views of Lake Tahoe, topped with some insane single track coming down.
Conrad’s Red Rocket deserves a mention. Proudly owned for seven years, this car is held together by ropes and gadgets of sorts, sports a white paint mtb track across its length, has instructions written on the dashboard, for the wont start days, and is quite simply, a piece of art. The amount and array of stuff to be discovered inside, comparable maybe to Pandora’s Box, would scare the faint of heart.
Perhaps you’ve seen the Jerry Springer Show, perhaps you’ve seen 8Mile, and wondered about the average American on the street. Perhaps you simply cant imagine that far out. Went for a quick grocery shop at Walmart after running/walking a hill set. The sight of a Walmart inside, the big portions of junk food, the small portions of veggies, the self service checkout and pay, all had nothing on the sight of the people shopping there. Eish.
Late being mandatory here with Conrad’s watch still on “Africa” time, we were rushing round at 6am on Saturday in an attempt to make a swim set at 7am in 40min away Truckee. Two shits and giggles later, we’re on the highway, low-level-flying in the Red Rocket, two S-Work’s on the back multiplying the vehicles value exponentially, sipping Conrad’s coffee brew, about to dig into our single tupperware bowl of mashed potatoes and carrots, that needed salt, when Stoltz’ face turned a whiter shade of pail. Poetic Afrikaans soon flowed eloquently, before pulling over to the side. He had miscalculated the mileage math, scribbled on a small bit of paper, needed as the gas needle hasn’t worked for many moons. Not being the first, nor the last I guess, we’re prepared with a gallon petrol tank in the boot. Racing across the 6lane highway, Stoltz lifts a thumb with a true South African Colgate smile across his still pail face.
Missed the swim set, but made it to Truckee, and was blown away by the small town. Ski bums with dreads and rich folk characterfully mix here. Reminds me in part of The Bosch, and in part of Queenstown in NZ, and soon I was sold. This is where I want to base for the summer next year.
Long ride on the Emigrant Trail – 4hours of finest single track. Comprehend that. Forests, streams, snow capped distant peaks, flowers and a dust cloud from Conrad’s back wheel to chase. Our comments progressed like “trappe van virgelyking” from Jonkershoek se moer, piele teen die wiele, some people call this work, and finally adult only descriptions. Unreal shit and I couldn’t believe the trail, the moment, was for real. Too grateful.
Sunday night we went down town to
Other than missing my misses back home, it’s been a sweet week. I trust my red blood cells have been busy and offspring will soon follow as the body is responding well. About to pack for a two day camp near Lake Tahoe, and will ride the annual Xterra USA champs course.
Capped the week with a fine Californian Pinot Noir, blue cheese, and a flame grilled fillet. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake. If this is reality, I need to make it work.
